The Flying Killer (1967)

Three faces of Chan Po-chu kick off The Flying Killer, an enjoyable 1967 follow-up in the Lady Bond line. The "Nui Sat Sau" (Lady Killer) tune is spruced up and reworded as a masked, gun-toting and cat-suited Chan slinks into the picture and starts singing. Soon another Chan joins her at centre screen, jiving dance hall-style until a third image of the girl enters in full aviatrix getup. With three Chans to feast eyes on at once in a layered montage -- two deadly serious and one with the a' go-go thing happening -- not one of them breaks rank from the seamless lip-synching. Credits soon flip by, placed over still images from Lady Bond and another film until a final shot of Chan posing in front of an aeroplane. This film is after all titled "Flying Lady Killer" (Hung Jung Nui Sa Sau) in Chinese after all -- clearly the only way was up after the previous flicks, and sure enough, our heroine eventually takes her action skyward.

But first, a requisite plot must be built. Kong Yin (Chan Po-chu) is working with the police; a cheery bunch wont to occasionally sneak into her apartment at night and test her reflexes. They've got a case that needs undercover work and Ah Yin's the right girl for the job. Gangsters are busying themselves at a shoe-making factory from which they can find requisite female staff for their seedy nightspot. Ah Yin's put through training and heads in as factory worker Ah Ling for a closer look. And coming along with her is butt of fat jokes Ah Han (Lydia Shum); a young girl miffed at the gang for attacking her sister and also tailing them on the sly. The heroines gun for gang chief Wu Tin-hung (Sek Kin) and action ensues.

And what action it is! Ah Yin's a formidable opponent to all who are bad, armed with secret gadgets and a mighty punch to boot. She carries a gun but its hardly her forte since each punch, karate-style chop or kick is itself accompanied by an cymbal crash, such is her strength. The bad guys get the percussion too by the end of the film, but Ah Yin's strikes just seem louder -- even as events take place in one room, the crashing cymbals in the background remind viewers that she's still dealing a thrashing not too far away. While titled a killer, she's more intent on bringing down adversaries than spilling their blood.

Not content with mundane land-bound pursuance, the Ah Yin has beefed up her aviation skills. And they prove handy once thugs snatch factory staffer Wong Chi-kong and his partner. With the pair being driven through the New Territories in a convertible, Ah Yin dashes to the Kowloon airport, pilots an aircraft and tails them. Spotting them drive to a remote secret hideout, she flies back to Kowloon, jumps in a boat and returns for a big fight. Never mind the sheer absurdity of a low-flying aircraft stealthily tailing an open-top car -- Ah Yin has to fly.

Production standards are constantly enjoyable, from fast-paced action down to an ongoing surf guitar score. Classic surf instrumental Miserlou plays four times at length along with other guitar numbers, simply enhanced with raised volume at dramatic peaks. The cast is enthusiastic and fun to watch, with Chan Po-chu a charismatic lead and Sek Kin a suitably nasty nemesis. Man Lei scores a terrific cameo as a raunchy nightclub dancer making eyes for club-goer Ah Yin, who by then is cross-dressing with slicked back hair and a pinstriped suit. The flight scenes offer thrills too, affording the production extended aerial views of the city, the harbour (with ongoing Wanchai reclamation), the New Territories countryside, and even what appears to be a film studio in what remains stunning footage of late-'60s Hong Kong.

* The Flying Killer was screened in Cantonese and unsubtitled at the Hong Kong Film Archive.
* Image credit: Chan Po-chu collector card of unknown origin and sourced from a junk store. It was probably unrelated to The Flying Killer, though.

Credits:
Directed by Mok Hon-si
Starring Connie Chan Po-chu, Lydia Shum Din-ha and Sek Kin

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