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Plot: They robbed her of her innocence. They will pay.

Thanh Sói - Cúc dại trong đêm (or Thanh Wolf - Wild Daisies in the Night, released internationally simply as Furies) is the long-awaited follow-up to Furie (2019). There always has existed a great synergy between the regional cinematic traditions of the more liberated (and Western inclined) Hong Kong, the isolationist Chinese mainland, the nearby Taiwan, and to a degree even the Philippines. Vietnam remains largely untrodden territory for us (unlike, say, Indonesia and Malaysia) but if Furies is any indication, it can easily compete with its Southasian counterparts. Furies is, for the lack of a better descriptor, a female-centric (and feminist) martial arts action movie on the model of Teresa Woo San’s classic Iron Angels (1987-1989) trilogy. Furies is to Furie (2019) what Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991) was to The Terminator (1984). That is to say, it’s a thematic follow-up largely cut from the same cloth as the original that expands just enough upon the established formula to justify the retread. Furies knows its strengths and improves upon them with bigger production values and scope.

Let’s not mince words. Furie (2019) was one of the best martial arts movies that year and forever etched Veronica Ngo in our heart. Lê Văn Kiệt had made a modern classic but curiously he’s nowhere to be found here. You’d imagine that Văn Kiệt went back to the drawingboard as soon as Furie (2019) smashed its way to international fame. No such things seems to have happened. The creative force behind Furies is Ngô Thanh Vân (or Veronica Ngo as us Westerners know her). Ngo is known in the West mostly for her roles in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon: Sword of Destiny (2016) and Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017) and remains mostly active in Vietnam. Ngo not only stars, but also produced, co-wrote, and directs. Where a good deal of direct sequels fail is that they insist upon not deviating from the established formula or format sometimes forcing beloved characters from previous installments into unlikely scenarios eventhough their story was either self-contained and already told. Furies shows its intelligence by realizing that Furie (2019) told the story of Hai Phượng and needed not to be told again. Instead Furies focuses upon expanding on the backstory of the villain and details the ascension of Thanh Sói to the throne of the Nam Ro cartel in Ho Chi Minh City.

Living on the streets of Ho Chi Minh City Bi (Đồng Ánh Quỳnh) was the victim of both a violent childhood and sexual assault. As a stray she survives by pickpocketing and life on the streets her made her tough. One day she runs into Jacqueline Hoang (Ngô Thanh Vân) who sees potential in Bi’s violent outbursts and penchant for casual destruction. Bi reluctantly agrees to live at her halfway house after hearing they share a common enemy, the Nam Ro cartel that operates every major crime branch in the city. At the house she lives with level-headed rock chick Thanh (Tóc Tiên) and sparkly party girl Hong (Rima Thanh Vy). They too are survivors of sexual assault and victims of a violent childhood. Aunt Lin considers her latest recruit a vital addition to her all-girl vigilante group The Wild Daisies and she teaches all three the ancient art of Vovinam and a regiment of special weapons training and infiltration techniques. Lin’s goal? To dismantle the Nam Ro cartel from the bottom up. The Wild Daisies are ordered to eliminate The Big Four at the New Century club: Long 'bồ đà' or "The Dealer" Long (Song Luân) who controls their narcotics distribution and has caused untold misery to so many, Tèo 'mặt sẹo' or "Scarface" Teo (Phan Thanh Hiền) who runs the cartel’s prostitution ring and their associated brothels, Sơn 'Lai' or "Half-Blood" Son (Gi A Nguyễn), personal bodyguard of "Mad Dog" Hai – and, finally, Hải 'Chó điên' or "Mad Dog" Hai (Thuận Nguyễn), head of the cartel. In the explosive finale the loyalties of The Wild Daisies are tested when it is revealed that not everybody’s motives are pure.

If you couldn’t tell from the plot summary above Furies is part of a decades-old cinematic tradition in Asia, the female-centric martial arts movie. Sure, it’s derivative, but its constituent parts are borrowed from some of the finest vintage 1980s Hong Kong Girls with Guns and wider Asian martial arts movies from back then and now. For starters it has the three-girl wrecking crew from Iron Angels (1987-1989). There’s the semi-mute stray that happens to be a savant martial artist from Chocolate (2008), the mainplot is lifted almost verbatim from Jing Wong’s Naked Weapon (2002) and Naked Soldier (2012) with a dash of Kick Ass Girls (2013) and some Vietnamese flavor. The Hong Kong and John Woo influence of Naked Killer (1992) is almost completely absent. Furies has that feminist undertone of Mistress Killer (2016) and Husband Killers (2017) (but is thankfully less blunt/obtuse about its political affiliation). Just like Extra Service (2017) this one prides itself on its retro 90s aesthetic of bright neon and pastel colors. As before Furies bathes in hues of green, blue, and red (somebody clearly knew their Mario Bava and Dario Argento, or simply continued what Lê Văn Kiệt started) and the 90s throwback is a good excuse to fill it with V-pop from back in the day. Thanh is the obligatory depressed grunge girl, Hong is the crazy rave chick prone to wearing outrageously revealing PG-13 outfits and bouncing off the walls, and Bi wears the expected tracksuits. Any movie that blasts 2 Unlimited’s ‘No Limit’ during a club scene always gets good points in our book. Paradisio’s ‘Bailando’ or the Vengaboys’ ‘Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom!!’ would’ve probably been too cheery for something this dark.

As always, less is usually more in these type of movies. Furie (2019) was minimal, calculated, and efficient and its story served largely as a preamble to get in as much high-octane action scenes as possible. Back once again is Arab-Frenchman Kefi Abrikh and his choreography and action direction continue to echo The Raid (2011) in sheer brutality and stark utilitarianism and the girls’ routines are in the Angela Mao tradition in that they are hard-hitting, versatile, and athletic. Đồng Ánh Quỳnh, Tóc Tiên, and Rima Thanh Vy underwent a year of rigorous martial arts training in preparation for their roles and it shows. Perhaps the best thing Veronica Ngo did was casting herself in the role of Aunt Lin in a twist straight out of the Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991) playbook. It also changes the location from rickety shacks in backwater villages in the Vietnamese jungles to the neon-lit sidewalks of Ho Chi Minh City (Sài Gòn or Saigon as we know it). As a throwback to the Category III genre of old Furies has enough sex to please anyone yet Đồng Ánh Quỳnh, Tóc Tiên, and Rima Thanh Vy are never really sexualized or objectified. To her everlasting credit, Ngo herself takes more of a backseat here acting as a mentor both in front as well as behind the camera. Tóc Tiên is probably the best known of the three (or the most easily marketable) as she’s a former teen idol that turned to modeling and singing before becoming a television personality as a judge on The Voice of Vietnam and Vietnam Idol Kids. Rima Thanh Vy is the most conventionally beautiful of the three and in Western hands she would’ve been the central character. Some of the visual effects are a bit iffy, the bike chase is the most egregious and downright videogamey in part, especially in HD and 4k resolution. Other than that Furies looks and sounds spectacular and the increased budget clearly helped.

In the day and age of franchises, spin-offs, and series Furies is that rarest of sequels. It’s not so much a retread of an established formula but an expansion upon concepts of the original. Furie (2019) was a strong stand-alone feature and any sequels were not really expected (or even necessary). Regardless, Furies defies expectations by doing the same but doing it different enough to justify its existence. The retro 90s aesthetic is better realized than most of these throwbacks but it is, and remains, a gimmick. If Netflix decides to greenlight another sequel it’s time to look at how the events of Furie (2019) shaped Mai and the relation with her mother. In an ideal world mother and daughter would bundle forces to defeat a common enemy or a larger threat looming over them. Preferably without any aesthetic gimmicks. Let’s hope Maria (2019) and BuyBust (2018) eventually receive a similar treatment. Furie (2019) killed and Furies, simply put, effortlessly and elegantly kills again.

Plot: They messed with the wrong woman. They will pay...

Following hot on the heels of Maria (2019) Furie (released domestically as Hai Phượng) is the quintessential martial arts movie. It’s a calculated and efficient retread of the Hong Kong Girls with Guns classic Angel (1987) (without the guns and slapstick humor), or Chocolate (2008) (with JeeJa Yanin) with the roles reversed, and it cleaned up at the box office with a hefty VND200 billion ($8.64 million) in just 4 weeks, making it the highest-grossing Vietnamese film of all time. A decade removed from Clash (2009) and seven years removed from her first Văn Kiệt feature House In the Alley (2012) Ngô Thanh Vân (better known in the Anglo-Saxon world these days as Veronica Ngo) has become an international superstar. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon: Sword of Destiny (2016) and Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017) raised her profile considerably but Ngo hasn’t forgotten the homeland. She remains a beloved pillar in domestic action – and martial arts cinema. Furie is a prime example of Vietnamese action at its best.

We’ll readily admit that our knowledge of Vietnamese cinema, martial arts or otherwise, is non-existent. Thailand, the Philippines, and Indonesia all forged regional variations on popular American (and European) productions, and we’re familiar with Malaysia by proxy through its assocation with Hong Kong and Mainland China. It would only be natural to assume that Vietnam, given its geographic proximity and cultural similarity to its immediately surrounding nations, would not lag far behind. Furie is our introduction to director Lê Văn Kiệt and he seems cut from the same cloth as Pedring A. Lopez (in the Philippines) or Ernesto Díaz Espinoza (in Chile). Which is a long way saying that Furie is hyperstylized, slick and efficient in its minimalism. A handful of characters, a very basic storyline, and action choreography from Arab-Frenchman Kefi Abrikh that borders on The Raid (2011) and Angela Mao territory in brutal efficiency.

Life has not been easy for Hai Phượng (Ngô Thanh Vân, as Veronica Ngo). In Trà Vinh, a town and province in the Mekong Delta, she’s barely able to make ends meet as a debt collector. She lives in a rickety shack with her precocious ten-year-old daughter Le Huyn Thi Mai (Mai Cát Vi, as Cát Vy) who seems to resent and love her in equal measure. Mai is tired of being bullied, by teachers and fellow students alike, at school and has drawn up a business plan to establish a fishing farm to get out of poverty. Phượng has her own reasons for living in the backwater town that she does. She used to be a big-time gangster and hustler. Upon joining the gang she abandoned her family, and she herself was ousted from the gang once she became pregnant. One day Hai and Mai are having an argument on the market square and when she turns around again Mai has suddenly disappeared. Hai Phượng pursues the thugs and lays waste to just about anything and everyone in the way, but is unable stop them. Rebuffed by her former criminal associates and bureaucracy and corruption stopping the police from being in any way helpful, Hai Phượng hitches a ride to Ho Chi Minh City (Sài Gòn or Saigon) to start her own investigation into Mai’s abduction in Trà Vinh market.

In Ho Chi Minh City Hai Phượng traces the whereabouts of low-level enforcer Nguyen Chanh Truc (Phạm Anh Khoa) to Đường Tôn Đản where he has a car mechanic business. Hai comes from an ancient bloodline trained in the art of Vovinam, and she too was instructed by her father (Lê Bình). After beating the daylights out of Truc she learns that even the fearsome Nam Ro gang answers to the sociopathic head of a human trafficking - and organ harvesting ring by the name of Thanh Sói (Trần Thanh Hoa) and her second-in-command Sau Theo (Minh Le). Hai Phượng tracks down their base of operations, but when confronted she’s roundly defeated by Thanh Sói and her armed goons, and nearly drowned for her interference. Around this time Le Minh Luong (Phan Thanh Nhiên), seasoned police detective and Vovinam practitioner, is informed of the latest abductions. After being nearly drowned for interfering with Thanh Sói’s operation Hai Phượng is rescued from certain death by an intervention from Le Minh and his team. Looking to make the best of a suboptimal situation Hai Phượng and Le Minh Luong team up together and make a formidable two-person wrecking crew. They take the fight to Thanh Sói. Will they be able to bust the sordid operation, and will Hai Phượng live long enough to see her beloved Mai again?

Obviously Furie isn’t out to revolutionize storytelling in the no-holds-barred action movie. Far from it. Furie is, for all intents and purposes, Chocolate (2008) with Veronica Ngo in the role that broke JeeJa Yanin to a wider audience. And this aren’t some superficial similarities either. Furie tells exactly the same story and only switches the protagonists around. In Chocolate (2008) JeeJa rescued her foster parents from loansharks and here the only available parent unit unleashes veritable hell on the wrongdoers on an epic scale. Action movies work the best when the premise is simple, the lead actor capable, and the director has an affinity for whatever makes the feature tick, whether that’s martial arts or gunfights. Here the martial art discipline of Vovinam is what sells Furie. Veronica Ngo shows some impressive chops that recall Angela Mao Ying’s greatest cinematic performances. Ngo is graceful, hard-hitting, versatile, and athletic just like Mao in Lady Whirlwind (1972) and The Tournament (1974). Lê Văn Kiệt understands that the story is a mere preamble to see Ngo fight and there’s just enough character and plot development to keep Furie moving forward at a good pace. A lot of action movies tend to sag either in the middle or towards the end when the baddie is defeated, but not so Furie. Once Mai is kidnapped Văn Kiệt signals that the game is on, and it’s not until the last man falls that Furie decides upon a breather.

Just like in BuyBust (2018) and Maria (2019) before it minimalism is the name of the game in Furie. Not every movie needs a boatload of secondary characters or numerous subplots to work. Furie works because it needs not to concern itself with a boatload of secondary characters or the resolution of one, or more, subplots. Sometimes a simple premise is all you need. Look at The Terminator (1984) and Commando (1985), both were so deceptive in their simplicity. The former was a slasher movie on the model of Friday the 13th (1980) with guns instead of knives, and the latter was a xerox so blatant (or earnest) of Sylvester Stallone’s Rambo: First Blood Part II (1985) that it bordered dangerously on spoof territory. Die Hard (1988) worked exactly because the entire premise was so simple. Lê Văn Kiệt understands that less is always more in these type of movies but, more importantly, acknowledges that a relatable story is infinitely more important. The “parent looking for their kid” storyline is as old as time, and Furie tells it by way of retelling Chocolate (2008) for a Vietnamese audience. After all, the more things change the more they stay the same. Furie does nothing what Chocolate (2008) didn’t do already. The beauty of Furie lies in how graceful it goes about said retread.

Furie is bound to be remembered as a modern action classic not only because of Văn Kiệt’s slick direction or Veronica Ngo’s cutthroat performance, but because it understands what makes its protagonist tick. Couple that with top-notch action direction and choreography and Furie easily towers above the competition. BuyBust (2018) had a likeable lead but wonky action direction and uneven choreography. Somebody needs to give Veronica Ngo the chance to become the Vietnamese Michelle Yeoh that she obviously is. Had Ngo been around in the 1980s she probably was stiff competition for Moon Lee, Cynthia Khan, and Sibelle Hiu. Nowadays female action stars are far and few outside of Mainland China and maybe Hong Kong. Hollywood is still terminally afraid of the implications but will occassionally pay lipservice to the idea. It’s in no hurry to give it the chance and budgets it deserves. Thankfully other countries recognize potential when they see it. Directors like Lê Văn Kiệt or Pedring A. Lopez should be given a chance to direct a The Expendables sequel instead of wasting away working on small projects within their respective domestic cinematic industries. Furie is the kind of stuff that international breakthroughs are made of. If Veronica Ngo can break to English-speaking audiences so can Lê Văn Kiệt. Furie, simply put, kills.