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he Untold Story" is not only the greatest
category III film ever made, but also one of the best of any kind to have
come from Hong Kong. Gripping, horrific and uncompromising, this infamous
shocker is still incredibly disturbing today, and has yet to be topped in
the eleven years since its first release. Impossible to dismiss as a mere
exploitation film, like "The
Silence of the Lambs" in the U.S., "The Untold Story" was
a hit with critics and at the box office, boasting big wins at notable award
ceremonies, and inspiring incalculable number of inferior rip-offs,
virtually launching its own grisly sub-genre.
However, whilst "Story"
and "Lambs" are similar in that they are portraits of psychotics,
"The Untold Story" is a far grittier affair, giving an unflinching
glimpse into the life of a petty, nauseating monster. It is certainly only a
film for those with the strongest of stomachs, especially since a great deal
of the horror is presented back to back with some distinctly lowbrow comedic
moments. Although these may at first seem ghastly and inappropriate, they do
in fact allow director Herman Yau Lai-To to work in some biting satire about
the Macau police and their ham fisted investigations. The overall effect is
a dizzying assault on the senses and sensibilities, with atrocities that are
mind numbing and impossible to forget, no matter how much viewers may wish
to.
The plot begins in 1978 as we witness Wong Chi Hang
(the prolific Godfather of Hong Kong cinema, Anthony Wong, recently in the
"Infernal
Affairs" trilogy amongst many others) murdering a man in
extremely brutal fashion over a gambling debt. Events fast-forward eight
years to the grim discovery of a sack of rotting dismembered limbs on a
beach in Macau. It transpires that the limbs in fact belong to the mother
of a missing restaurant owner, whose premises are currently being run by
Wong Chi Hang himself.
Hang claims that the restaurant was sold to him by
the owner, who has disappeared to parts unknown, though the evidence
suggests otherwise. Several unfortunate employees voice their suspicions,
and are killed horribly, their remains utilized by Hang as a secret
ingredient in his delicious pork buns. Led by suave whoremonger Inspector
Lee (Danny Lee, who recently had the misfortune to star in the abysmal
"Heat Team"),
the incompetent Macau police slowly investigate the case even as Hang
tries desperately to sell the restaurant and escape justice. They finally
seize their man and begin a long, torturous process of interrogation to
discover the awful truth about the goings on in the restaurant.
This is obviously a familiar plot, having been reused
in many other films such as "Bloody
Buns" and in similar efforts such as "Human
Pork Chop". However, years of imitation have done little to dull
the impact of "The Untold Story", and the film is gripping and
unpredictable, mainly due to the fact that viewers have no idea how far it
will go. For those used to watching Hollywood thrillers and horror films,
which seldom even approach taboos let alone break them, "The Untold
Story" will come like a swift, unexpected punch to the gut, a
shocking and visceral experience that goes far beyond the boundaries of
what is generally considered acceptable in cinema.
Director Herman Yau Lai-To (who also gave
category III fans the classic "Ebola
Syndrome" before moving recently to saccharine fare such as
"Papa
Loves You") shies away from nothing in this gruesome tale, and
viewers are spared none of the gory details, for this is a film which
shows what others dare not. In fact, Yau's direction is surprisingly good
for a category III film, keeping things remarkably tight and logical. The
film is well structured, making good use of flashbacks, and builds the
tension gradually until the horrific conclusion. Although Yau throws in an
incredible amount of blood and sadism, unlike in other similar films all
of these scenes are integral to the plot and never come across as
gratuitous. Similarly, unlike other category III efforts like the
nauseating "The
Peeping Tom", "The Untold Story" is obviously not
played for cheap titration, with the rape and torture scenes being
designed to shock.
There is a fair amount of comedy in "The Untold
Story", most of it at the expense of the Macau police. Here, Yau
seems to be making a point, as he portrays the police as corrupt bumblers
whose crime solving abilities amount to little more than fool's luck and
the beating of suspects. In the latter stages of the film, the viewer
actually has some sympathy for the loathsome Hang, as his ordeal at the
hands of the police is both amusing and chillingly nihilistic in its
depiction of what seems to pass for justice in Macau.
Of course, a lot of the comedy is very hit and miss,
especially the sexist humor involving Inspector Lee and the variety of
whores he brings to the crime scenes, as well as the multitude of jokes
involving Emily Kwan Bo-Wai's small breasts. Still, even these low laughs
come as a welcome respite from the unrelenting horror of Hang's terrible
deeds, and although they do contrast quite sharply with the rest of the
film, they can perhaps be forgiven.
The film is held together by Anthony Wong's stunning
performance as Hang, for which he was duly awarded the best actor accolade
at the 1993 Hong Kong film awards. Here, he is chilling and utterly
convincing as the evil killer, making him a vicious monster, albeit a
horribly human one. This is the kind of acting unseen in the category III
genre, and it gives the film a real edge and a touch of gritty class. The
rest of the cast is fine, with Lee putting in an effectively amusing
performance as the lazy inspector, and other recognizable Hong Kong faces
such as Shing Fui-On ("A
Better Tomorrow") and Parkman Wong ("City
on Fire") supporting him as his inept colleagues.
Overall, "The Untold Story" earns the
highest possible recommendation. It is simply essential watching, not only
for fans of extreme cinema, but also for those of Hong Kong and horror
films in general. This is a brutal, ruthless and skillfully made film
which deserves recognition beyond the unfortunate critical constraints of
its genre.
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