Features & Reviews

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

Here, Yang Kang tells Mu Nianci what he plans to do.

Mu Nianci expresses her opinion of Yang Kang’s plans.

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.

Look at that gloriously bloody hand!

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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

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

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:

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.

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.

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.

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?

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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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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?

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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.