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Dis­cov­er the slap­stick joys of this 80s mar­tial arts comedy

28 Nov 2022

Words by Anton Bitel

Man dressed in ornate Japanese clothing, holding a weapon, standing over a person lying on the ground in a dark, elaborate room setting.
Man dressed in ornate Japanese clothing, holding a weapon, standing over a person lying on the ground in a dark, elaborate room setting.
Sam­mo Hung stars as a hap­less ama­teur detec­tive in Wu Ma’s clas­sic com­e­dy caper.

Wu Ma’s The Dead and the Dead­ly (Ren xia ren) opens abrupt­ly. Hav­ing wit­nessed a man steal­ing into a woman’s home not a day after her hus­band has died, Broth­er Chu (Sam­mo Kam-bo Hung), known to every­one as Fat Boy, decides to engage in a kind of moral inter­ven­tion. This will involve him dis­guis­ing him­self as the ghost of the dead hus­band, to shame the lovers from an impi­ous act of adul­tery. Yet as Fat Boy car­ries out this macabre mas­quer­ade, the actu­al ghost of the hus­band will also appear, venge­ful­ly killing both his ex-wife and her new lover – and threat­en­ing to kill Fat Boy too.

Fat Boy comes to in the fore­court of his home and work­place, uncer­tain whether he has just sur­vived a super­nat­ur­al con­fronta­tion or awok­en from a night­mare – but either way, this pro­logue intro­duces sev­er­al key motifs. For in a para­nor­mal film that res­ur­rects the com­ic spir­it of Hung’s Encoun­ters of the Spooky Kind (1980), mor­tal impos­ture, phan­tom revenge, the con­fu­sion of the liv­ing and the dead and the inter­sec­tion of human and ghost­ly motives, will all recur.

Fat Boy helps arrange funer­als in the fam­i­ly busi­ness of his broth­ers and their Sec­ond Grandun­cle, the elder­ly Taoist priest Yee – played by Lam Ching-ying, in fact in his ear­ly thir­ties, and here paving the way for his sim­i­lar rôle in Ricky Lau’s Mr Vam­pire (1985). When Fat Boy’s old friend Ma Lucho (played by the direc­tor, in a ridicu­lous pros­thet­ic nose) turns up dead and to-be-buried, Fat Boy notices that Ma’s griev­ing wife (Leung Mei Hui) is heav­i­ly preg­nant despite Ma’s impo­tence – and so our unlike­ly hero smells a rat and decides to inves­ti­gate by dis­guis­ing him­self as a paper doll and keep­ing covert watch over the corpse.

In fact the prodi­gal Ma is only pre­tend­ing to be dead – and even pre­tends to be his own ghost to throw Fat Boy off the scent – as he pur­sues a fraud­u­lent scheme with his sham wife and her Priest lover (Fat Chung) to get their hands on his family’s inher­i­tance. As the deal falls foul, the wife and the Priest have Ma mur­dered for real – at which point Ma’s actu­al ghost turns to Fat Boy for help in tak­ing revenge, and soon Ma pos­sess­es Fat Boy’s body while Fat Boy him­self is reduced to being a ghost.

Face of a distraught woman with exaggerated makeup, against a dark background.

In oth­er words, The Dead and the Dead­ly is a super­nat­ur­al body-swap farce, with far more inter­est in its fun­ny (-haha and ‑strange) busi­ness than in any real frights. Apart from old Yee, every­one here is in some sort of dis­guise, and even the mourn­ers are hired. Sam­mo Hung may be best known for his mar­tial arts come­dies, but here the action is deferred till a good fifty min­utes into the run­ning time – and the non-aggres­sive Fat Boy fights only when he is pos­sessed by Ma, with Hung get­ting simul­ta­ne­ous­ly to embody one per­son while play­ing anoth­er, even as he does com­bat in a far more vicious­ly vin­dic­tive man­ner than is nor­mal­ly asso­ci­at­ed with him. It is a pecu­liar dynam­ic, where the bound­aries not just between the liv­ing and the dead, but between dif­fer­ent char­ac­ters, are con­stant­ly being clouded.

The screen­play by Hung and Bar­ry Wong fore­grounds many of the wack­i­er aspects of Chi­nese folk­lore, while whol­ly invent­ing oth­er rules for the super­nat­ur­al. So we are treat­ed to the part played in ghost­bust­ing by women’s under­wear and fem­i­nine nap­kins’, by whips fash­ioned from leaves, and by boiled eggs placed in liquor bot­tles. It is even weird­er than it sounds – right down to the left-field third act where the focus shifts from Fat Boy to his would-be girl­friend Miss Yuen (Cherie Chung), who was only briefly intro­duced in the film’s first half, but who now emerges as the film’s real hero, defy­ing a trio of super­nat­ur­al spec­tres to res­cue her beloved from death itself.

Set in 1885 to an anachro­nis­tic synth score, and full of cheesy wire and mat­te effects, The Dead and the Dead­ly fea­tures sev­er­al funer­als, but also a mar­riage (with the groom, bizarrely, a cock­er­el), and while mor­tal­i­ty may be a promi­nent theme, here death is not the end, mak­ing the mes­sage not just a grim memen­to mori but also a charm­ing reminder to love, laugh and live while you can.

The Dead and the Dead­ly is released on Blu-ray from a brand new 2K restora­tion, 21st Novem­ber 2022 as part of Eureka!’s Clas­sics range.

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