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Dis­cov­er the anar­chic fun of this genre-defy­ing Hong Kong blockbuster

20 Jul 2020

Words by Anton Bitel

Two individuals dressed in traditional Chinese ceremonial robes with dragons and phoenixes embroidered on them, wearing distinctive hats with Chinese text.
Two individuals dressed in traditional Chinese ceremonial robes with dragons and phoenixes embroidered on them, wearing distinctive hats with Chinese text.
Ricky Lau’s 1985 hit Mr Vam­pire deft­ly com­bines knock­about com­e­dy, mar­tial arts, mon­ster hor­ror and wacky dancing.

There is a scene some way into Ricky Lau’s Mr Vam­pire where Taoist priest Mas­ter Kau (Lam Ching-ying) is invit­ed to a West­ern tea” by the wealthy busi­ness­man Mas­ter Yam (Huang Ha). Unfa­mil­iar with West­ern prac­tices, Kau decides to bring his fool­ish appren­tice Man-choi (Ricky Hui) along, hop­ing that Man-choi’s igno­rance will dis­tract from his own.

The tea­house scene is a com­e­dy of errors. Unable to read the Eng­lish-lan­guage menu, both men choose cof­fee’ after they hear Yam’s sophis­ti­cat­ed daugh­ter Ting-ting (Moon Lee) order the same – but then they are not sure which of the black bev­er­age or the accom­pa­ny­ing white liq­uid is the actu­al cof­fee, or how to drink either. When served cus­tard pies, flown in straight from Eng­land”, Kau and Man-choi cov­er the del­i­ca­cies – which they imag­ine are savoury – in cream and sugar.

This whole com­ic sequence depends for its laughs on the sort of cross-cul­tur­al clash­es and mis­un­der­stand­ings which are in fact woven into the very tex­ture of Lau’s film. For much as the priest and his stu­dent must con­tend, hilar­i­ous­ly, with anoth­er nation’s con­ven­tions for which they are entire­ly ill equipped, the view­er, too, will be bewil­dered by Lau’s crazy pick-and-mix mis­match of transna­tion­al hor­ror tropes.

The Eng­lish title may promise vam­pires, but real­ly these are jiāng­shī, rean­i­mat­ed corpses from Chi­nese folk­lore. They move about with a dis­tinc­tive hop­ping motion, and are, despite their stiff­ness, deft at kung fu. They can­not detect those who hold their breath. They can be deterred by mir­rors, gluti­nous rice or thread stained in ink and blood, and they can be stopped dead in their tracks by a dab of blood or a bloody parch­ment placed on their fore­heads. They are destroyed with fire as much as with stakes (and some­times with both).

In the film, the jiāng­shī is Mas­ter Yam’s late father, dis­in­terred to have his grave moved to a loca­tion with bet­ter feng shui, but in fact nev­er ful­ly dead. For all Kau’s igno­rance of British tea rit­u­als, he is an expert when it comes to jiāng­shī, and fre­quent­ly watch­es over an inca­pac­i­tat­ed group of them in-house’ with his friend Priest Four Eyes (Antho­ny Chan). So Kau imme­di­ate­ly recog­nis­es that Yam’s father, with his per­fect­ly pre­served body, is a jiāng­shī, and takes over his safekeeping.

Along with Sammo Hung's Encounters of the Spooky Kind from 1980, Mr Vampire created a craze in Hong Kong for jiāngshī comedies.

Owing to the antics of Man-choi and his fel­low stu­dent Chau-sang (Chin Siu-ho), how­ev­er, the jiāng­shī escapes his cof­fin, and goes on a feed­ing ram­page. Kau is on the case, but he must also con­tend with Jade (Wong Siu-fung), a suc­cubus-like spir­it deter­mined to sap the sex­u­al ener­gy of Chau-sang. Mean­while clown­ish, craven local police­man Wai (Bil­ly Lau) is more hin­drance than help in bring­ing under con­trol all these super­nat­ur­al entities.

In anoth­er key scene in the film, everyone’s lives are endan­gered when a rice sales­man adul­ter­ates his gluti­nous rice with the long grain vari­ety (the lat­ter, unlike the for­mer, hav­ing no effect on jiāng­shī). Mr Vam­pire itself, how­ev­er, rev­els in such adul­ter­ation, mix­ing and match­ing with wild aban­don scenes of knock­about com­e­dy, wire-wrought mar­tial arts, mon­ster hor­ror and wacky dancing.

The film may be named after a vam­pir­ic spir­it, but it hap­pi­ly throws in for good mea­sure a sexy ghost who can use her own dis­em­bod­ied head as a means of attack. While most of the para­nor­mal activ­i­ty comes with East­ern under­pin­nings, out­side influ­ences are also let in. The pair of holes that the jiāng­shī leaves in his vic­tims’ necks may in fact be caused by his long fin­ger­nails, but he and the film’s oth­er jiāng­shī still sport the icon­ic elon­gat­ed fangs of a West­ern vam­pire and, in anoth­er nod to West­ern vam­pirol­o­gy, pass on their con­di­tion to any­one whose qi, or life ener­gy, they have absorbed.

When Man-choi and Ting-ting try to con­ceal them­selves from the jiāng­shī, their cho­sen hid­ing place – a clos­et with slat­ted doors – owes as much to the inspi­ra­tion of John Carpenter’s Hal­loween as of any­thing from Chi­nese folklore.

Along with Sam­mo Hung’s Encoun­ters of the Spooky Kind from 1980, Mr Vam­pire (pro­duced by Hung) cre­at­ed a craze in Hong Kong for jiāng­shī come­dies, spawn­ing a pop­u­lar series of loose sequels, as well as oth­er films fea­tur­ing Lam Ching-ying as a mono­browed exorcist.

The gags here can be hit and miss, although native Eng­lish speak­ers will find the Euro­pean dub”, crammed with absur­dist meta jokes and a car­ni­va­lesque sense of anar­chic fun, much more enter­tain­ing than either the rather staid and stuffy Amer­i­can dub or the sub­ti­tles accom­pa­ny­ing the orig­i­nal Can­tonese version.

Mr Vam­pire is avail­able on Blu-ray in a new 2K restora­tion from Eure­ka! Home Video on 20 July

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