Sanda Wong (1955)

Sanda Wong (Gerardo de Leon, 1955)

Gerardo de Leon’s Sanda Wong was thought to be completely lost alongside its director’s other films. Fortunately, an extant copy surfaced in Hong Kong, allowing the film to gain new life and a new audience. The film, a co-production between Manuel Vistan, Jr. and Ho Chapman, is perhaps one of the earliest film partnerships that crossed national borders. While the only existing copy of the film features dialogue spoken in Hokkien with English subtitles, it is quite clear that the film was shot in Tagalog and just re-dubbed to gain access to the Hong Kong market.

The film opens in pageantry, with a parade of onlookers welcoming Lan Ying (Lola Young) into the house of her new husband, Liu Chien (Danilo Montes), a wealthy landowner who is about to discover the strange inheritance, including a magical ring that allows its bearer to control snakes. Bandit leader Sanda Wong (Jose Padilla, Jr.), who is also targeting the abundant wealth of Liu Chien, has sent his lady partner, Yuen Fei (Lilia Dizon), a trained dancer, to put up a diversion, as he attempts to rob the newlyweds of their riches. Koh Loo (Gil de Leon), the captain of the garrison, is also interested in Liu Chien’s wealth, and devises a plan to take both Liu Chien’s loot and lady for himself.

Within that same evening when Liu Chien becomes aware of what his father left him, Koh Loo confronts Sanda Wong, which leads to Liu Chien saving both Sanda Wong and Yuen Fei, who falls in love with her recently married saviour, from Koh Loo and his minions, by taking them inside his house. In gratitude, Sanda Wong makes Liu Chien his blood brother, a relationship which is tested when Liu Chien’s quest for vengeance and the love of a woman seem to force them apart.

The film, although brimming with action and adventure, is actually fuelled by romance. Liu Chien and Lan Ying’s love, doomed by lust and greed, is depicted with alluring extravagance, enunciating the emotions that would inhabit Liu Chien when he discovers his wife raped and desperate to die. Montes, who first appears as a naive young man, too enamored by feelings of the heart to be intertwined in the more base motivations of both Koh Loo and Sanda Wong, portrays Liu Chien exquisitely, transforming believably into a revenge-addicted widower and bandit.

Yuen Fei, as the third party to Liu Chien and Lan Ying’s romance, adds complexion to the affair, luring stoic and brash Sanda Wong, whose relationship with Yuen Fei seems to be grounded on attraction, into the fray of unrequited emotions. The result is a story of brotherhood and honor, betrayed by passion and jealousy, but ultimately redeemed. There are scenes in Sanda Wong, such as when the bandit leader leaves a pleading Liu Chien to die in a quicksand or when he forces Yuen Fei to sensually dance in front of Liu Chien which would eventually reveal romantic affiliations, that complicate characters, turning them from stereotypes into actual living, breathing, and relatable personalities.

De Leon’s direction, as always, is sublime. There are scenes that are simply astounding to look at, such as when Sanda Wong’s army of bandits was ambushed by Koh Loo’s men. Shot against the light, De Leon captures the brutality of the ambush through the shadows of men either fighting or falling in battle. Armed with exquisite production design by Jose de los Reyes, effective cinematography by Emmanuel Rojas, and the near-perfect performances of the entire ensemble, De Leon was able to concoct a fantasy that both enchants with its spectacular scenarios and disarms with its emotional weight.

More than half a century after its release, Sanda Wong remains to be an absolute delight, a sterling example of a commercially-motivated production that does not see itself as a mere peddler mere temporary and empty visual marvels. It is an actual film that has a story that is simple but fascinating, characters that are palpable and believable, and real talents both behind and in front of the camera who tie everything together with indisputably brilliant results.

Postscript:

Film historian Teddy Co, who had a major part in both the discovery and restoration of the film, states that the present copy is in Cantonese, not in Hokkien as previously stated in my article. The last two prints, one in Cantonese and one in Mandarin (which is still in Hong Kong), of the film were found by Co in Hong Kong twenty five years ago. The English subtitles were introduced by Teddy Co to the Cantonese version of the film with the help of a Cantonese speaking resident of Hong Kong. He also corrects that the production design was done by Vicente Bonus and not De Los Reyes. Co compares De Leon's distinctive style with that of Akira Kurosawa and Orson Welles', particularly in the scene where the grieving Liu Chien buries his wife in the sea, with both Sanda Wong and Yuen Fei looking from a short distance.

(Cross-published in Lagarista.)

The Night of the Hunter (1955)

The Night of the Hunter (Charles Laughton, 1955)

Prolific actor Charles Laughton's only directorial work The Night of the Hunter begins in darkness, with the stars providing illumination. From the night sky appears the faces of children, and in the center, the calm and tender face of silent film superstar Lillian Gish telling biblical passages as an introduction to this parable-like tale of good and evil, and of innocence and sin. The film then cuts to an overview of a riverside community where playing children discover the body of a woman. Then it cuts to the film's most memorable character, Harry Powell (Robert Mitchum), driving down the road and conversing with his supposed God. We get the impression that the man is possibly deranged, and is either a self-righteous vindicator of Christianity, or merely a petty criminal who conveniently hides behind a mask of piety. Either way, we do know he's evil.

Powell finds himself imprisoned with a certain Ben Harper who killed two men and stole ten thousand dollars, and hiding them in a secret place his two children only knows where. After release, Powell travels to town and tries to squeeze from the children the location of the loot, even to the point of marrying their widowed mother, Willa (Shelley Winters), killing her, and then chasing the two children from their hometown to another riverside haven.

The Night of the Hunter is possibly one of the most terrifying films ever made. Laughton possesses a confident visual style that mirrors Orson Welles in his debut feature. Laughton's visual compositions are twisted, atmospheric and beautiful. Moreover, his distinctive artistic style is flawless. One just has to watch young John Harper (Billy Chapin) tell his little sister Pearl (Sally Jane Bruce) the story of an African king, when he is suddenly interrupted by an imposing shadow. He looks outside and discovers a man standing by the solitary oil-lit street lamp. That seamless mixture of flawless direction, impeccable photography, graceful acting, and delirious writing makes every scene in this film classic suspense filmmaking.

Then there's the famous river scene which begins with a feverish chase between Powell and the two kids. Amidst the calm starry sky, little Pearl sings an equally calming lullaby. Yet we are all aware of what happened and what may possibly happen, but Laughton has the gall to sequence this dreamy scene that might probably be confused as a scene out of a fairy tale, if not viewed in the film's concept. The result is something nightmarishly surreal, a thing of cinematic beauty. The whole river sequence is wondrous, and it makes one wish that Laughton directed more films, but alas, The Night of the Hunter failed at the box office and Laughton swore he'd never direct another film again. James Agee supposedly adapted the screenplay from a David Grubb novel, but Robert Mitchum says in his autobiography that Laughton actually disliked Agee's screenplay, and just paid the screenwriter, and completely rewrote everything uncredited.

The Night of the Hunter is arguably one of the best films that purely depict good and evil. It bravely features children who are targets of violent and traumatic harm, over money they'd probably never ever use. There's an abundance of biblical allusions in the film, and the last third of the film features what probably may be the most simplistic yet captivating battle between good and evil. No, it doesn't feature a host of demons hording the children, being protected by beautiful angels. It actually just involves Harry Powell guarding the estate of Rachel Cooper (Lillian Gish), a kindly old woman who adopts children, including the two Harper kids. They engage in a duet that might very well be as detailed as warring factions of good and evil. Powell's baritone and Cooper's grandmotherly voice marrying in an enchanting gospel song: Laughton's cinematic tactics is just so deliriously magical that the film might very well be declared as sinful.