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condor trilogy

It Came from the Sinosphere: Ashes of Time

March 26, 2013 by Sara K. 2 Comments

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This movie is a critics’ darling and a box office flop. It often gets placed on lists of “Best Chinese-Language Movies”—for example, this movie is ranked at #35 in the Hong Kong Film Awards list of 100 Best Chinese Movies (this is a bit like the AFI 100 list).

This movie is also plain weird.

The Story

Ouyang Feng contracts sword fighters and martial artists to carry out paid assassinations. His best friend is Huang Yaoshi. Someone called Murong Yang wants Ouyang Feng to kill Huang Yaoshi for jilting his sister. Then Murong Yin (the sister) comes to ask Ouyang Feng to kill Murong Yang (her brother) for getting between her and Huang Yaoshi, and … *sigh* … I quit this synopsis.

A shot of Ouyang Feng

I don’t want to spoil anything, and even if I did write a comprehensible plot summary (which would be spoilerful), it would completely miss the point. Just know that this takes place in a desert, there are love polygons, and that the men, at least, are all skilled fighters.

More Background

This is a film by Wong Kar-wai, one of Hong Kong’s most recognized film directors. He’s the only Chinese-language director who has won an award at the Cannes Film Festival. He’s famous for making movies with lots of lush visual imagery that explores personal relationships and memories, which describes this specific film to a T.

This film also features many of Hong Kong’s top stars of the era.

This movie is supposedly a prequel to Jin Yong’s Condor Trilogy. Indeed most of the main characters (Ouyang Feng, Huang Yaoshi, and Hong Qi) are also significant characters in the trilogy, and a few of the plot points in this movie (specifically Ouyang Feng’s relationship with his brother’s wife) are also mentioned in Jin Yong’s work. But this movie is so different, that I would describe it as fanfiction loosely inspired by the Condor Trilogy rather than an actual prequel (though being a work of fanfiction doesn’t mean that it has any less merit).

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It took a lot of time to shoot this movie, which caused it to go over-budget. To try to get some more cash, the makers of this movie spent about a week putting together a spoof of the The Eagle-Shooting Heroes, which ironically made more money than Ashes of Time itself.

In 2005, Wong Kar-wai put together Ashes of Time Redux. I haven’t seen it (I saw the original film), but I’ve read that the story is easier to understand in the “redux” version.

The Cinematography

I generally don’t talk much about cinematography or editing, since I know close to nothing about such things. However, even someone like me who has never taken a film class in her life can tell that this movie has great imagery. This movie also makes creative use of moving light/show, such as in scenes where light shines through a twirling wicker cage, which causes the light to shine in moving lines across the actors’ faces.

Wicker cage shadows!

Wicker cage shadows!

Another example is this scene with a woman on horseback, in which the light reflected off the water makes the woman’s face look almost white (the whiteness of her face is starkly contrasted with her otherwise dark surroundings).

The woman on horseback with light reflecting off the water (this is really hard to convey in a single screenshot)

The woman on horseback with light reflecting off the water (this is really hard to convey in a single screenshot)

Reflections in the water is actually a theme in this movie.

reflection in the water

reflection in the water

And the desert is … very scenic. I won’t say “beautiful,” since that’s not the intention, but it certainly has visual impact.

landslide in the desert

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I’m sure somebody who actually knows something about cinematography could make more insightful comments.

Position in Wuxia

This is obviously a wuxia film, and it’s the kind of wuxia film which defies what many non-Asians imagine wuxia is. Though there are a few furious fights, they are also furiously brief, therefore I can’t enjoy this film in the same way I would enjoy a Lau Kar-leung film for the exciting kung-fu choreography. It’s also not a tearjerking melodramatic romance. This, in a way, makes it the opposite of a Jin Yong story, since Jin Yong stories tend to be very high in technically-detailed fighting and melodramatic romance (soap operas with swords!)

This is a quietly-meditative kind of wuxia story, which uses the psychologically heightened setting of wandering fighters to look at personal relationships (I’ve seen this before in novels, though not in a movie—in fact, I’m impressed it works at all in a film format). The relationships aren’t there to make drama; the drama is there to reveal the relationships.

The Pacing

If you haven’t guessed it already, this is a slow movie, and it’s not until the end that the various bits and pieces of the story cohere into something that feels complete.

Being familiar with The Eagle-Shooting Heroes makes it a little easier to understand what is going on, but not much easier. I understand why this bombed at the box office.

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On the other hand, I did not find the film boring at any point. Aside from the eye-catching imagery, the individual moments were usually pretty interesting, even though it was sometimes hard to understand what was connecting the various moments together.

And the fact that this film feels so disjointed actually helps make its point. It’s a film about memory and personal reflection, and when we think back on our own memories, we generally think of them in sets of particular vivid moments, rather than a linear narrative.

Personal Relationships and Regret

This movie is basically about how we let our personal relationships deteriorate, how we fail to value the most meaningful things in life, and how we mourn for that loss when it’s too late. The most positive reviews I’ve seen of this movie came from people who watched it after a breakup, and a few people recommend watching it alone (then again, some people recommend watching it in a theater if possible to fully experience the cinematography).

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The current state of my life is not such that I can fully appreciate this film. It does not speak to what are currently my deepest personal issues. Therefore, I feel that I haven’t felt the full impact of this film. Perhaps I should revisit this film again when my life is different.

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However, the film still has some relevance to my current life. I have spent most of my life in San Francisco, and prior to moving to Taiwan, I had spent all of my life living in northern California (aside from brief trips to other places). Modern technology makes it much easier to maintain the relationships which are most important to me … but not being in the Bay Area has meant that relationships which are not so close, but still valuable, have gradually withered away.

During my first year in Taiwan, I didn’t think at all about returning to the United States since I was still dazzled by the novelty of being on a different continent, but now I often think about returning, and of all the things I should do to re-establish myself before it’s too late (the United States as a whole, and my neighborhood specifically, has changed since I left, and if I wait too long, I will only be able to return as a stranger). The fact that I think so much about returning also affects my relationships here in Taiwan—I’m afraid to go deeper into relationships, lest they break when I leave. Heh, maybe this film is a preview of how I’ll feel after I return to the United States, in which case, it’s a bit scary.

Availability in English

This movie is readily available with English subtitles, and they don’t suck. Since this movie is in Cantonese, I actually used a combination of Chinese and English subtitles to watch it, so I was able to compare the two. While I’m certain the Chinese subtitles are closer to what is being said in Cantonese, most of the departures in the English subtitles make the English feel more natural, and a more literal translation would feel much stiffer.

Non-Conclusion

I think I need to see the film again before I have a conclusion. And seeing the film again right now wouldn’t count—I need to wait at least six months before seeing the film again. I might conclude that this film is really deep, or I might conclude that it’s bullshit dressed up with impressive cinematography. Perhaps I’ll watch the redux version next time.

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Next time: Burning Moon (manhua)


Sara K. finally went to Sun Moon Lake. She had been warned that she shouldn’t get her expectations too high, but she thinks Sun Moon Lake is gorgeous, and that Nantou County is fantastic. She suspects the people who find Sun Moon Lake disappointing/boring either have a different temperament from her, were doing/seeing the wrong things, or simply had super-high expectations (Sara’s learned to never have super-high expectations during travel).

Filed Under: It Came From the Sinosphere Tagged With: condor trilogy, movie Wong Kar-Wai, wuxia

The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: Lee Chi-Ching’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes

April 17, 2012 by Sara K. 17 Comments

Ke Zhen'e uses his staff to draw a line in the ground representing the end of his relationship with Guo Jing; in the background, Guo Jing's facial expression shows great sorrow.

And now we are back in Hong Kong. Just as the first review in this series presents an adaptation of the first novel, Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn, the final review also presents an adaptation of Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn.

Example Scene

Yang Kang looks really excited about his ambitious plans.
Here, Yang Kang tells Mu Nianci what he plans to do.

Mu Nianci slaps Yang Kang across the face.
Mu Nianci expresses her opinion of Yang Kang’s plans.

Mu Nianci threatens to slit her own throat.  Yang Kang grabs away the knife by the blade and grips it tightly, causing his fist to bleed.
That knife is a great metaphor for their destructive relationship. These two hurt each other a lot … and yet they hold on. Furthermore, it is Yang Kang, not Mu Nianci, who is bleeding. Ultimately, Yang Kang pays the heavier price for this romance. I am not sure whether or not that is their father’s knife (note: this is not incest; she’s adopted, he’s biological, and they didn’t even know about each other’s existence until they were teenagers) but if it is, then that makes the metaphor perfect.

Mu Nianci looks shocked.  She slowly pulls the knife out of Yang Kang's hand, and looks at his bloody palm in horror.
Look at that gloriously bloody hand!

Mu Nianci throws away the bloody knife and runs out of the building.  She looks like she wants to puke.
Mu Nianci runs away. But it’s too late.

About Lee Chi-Ching

Lee Chi-Ching, while lacking the stature of Tony Wong and Ma Wing-Shing, is yet another of Hong Kong’s most popular manhua artists. He has the distinction of being the first Hong Kong manhua artist to have his work published in Japanese, and to the best of my knowledge, is still the most popular manhua artist in the Japanese market. Unlike the other manhua artists who have adapted the Condor Trilogy, Lee Chi-Ching is not known for his original stories. All of his well-known works are adaptations of novels.

Art

Guo Jing says that he loves Huang Rong; Huang Rong doesn't believe him.

Even though this is also in black and white, the style is in many ways the opposite of Wee Tian Beng’s. Wee Tian Beng’s style is to use sophisticated layouts to present simple drawings. Lee Chi-Ching most of the time uses simple layouts. Panels are generally a collections of rectangular boxes, and each panel generally contains one image. Yet each image is rendered with detailed linework. This artwork is very focused on the content of the panels, not the delivery of the panels.

Guo Jing kneels and pounds his fist in a dramatic manner.

In Tony Wong’s adaptations, the fights look like acrobat shows. In Ma Wing-shing’s The Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre, the fights look like storms. In Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes, the fights look like ballet performances. In Lee Chi-Ching’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes, the fights look like … fights.

Mei Chao-feng and her husband fight the Jiangnan freaks.

Even though the fights are not as full of “goodies” as the fights in the other manhua adaptations, Lee Chi-Ching knows how to find stillness in the movement of the human body—which is beautiful.

Huang Rong strikes Zhen Ke'e as he is about to kill Guo Jing.

Or some lovely shape is formed by the series of blows—but the loveliness seems incidently to the fight itself.

Huang Rong uses the Dog Staff technique on Ouyang Feng.

And when the strikes connect, they look like they hurt. It does not look like a show.

Zhen Ke'e blinds Mei Chao-feng.

One reason the fights look more painful is that, more than in any other manhua adapted from the Condor Trilogy, Lee Chi-Ching’s drawings focus on the characters. The simplicity of compositions make the characters stand out that much more. When they hurt, the reader knows.

Ouyang Feng sees Ouyang Ke in pain.

Yin Gu thinks about her infant son, which is a very painful memory.

Outside of the fights, there are many panels in which the characters strike a pose that sticks in my mind. For example, this one:

Huang Yaoshi and Hong Qigong stand.

I like how Hong Qigong’s body is open and facing the reader, with his feet spread apart to show power, and how Huang Yaoshi is facing the side, his eyes away from the reader, with his feet in turnout showing that he too can stand his ground—it really fits both of their personalities. Both of their stances convey that they both are experts at using their own bodies—not to mention the clothes. The way Huang Yaoshi’s cape is draped looks quite nice. The the strap of Hong Qigong’s gunnysack matches the diagonal lines formed by the fold in his coat, and the belt adds a good horizontal line to tie it together.

Guo Jing and Huang Rong look happy - and his hairtie looks lovely.

Speaking of clothes, I really like Guo Jing’s hair-tie, especially how it swishes about throughout the manhua. Generally, I think this manhua adapation has the most fashion sense.

And the tears. Lots of tears.

Yang Kang cries.

The artwork does not seem to force the drama. It simply lets the tears flow when the characters feel the need to cry.

Huang Rong cries.

Of course, in this story, practically every other page has a character who feels like crying.

Guo Jing cries in a scary way.

While the compositions are generally simple, they can be quite powerful, such as in this page:

Mu Nianci and Bo Xiruo run to Yang Tiexin and he thrusts a spear into his own belly.

This is a really focused picture. The woman’s arms form a nice parallel with the horizontal line of the man’s body. The vertical lines of the girl and the spear also form a nice parallel and, in turn, point (along with the diagonal lines of the man’s legs) at the main focus of the drawing—the man’s belly. Notice that this picture follows the rule of thirds—the man’s belly is about a third of the way up from the bottom-right of the drawing. The lines formed by the girl and woman’s tears point at their eyes, and the gaze of the eyes are, of course, also pointed at the man’s belly. And of course, inside the man’s belly is a spear-head.

After going through that scene again, I’m the one who now feels like crying…

And there’s this spread:

Guo Jing and Tolui ride towards each other on horseback.

Notice on each page, there are three main elements which for three points of a triangle—a long-distance shot of the character in profile on horseback showing the distance between the two characters, a close-up of the character on the horse in motion facing front, and a close-up of the character’s face. Then the two pages mirror each other. Even the dialogue is mirrored:

Tolui: Guo Jing-anda, how are you?
Guo Jing: Tolui-anda, so it’s you?

Anda means “sworn-brother” in Mongolian—and in traditional Mongolian culture, sworn-brothers were considered closer to each other than biological brothers. I think Lee Chi-Ching’s drawings show how these two anda feel compelled to do what they think is right, even though that means fighting each other.

Tolui deliberates about what to do as Guo Jing prepares to sneak into the tent, intending to kill Tolui.  In the center, their are flashbacks to their childhood.

Lee Chi-Ching mirrors these two anda again, this time in a V shape with their childhood memories inside the V while their hostile intentions forms the shape of the V itself. Lee Chi-Ching rarely uses a composition this complex, but he certainly chooses the right moment for it.

And Lee Chi-Ching mirrors the two anda yet again.

A split view of Tolui and Guo Jing's faces, combined as one face.

In short, out of all of the manhua adaptations of the Condor Trilogy, the artwork in Lee Chi-Ching’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes does the best job of illustrating the humanity of the story.

Adaptation

This is the least abridged manhua adaptation of the Condor Trilogy. Yes, some details get left out. Yes, there are some changes too—some of which annoy me. On the other hand, the scene I used to open this review is not in the original novel, yet it is so wonderful (are there any other comics where somebody holds a knife by the blade in order to prove a point?) that, for me, it compensates for the changes to the story that I do not like.

There are scenes which, while decently rendered in this adaptation, fail to capture the magic of the novel. For example, while the scene where Huang Rong meets Guo Jing by the lake is one of my favourites in the novel, in this adaptation it feels like nothing special.

And there are scenes where seeing it instead of reading it, in my opinion, makes the impact more visceral. For example, the flock of crows shock me more in this adaptation than in the novel.

This manhua is by far the longest of any adapted from the Condor Trilogy, but each page only covers a little plot. The low plot-to-page ratio means that the pages go by very quickly. It grants Lee Chi-Ching plenty of room to show, not tell, the story. I wish Ma Wing-Shing had done this in his The Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre.

Lee Chi-Ching’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes is very much about the characters. This adaptation puts the least emphasis in fights of all the manhua adaptations—they generally seem to be there to connect the story together rather than being ends in their own right. Thus, they are relatively short. On the other hand, many pages get spent on the key dramatic moments so the reader can really sink into them. This manhua sets up the roller-coaster of the characters excitement, glee, anger, sorrow, pain, and joy—and it is a hell of a ride.

Much more than any other manhua adaptation of the trilogy, this one gripped me by the heartstrings. Going through it again while preparing this review just reminds me why I love it so much. Each time I go through it, I find many wonderful little bits I had not noticed before.

Availability

This manhua is totally unavailable in English. Much as I want this situation to change, considering the financial realities, I am not holding my breath. It has been published in Japanese, though I do not know how to get a hold of a Japanese-language copy.

Anyone who wishes to read this in Chinese should try to get one of the Taiwan editions instead of the Hong Kong editions—the Taiwan editions come in a bigger page size, which serves the detailed artwork very well. That said, even in Taiwan, it’s easier to get the Hong Kong editions than the Taiwan editions. The Taiwan editions are all out of print, whereas this manhua has been reprinted in Hong Kong as recently as 2010. The fact that this is the only manhua adaptation of the Condor Trilogy which is being kept in print demonstrates its enduring popularity.

Conclusion

I have been reading comics since I was four years old. While there were years when I was sticking to re-reads and not trying any new comics, it still adds up to having read quite a few comics in my lifetime. If I were to make a list right now of my favourite comics—in any language, from any country—Lee Chi-Ching’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes would find a place in the top 10.

Guo Jing and Huang Rong embrace in the mountains.

Discussion Question:
What did you think of this series of blog posts? What did I do well? What could be improved? Would you be interested in reading more posts about wuxia, manhua, or Chinese-language pop culture in general?


Sara K. would like to register her astonishment at the ignorance of Chinese-language pop culture among non-Asians who are studying Chinese. There are many non-Asians who are studying Chinese who have never heard of the Condor Trilogy. Sara K. mostly blames their teachers—language teachers need to introduce students to the culture, not just the language itself—though she also thinks that the students could be a bit more active about researching Chinese-language pop culture themselves. One of the reasons she wrote this series of blog posts is to help non-Asians who are studying Chinese to find something to read in Chinese, or at least find inspiration. She is currently working on some guest posts for Hacking Chinese, which might even be interesting to people who are not studying Chinese. Her own personal blog is The Notes Which Do Not Fit, though there is little about comics or Asian culture over there.

Filed Under: FEATURES Tagged With: condor trilogy

The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: Return of the Condor Heroes

April 13, 2012 by Sara K. 14 Comments

The cover of Volume 15 of Return of the Condor Heroes, featuring Guo Xiang and Yang Guo.

Let’s leave Hong Kong for a post to visit Singapore. A peek at this manhua was already presented in an earlier post: The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: Fighting.

Singapore’s most commercially successful manhua artist by far is Wee Tian Beng. He was the first Sigaporean manhua artist to achieve success in the Hong Kong and Taiwan markets. Wee Tian Beng is best known for The Celestial Zone and its sequels, but before Wee Tian Beng made The Celestial Zone, he adapted Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ, using ‘Return of the Condor Heroes’ as the official English title. In 1997 this adaptation won the “Asian Manga Prestigious Award” at the Asian Manga Summit held in Seoul, South Korea.

Art

Hong Qigong teaches Yang Guo some of the Dog Staff technique.

Compared to Hong Kong manhua, Wee Tian Beng’s drawings look simple and cartoonish. I admit that at first that turned me off. However, as I read more and more, it dawned on me that the artwork is quite rich. Sure, the artwork does not have the intricate line-work characteristic of Hong Kong wuxia manhua … but there is such variety in the way Wee Tian Beng draws the story.

Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng watch Yang Guo training.

For example, there are many sequences showing a series of graceful motions by the characters. Indeed, I think Return of the Condor Heroes has the most graceful movement of all of the Condor Trilogy manhua – Hong Kong manhua tends to have characters move in a more BLAM! manner.

A drawing of Yang Guo in which his right side is done in negative shading.

There are many panels which play with light and shadow, particularly shadow.

Xiaolongnu weeps over a sleeping Yang Guo.

It's because of moments like this that I think that Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ is the most shojo-like novel in the Condor Trilogy. When he wakes up, even though his face is still wet from her tears, there is already no trace of her current wheareabouts.

And of all of the Condor Trilogy manhua, Return of the Condor Heroes is the most cinematic. Often there will be a series of panels, or even pages, without dialogue or fancy composition—just simple still shots.

We see a beautiful songbird as Yang Guo rides through the countryside.

Speaking of cinema, Return of the Condor Heroes is the manhua which puts the most emphasis on natural scenery. Like westerns in the United States, wuxia movies and TV shows sometimes put a lot of emphasis on beautiful scenery. Something about human nature must make people enjoy watching fighters beat the living daylights out of each other in gorgeous settings. Heck, I first became interested in wuxia because it features people beating the living daylights out of each other while wearing beautiful clothes—I only came to appreciate other aspects (the story, for example) later.

NOTE: While all other manhua adaptations of the Condor Trilogy are read from right-to-left, Return of the Condor Heroes is read from left-to-right.

A close-up drawing of some water birds.

The water birds in flight.

As the water birds fly in the background, Yang Guo wanders the countryside, longing for Xiaolongnu.

All of the Condor Trilogy manhua show some of the naturally beautiful settings. Even The Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre occasionally has a nice page or two showing the lovely scenery. But Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes not only has many panels of lofty mountains, verdant forests, and scenic rivers, it also shows quite a bit of the wildlife too. While Tony Wong’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes is the adaptation to look to if you want luxurious palaces, Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes is definitely the scenic route.

Wee Tian Beng’s drawings also renders the characters in a more subtle manner than Tony Wong and Ma Wing-shing. For example, I really like the way that Wee Tian Beng draws Guo Xiang.

A picture of Guo Xiang with a variety of beasts behind her.

His drawings capture how she is curious, clever, mischievous, and naïve at the same time—in other words, how she is just like many other teenage girls.

While at first I did not care for the way he draws Xiaolongnü, his depiction of her grew on me.

Xiaolongnu is conflicted as she fights Gongsun Zhi.

Wee Tian Beng conveys how cold Xiaolongnü is while offering glimpses of the feelings she has deep down. That’s hard to pull off, and something that I do not think Tony Wong really succeeded at. While I haven’t seen any of the TV/film adaptations of the Condor Trilogy, I think that Xiaolongnü would be the most challenging role for an actor to play in the entire trilogy.

So, in spite of a bad first impression, the art definitely won me over.

Yang Guo catches a knife with his mouth.

Did Yang Guo just yank away that knife with his mouth? THAT IS SO COOL!

Adaptation

Wee Tian Beng botched the depiction of Yang Guo’s childhood. He shows Yang Guo as a mischievous young boy—fair enough, Yang Guo is a mischievous boy. Yang Guo’s childish exploits are shown in a humorous light—fair enough, some of them are humorous. Wee Tian Beng also shows some of the bullying … but … but the bullying is also shown in a humorous light, which is definitely not how it reads in the original novel. Wee Tian Beng also fails to show the true extent of the bullying. And no where in the manhua is it shown, or even said, that Yang Guo was wandering around China, homeless, without any relatives or friends, surviving by any means necessary … when he was just eleven years old. Plotwise, is that detail important? No, not really. Is that detail important for Yang Guo’s character development. Oh hell yes it is.

The reader needs to feel Yang Guo’s pain to have the fullest experience of the story. As Todd Brown succinctly put it in his review of the 1983 TV series, Yang Guo “has been repeatedly abandoned and abused by the adults in his life, leaving him both desperate for approval and deeply distrustful.” While I do not enjoy reading about Yang Guo being bullied, abused, and neglected, it is a necessary foundation for everything that is done with Yang Guo’s character later. I love reading about teenage Yang Guo kicking everybody’s ass because I know how much he suffered as a boy. Without that suffering …. I care a lot less about Yang Guo.

Furthermore, Wee Tian Beng also messed up the scene which made me fall in love with Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ. Specifically, the first fight with Li Mochou in the Tomb of Living Death. I cannot get into details without spoilers, so let’s just say that I love the scene because it feels like it was ripped straight from a fairy tale, spiked with the kind of melodrama found in classic shoujo manga. First of all, Wee Tian Beng completely takes out the buildup to the fight. That is not horrible, but it does make things seem rather sudden. But—and this is what really bothers me—he also took the most dramatic, fairy-talish moment out. That just killed the scene for me.

So, between the way Yang Guo’s childhood was (not) shown and what it did to one of my favourite scenes, I was set to hate this adaptation.

Then, about a third of the way through, this manhua started being a lot more faithful to the novel. It started to include many of the things which The Legendary Couple left out, including some of the subtle little details. Of course, the subtler details matches the subtler art. And I found myself sucked back into the story again. I relived the experience of the novel, but I think even if I had not read the novel, this manhua would have still sucked me in.

For example, I think that this adaptation did another one of my favourite scenes—the trip Guo Jing and Yang Guo make to the Mongol camp—better than The Legendary Couple. Generally, I felt that The Legendary Couple gave the relationship between Guo Jing and Yang Guo short shrift, but because it glosses over it rather than actively butchers it, it did not bother me as much as what Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes did to the first fight in the Tomb of Living Death. Yet … this is one of those scenes where Yang Guo’s childhood suffering is very relevant. I love this scene because, in the novel, the suspense and the intensity made my heart leap into my throat. However, cutting back on Yang Guo’s childhood cuts the suspense and intensity of this scene, so while I appreciate Wee Tian Beng giving this scene a fuller treatment that Tony Wong, I cannot say “well done.”

Overall, this manhua is quite good at capturing the quiet melancholy of the story, as well has having the richest versions of the characters of any of the manhua reviewed thus far. And the melancholy is quite beautiful.

But.

While the story certainly has plenty of subtlety and quiet melancholy, some parts have all of the subtlely of a sword pierced through the chest (wrong novel, I know). While The Legendary Couple was not subtle, it could pierce. I don’t think Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes ever manages to be sufficiently sharp during those moments. Three examples:

Example 1: There is a scene where a father threatens to cut off his daughter’s arm. In The Legendary Couple, there is a full-page panel dedicated to this moment, highlighting the father’s intent and the daughter’s terror. In Wee Tian Being’s Return of the Condor Heroes, this moment is not shown as being particularly special. I actually like the way he draws the father’s calm resolve, however the daughter does not seem to be really terrified.

Example 2: (WARNING: if discussion of sexual assault triggers you, skip to Example 3) There is a rape scene. Here is what I was thinking when I read the rape scene in Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes:

“She looks so lovely and vulnerable … that’s a nice use of shadow … what a beautiful night, with the stars and the trees.”

This is what I was thinking when I read the rape scene in The Legendary Couple:

“No, not this scene again. Maybe I should skip it … [shudder] the clothes have come off … no! Stop! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! DO NOT DO IT!!!!!!!!!!”

I will let you draw your own conclusions about which manhua evoked a more appropriate response to the rape scene.

Example 3: At one point in the story, a character’s hair turns white in the course of a single night.

In The Legendary Couple, it looks like this.

Yang Guo is weeping, on top of a cliff, with his cape swirling, and his hair all white.

This is the same moment in Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes.

Yang Guo looks down from the mountain, and then sees his reflection in the water - his hair has gone white.

Some people might prefer Wee Tian Beng’s quieter interpretation, but I think that if somebody has experienced something so horrible that his hair turns white in one night, exclamation points are called for. Generally, I feel that The Legendary Couple was much better at punching out the exclamation points.

Availability

Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes is the only manhua adaptation of the Condor Trilogy which has been completely published in English. The publisher claims to still have the English-language edition for sale, but I have not personally confirmed this.

To the best of my knowledge, all Chinese language editions, both simplified and traditional characters, are out of print, but I can testify that it is still fairly easy to get the Taiwanese (traditional characters) edition, at least in Taiwan.

Conclusion

Ultimately, I think this manhua has more to offer than The Legendary Couple. I must find time to read The Celestial Zone some day. Yet I find The Legendary Couple flashing in my mind far more often than Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes. While it is less admirable, The Legendary Couple made a deeper impression on me.

Because of the problems with the first part of this manhua, I do not recommend making this one’s first contact with Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ.

What I highly recommend for lovers of Asian comics is reading the seven ComicsOne volumes of The Legendary Couple first, and then proceed to read this. That is a nearly ideal manhua experience—ComicsOne edition cuts off right around the point Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes starts being better than The Legendary Couple, and readers can experience both interpretations of the story.

Of course, if you can, you really should read the novel. While both of the manhua adaptations are fine, neither can match the experience of the original.

Discussion Question:

Which do you think you would prefer, The Legendary Couple or Return of the Condor Heroes?


Sara K. loves dancing. She has taken ballet, swing, modern, jazz, Afro-Haitian, and noh dance classes. However, the dance of her dreams is tap dance. Of course, she thinks Swan is fantastic, and she also appreciates the way the characters in Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes look like they are dancing.

Filed Under: FEATURES Tagged With: condor trilogy

The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: The Heaven Sword and the Dragon Sabre

April 10, 2012 by Sara K. 7 Comments

A cover illustration showing a number of the Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre characters inside the Dragon Sabre.

This is part four in a series of posts about the Condor Trilogy in Manhua. The previous posts are Introduction, Fighting, Tony Wong’s The Eagle-Shooting Heroes, and The Legendary Couple.

This manhua is by Ma Wing-shing, who is Hong Kong’s next most significant wuxia manhua artist after Tony Wong.

Whereas the other novels in the trilogy have been adapted multiple times into manhua, this is the only manhua adaptation of Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì. Poor Zhang Wuji, nobody loves him. Well, maybe my friend loves him. She kept on asking me what I thought about him as I read the novel (“Isn’t he wonderful?” “Ummm, he’s still twelve years old” “Just wait until he becomes a man!”)

Speaking of Zhang Wuji and female attention, let’s check out his wedding.

Example Scene:

Zhang Wuji and Zhou Zhiruo are staring at each other while they are wearing traditional Chinese wedding clothes.
The young couple is getting married. And they love each other. They really do. This must be a happy scene where nothing goes wrong…

Zhao Min, a Mongol Princess, crashes the wedding.
… aside from a Mongolian princess barging in.

Zhao Min tells Zhang Wuji to call off the wedding.
The Mongolian princess asks the groom to jilt the bride. The groom says that if he did that, he would be a jerk.

Zhao Min changes Zhang Wuji's mind with whatever is in her hand (not shown to the reader).
The Mongolian princess seems to have something in her hand. Whatever it is, it makes the Chinese groom change his tune.

Zhou Zhiruo sees that Zhang Wuji might actually call off the wedding, and looks worried.
Hey, Chinese people bride, it’s time to PROTECT YOUR COUNTRY MAN FROM THE MONGOL INVASION PRINCESSS!

Zhao Zhiruo starts to attack Zhao Min.
Go Chinese people bride, go!

Zhou Zhiruo attacks Zhao Min in a major way.
*sigh* Bride, you’re not going to score any points if you beat up a helpless princess who … poisoned and kidnapped a bunch of the world’s most powerful martial artists … is the best schemer in the story … can get Zhang Wuji to crack a joke (before the Mongol princess showed up, I was under the impression that Zhang Wuji didn’t have a sense a humor) … okay, bride, if you take down the princess, you score ALL the points.

Zhang Wuji defends Zhao Min.
Given a choice between a Mongol princess who is trying to ruin his wedding and previously tried to kill him and his companions, and a woman that he loves and wants to marry, the groom is of course siding with the Mongol princess.

Zhang Wuji and Zhou Zhiruo get into a kung fu fight.
You know, I think most weddings would be improved if the bride and groom decided to break out into a kung-fu match in the midst of the ceremony. Too bad that this couple seems to be fighting for real.

Zhou Zhiruo smashes her phoenix-bridal crown.
Apparently the wedding is now messed up beyond all repair.

Zhang Wuji runs after Zhao Min as she flees the wedding.
Game over. Mongol empire princess: 1; Chinese people bride: 0.

Adaptation

The manhua is paced very differently from the novel. Even though this manhua is 25 volumes long (Taiwan edition), the first 75% of the novel gets covered in the first 5 volumes, though some of the early scenes in the novel appear later in the manhua as flashbacks. Considering that the first half of the novel is about as brisk as rush hour traffic, this is not exactly a bad thing. Even so, the sheer speed did make me a little dizzy. The last three chapters of the novel, however, are covered in about 6 volumes, which allows much more room for nuance. While I will not say that the last three chapters are the best three chapters, the last fourth of the novel is certainly the best part, so I cannot exactly argue with this either.

However, while the pacing of the manhua is completely different from the novel, the plot is pretty much the same. Like every other adaptation of the Condor Trilogy, some details are left out. Yes, some of the moments which are missing are my personal favorites, but that’s always going to happen and I can always re-read the novels if I so wish.

Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì has less humor than the other parts of the trilogy, but whatever humor the story has, this manhua manages to kill it. For example, the socks scene is utterly serious—and I don’t mean that it is done deadpan style. It simply is not funny in the manhua. The only humor in this manhua is unintentional—such as the wedding scene described above (to be fair, I thought the wedding scene was quite funny in the original novel too, and I do not think that was Jin Yong’s intent).

The manhua is based on the second edition of the novel and has the second-edition ending (different editions have different endings). I also happened to read the second edition of the novel. My first reaction to the ending of the novel was “what the [expletive]!” and then I chose to be amused. Ma Wing-shing has a very different take on the second-edition ending—he presents it as being creepy and scary. (Which just goes to show how open-ended the second edition ending is.) Whereas I took the most light-hearted interpretation possible, Ma Wing-shing took the darkest interpretation possible. The line between comedy and tragedy can be quite fine.

Generally, out of all of the Condor Trilogy manhua, this was the hardest one for me to get involved in the story. There were points when I got involved, but it felt like I was recalling how a given scene made me feel in the original novel rather than re-experiencing the scene anew. I think this is mainly an art issue, because aside from the pacing, timing, and some simplifications, the dialogue and the plot of the manhua are not that different from the novel.

Artwork

An illustration showing the backstory of the Persian Ming cult and its female leader, using purple dragons as visual flourishes.

Ma has a more gritty-realistic style than Tony Wong. Though he can use an abundance of flourishes when he wishes, they do not have the eye-candy feel of Tony Wong’s visual flourishes. While the characters in Tony Wong’s manhua often seem to have a light spring to their steps, Ma’s characters move in a more grounded manner. Overall, where Tony Wong’s art expresses exuberance, Ma’s art expresses restraint—a restraint which sometimes bursts into an explosion of glory. And to be honest, I have trouble imagining a Tong Wong adaptation of Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì. While Tony Wong expresses excitement—whether of joy or angst—quite well, he is not so adept at expressing solemn, heavy feelings. Thus, I feel that the right artists were chosen for the right adaptations.

An illustration of a scene which, in spite of being a fight/soap opera scene, is full of talking heads.

Because the manhua tries to cover the first three-fourths of the novel so quickly, the art is in rapid plot-exposition mode—which means there are a lot of talking heads. In the hands of an artist who is great at drawing talking heads, that would be sweet. Ma Wing-shing is not that kind of artist. Not only do the characters constantly seem to be wearing the same stoic expression, but they often look just like each other. I think that depicting the characters as constantly having a stoic expression is an interesting way to interpret Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì—but when you’re mostly seeing talking heads, it looks really monotonous.

Zhang Wuji is thinking about a certain Mongol Princess.

This moment is supposed to be full of feeling, but because the faces look just the same as they do in pretty much every other moment, I find it hard to feel the feeling.

However, while Ma is not good at expressing character through face or body, he can express the character’s inner life through composition, color, and motion.

The Ming Cult thinks about the death of one of their leaders.

For example, you can tell by the blues, the rain, the way the figure’s back is turned as his body fades into the storm, that this a sad, solemn moment.

A nice set of pictures of Zhang Sanfeng.

But to express things through composition and color, one needs a high-page-to-plot ratio. Such a ratio does not exist in the first half in the manhua. There were flashes of Ma’s visual genius, even in the first half, but they were quickly buried in a sea of talking heads.

Zhang Wuji sees an injured Yin Liting.

But when the page-to-plot ratio goes up? Ma demonstrates why he is one of Hong Kong’s most celebrated manhua artists. The last 8 or so volumes are GORGEOUS. When I say they are gorgeous, I mean they are full of pages like this (click to see them in larger size):

The Yellow Dress Maiden fights Zhou Zhiruo.

And this:

Xie Xun fights Cheng Kun in grand style.

And this:

Zhou Zhiruo thinks she is being pursued by the ghost of Yin Li.

I am tempted to say that if Ma had expanded this story over more pages, the entire manhua could have been visually amazing. But I suspect Ma needed to be inspired to show his true capabilities, and that the first part of the story did not inspire him.

Please forgive my poor digital camera – it does not do the artwork justice.

More Thoughts on the Adaptation

This is my least favourite of the manhua adaptations of the Condor Trilogy.

The last fourth of the original novel kept my jaw fixed in a state of drop until it was over. When the manhua adaptation made my jaw drop, it was always because the art was stunning, not because the story swept me up again.

Perhaps the art and the story failed to connect because there was no focus. I would have been happy to read a manhua adaptation of Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì which threw the story to hell and focused on fantastic fight scenes—and I think Ma could have delivered such a version. I might also enjoy a manhua adaptation which focuses on the romance—as one can probably tell by my commentary on the wedding scene, I would have a lot of fun with that version.

The manhua adaptation I would really like to see is one which delved into the commentary on society and politics. Hong Kong wuxia manhua uses plenty of visual metaphors and flourishes to flesh out the battles. Why not use those visual metaphors and flourishes to flesh out the socio-political allegory? Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì would be the perfect story for this treatment. The title literally means “Relying on Heaven to Kill the Dragon Tale” and is usually interpreted to mean that when the emperor (dragon) is bad, the people who support justice (heaven) will remove him. And there are two blades—the Heaven Sword and the Dragon Sabre—which carry this metaphor throughout the story. Why not build on that? I think sequential art is the perfect medium for examining this side of the story. Alas, this manhua does not try to go there and mostly takes the story at face value.

And I think that might be the thing. This adaptation sticks too close to the surface. It is reasonably faithful to the letter of the story—more so than the Tony Wong adaptations. But it does not try to dig into any aspect of the story—not the battles, not the romance, not the camaraderie, not the social commentary, not the tragedy, and so forth. I already know the story, so I am not terribly interested in a shallow overview.

Availability in English

11 volumes of this manhua were published in English by ComicOne. They are out of print, and seem a little harder/more expensive to get than The Legendary Couple, but are apparently not too difficult to acquire. I do not know how the ComicOne volumes correspond to the Taiwan edition. Having only read the Taiwan edition, I also cannot comment on the translation.

To continue the story in English, Chu Yuan’s The Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre Part 1 & 2 (1978), The New Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre (1986), and The Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre (2009) are all available on DVD with English subtitles.

Conclusion

I think the only people who should read the ComicOne edition are people who really want to experience the story of Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì in a printed medium and cannot read the novel. It is actually not a terrible adaptation, and can give one a sense of the story, even though it cannot replace the experience of reading the novel.

Everyone else—Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì fans, Ma Wing-shing fans, and so forth, should go straight to one of the Chinese-language editions, regardless of one’s Chinese reading ability or lack thereof. If one wishes to invest money in this manhua, there is no reason to deny oneself the splendor of the late volumes.

Speaking of gorgeous art, the question is:

Whose art style do you prefer, Tony Wong’s or Ma Wing-shing’s?


Sara K. has tried martial arts herself. She has taken kickboxing and Tai Chi (Chen style) classes, and has gone up to green belt in Tae Kwon Do. She is slow and her arms are weak. She is flexible, has a good sense of balance, and has powerful legs. If she found herself in hand-to-hand combat, she would use her arms mostly for defense and use her legs mostly for offense. Her bones have an unusual structure, which means that certain arm twists which work on most people do not work on her (and would offer her an excellent opportunity to send her opponent a surprise elbow jab), however her unusual bone structure also makes her more prone to injuries in general. If she were to study a new martial art, she would choose archery.

Filed Under: FEATURES Tagged With: condor trilogy

The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: The Legendary Couple

April 6, 2012 by Sara K. 9 Comments

To see an example scene, please refer to the second post in this series, The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: Fighting.

The Legendary Couple is Tony Wong’s version of the second novel, Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ. Even though it’s the second novel, Tony Wong adapted this novel before he adapted the first novel.

Art

Yang Guo, passed out, is about to be attacked by a giant snake.

The style of The Legendary Couple, unsurprisingly, has a lot in common with Tony Wong’s Eagle-Shooting Heroes, but is less spectacular than the latter. The fights in The Legendary Couple are simpler and shorter—yet they are more confusing. There is less contrast to help readers quickly distinguish the various elements. That’s a pity, because I generally find the fights in Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ to be more engaging than the fights in Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn.

Yang Guo and Xiaolongnu fight the master of the Passionless Valley - with swirling swords used by all parties

Sure, there are lots of swirls—but they are not as pretty as the ones in Tony Wong’s The Eagle-Shooting Heroes. There are also visual metaphors, but they are not as abundant or exciting as the visual metaphors in The Eagle-Shooting Heroes. There are diagonals and slanted views, but not nearly as much as in The Eagle-Shooting Heroes. There are also some sweeping vistas … but they are not as plentiful as in The Eagle-Shooting Heroes.

Xiaolongnu weeps with a sunset in the background

Almost everything in this manhua seems to happen at sunset or in the early evening. That’s rather appropriate. More than the other two parts of the trilogy, the second part is about things falling apart. Song China is collapsing under the weight of Mongol invasion. The main characters’ personal lives are constantly tottering on the brink of collapse, more so than in the other parts of the trilogy. The sunset and evening colors do help pull out the angst and melancholy.

Xiaolongnu, Wan Botong, and the Jade Bees (the Jade bees are attacking Wan Botong, and while Xiaolongnu offers to help him, he actually likes being stinged by them)

Something that really comes through in this adaptation is how well Tony Wong can express characters through art. Comparing this with The Eagle-Shooting Heroes, I don’t think the characters are actually drawn better in The Legendary Couple … but because the other elements of the art draw less attention, there is much more focus on the characters. Their movements are lively, but most importantly, the drawings clearly expose the characters’ feelings.

As soon as Huang Rong has finished giving birth, Xiaolongnü prompty kidnaps her newborn daughter. If that's not melodrama, I do not know what is.

What Tony Wong really does better in The Legendary Couple than in The Eagle-Shooting Heroes is hitting the high notes of the drama through art.

Ouyang Feng remembers his son, Ouyang Ke

I particularly like the collages Tony Wong draws when characters are remembering earlier events.

Yang Guo and Xiaolongnu see each other in color, and everything else in rendered in black and white.

And there are various visual gems throughout the manhua—for example, this use of color vs. black and white to show how these two characters only see each other and are unaware of their surroundings.

The Tibetans have captured Guo Fu.  Her mother and sweethearts are watching the Tibetans.  Yang Guo and Xiaolongnu watch everybody.

And this is one of my favourite pages in the entire manhua because it really lets the reader put the scene together—but first, this page needs some labels.

Same as the previous image, just with the characters labelled.

This page so perfectly captures the tension of this moment. The captive’s mother and sweethearts want to rescue her … but they also do not want her to get hurt, which is why they are staring at the Tibetans instead of attacking them. The Tibetans know that they are being stared at, but are confident that they have the upper hand. Everybody is too preoccupied to notice the people in the top-left corner of the page … but the wildcard characters are watching everything, unsure of what they want. Suffice to say, when the tension reaches a breaking point and the weapons come out, it’s the wildcard characters who decide the outcome.

While I prefer the art of Tony Wong’s The Eagle-Shooting Heroes for its sheer majestic sweep, I have to admit that the art in The Legendary Couple does a better job of supporting the story itself.

Adaptation

Whereas I was not able to quite lose myself to the story again in Tony Wong’s Eagle-Shooting Heroes, I did get involved in the story of Legendary Couple. It’s still a streamlined version, with some parts of the story changed and many bits removed. Some of the changes bother me (I cannot describe them without spoiling), but most of my quibbles are minor. Overall The Legendary Couple is a more complete version of second novel than Tony Wong’s The Eagle-Shooting Heroes is of the first novel. And I think that makes the difference.

It’s still not nearly as rich an experience as reading the original novel. The details left out in The Legendary Couple often come at the cost of the pathos and the depth of the characters. This adaptation is generally quite good at conveying the melodrama itself, but it is often not so good at conveying the other aspects of the story. The soft moments do not feel so soft, the quiet sad moments do not seem so quiet and sad, and in the joyful moments the joy feels a little muted. To be fair, the silly moments—at least the silly moments which were not cut out—are still quite silly in this adaptation. I think it is not the lack of drama which makes this adaptation feel a little thin—it’s the lack of the things which nuance the drama. Nonetheless, Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ is such a passionate novel that even a watered-down version of it can still hold its own against, say, 70s shoujo manga.

Availability in English

ComicsOne published 7 volumes of The Legendary Couple in English. They are now out of print, but apparently not hard to acquire. I do not know how the ComicsOne edition corresponds to the Hong Kong or Taiwan editions, so I am not sure how far into the manhua it goes. Based on the covers, the ComicsOne edition seems to cut off somewhere in the Hong Qigong/Ouyang Feng arc. There is another manhua adapted from Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ which has been fully published in English—not to mention that the 1983 live-action drama, the 2006 live-action drama, and the anime are all available with English subtitles—so it is certainly possible to continue the story in English after the ComicsOne edition cuts off.

Conclusion

If you want a good comic to read, I would definitely recommend The Legendary Couple over Tony Wong’s The Eagle-Shooting Heroes. This manhua can definitely stand on its own, whereas I am not sure Tony Wong’s The Eagle-Shooting Heroes would work for anybody who was not already familiar with the story.

Yet, I personally prefer Tony Wong’s The Eagle-Shooting Heroes. While The Legendary Couple is much better at capturing the spirit of the original and certainly has its moments, I feel that I did not get much from The Legendary Couple which I could not get from Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ—and the novel Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ has much more to offer. Tony Wong’s The Eagle-Shooting Heroes, in spite of its flaws, stretched my imagination. The Legendary Couple, for the most part, did not.

Discussion Question:

Which would you rather read, Tony Wong’s The Eagle-Shooting Heroes or The Legendary Couple?


Sara K. has been travelling for the past few days (these blog posts are canned), so she has not been terribly responsive. She is now back in Taoyuan county, and should finally be replying to whatever comments people left. Currently, she is reading Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils (the novel, not the manhua, which also happened to be drawn by Tony Wong).

Filed Under: FEATURES Tagged With: condor trilogy

The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: Tony Wong’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes

April 3, 2012 by Sara K. 7 Comments

Cover illustration of Tony Wong's The Eagle Shooting Heroes, Volume 13

This is part three in a seven part series about the Condor Trilogy and its manhua adaptations.

Example Scene (be sure to click on the pictures for a bigger size!)

The theme of this round of the contest Huang Yaoshi is hosting between Ouyang Ke and Guo Jing is music, and – oh, who cares? I didn’t pick this scene because of the plot. I picked this scene because it’s pretty.

Huang Yaoshi plays the flute

I really like the presence of swirling things in this manhua. The music coming from Huang Yaoshi’s flute is no exception.

Guo Jing listens to the music

This manhua is occasionally punctuated with a page which is meant to pop. The “pop” pages usually are done in pastel, and consist of a single panel. However, even though the left page is the “pop” page, my favorite panel here Guo Jing on the right, as he stops worrying about the fact that he knows squat about music and just listens. It helps that there is yellow fog/music/something swirling around him in that panel.

The action continues in the Guo Jing vs. Ouyang Ke competition

One of the things that helps keep the action clear is the alternation of panels showing close-ups of the characters faces and panels showing the action.

The musical competition gets flooded by a metaphorical sea.

Yes! I love the copious use of visual metaphors to represent the action! Here, the sea represents the music. And notice how the orange sound waves contrast with the blue sea waves. The blue-orange color theme continues for the rest of the scene.

Guo Jing actually gets the music, to the surprise of everybody

Look at the bottom-left panel. Not only has the sea metaphor been expanded to include a whale, fish, and dragons, but the way Huang Rong’s face pops in close up and at an angle makes this panel perfect. Her face connects the turbulence of the sea and Guo Jing’s tranquility.

Cool ocean metaphors, included merpeople, continue.

Notice how in the top-right panel, the sharp-pointed, orange, concave diamond Guo Jing is inside contrasts with the blue sea swirling around it. Guo Jing’s extended arms reinforce the pointy nature of the diamond, while the mer-people’s curved tails reinforce the wavy nature of the sea. It’s the multiple layers of visual contrast which makes that panel so dynamic—of course, it’s also pretty.

Huang Yaoshi really wants Guo Jing to lose, but Guo Jing is winning

There are many things I can say of the page where Huang Yaoshi is dancing and playing the flute around the seated Guo Jing, but I’ll stick to the colors. Notice that Guo Jing is blue, which is the opposite color of the orange swirls around him—maximum contrast. Huang Yaoshi, of course, is green, which does not constrast quite so much with either blue or orange, so, colorwise, he forms a soft border. And to reinforce the theme of the blue/orange contrast, in the background there is a blue/orange yin-yang.

Guo Jing wins the second round

By now, you should appreciate how wonderful the swirls, color contrasts, and visual metaphors are. And yes, Guo Jing wins this round.

About Tony Wong and his adaptation of Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn

Tony Wong is called “the godfather of Hong Kong comics.” He has been publishing manhua since the age of 13, and has since become an institution of Hong Kong culture. More Jin Yong novels have been adapted by him than any other manhua artist.

This manhua, first published in 2007, is a relatively recent Tony Wong work, and he definitely had an army of assistants help him make this. That doesn’t matter. What matters is how good is it to read.

The Art:

Once in the while, I have the pleasure of reading a comic where the art is so good that, after finishing a volume, I am compelled to immediately go back through the pages so that my eyes can rest some more upon the pictures. This manhua is one of those pleasures.

This picture how detailed the art in Twesh is

I am impressed by the way that the art manages to be detailed and complex without looking too busy. I am not completely sure how Tony Wong pulls it off, but I do have some ideas. First of all, this comic is in color. Tony Wong uses colors to increase the contrast between different things, which increases the level of detail each panel can sustain without losing the reader. Look at this page (and click on the picture to see it in full size!).

This image shows young Mei Chao-feng and Huang Yaoshi on Peach Blossom Island

In this page, the main color theme is green against red-orange, two colors with a high contrast. This helps my eyes figure out quickly where one object begins and another one ends. While I didn’t notice it while casually reading the comic, looking through the pages again, I see than most scenes have 2-3 key colors which form a theme, which not only helps distinguish things inside a given scene, but also helps set that scene apart from the scenes with different color themes.

Guo Jing fights Mei Chaofeng

Especially impressive are the fight scenes, which in spite of being long and complicated, are lively, varied, and easy to follow. Looking at the extras sections, it becomes apparent that a lot of planning had to go into the battle scenes to get this result – there are illustrations of all Guo Jing performing all 18 of the “Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms,” as well as Huang Rong performing all of “Dog Staff Technique” moves. Taking the time to distinguish every individual move helps a lot to keep the fights interesting and readable.

In addtion, the high level of detail supports many wonderful flourishes in the linework. Swirls and circles are in abundance, like frosting on the cake.

I also love the constant use of visual metaphor. There are little visual metaphors throughout the comic, like pretty little flower petals casually left in the wake of a pacing young lover saying “He loves me… he loves me not…” For example, this:

Hong Qigong hurls some buckets of water at Ouyang Feng, turning the water into dragons.

I love that Hong Qigong can turn buckets of water into dragons!

Of course, the big, bold visual metaphors come out when it’s time to fight! It helps the reader keep track of what’s going on, and even better, it’s exciting.

The artwork alternates between regular coloring and pastel work. At first, this jolted me a little, but I got used to it quickly. The pastels generally come out to emphasize the expression of a certain character or to highlight a key moment in a battle. Usually there is only one pastel panel every few pages or so, or a full single or double page spread done in pastel. When the pastels are used differently, it feels even more special.

Yang Kang and Mu Nianci get romantic with each other

Seeing so many panels in pastel together really drives home that this is as special scene. And pastels are also warm, soft, and fluffy, like the characters’ feelings for each other.

Yang Kang wants sex.  Mu Nianci does not.  They are both kung fu fighters, and act accordingly.

Wait a minute, the pastels are stopping. Uh oh…

Mu Nianci points a sword at her throat and says that she will kill herself if Yang Kang tries to touch her.

Yep, something is definitely wrong – in the story, I mean. There is nothing aesthetically wrong with the way Mu Nianci has poised a sword at her own throat.

While Tony Wong is not a master of showing subtle feelings or complex personalities through drawings, the characters all feel quite lively with a little spring in their step, keeping the energy level high.

And overall, the art evokes a greater-than-life grandeur. The frequent use of slanted angles makes the artwork more exciting, the costumes are often lovingly rendered, and palaces, islands, cliffs, and all sorts of grand sights make the world seem bigger than life.

The Adaptation

This is the whirlwind edition of Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn. The story has been greatly streamlined. Many details, and even some story arcs, have been removed, pretty much leaving just the essence of the plot intact. This allows the story to move—and move it does. Sometimes things happened so quickly that I felt like I got whiplash. However, the fast pace keeps the energy high, and makes the comic all the more sweeping.

There is also a strong emphasis on the battles. Many battles run 20+ pages. This allows Tony Wong room to fully flesh out the battles with sophisticated yet easy to understand moves. The battles are a lot of fun to read.

However, because the story has been so stripped down and the battles are given so much room, the characters and the pathos are greatly dimished. While the characters do not ring false, with so many details removed, they feel much less rich than in the original novel. And while the characters are given many pages to punch each other, the scenes which are meant to punch the readers in the heart often only run 4-10 pages. This is not really enough pages to let the impact sink in, especially when the reader is quickly swept to the next event. I do not think this adaptation of Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn will make anybody weep.

One exception is the backstory of Yi Deng, Yin Gu, and Wan Botong. This manhua actually goes into their history in greater detail than the original novel, and gives sufficient room for the reader to feel the tragedy. That said, this manhua still did not make my eyes wet with this story arc, whereas the original novel did.

In short, this adaptation fails to bring out the melancholy, tragedy, and passion of the original story … and succeeds at bringing out the fun and excitement with flying colors.

Guo Jing, Huang Rong, and Hong Qinggong are running out of a giant snakes mouth - with lots of snakes chasing them.

Whee! Doesn't that look fun?

Availability

This manhua, to the best of my knowledge, is totally unavailable in English, or any language other than Chinese. That is not a big deal. If one already knows the story of Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn, understanding the dialogue is unnecessary.

Conclusion

I knew these characters really well before I read this manhua. Therefore, even though many of the details that fleshed them out are missing, I still know those details, and filled them in as I read this manhua.

I only recommend this manhua for fans of Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn. Much of the story has been gutted—I think it would be very hard to get involved in characters’ struggles if this was a reader’s first contact with the story.

For me, this manhua truly was a pleasure to read. It made Jianghu look more lovely, spectacular, and wonderful than it ever looked inside my own head. It was like watching a friend coming to the ball looking like the most fabulous person in the world. Thank you, Tony Wong, for expanding my imagination.

Which brings me to the discussion question:

Which adaptations have you seen or read which, while clearly inferior to the original work, expanded your imagination or showed new sides of the story?


Sara K. has previously written for Manga Bookshelf: Why You Should Read Evyione Part 1 & Part 2, Mary Stayed Out All Night, and The Geeky Heart of Taipei. Her personal blog is The Notes Which Do Not Fit, though there is not much about comics or East Asian pop culture over there. She is a vegan, atheist, Linux user, ace, loudmouth, and the person in the back of the classroom who is always clicking her pen.

Filed Under: FEATURES Tagged With: condor trilogy

The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: Fighting

March 30, 2012 by Sara K. 11 Comments

two Xiaolongus with her swords

The Condor Trilogy is considered a martial arts epic because there is a heck of a lot of martial arts. Without understanding how martial arts work in wuxia, much of the story will fly over one’s head. I had to figure it out the hard way—reading a lot. I am writing this post so that others will not have to figure it out the hard way.

I am going to use one of my favorite fights—the big battle a the Quanzhen monastery as depicted in both Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes and Tony Wong’s The Legendary Couple—as my example.

Prelude

So, at the Quanzhen monastery, a delegation of Mongols/Tibetans are talking with the Daoist monks, asking them to accept the authority of the Mongol Empire. The Quanzhen monks want to remain loyal to Song China … but they also want to survive, and the Mongols have a “if you’re not with us, you’re against us” attitude.

Then a certain woman enters the monastery.

Xiaolongu enters the monastery.

suddenly all of the attention is on her. The Quanzhen monks suspect she has not come with good intentions.

Everybody looks at Xiaolongu

The Quanzhen sect specializes in the art of the sword, and all of the monks are at least above-average fighters. And this woman is alone. Yet she is the one who is totally calm, while the Quanzhen monks panic.

Now that I have your attention, let’s review some nuts and bolts:

Teacher-Student Relationships

Almost all martial arts fighters have a shifu, which literally means “teacher-father.” Even female masters are referred to as shifu—a shimu is one’s shifu’s wife (I admit, I do not know what one would call one’s shifu’s husband). Shifu are responsible for the martial arts education of their apprentices (Mandarin: tuer). However, the relationship is much more than that. Accepting somebody as a shifu/apprentice is as serious a matter as adoption, and the bond between shifu and apprentice is considering as strong as parent and child. Also important are the relationships between shijiemei (teacher-sisters) and shixiongdi (teacher-brothers). A shijie/shige/shimei/shidi is somebody who has the same shifu as you, and these relationships also carry the same weight as the relationship between blood siblings. And these are the foundations for a whole set of relationships. For example, a shishu would be one’s shifu’s shimei/shidi, and a shibo would be one’s shifu’s shijie/shige, and a shizufu would the shifu of one’s shifu. Much drama is squeezed from all of these relationships.

There are certain social rules for dealing with these relationships. For example, apprentices are supposed to obey their shifu as long as their shifu is not telling them to do something unethical. Apprentices also need their shifu’s permission to make many major decisions, such as marriage. It is okay for shijiemei and shixiondi to marry each other—with the shifu’s permission of course. It is NOT OKAY for shifu to have romantic/sexual relationships with their apprentices. Of course, Ouyang Ke has sex with his apprentices anyway, but he’s a villain, and villains do things which are not okay. Learning martial arts from somebody who is not one’s shifu is alright, though a relationship with an outside teacher/student does not carry as much weight as the relationship with one’s own shifu/apprentice(s). Having more than one set of shifu is not okay, though there is a villain who has multiple sets of shifu anyway.

If you notice an elephant in this room, and feel compelled to discuss it, please use spoiler warnings.

Sometimes, these shifu/apprentice relationships form the foundation of a larger group. Since martial arts and religion are intertwined, many martial arts groups are Daoist or Buddhist sects, in which the monks/nuns are all “descended” from a single shifu or group of shifu. For example, the Quanzhen sect, featured in this battle, was founded by Wang Chongyang, who was considered the greatest martial artist of his time. There are also groups “descended” from a single shifu or group of shifu that are secular. And of course, these groups have complicated relationships with each other.

Back to the Battle

Now Xiaolongnü gets down to business – which, apparently, is to kill all of the Quanzhen monks.

Xiaolongnu kills Quanzhen monks

And considering that she is fighting one against many, she’s doing a pretty well. How does she do it?

Lots of Swordfighting

She knows the “Sword Technique of the Jade Maiden,” which was developed specifically to counter the Quanzhen fighting style. That alone would mean that any individual Quanzhen monk fighting her would be in trouble, but it’s not enough to put an entire group of Quanzhen monks in trouble.

More swordfighting

She knows the Quanzhen fighting style too—and it so happens that when one person is using the Jade Maiden technique, and another person is using the Quanzhen technique, and the two are in harmony with each other, they can provide each other perfect protection—in other words, they are invincible.

More swordfighting

But wait a minute—Xiaolongnü is all alone! How can she be simultaneously using the Jade Maiden and Quanzhen techniques? First of all, notice that she has two swords. And just before this battle, she learned the technique of “Two Fists Fighting Each Other”—in other words, each of her arms can act as independent agents. One arm represents herself and uses the Jade Maiden technique, and another arm represents somebody else and uses the Quanzhen technique. Oh snaps.

More swordfighting

And that is one the things I love about this battle. It takes a three techniques which had been gradually introduced during the course of the story—Quanzhen, Jade Maiden, and Two Fists Fighting Each Other—and combines them. And with these three combined techniques, Xiaolongnü has reached a new level of badass. As soon as I realized these three techniques could be combined this way, I really wanted to see the full extent of what Xiaolongnü could do with this, and this is the battle where she shows it.

Which brings us to the next topic.

Fighting Techniques

Of course there are many weapons—bows and arrows, swords, clubs, fists, feet, as well as more unusual weapons such as jujube seeds. For example, Xiaolongnü can attack people with the sashes of her sleeves (and I claim—with my tongue bulging out of my cheek—that this is the main reason why Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ is so popular). But there is a lot more to these techniques than the choice of weapon.

Fighting techniques often come with a set of words, or mnemonics, to help people execute them properly. One can of course know the words without knowing the moves, which is useless in a fight. What is more interesting is that sometimes, if one knows the moves but does not know the words, the technique might still be useless in a fight.

In order to become a great martial arts fighter, one must have a powerful neigong. “Neigong” means something like “inner force.” Without a powerful neigong, it is not possible to execute the really powerful fighting techniques. Thus, a hero-in-training’s first order of business is building up one’s neigong. A common way to build one’s neigong is to sleep in uncomfortable places—for example, on top of a rock on a snowy mountain. Neigong can sometimes be used directly in a fight—for example, shoving one’s neigong into somebody else can hurt them—but neigong is more often transferred between people for healing purposes. Since building neigong is a life-long endeavor, older fighters tend to have more powerful neigong, which is one reason why older martial artists are considered more dangerous than younger martial artists. However, Xiaolongnü has built up an unusually powerful neigong for somebody her age. Oh snaps.

In addition to neigong, there is qinggong—speed and lightness. It basically grants martial artists the ability to defy gravity. Since actors are really bad at qinggong, they need wires to fake it. But manhua characters have excellent qinggong, so no wirework is required. And the most powerful qinggong in the martial arts world happens to be the qinggong practiced by Xiaolongnü’s sect. Oh snaps.

Xiaolongu practically flies around with her swords

Look, no wires!

Though acupuncture points are not being used in this battle, they are significant throughout the Condor Trilogy. Acupuncture points can be used in various ways in both fighting and healing, but the most common usage is to hit people’s acupuncture points in order to partially or completely immobilize them. Sometimes acupuncture points will re-open on their own after a while without intervention. Sometimes another character will re-open the acupuncture points of the afflicted. There are a few—very few characters—who can re-open their own acupuncture points without having to wait for the effects to wear off. Xiaolongnü is not one of those characters—if she were, the plot would have gone in a different direction, and this battle would not be happening.

There are two main ways techniques are transmitted, though sometimes they can be transferred by more unusual means. The most obvious way is from teacher to student, whether they are shifu/apprentice or not. The other way is by studying scriptures which describe various fighting/healing techniques—and much of the plot of the Condor Trilogy consists of searching and fighting over these scriptures. Of course, it is not enough to have the scripture. Training takes time, and somebody without a basic martial arts education would not be able to make use of the scripture at all. One of these scriptures, the Jade Maiden Heart Sutra, describes the Jade Maiden Sword Technique that Xiaolongnü is using. Of course, out of all the scriptures, the most coveted is the Nine Yin Manual, which describes the most powerful martial arts techniques in the world. Anyone who has mastered the techniques of the Nine Yin Manual can pretty much beat anybody who has not. The Quanzhen monks do not know any of the techniques of the Nine Yin Manual, but Xiaolongnü has a copy, and she’s had over a year to practice the techniques. Oh snaps.

Again, the Battle

There is an image in this battle so wonderful it was used as the illustration for this chapter in the original novel.

Xiaolongnu makes the swords fly like magpies

The illustration from the novel

This is yet another technique introduced earlier in the story—the “Palm of Infinity Web.” Previously, it had only been shown as a training technique—a character has to use the Palm of Infinity Web to keep a flock of magpies in place in order to improve his qinggong. Before this battle, I hadn’t realized that it could be used in a fight. But here it is—except, instead of flock magpies, it’s a flock of swords. That. Is. Cool.

Wee Tian Beng's drawing of a flock of swords like magpies

That’s a basic rundown of the mechanics of the battle, and while watching a woman mow down a bunch of men using cool sword work is fun in its own right, what makes this battle (and all of the memorable battles) really moving is what is going on with the characters. While I used pictures from Wee Tian Beng’s manhua for the this part of this post, for the next part I’m going to use pictures from Tony Wong’s manhua.

The Character Side

So, why is Xiaolongnü trying to kill all of the Quanzhen monks? She says that she is there for revenge. But the problem with this explanation is that she has had opportunities before to get revenge for all of the bad things the Quanzhen sect has done, and she never took advantage of any of them. She has even said that revenge is pointless because it cannot undo the bad things which have been done. So why is now different?

Tony Wong's illustration of the swordfighting

Different readers may interpret this differently, but I think Xiaolongnü is fighting the Quanzhen sect because she does not know what to do. The past few months of her life have been rather awful—more awful than anything she has experienced before. And Xiaolongnü currently does not have a social network—no friends or family—and there are reasons why she will not contact any of the remaining members of her sect. That is one of the things which makes this battle so exciting. Not only is Xiaolongnü more potent than ever before, she is also psychologically less stable than ever before.

So she falls back on what she knows—martial arts—and practicing martial arts, to a large extent, means fighting people. Given that the Quanzhen sect is partially responsible for the awfulness in her life, they are the obvious target of her aggression. And as a reader, I find it satisfying to see the Quanzhen sect finally getting some payback for the uncool things they have done.

She really is targeting the Quanzhen sect rather than looking for any suitable opponent, because she tells the Mongols/Tibetans that she is not interested in fighting them. Unfortunately, the Tibetans are interested in fighting her.

Xiaolongu fights the Tibetans

Fortunately, Xiaolongnü is currently invincible.

The Quanzhen Elders burst onto the scene

And in the course of the battle, they manage to disturb the Quanzhen elders. They had secluded themselves so they could learn how to counter Xiaolongnü; they knew she was really dangerous and figured it was only a matter of time before she attacked. Little did they know that she would attack so soon. They also see the Mongols/Tibetans, who are also bad news. Then they notice that Xiaolongnü and the Tibetans are fighting each other, which is not such bad news.

Xiaolongnu gets distracted when she thinks about Yang Guo

Then Xiaolongnü thinks about a certain somebody and gets distracted. She had resolved never to see this special person ever again, but in the midst of battle, she suddenly realizes that she wants to see this person again, at least once, before she dies. Ironically, while her life is not at risk as she perfectly executes the Jade Maiden / Quanzhen sword techniques, thinking about how much she wants to live makes her stop, putting her life in danger. This, to me, is more evidence that she is fighting because she lost herself, not because she wants to punish the Quanzhen monks. If she were hellbent on revenge, I do not think she would be distracted so easily.

As Xiaolongnu thinks about Yang Guo, a Tibetan strikes her

A Tibetan takes advantage of this opportunity to strike her.

A Quanzhen monk offers his life to protect Xiaolongnu from the Tibetan

Then one of the Quanzhen monks sacrifices himself to protect Xiaolongnü. Why? Hasn’t she been trying to kill them? Let’s just say that he is obsessed with Xiaolongnü and is personally responsible for some of the awfulness in her life.

Xioalongnu pulls the sword out of the Quanzhen monk

He asks her if she can forgive him. She answers “You ruined my life, how can I forgive you?” And she pulls out her sword. Ouch.

A Quanzhen elder aims for a Tibetan … but the Tibetan pulls himself out of the way, and puts Xiaolongnü in the way. OUCH OUCH OUCH!

Xiaolongnu collapses from her injury

So, one of the world’s more powerful martial artists has just pulverized, albeit unintentionally, Xiaolongnü’s guts. I’ll stop here, because even somebody as powerful as Xiaolongnü cannot continue to fight in this condition.

The consequences of Xiaolongnü getting trashed like this are major. In the original novel, what happens after this battle is one of most heartbreaking scenes in the entire trilogy (alas, neither of the manhua adaptations get that scene right).

The Manhua

Often the manhua artists draw fantastic elements—such as dragons—in the midst of battles. Rest assured, there are no actual dragons in the Condor Trilogy. Those are all visual metaphors. The visual metaphors help keep track of which techniques are being used, since the same technique will probably have the same visual metaphor associated with it when it is performed. They should not be taken literally. Reading a bit of the manhua should be enough to get a hang of what is metaphor and what is literally happening. The fantastic elements are beautiful and make the artwork that much more wonderful.

Guo Jing fights Ouyang Feng

When Guo Jing uses the 'Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms' against Ouyang Feng's 'Toad Technique', we see a dragon and a toad. How cute!

I think the battles are one aspect of the story which I prefer experiencing through manhua over prose. Sure, I thought the battle at the Quanzhen monastery was superb when I read it in the novel, but having to keep track of the techniques and visually map it out in my head is work. Following the fights is much easier in the manhua where it is all laid out for the reader, with all of the techniques conveniently labeled. And the manhua artists make the battles look far more fantastic than what I see in my head as I read the novels. That is why they are professional visual artists, and I am not.

Hopefully, this can make readers’ first contact with wuxia manhua more enjoyable—and if you have any questions, please feel free to ask. Speaking of questions, I have some discussion questions for you:

How is the battle system in the Condor Trilogy / wuxia like the battle systems used in manga, particularly, but not exclusively, shonen manga? How is it different?


Sara K. has previously written for Manga Bookshelf: Why You Should Read Evyione Part 1 & Part 2, Mary Stayed Out All Night, and The Geeky Heart of Taipei. Her personal blog is The Notes Which Do Not Fit, though there is not much about comics or East Asian pop culture over there. She has been studying Chinese since the fall of 2009, and is dangerously close to becoming a wuxia fan.

Filed Under: FEATURES Tagged With: condor trilogy

The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: Introduction

March 27, 2012 by Sara K. 16 Comments

Xiaolongnu and Yang Guo embracing at the bottom of the gorge

This fanart was made by Dy Martino.

The three novels in Shè Diāo Sānbùqǔ, or as it is known in English, The Condor Trilogy, are the most popular Chinese-language novels of the 20th century. Due to their popularity, the novels have been adapted into TV shows, movies, video games, and of course, comic books (manhua). Because everybody has read the novels or at least seen one of the TV adaptations, the trilogy needs no introduction and I can jump straight to talking about the manhua.

Maybe not.

Even though asking somebody in the Chinese-speaking world “Have you heard of The Condor Trilogy?” would be like asking somebody in the English-speaking world “Have you heard of Harry Potter?,” The Condor Trilogy is strangely obscure outside of Asia. When I discuss the manhua, I want to discuss the manhua, so before we get there, an introduction to the trilogy is in order.

Background

The books in the Condor Trilogy are wuxia novels – wuxia being a Chinese genre which lies in the gray area between historical, action, and fantasy fiction. The term “wuxi a” comes from “wǔ” (which means “martial” as in related to the military or martial arts) and “xiá.” “Xiá” is often translated into English as “chivalry,” but I think that translation is wrong, because xiákè are very different from knights or samurai. Knights and samurai generally belong to the gentry and try to uphold their society’s social hierarchy, whereas xiákè generally belong to the peasant class and are often opposed their society’s corrupt ways. A xiákè has a lot more in common with Robin Hood than Sir Lancelot. Nonetheless, the xiákè are trained fighters and do have a code of conduct referred to as the way of the ‘xiá’.

The Condor Trilogy was written by Louis Cha under the pen name Jin Yong in the 1950s and early 1960s. Jin Yong is considered the top wuxia writer of the 20th century, possibly of all time. The novels were originally published as newspaper serials in Hong Kong, and later collected as books. They had been banned in Taiwan and possibly China too (I know some of Jin Yong’s other novels were banned in China). The bans did not work, because pirated copies were widely distributed. Nowadays, the Condor Trilogy is available unabridged everywhere in the Chinese-speaking world.

The General Story

The plot of the trilogy spans over a century—from the late Song dynasty to the very beginning of the Ming Dynasty. In between the Song and the Ming eras, China was ruled by the Mongol empire, and Mongols play a major role in all three of the novels. However, the Mongol invasion is usually in the background, not foreground. The heroes sometimes choose to collaborate with the Mongols, and the Song and Ming are not exactly depicted in a flattering light. While the Mongols are considered particularly bad because they destroy towns, massacre people, and are not Chinese, there is a general sense that all governments are corrupt and dominated by the power-hungry, and that the common people suffer no matter who is in charge. The trilogy is much more concerned with the lives and relationships of individual characters against the backdrop of such historic events.

Some people say that the trilogy is a martial arts soap opera. They are correct, mainly because there are many scenes like this:

Character #1: (Oh no! Six groups have joined forces to kill off the faction that my maternal grandfather and maternal uncle belong to! I must save them!) “I won’t let you all hurt a single person in this faction”
Crowd: “Who the hell are you?”
Character #1: (If I reveal my true identity, they will force me to betray my godfather) “I am [fake name]. Each of you, send a champion. If I can beat every one of your champions in a duel, then don’t kill anybody from this faction.”
Crowd: “Fine”
[Long elaborate fight scene]
Crowd: “How come this nobody is such a great martial arts fighter?!”
[Long elaborate fight scene finishes. Character #1 won, but is in a bloody heap and, without medical attention, will die soon]
Character #2: “I must kill that person over there!”
Character #1: “I won’t let you hurt a single person from that faction!”
Character #2: “But he kidnapped and raped my fiancée!”
Character #1: “Before you can hurt a single one of them, you must kill me first.”
Character #2: “Even though it is not honorable to kill people who are already bloody heaps, I must get vengeance for her!”
Character #1: “Then kill me, dear uncle.”
Character #2: “You said that just the same way my brother’s son used to call me uncle. My poor nephew, he died years ago… could it be… you are…”
Character #1: “Yes, it’s me!”

In the process of simplifying and de-spoilering this scene, I also significantly downplayed it. The actual scene is vastly more melodramatic.

However, the story of the Condor Trilogy feels as much like a fairy tale as a soap opera to me. There is the constant use of the number three. For example, after a princess saves the life of the hero’s comrade, the hero must fulfill whatever three things she requests as long as they are not against the way of the xiá, do not threaten his faction, and do not threaten his own position (actually, the mere presence of princesses makes the trilogy feel more fairy-tale like). And there are the almost-magical elements, such as a boy getting sword lessons from a giant eagle, or someone seeing what looks like a fairy approaching him on a lake, or a character being pursued by someone who looks so much like the girl she murdered that it cannot be anyone else. The supernatural is never directly invoked, but much of what happens seems almost supernatural.

Furthermore. the novels are also filled with a human-bites-dog, or rather, human-bites-snake logic.

Guo Jing bites a snake.

A snake gets a human-bite.

Example 1: In order to climb an un-climbable mountain, the characters pull out a flock of sheep, chop off the sheep’s legs, and use them to create a ladder (when the blood in the legs freeze, they stick to the side of the mountain so hard that people can step on them).

Example 2: There is a boy who follows a girl and keeps on provoking and harassing a girl so that she will yell at him. Why? To him, being yelled at by a woman is the sweetest sound in the world—in fact, he considers the times he has been scolded and punished by a certain woman to be the best moments of his life.

Example 3: There is a scene where a girl is talking about how a boy bit her and she never forgot him. Said boy and a different girl are eavesdropping. The second girl then bites the boy. Then the second girl asks the boy if she bit him as deeply as he had bitten the first girl. The boy asks her why does she want to know. The second girl answers that she never wants him to forget her, so she wants to make sure that the bite is just as deep.

These off-the-wall moments make me love the trilogy that much more. It’s engaging to not be sure what bizarre thing will happen next and to constantly blurt out (in my mind) “What the hell was THAT?!” Most of all, the off-the-wall-ness makes the relationships feel that much more real. Some of the things that the characters do together are so just odd. In my mind I often treat them more like real people than fictional characters, offering them advice while reading the story, giving them a high-five when they are being awesome, and yelling at them when they frustrate me.

Unfortunately, all of the manhua adaptations tone down the off-the-wall-ness – I suppose nobody wants to draw martial artists urinating on live, venomous snakes.

Since each novel feels distinct, here’s a basic overview of each novel.

First Novel: Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn

English Titles: The Eagle-Shooting Heroes, Legend of the Condor Heroes

More so than the other books in the trilogy, this is an adventure. A Chinese boy who grew up in Mongolia travels south to take care of unfinished business, and in the process he makes friends, makes enemies, falls in love, and of course, learns many martial arts techniques. There is plenty of swashbuckling fun for everyone—getting shipwrecked on an uninhabited island, hiding in a secret room, riding giant eagles, meeting the great martial arts masters one by one, running around a palace, and so forth.

However, in the last fourth of the story, fun and games are over. All of the relationships built up in the first three-fourths of the story are ripped apart. Tragedy strikes again and again. And our humble hero is forced to ask some tough questions.

This was the first novel I ever read in Chinese, and for that reason alone it will always have a special place in my heart. I grew very fond of the characters. Some—such as Huang Rong and Yang Kang—I liked right away (okay, maybe I do not “like” Yang Kang, but I really like reading about him), whereas it took more time for other characters, such as Guo Jing, to grow on me. To me, the plot is of secondary importance. Whenever I experience this story again, it is like spending time with old friends.

Second Novel: Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ

English Titles: The Giant Eagle and Its Companion, Return of the Condor Heroes, Divine Eagle, Gallant Knight, Condor Hero

When you heard or read the story of “Sleeping Beauty,” did you ever think “This story needs a Mongol invasion, a bunch of characters from Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn, and tons of violence and kung fu?” No, me neither. But having read Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ, I think the story of “Sleeping Beauty” is much improved with these additions.

At heart, Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ is still a “Sleeping Beauty” story. However, rather than eliminating all of the spindles in the lands, in order to protect her from having her heart broken, the guardian of “sleeping beauty” instead trained her to kill all emotions to the extent that she is indifferent to the prospect of her own death. So successful is “sleeping beauty” in withdrawing from life that her body does not age—she looks indefinitely like a 16-year old even though she is significantly older. Yet because “sleeping beauty” is not literally sleeping, she has agency and makes choices—that makes her a much interesting character. The story of Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ really belongs to ‘prince charming’—he has a history, he has a personality, and it is not love at first sight—he has to spend time falling in love with ‘sleeping beauty’ only to lose her. “Sleeping beauty” and “prince charming” represent two approaches to the hardships of life: to escape, sacrificing joy to avoid pain; and to expose oneself to the cruelties of the world in pursuit of fleeing moments of happiness.

I would say, of all the novels, this one has the worst plot. But that is unfair, because the plot is not supposed to be good. This novel is all about exhilarating, intense moments. The plot is there to make those moments happen, no matter how much it has to contort itself. Between the amazing fight scenes, beautiful imagery, complex relationships, and of course, the passion, this is my favorite novel in the trilogy.

Third Novel: Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì

English Titles: The Heaven Sword and the Dragon Sabre, The Tale of Relying on Heaven to Kill the Dragon

While Chinese society is falling apart in the first two novels, the society has already collapsed in this story. The Mongols have been ruling China for almost a century. Violence is widespread, even between commoners. The Dragon Sabre and Heaven Sword were created so that the Chinese would eventually be able to drive out the Mongols for good. Ironically, the struggle for the Dragon Sabre, which supposedly contains the secret to dominating the martial arts world, polarizes the martial arts world and inspires the various sects to continue the internecine fighting which prevents them from uniting against the Mongols.

The main character, Zhang Wuji, is constantly defending people who I consider to be scum. I think the characters are scum because of the horrible things they did. One reason there is so much fighting is that, when Character A finds out that Character B did something terrible to Character C, Character A figures that it is okay to to horrible things to Character B. Then Character D finds out about this, and figures it is now okay to do terrible things to Character A. Zhang Wuji, on the other hand, insists on seeing people at the best, not their worst … and that’s how he manages to make things slightly better. When I finally realized this, I was quite humbled to realize I had the same attitude as the characters who were escalating the violence. In addition to being a great martial artist, Zhang Wuji is also a great doctor, and I think this represents that his true role is not to fight the Mongols, but to heal his scarred society.

This is my least favorite novel in the trilogy, mainly because the story does not really get going until halfway through the book, and it has a relatively high percentage of characters I do not like. Of course, even the first part of the novel has its gems—Chapter 10 made me cry. And, while I did not enjoy this novel as much as the other two, it has been no less thought-provoking.

Availability of the Novels

If you can only read European languages, you are out of luck. The only novel which has ever been published in a European language is the first novel, Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn, as La Légende du Héros Chasseur d’Aigles. There are fan translations into English, floating around the internet, but they are 1) in violation of copyright law and 2) incomplete. Three other Jin Yong novels, on the other hand, have been published in English: The Book and the Sword, The Fox Volant of Snow Mountain, and The Deer and the Cauldron.

Availability is much better in Asian languages. The entire trilogy has been published in Japanese, Korean, Indonesian, Vietnamese, Burmese, and Malay. And of course, if you can read Chinese, you’ve already read the novels, right?

More TV adaptations have been made of the Condor Trilogy than I can keep track of, and some of them are available on DVD with English subtitles. While I have not watched any of them yet, many people say that the 1980s TVB adaptation is the best, and it also happens to be the only TV adaptation which is entirely available with English subtitles on DVD. For people who cannot read the novels, this is how I suggest experiencing the complete trilogy.

And, surprisingly, some of the manhua adaptations—specifically The Legendary Couple by Tony Wong, Return of the Condor Heroes by Wee Tian Beng, and The Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre by Ma Wing-shing—have been published in English.

What’s next?

Many people who have never tried wuxia before find the fights confusing. Thus, in the next post, I am going to break down how they work.

Then, I am going to review every manhua adaptation of the Condor Trilogy. There is a manga adaptation—Shachou Eiyuuden Eaglet—which I have not read and will not review.

For each post, I will pose a discussion question. And the question for this post is:

If you do not know the story of The Condor Trilogy, based on this post, which manga/manhwa do you think is most resembles? If you know the story of The Condor Trilogy, which manga/manhwa do you think are not most like it?

I have my own answer, which I will post in the comments section after a few other people have weighed in.


Sara K. has previously written for Manga Bookshelf: Why You Should Read Evyione Part 1 & Part 2, Mary Stayed Out All Night, and The Geeky Heart of Taipei. Her personal blog is The Notes Which Do Not Fit, though there is not much about comics or East Asian pop culture over there. She grew up in Jiujinshan – meaning the city in Jiazhou – and currently lives in Peach Garden County, Ilha Formosa.

Filed Under: FEATURES Tagged With: condor trilogy, manhua

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