The opening sequence of Jonnie
To and Wai Ka Fai's latest film, Full Time Killer, is a
classic set-piece for establishing action: a lean young man, clad in
slick black leather, trench coat swirling around him, enters a train
station, selects a target, coolly lifts his revolver, kills the
victim, turns around and makes his getaway in a swift but relaxed
manner, indifferent to the fact that he hasn't even bothered to
conceal his identity. Tok (Andy Lau), is a hit man on the rise,
renowned for his reckless and extravagant gestures (see above), all
of which are borrowed liberally from his favorite action films. His
other obsession revolves around O (Takashi Sorimachi), a hit man
whose retiring nature are entirely at odds with his profession; his
main interest is collecting Snoopy figurines from each of the
countries that he has "visited." O is at the top of his
game, the one with the highest fees, and Tok is eager to depose him
as soon as possible, although his motivations may not be entirely
financial. There's also an Interpol Police Inspector (Simon Yam),
who wants to arrest both of them. A showdown between Tok and O is
inevitable, after one of them discovers the common link between them
that the other has known from the first frame.
Directors To and Wai (the latter also co-wrote the screenplay), borrow liberally from the common elements between American gangster and western films, as do many Hong Kong filmmakers. There are countless films that revolve around the concept of the established gunfighter, tired of living up to his professional reputation, but who must face a young upstart who won't allow him to walk away (the most typical being Henry King's 1951 classic, The Gunfighter, in which Gregory Peck is endlessly harassed by Stephen MacNally). Yet, Killer also addresses the contemporary issues now influencing organized crime in Hong Kong. The film's title is the first clue that not all is as it used to be; like the Italian Mafia's loss of influence and power to their Russian counterparts, the old-style Hong Kong gangsters and their codes of honor have been overthrown by more ambitious and ruthless types, such as the Chinese Triads, who specialize in greater and more indiscriminate forms of violence. O and Tok are the obvious symbolic stand-ins for this shift, and they, like other workers, have now fallen prey to the mob equivalent of "restructuring"(without the severance pay). There is no sense of loyalty or identity, and no protection, however limited it might have been in the past; they have become contractors in both the definition of their employment and the conditions under which they work. The sequences of exquisitely choreographed violence in Full Time Killer cannot even compare to the level of sadism in Ichi the Killer; the staccato-like editing style, when coupled with the insouciant slinging around of black witticisms by the protagonists (antagonists?) renders the violence more cartoon-like in sensibility; just like Wile E. Coyote, the two protagonists will get up again to undergo more madness in the next scene. The directors keep this madness going until the very last minute, until a pull-all-the-stops-out finale caps this funny, intentional and otherwise, "Chop Socky" film.