The movie places a lot of emphasis on style and some of it is certainly gorgeous, especially Mei's dance at the beginning when she's introduced as a blind courtesan in a brothel. (Zhang has the sightless porcelain-doll look down cold and manages at the same time to seem intent, flushed.) Highlights also include a challenge referred to as the Echo Game, in which Mei stands within a circle of upright drums which she has to strike with the tentacle-like sleeves of her robe in the same order as they're struck by pebbles, and an ambush in a bamboo forest that could have been carved from jade.

Yimou, however, suffers the classic old Hollywood confusion between beautiful cinematography and ordinary photography of beautiful objects and settings. He simply lacks adequate mastery of moviemaking technique. His use of wire work and special effects is downright clumsy. He resorts to slow motion in the middle of breathless action sequences so we won't miss the impossible stunts being faked, and not only does this make them look even more fake it hobbles the rhythm of the action, which rushes and halts, rushes and halts.

In addition, Yimou fundamentally overrelies on action. Jin can't just pick a posey for Mei in a field of wild flowers, he has to gather it while galloping full speed. But Yimou intercuts shots of Jin leaning over from his horse so awkwardly that the effect, which would be questionable if it worked (because it's so obviously trying to lay us flat with romantic excess), is maladroit as well as unnecessary.

House of Flying Daggers has about a tenth the story of Hero but attempts to be even more unremittingly thunderous and rapturous. For my taste, the sense of wonder Yimou strains for would be seriously hampered by his lack of humor even if he were one of the great stylists of movie history. It's an impressive undertaking, to combine music and dance, sumptuous visual design, violent action, and impossible passions, all of them beaten to stiff peaks. But the material is kitsch. Whether the movie works for you or not in its terms, I don't see how it can be rated higher than as a Chinese equivalent of David O. Selznick's Duel in the Sun (1946), minus the unintentional horselaughs (and Lillian Gish). Unflaggingly earnest red-blooded romance isn't necessarily an improvement over helpless camp.

You can find this review and a lot besides at The Kitchen Cabinet.

Alan Dale is the author of What We Do Best: American Movie Comedies of the 1990s and Comedy Is a Man in Trouble: Slapstick in American Movies.