A CHINESE GHOST STORY (1997), dir. Andrew Chen

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Overall rating: ** (out of ****)

This seems more like an attempt to compete with Walt Disney than Hayao Miyazaki, and that’s unfortunate since Miyazaki’s Studio Gibli effectively set the new gold standard for hand-drawn animation during the late 90’s.

Indeed, films like “Princess Mononoke” and “Spirited Away” sported gorgeous drawings and impressive storytelling. However, they were also characterized by ambitious, occasionally epic storylines that utilized elements of Japanese mythology, executed in a mature fashion that appealed to all audiences. And therein lies the big difference between Miyazaki’s films and this one, produced by Hong Kong action master Tsui Hark; although “A Chinese Ghost Story” does touch on some grown-up themes, it does so in a restless manner that’s heavy on the eye candy. It’s as if Hark believed success depended solely on getting children into the theater.

Based on a story that inspired a live-action film and several sequels, the main character of “A Chinese Ghost Story” is Ning, a wandering tax collector with a broken heart. He was too busy earning his way in the world to keep his lover, who is mostly shown via flashback, from marrying someone else. When night falls, Ning ends up in a ghost city, which looks normal except for all the green tentacle-bearing creatures walking around (and that the city is lit up like Los Angeles in “Blade Runner”). What also distracts him is a beautiful woman named Shine; he falls in love with her at first sight, and it’s not long before she takes an interest in Ning herself.

Little does our protagonist know that Shine, who is also a ghost, works for a powerful entity named Trunk, who needs to eat human souls to maintain her beauty. After helping Ning out of a jam, Shine starts to coax him back to her master; however, a series of events happen which thrust the pair into the wilderness and toward each other. They include appearances by rival ghost hunters: on one side, White Hair and his apprentice, who resemble traditional action heroes; versus the more grizzled-looking Red Beard, who is about 70-percent facial hair and 100-percent gristle. There is also another female ghost jealous of Shine’s prominence among their fellow spirits. Finally, Shine has to beware the daylight, which can reduce her to ash, so Ning carries her around in an umbrella.

I can’t help thinking Miyazaki would have made a charming love story out of a young man with an umbrella that turns into a woman. To its credit, the film does reveal that Shine has a boyfriend – another ghost who has been away for years – and the idea that faithfulness is a shared trait among the protagonists makes their pairing all the more appealing. But screenwriter Hark, more known for kinetic, frenetic martial arts movies like “The Blade” and the “Once Upon a Time in China” series, barely lets the characters be alone together before propelling them into another fast-paced action sequence. The film manages to end before exhausting us, but what we take away isn’t the story and characters, it’s all the gimmicks aimed at the kid set.

Like a lot of the animated American movies of the 90’s, there is a pet sidekick providing comic relief (including a timely urination joke), some forgettable musical numbers, and strange moments of anachronism, including a ghost whipping out what amounts to a cell phone. In addition, characters all seem to try solving their problems by breaking out magical weapons, shooting at one another with electric eye beams, or the coup de grace: activating a giant robot with rocket boosters on its legs, and is clearly made out of computer graphics. At best, children will ooh and aah at the tumult of stimulation, but since nothing looks particularly innovative on a design level, adults are more likely to dismiss the giant robot as an inevitable toy product tie-in, or to wish for tighter editing during the elaborate throwdowns.

Kids may get a kick out of “A Chinese Ghost Story,” but those looking for sophisticated animated fare will probably be bored.

(Note: “A Chinese Ghost Story” was directed by someone named Andrew Chen, but based on the opening credits, you’d think it was Hark. Known for using directors as vessels for his own cinematic visions, he’s gotten most of the credit for movies he’s produced. As such, it only seems fair he gets the brunt of the criticism this time.)

NOWHERE TO HIDE (1999), dir. Myung-Se Lee

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Overall rating: *** (out of ****)

Imagine “The French Connection” with Wong Kar-Wai and such luminaries of Japanese cinema as Seijun Suzuki and Shohei Imamura at the helm, and you’d end up with something like “Nowhere to Hide.” Although frequently over-the-top, this Korean-language thriller’s highly-stylized nature is what makes it so unique, even if one can never take it very seriously. Meanwhile, it features a terrific performance by Joong-Hoon Park as a violent slob of a cop in the Popeye Doyle tradition.

The slaying of a gangland leader puts the Homicide Division’s best detectives, Woo (Joong-Hoon) and Kim (Dong-Kun Jang), on the trail of an assassin named Sungmin (Sung-Kee Ahn). As one might expect, the two cops are yin and yang: Kim is a conventionally-handsome, introspective family man, while Woo is a blustery, mean-tempered bear of a cop whose first instinct is usually force. But saying he’s tough would be an understatement. In the film’s opening montage, Woo takes on an entire gang of hoods in a warehouse single-handedly, displaying an agility that would make Sammo Hung nod in recognition.

Writer/director Lee liberally cuts back-and forth from that pitched fight to Kim and the others from the Homicide Division, who strut around carrying metal pipes, which they use to check the air in criminals’ heads. They resemble a pack of vigilantes more than police, and that, the filmmakers seem to argue, is the reason they’re so effective at their jobs. Like many classic cop movies, success in “Nowhere to Hide” requires tossing out the proverbial rulebook and resorting to excesses like torture and beatings; however, there are blackly-humorous touches that take some sting out of the brutality (at one point, the entire division decides to beat up on a suspect, but in their unbridled enthusiasm, they trash their headquarters, too).

The subject matter has the potential to be thought-provoking, but the story occasionally gets lost amidst the hyperactive visuals. “Nowhere to Hide’s” first third is a seemingly-non-stop tumult of freeze frames, slow-motion, punk rock guitar riffs and sound-mixing straight out of a spaghetti Western. Now don’t get me wrong; the blitzkrieg of sight and sound does get the adrenaline pumping to a certain extent, which is probably Lee’s intent. My only criticism is it doesn’t ebb and flow the way, say, Kar-Wai’s equally-playful “Fallen Angels” does; rather, it talks in a steady stream of exclamation points as a Michael Bay flick might.

Luckily, once the central investigation kicks in, the visual excesses seem appropriate, what with the lengths Woo, Kim, and the others are willing to go to collar their killer. Moreover, especially during the second half, Lee actually seems to tone things down, as if realizing the performances and plot were now sufficient to maintaining his audience’s attention. The movie continues to be inventive, albeit in ways film buffs may find derivative: the occasional emphasis on powerful images over continuity, a la Suzuki; voyeuristic first-person tracking shots similar to Imamura.

Although “Nowhere to Hide” concerns the Homicide Division as opposed to narcotics, like “The French Connection,” the plot involves surveillance and pursuit (including a memorable set piece involving a train) and cops who play close to the edge. Detective Woo has the same distinctive hat-wear and smile suggesting a punch to the face that Gene Hackman packed, and once the film races to its conclusion, it leans more heavily on Joong-Hoon, who conveys surprising depths to this unapologetic thug. As he explains to a beautiful co-conspirator (Ji-Woo Choi) of Sugmin’s whom they hope to bring around to their side, he knows his job, and that’s nailing the bad guy by any means necessary.

Woo is so convincing at not being self-delusional that the denouement – one of those “waiting by the side of the road, hoping for the woman whose boyfriend you just served justice to will give you the time of day” shots, seemingly borrowed from “The Third Man” – is rather poignant.