Shout Factory
Since the announcement that Shout Factory had acquired the Golden Princess library (which I was fortunate enough to cover for this very website) this is the day I’ve been looking forward to.
Bullet in the Head, maybe the greatest Hong Kong action film of all time is remastered and widely available again ready to be experienced and evaluated by generations of film lovers who had only heard about it.
A film of monumental quality, bravery, and excitement.
Some historical background: as I’ve talked about in my other John Woo reviews, this period of greatest creativity for the auteur was marred by backstage squabbling with Tsui Hark, who had produced his big break A Better Tomorrow in 1987.
The two had a falling out over that film’s sequel, and when Woo’s next film The Killer was a worldwide smash hit after being financed against Hark’s wishes, Woo wanted full control for A Better Tomorrow III. Hark refused, owned the rights to the series, and effectively got Woo blackballed from Hong Kong production companies, which led to Woo self-financing this film, which is what his Better Tomorrow III pitch had evolved into.
Bullet in the Head follows three close friends living in Hong Kong in 1967: Ben (Tony Leung, in perhaps his greatest screen role) is preparing to marry his girlfriend Jane (Fennie Yuen), while his hard luck best friend Frank (Jacky Cheung) and the more shrewd Paul (Waise Lee) look for a way out of their lives in a slum against the backdrop of the colonial labor riots that rocked HK in the 1960’s.
After Ben kills a local punk who had roughed up Frank on the night of his wedding, the trio flee Hong Kong for Vietnam, hoping to make quick money through smuggling medicine into the war torn country. There they befriend Luke (Simon Yam), a suave hit man working for the CIA who introduces them to the local triad bosses thriving amid the conflict. When their initial plan goes south they try to save a torch singer whom Ben has fallen for and end up caught in the violence of the Vietnam War, imprisoned by Viet Cong forces, and subjected to brutal conditions in a POW camp.
As the men endure captivity, their friendship begins to fracture. Paul grows increasingly ruthless, caring only for a cache of gold marks they’ve managed to lift, while Ben clings to his humanity and tries to protect Frank as best he can. After a harrowing escape Paul’s ambition takes over; he abandons Ben and shoots Frank in the head during a firefight to keep him quiet.
Upon finally returning to Hong Kong Ben is traumatized to discover how completely Paul has fallen morally. Armed with the proof of Paul’s betrayal he seeks the now wealthy triad leader out for a final reckoning.
The tragic arc of Bullet in the Head underscores Woo’s moral vision, which is something missing from so many of his Western films: greed is not merely a personal failing but a corrosive spiritual force. Paul’s transformation into a corporate crime lord represents the triumph of greed over fraternity, and Woo frames that fall as symbolic of life in the modern world. The institutions meant to nurture us conceal corrosive danger, and true friendship is always in peril from the temptation to get ahead in a ruthless capitalistic system.
The infamous riot sequence which acts as an evocation of Tiananmen Square extends this critique from the personal to the geopolitical. By intercutting chaotic street violence with images of state force and civilian panic, Woo suggests that personal betrayal operates at every level: among friends, within nations, and between governments and their people. The weakness of the human heart pervades society at all levels.
That emphasis aligns with John Woo’s own background: he was raised by parents who worked as Lutheran missionaries, and his films frame violence through a lens of sin and redemption. The film’s bleak ending, in which vengeance brings no relief, underscores Woo’s suspicion of revolutionary purges or Communist revolutions as moral solutions. Its allusions to 1989 and its portrayal of political brutality and the broader cultural pressure exerted by the People’s Republic of China during the 1990s contributed to the film being comparatively underseen for years outside dedicated cinephile circles. In retrospect, the movie plays as a lament for lost morality in an era of ideological extremity and stands as Woo’s most nakedly personal work.
It’s also filled to the brim with everything fans love about Woo’s Hong Kong canon: the action is epic, focused, and thrilling. Simon Yam and Tony Leung are absolutely electric, and the combination of tone brought on by the admixture of extreme violence and Old Hollywood sincerity is actually much better handled here than it is even in The Killer.
This is my favorite film of the entire Hong Kong New Wave.
Extras included are new Optional English Subtitles, Audio Commentary, the “Festival Cut”, Aternate Ending, Interviews, Featurettes, Trailers and Image Gallery.
Highest Recommendation.
