Teddy Chan’s martial arts crime movie Kung Fu Killer is like the Hong Kong industry’s version of an NBA All-Star Game: It’s fun to watch the best-of-the-best whoop on each other, but it’s also a largely low-stakes affair with few long-term implications. Boasting a packed roster of Hong Kong legends, the film is a gauntlet exhibition of martial arts mayhem, but it leaves a lot to be desired in the style department: Though well choreographed, the fight scenes are shot in a way that feels pedestrian when compared to the Raid series or The Grandmaster. It’s a kung fu smorgasbord brimming with action that somehow still leaves your stomach rumbling.

The movie is structured as a serial killer procedural, the killer in question played by Wang Baoqiang. He’s a multi-disciplined martial arts master who’s hunting down the best single-disciplined masters (e.g. kickboxing, grappling, weaponed) and beating them at their own game (Mr. Weapons gets his throat slit; Mr. Grappler gets thrown out a window). It’s sort of like a Game of Death role reversal: instead of a hero hunting down baddies one by one, it’s a baddie picking off (and apart) the good guys. The killer’s back story is a cluster of clichés (like the rest of the movie), his defining characteristic being his club foot which he’s disciplined himself to use to his advantage in combat. Other than that, he’s nothing more than a store brand psycho.

He picks off the martial arts experts like cherries from a cherry tree, and the only one who can stop him is…Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. But that would hardly be a fair fight, so instead we get normal person-sized ass-kicker and Ip Man star Donnie Yen, who plays kung fu instructor Hahou Mo. Locked up in prison for involuntary manslaughter, Mo is given an opportunity at freedom by a plucky police detective (Charlie Yeung, turning in the movie’s best non-combat performance) who enlists him to track down the hobbling killer and fight him to the death.

The plot is a thin-as-rice-paper excuse to zip from one fight scene to the next. Scott Pilgrim vs. the World comes to mind as the killer confronts each of the fighters on his list in their coincidentally cool-looking natural habitats. Baoqiang fights the martial artists (each played by a wushu flick regular making a quick cameo) in a cramped tattoo parlor, on top of a giant hanging skeleton art exhibit, on an action movie set (ha ha), and high above the city streets, in the obligatory rooftop chase/fight set piece. Each set is a fun playground for the actors to have fun with and get inventive, but they all feel contrived and cheesy looking, like stages pulled straight out of Street Fighter II.

The climactic final battle between Mo and the killer is fought in the middle of a busy street at night, cars and big rigs zooming by as the blitzing warriors duck, dive and dodge around the traffic, throwing cyclonic strikes all the while. The fight choreography is elaborately staged and undeniably impressive both athletically and artistically, but the way everything is filmed feels a bit detached; the camera spins and swirls and dives in and out of the action, but it never gets intimate enough with the violence. Despite terribly violent things happening all the time, none of it feels as brutal or pulverizing as it should. We should wince and squirm when people get sliced by a sword or shot in the gut, but Kung Fu Killer elicits no such reaction.

I’m admittedly far (very, very far) from a wushu movie aficionado, but the wire work Chan’s movie at times looks ridiculous to me. Instead of accentuating natural movements, the actors just dart from side to side, up and down, barely using their feet. I’m not against stretching the laws of gravity at all (I usually think it looks awesome), but there are moments in Kung Fu Killer when the actors look like they’re being tugged around by giant invisible hands. It’s a preference thing; after watching the smash-mouth action in the Ong-bak and Raid series, floaty wire work just feels more sterile and unexciting to me. Maybe it’s a phase, or maybe I’m just a no-good noob, but I would have liked to see Chan and his team get their hands a little dirtier.

The opening of Jia Zhangke’s A Touch of Sin shows a conversation communicated entirely with violence. A migrant worker (Wang Baoqiang) travelling on his motorcycle is stopped by three young men in an attempt to rob him. The man responds to their brandished weapons by swiftly pulling out a gun and murdering all three. As the man drives off, he passes by two grisly scenes: a corpse from a truck accident, and an explosion that goes off in the distance.

This is how A Touch of Sin prepares viewers for what’s to come. A bloody, angry protest film (which has the Chinese government ordering media to never mention its existence), Jia presents four loosely connected stories that all show the same thing: one character, pushed to the brink by powers beyond their control, lashes out in a brutal act of violence. This makes each story play out at a slow boil. When a new central character emerges, it’s only a matter of time before the breaking point is reached and someone’s life (or multiple lives) is/are taken.

The first of these four stories follows Dahai (Jiang Wu), a worker for a mining company who’s livid at his bosses. The mines, which used to be owned by the town, were sold off to a private company. The company’s owners pocketed the profits it promised to share with the village, making Dahai try to file a complaint with the government. His attempts to get the company’s accountant to expose the truth fails as he discovers that many people have been bribed into silence. It doesn’t take long for word to get around (mostly from Dahai himself, whose boasting about going against his bosses lead to some unfortunate consequences), and soon he’s being offered money to stay quiet. Dahai responds to the offer with his rifle, in what is by far the bloodiest conclusion in the film.

This first act, the strongest of all four, encapsulates what Jia is angrily expressing throughout. China’s embrace of extreme capitalism has devalued human lives, reducing them to commodities at best and obstacles at worst. The effect of this has made violence and death more common, as the thirst for money and profit takes precedence over morals. Dahai’s story might be the most satisfying one because his acts, while horrifying and unjustifiable, are at least aimed towards people who are perpetuating this system. The following three stories, all just as horrifying and more tragic, show its characters releasing their rage on other cogs in the machine.

The man on the motorcycle from the beginning takes center stage for the second act, as he travels home to celebrate his mother’s birthday. This section, which has the least focus, takes shape closer to the end as we see just how much power his gun gives him. The third story revolves around a receptionist (Zhao Tao) at a sauna whose personal problems cause her to lose it on an aggressive customer. The final act, moving at a snail’s pace, shows a young man (Luo Lanshan) who causes a co-worker to get injured in an accident. When he’s told his salary will be taken from him until the co-worker recovers, he runs off to one menial job after another.

The last story may be the slowest, but it’s also the most pessimistic. The protagonist, the youngest of all the main characters, and his decisions show how the system he’s a part of have caused people to take little or no value in themselves. I have immense admiration for what Jia tries to do here. His message is on point, the violence is brutal and effective, and the film is well-crafted (given its structure and themes, it’s easy to see why the Cannes jury awarded it Best Screenplay this year). Unfortunately my admiration did not translate into enjoyment. Each story’s hammering home of the same point cause the film to lose steam quickly, and while the message is strong it isn’t substantive enough to carry the two hour runtime. The characters feel like blank slates rather than well-defined people, and the attempt to connect all four characters at the end is unnecessary. Regardless, A Touch of Sin is still worth watching if given the chance. Its execution may be lacking, but thankfully it doesn’t take away from the power of Jia’s intentions.

Trailer for A Touch of Sin