Remastered by Luc Besson

Cast: Tony Jaa, Petchthai Wongkamlao, Pumwaree Yodkamol, Chetwut Wacharakun, Wannakit Siriput, Sukhaaw Phongwilal, Chatthapong Pantanaunkul.

There’s a great deal to be said in favour of a beautifully-crafted, pure action flick uncomplicated by the modern hero’s self doubt and neuroses. Ong Bak has an old-fashioned flavour – rip-roaring, actual, blood-chilling martial arts and stunts untinged by CGI, special effects, wires or blue screens. The good guys are indisputably good, even when one of them might have momentarily lost his way, and the bad guys are irredeemably evil – and it’s clear who is who. What lifts this out of the facile is the addition of superb martial arts, superior presence and athleticism of an awesome standard perhaps not seen since Bruce Lee. The whole film was remastered by none less than Luc Besson, resulting in a well-paced, spectacular and exciting martial arts film.

Tony Jaa, who plays our hero Ting, is a brilliant exponent of Muay Thai, the ‘Nine Body Weapons’ form of Thailand. He has a rare combination of the emotional depth of Jet Li, the presence of Shinichi ‘Sonny’ Chiba and the superb control and timing of Jackie Chan – one of his heroes – and like the latter, does all his own stunts. The blood, sweat, blades, blows and kicks, falls, fire (and burns) are all real, and seeing this makes one realise, (if by chance one has not already), just how diluted is our usual martial arts fare, Westernised into a flashy show (like the recent Elektra) of all form and little substance.

The opening of the film is intriguing. A caption reads Nong Pradu village, Eastern stringed music plays. A very old, huge tree in a clearing, at the top of which is a yellow flag. A line of half-naked young men, covered in white clay, stands silently, watching the tree with intent. A gathering of villagers, men and women, young and old, stand behind them, equally silent. A sudden cry gives the signal and the young men run for the tree, scrambling and climbing, pulling each other down and falling to the ground, trying to get to the top of the tree, and the flag, as fast as they can. Among them, Ting is obviously athletically superior, climbing with skill and certainty, running along tree limbs with the flag he has reached before any of them, jumping easily from limb to limb as though he’s on solid ground. Declared the winner, he has earned the right to present the sacred robes to Ong Bak, venerated statue of the Buddha, in the Temple of Nong Pradu. It is a ritual all observe solemnly, for Ong Bak brings the village good fortune.

An evildoer in the form of Don (Wannakit Siriput), former villager and thief, steals Ong Bak’s head, hoping to impress Bangkok crime boss Khom Tuan (Sukhaaw Phongwilal). A champion is needed to bring back the head of Ong Bak, and Ting volunteers, being directed to link up with the Headman’s son George (Petchthai Wongkamlao), a candidate for monkhood currently in Bangkok. Ting’s mentor Pra Kru, the monk who taught him Muay Thai, makes the young man promise not to use his dangerous martial art. Much of the soul of this film is in these early scenes, indicating the sincerity and simple generosity of the villagers, giving food, a sacred amulet or their last pennies to Ting for his journey.

In contrast, Bangkok is a teeming, sleazy den of iniquity where the simple are divested of their valuables as quickly as they arrive, and scamming violent bullies is a way of life for the somewhat lapsed George and his young, street waif sidekick, Muay Lek (Pumwaree Yodkamol). The pace of the film picks up at this point and scarcely lets up.

The extraordinary street chase between Ting and street thugs, followed closely and hilariously by the comically clumsy George, is a lengthy demonstration of amazing stunts, leaps, acrobatics and street fighting. There is an equally dazzling chase with the Bangkok three-wheeled taxis, the tuk-tuks, ending in a hair-raising sequence. And the arranged fights in which Ting is forced to compete are thrilling and convincingly violent. You can almost smell the sweat, the close-packed bodies and the blood. One shot in particular, involving the devastating effects to a baddie’s upper body of a kick delivered by Ting while his legs are on fire remains in the memory, as do many others. The choreography of the fights is a joint effort of Tony Jaa and another of his heroes, Phanna Rithikrai, veteran and star of many Thai action films, who has long been Jaa’s teacher in Kung Fu and film stuntwork.

The Bangkok scenes are appropriately darkly shot: sweat gleams, street grime mires everything it touches, and the city seems to exist like a soiled, gaily patterned paper lantern tossing in a night breeze. The countryside in contrast is bright and clear.

Nasty crime boss Khom Tuan is given a more sinister note by having had his vocal cords removed, necessitating the use of an apparatus for artificial vocalisation more rasping than Darth Vader, and a tracheotomy tube through which he still smokes. Surrounded by flunkies, he is a black hole of evil epitomising among other deviations from the peaceful Middle Way of the Buddha the illegal trafficking and export of sacred objects.

In the old-fashioned vein, this film combines danger, betrayal, meanness, great-heartedness and redemption, which owes a great deal to the central theme of recovering the Buddha’s stolen head and bringing it back to its rightful place. So George is challenged to leave his degraded Bangkok life and return to his true values, and the street urchin Muay finds another, and better, sanctuary. Ting, as the instrument for Good, is an essential factor in restoring many of Thailand’s lost sacred treasures as well as repaying the village who sheltered him as a young orphan with the greatest gift he can give. In the process, the baddies are dispatched satisfyingly and conclusively and with neat irony, the Buddha's serene smile holding a secret only the just know. All’s right with the world once more.

© Avril Carruthers,                                                    14^th February 2005