Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon: A Buddhist Analysis

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon affirms both Buddhist and Taoist belief systems. The acting, photography, and soundtrack of this picture all play various roles that serve to unify the movie using these philosophies, as well as taking the audience on a journey down the emotional paths of the characters as they struggle with love in a restraining social order. In terms of Hong Kong's cinema, the film represents a technically innovative style that earned Crouching Tiger significant critical acclaim.

Crouching Tiger'sBuddhist and Taoist roots represent the mainstay of its philosophical content. Buddhist doctrine begins with the diagnosis and cure of humanity's suffering via the Four Noble Truths. The First truth holds that life is suffering, or dukkha. The Second Truth indicates that the cause of that suffering is egoistic desire, or tanha. This being the case, then the Third and Fourth Noble Truths prescribe a solution: desire creates suffering, and following the Eightfold Path means the elimination of both desire and suffering. The Eightfold Path extends the Buddhist teachings into a way of life whereby a person may separate him/herself from the suffering of life and attain an enlightened state, or nirvana. These principles guide the movie in all elements, but especially in terms of its dialogue and character development.

The lead character Li Mu Bai knows and understands the rules of the Eightfold Path intimately from the beginning of the film. For example, the fifth rule of the Path is that one must follow a "right livelihood." This rule calls for "engaging in occupations that promote life, instead of destroying it" (Smith 74). To this end, Li Mu Bai comes down from the mountains to give up his sword, for despite his noble ends, the weapon he wields destroys life. Another of the principles of the Eightfold Path involves "right absorption," or meditation whose practice creates a new individual, a "different kind of creature who experiences life in a new way" (Smith 75). Clearly Li Mu Bai has experienced a mental change from the meditation he had been practicing on the mountain, a change that led him to another step of the Eightfold Path.

Michelle Yeoh's character Shu Lien also has been trained in the Wudan manner, a martial arts discipline that emphasizes Buddhist philosophy. However, she has not attained the level of Li Mu Bai's spiritual training. Even so, Shu Lien understands the two Eightfold Path rules of "right behavior" and "right mindfulness" (Smith 74-5). The former involves basic moral rules and ethics, which she devotes her livelihood to preserving, and the latter involves knowing and understanding the self. Shu Lien has come to know a deep love for Li Mu Bai, but the repressive cultural conditions subdue her love from full expression.

Also, unlike Jen, Shu Lien engages in "right association," a preliminary step of the Eightfold Path (Smith 72). The basic meaning of this principle regards human beings as primarily "social animals, influenced at every turn by the "companioned example of our associates" (Smith 72). In other words, if one associates with criminals or otherwise inherently immoral people, it will be difficult if not impossible to follow any of Buddhism's tenets.

A last basic Buddhist theme involves the impermanence of material existence, a theme that crosses over character boundaries, overlaying the film with an elegant and wistful sadness. The concept of human suffering related in the First Noble Truth connects intimately with the Buddhist concept of material impermanence; both have major significance to the Buddhist worldview. As Tetto Giko, a Zen monk, wrote on his deathbed:

I look now at the very moment

Even the Buddha is dumbfounded.

All turns with a swing.

I land on the plain of nothingness. (Hoffmann 121)

Every material object is momentary and impermanent. The fortunate person learns to recognize this fact and thus finds him/herself freed from the vital attachment to material presences. This realization allows a cessation of desire; for it allows the mind to see that nothing exists that could be desired for. As Huston Smith describes, Buddhism entails a

Denial of substances [...] everything is impermanent, transitory, and yes, dying. 'Waves follow one another in eternal pursuit.' 'Life is a journey; death is a return to earth. / The universe is an inn; the passing years are like dust.' (78)

Smith describes here much the same concept as Giko expressed in his poem; all things change, pass, and die, leaving only "the plain of nothingness." This teaching may sound grim to a Western mind bent on emotional attachment to material presence, but in the Buddhist mindset it instead grants renewed life to an individual once burdened by suffering and desire. Li Mu Bai clearly states this idea by saying "nothing in this world has permanence...only by letting go, can we truly possess what is real" (Lee, Crouching Tiger). In the rest of the film, the harmonious framing of long shots involving the natural environment implies a lyrical sadness, since nature represents the clearest metaphor for change and passing.

If Buddhism represents half of the philosophical influence in the film, then Taoism represents the other half. Taoism primarily involves the balance of yin and yang, and the conservation and flow of chi. Yin and yang represent two parts of a whole, inseparable opposites. For instance, the sun and the moon, life and death, light and dark, all represent elements that cannot be thought of separately. In the midst of this dance of opposites resides chi, the life force. Keeping the balance of yin and yang and channeling chi via harmonious thought and physical motion represents a fundamental part of all Chinese artistry, including several martial arts, e.g. Tai Chi and Aikido.

In Crouching Tiger's ubiquitous long shots of the natural environment, Taoism's intrinsic connection with the natural environment becomes apparent. One of the major features of Taoism is its "profound naturalism" (Smith 138). As the Tao Te Ching, the primary text of Taoism, notes: "Those who would take over the Earth/And shape it to their will/Never, I notice, succeed./The Earth is like a vessel so sacred/That at the mere approach of the profane it is marred./They reach out their fingers and it is gone" (Smith 138). Thus, in practice, Taoist temples "do not stand out from the landscape. They are nestled against the hills, back under the trees, blending in with the environment.

They teach that human beings too, are at their best when they are in harmony with their surroundings" (Smith 138). Taoism attempts to augment, conserve, or spread the chi that runs through the environment. Thus it is intrinsic to Taoist belief that nature not be forced, shoved, or fought against: "Why struggle and compete? The Tao doesn't need to do so" (Smith 138). Oneness with the environment lends ease to the flow of chi, the primary goal of Taoist thought. Therefore, in keeping with these principles, poetic long shots of the environment balance the film's design and keep an undercurrent of chi flowing through the film, and by extension, the audience.

These principles also affect the graceful martial-arts style of the film, martial arts that occur so often, and which are surrounded by such mystery, that they become a character of their own. Li Mu Bai says that "real sharpness comes without effort," which in Taoist philosophy returns to the principle of allowing chi to flow without struggle, and thus the Tao informs the dance-like, rhythmic, and curvilinear qualities of the martial arts portrayed in the film (Lee, Crouching Tiger). The most telling contrast between styles occurs in the two sequences where the much-maligned Master Bo fights against the Wudan-trained Jen.

The Wudan style involves utilizing the energy of the opponent to do battle, and thus requires a softness and receptiveness in the body and mind (Lee, Crouching Tiger). Master Bo's style expends mostly aggressive energy, which places him at a genuine disadvantage. This contrast illustrates Taoist principles at work, for instead of struggling towards the defeat of the opponent, the opponent instead defeats themselves via their own energy.

These Buddhist and Taoist principles, while forming the backbone of Li Mu Bai's and Shu Lien's world, represent the basic antithesis to Jen's actions and reactions despite her skill at fighting in the Wudan manner. Having been influenced by the profound evil of Jade Fox, and without a strong master to take her in hand, Jen has little discipline. Her actions are spontaneous, aggressive, and naive. Jen denies every step of the Buddhist Eightfold Path, even the preliminary step "right association." She cannot find compassion for others, evident when she beats up nearly all of the men in the restaurant without reason. Instead of moving in harmony with the flow of chi, she rebels against it, and thus crushes the lives of others attempting to help her. The restoration of harmony to the film's world necessitates the death of Li Mu Bai and Jen, simply because of Jen's rebellion against The Way.

The strong acting values and physical skills of the actors unify and fill with human emotion the film's philosophical themes. In Crouching Tiger, an array of necessary skills called for the careful casting of experienced actors, as well as actors with a strong aptitude for learning new tricks. Chow Yun Fat (Li Mu Bai) and Michelle Yeoh (Shu Lien) both have been involved in the Hong Kong film scene, as well as Hollywood films that called for actors to do stunt work and martial arts action sequences. Along with this experience, this particular film required highly competent dramatic skills, and both actors already had several credits in this regard.

The powerfully restrained performance of the romance between Li Mu Bai and Shu Lien involved a complex knowledge of the social situation and emotional strata of the characters (Lee, Crouching Tiger). According to Michelle Yeoh, the emphasis on emotion as opposed to action, and especially the balance between the restrictive social order and love, represented a major challenge for her as a modern woman and an actor who has done mostly action-based films (Lee, Crouching Tiger).

Despite the challenges, Chow Yun Fat delivers a performance that sets the correct tone for a script replete with references to Buddhist and Taoist thought. Instead of the intense and harried feel of other Hong Kong films like Jackie Chan's SuperCop, Li Mu Bai inhabits the frame with a massive stillness and presence that speaks best in medium shots that show the majority of his frame. As he returns from the Wudan Mountain in the beginning scenes, the harmony of Li Mu Bai's consciousness radiates from the screen with actions as simple and deliberate as drinking tea.

Yun Fat never performs spare actions that have no purpose; each movement uses speed and directness suited to the moment, and he wastes no energy in mindless aggression. These facets of Mu Bai's character point towards Buddhist and Taoist principles that teach about releasing oneself from the struggle of existence by allowing events and reactions to occur through the discipline of the Eightfold Path and the harmonious flow of chi through objects and people.

Michelle Yeoh shows these characteristics of movement and control as well, giving the impression on screen of one who has complete confidence in her physical control. However, unlike Mu Bai, moments of doubt and confusion still occur in small emotional moments that typically involve her barely restrained love for Mu Bai. In the moment when Li Mu Bai first comes to the compound of Sir Te, Shu Lien appears confused about why he has come, assuming at first that he came because he heard about the stolen sword.

The moment of realization that he has come to see her, and not because of the sword, reads as an emotional tidal wave despite the fact that Yeoh barely registers the thoughts physically. This kind of performance work results in an emotional dance between the two characters played in a tender and heartfelt way. Their romance, blooming from this dance of harmony and acting chemistry, reflects the calm and intensity of flowing chi, as well as the discipline of the Eightfold Path.

Zhang Ziyi's character pursues love and power in such a way that she stands as the antithesis to the training and romance of Mu Bai and Shu Lien. Zhang Ziyi effectively represents an object of refinement and outer calm in the stifling social atmosphere of her father's house, but burns inside with impulsiveness, selfishness, and egotism: all emotions that years of training have forced Li Mu Bai and Shu Lien to shed. Her very meeting with Chang Chen's character comes about through a massive chase for a small ivory comb, a chase that shows Zhang Ziyi's boundless energy as an actor and Jen's impulsive nature. Jen's trouble balancing good and evil, and her undeniable skill at martial arts, permeates each encounter she has with the audience.

This conflict, along with her struggle against Jade Fox, against her arranged marriage, and against the Wudan warriors, eventually destroys her. This self-destruction plays out dynamically, in a manner filled with dramatic movement and speed. This speed and charismatic energy radiate from her, and perfectly foil the stillness and calm of the Wudan duo.

The presentation of the acting values of the film owes much to the high quality photographic values of the cinematographer Peter Pau. In Crouching Tiger, medium shots of action sequences give way to long wistful shots of desert scenery in the flashback and panoramic shots of the Chinese cityscape as it was three hundred years ago. The nature shots, while utilizing the aforementioned analogy with Buddhist and Taoist philosophy, give the film a sense of epic grandeur.

The medium shots of action sequences, especially aerials, allows the viewer a sense of the larger scene, while close ups of the actors during the sequences give extremely intimate acting moments. The camera work does not follow a pattern of formalized side shots, but rather shots are angled to create an interesting dynamic, and in such shots as the bamboo aerial sequence, the camera literally weaves with the movement the characters' create in the grove. Such shots, with their dynamism and lyrical motion, create a sensuous and ethereal quality that permeates the film's photography.

Action photography interspersed with long shots of the natural environment create a powerful sense of throughline by giving the viewer a sense of scale, as well as allowing the actors a chance to react to opponents. However, these leave out the dramatic bits that slow the pace of the film and aid in establishing the relationships between characters. While dynamic angled shots and weaving camerawork help in action sequences, simple framing, over the shoulder shots, and medium shots help to restore stability and harmony to the frame. Several scenes between Li Mu Bai and Shu Lien follow this less formal formula, and give a strong sense of symmetry and balance. This makes sense since the relationship between Mu Bai and Shu Lien involves a great deal of restraint and formal social coding.

In all the photography of the film, harmonious balance and symmetry reign, and the camera frames shots using stylistic modes reminiscent of Chinese landscape painting, an art form also influenced heavily by Taoism. Chinese painting and Taoism are like yin and yang, for one cannot exist without the other: "Indeed one might almost say that Chinese painting, particularly landscape painting, is a projection in visual terms of Chinese philosophy...It is a demonstration of the endless process of harmonizing opposites which goes on, producing ever new combinations" (Briessen 30). Every part of the process of painting retains a Taoist essence that governs the process and physical act of creation.

This Taoist concept of balance of opposites is found, "even on the purely material level. The brush stands for the masculine principle, the ink for the feminine" (Briessen 30-31). The Taoist principle of balance in opposites clearly permeates Chinese painting from the first stroke to the last, seeking to create a harmonious relationship of all the subjects and objects. Each frame's construction consciously seeks for a balance that not only sets the stage for a story about martial arts, but that captures a balance within itself; the yin and yang of the photograph which glues the film's disparate elements into a unified framework.

Overlaying the masterful photographic work, Crouching Tiger's soundtrack represents the finishing touch of the film, a final powerful link in the creative chain that heightens the timeless and lyrical tone. For the majority of the film's soundtrack, Yo Yo Ma plays a low and wistful cello solo that runs during many of the long shots, as well as in between sections of fight sequences. However, the terse banging of Chinese drumming engages the attention of the viewer during fight sequences towards the beginning of the film. Horns also give weight to these drums, especially during the fight in the city compound. The timelessness of the music, and its balance with the photographic elements, gives the world of the city and the Wudan dojo a unified aesthetic pattern.

While sound maintains the above pattern for most of the film, the flashback scenes represent a major exception. With the jolting change of setting and tone, the music turns into a zither/guitar/light drum trio that represents a major departure from the formal cello arrangement. The loose folk music style of the desert scenes releases the viewer from the previous patterning and eases the transition from the world of the present, to the desert romance of Jen's past. This music also makes sense, as Jen and Lo's erotic and passionate romance has all the impulsiveness and naiveté that Li Mu Bai's and Shu Lien's lacks. The outer world of discipline and training becomes lost in the new romantic world through music, and the cello returns as Jen's storybook romance comes to a close.

Using all of these elements to create a Hong Kong film of such cinematic finish and beauty represents a dramatic change from the norm, especially since the precedents of Hong Kong cinema indicate that martial-arts action dominates a film, but Crouching Tiger breaks the mold. Critics and audiences often note that,

What makes Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon different from all of those other martial arts movies is that it isn't about the fighting. Sure, there's plenty of intense kung-fu action from beginning to end, but it always advances the plot and never becomes self-aware of how "cool" it is. (Tierney)

Instead, Ang Lee, whose credits include such intricate dramas as Sense and Sensibility, finds lyrical and complicated depths in a myth that could easily have been portrayed as a genre piece. The complexity and attention to detail with which Ang Lee designed the movie, a major feat that took place in a full year of research, along with a close attention to acting values and social codes, made it possible for the film to be called more than another Kung-Fu action flick (Lee, Crouching Tiger). As one critic notes, "truth be told, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is far more than just an adventure film. It is a mystical treasure trove of magical moments frozen on twenty-four frames per second celluloid" (Thom). This is high praise for an action genre film.

Another major innovation for Hong Kong's cinema includes the type and style of martial arts used in Crouching Tiger. Instead of many hard, externally aggressive Kung-Fu sequences, the movie uses soft, catlike movements (Lee, Crouching Tiger). These lend to the movie an ethereal quality in which the characters appear to float lighter than air. Most critics have suggested that beyond the high drama of the film, the action sequences certainly are not below par -

Using the most impressive wirework ever, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon defies nearly every law of gravity in its creation of one of the most beautiful stories ever brought to the screen. Wireman Yuen Wo-Ping, who last brought his expertise to The Matrix, does some of the all-time great-choreographed fight scenes in film history. I know that some love that Kung Fu sequence from The Matrix, but, for my money, every single fight in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon makes that fight seem rather simple. Wo-Ping, by far, outdoes himself. (Thom)

Tierney, writing for Plume Noire, suggests the same thing, noting, "the incredible, elegant airborne battles-most impressively in the treetops, are wondrous." These battles, which required enormous technical skill on the part of the actors and choreographer, represent a significant departure from Hong Kong films of the past.

With all of these innovations, critics responded favorably to nearly all facets of the film. Writing for Movie Marshal, an online critical journal, Gary Stevens notes, "Lee has created a film that can only be categorized in one way: masterpiece." Coupled with this comment comes one from Dave Kehr of the New York Times, who writes, "the results (of Mr. Lee's work) are impressive, and the film has been entertaining audiences around the world." Several sources noted that the film impressed the critics at the Cannes film festival, an important and difficult achievement for an international film. The broad sweep of reviewers, therefore, indicate an enormously positive and receptive response to the drama and action of the film, even though most of the reviewers had little or no correct research about the making of the film, the actors themselves, or martial arts.

Ang Lee's visionary filmmaking produced an innovative and powerful visual text that will dominate the Hong Kong cinematic scene for years to come. Using actors, writers, designers, and crew from all over the Asian world, Lee managed to synthesize and effectively unify a mythic hero-tale from shot to shot, and all the while keeping the Asian aspects of the myth whole and unblemished by Western influences. The clear Buddhist and Taoist philosophies shine through each element of the film to produce a working subtext that respects and frames the culture of the myth's origin. This kind of creative work on an international scale helps to increase the communication between cultures, a skill highly necessary in the diverse multi-national environment in which we all live. Works Cited

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