Finally rented “House of Flying Daggers.”

After it was over, I turned to James and said “My god. That was a wushu chick flick.”

Pretty movie, some lovely costuming, and in another life, I sure wouldn’t kick the hero out of bed*, but… man, with all those slow-mo scenes and long shots of tiny figures walking slowly through epic scenery, they could have put in another battle.

For example, the one that the WHOLE MOVIE WAS LEADING UP TO, say.

Not bad, that complaint aside, but slow. Lovely, lovely to look at, though. Not as visually impressive–or as unstintingly paced!–as “Hero,” didn’t have the sheer epic tear-jerking scale of “Crouching Tiger,” or the good-natured silliness of “Iron Monkey.”

And of course, it ain’t wushu unless everybody dies.

*On of the great signs that you’ve slowed down is when you reach a point in your existence where finding a handsome young Chinese hero in your bed would be a bad thing.

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