Furious Swords And Fantastic Warriors: The Heroic Cinema Of Chang Cheh 5-Disc Blu-ray Review

Eureka Entertainment

Blu-ray Release: October 21, 2025

Video: 2.35:1/1080p/Color (all films)

Audio: Mandarin LPCM 2.0 Mono (all films); English LPCM 2.0 Mono (Men from the Monastery, Shaolin Martial Arts, Iron Bodyguard, The Weird Man, Trail of the Broken Blade, New Shaolin Boxers)

Subtitles: English (all films)

Run Time: Various

Director: Chang Cheh (with Cheng Kang & Griffin Yueh Feng, Trilogy of Swordsmanship only and Wu Man on New Shaolin Boxers)

No other director has had a bigger impact on Hong Kong action cinema than Chang Cheh, who directed and/or wrote around 100 movies across six decades. His films were steeped in a formula now known as ‘heroic bloodshed,’ which emphasized brotherhood, redemption, and violent sacrifice, but his style evolved with the times and helped usher in the Hong Kong New Wave styles that, in turn, took Hollywood by storm in the mid-to-late ‘90s. While he was not the first filmmaker of his kind and borrowed from other great filmmakers, Chang might still be the single most influential wuxia/kung fu director of all time.

Disc 1: 

Men from the Monastery (aka: Disciples of Death, 1974)

The members of a Shaolin monastery are forced to team up, train up, and take up arms to rescue the citizens, leaders, and merchants of a city beset by ruthless and depraved Manchu invaders.

The first of several sequels, semi-sequels, prequels, and in-between-quels to Chang’s Heroes Two (aka: Blood Brothers and Kung Fu Invaders, 1973) – a grouping known as the Shaolin Cycle – Men from the Monastery is a likeable, by-the-numbers kung fu vehicle for stars Alexander Fu Seng (in really only his second featured role), Chen Kuan-Tai, Chiang Tao, and Chi Kuan-Chun to show off their fighting skills. Screenwriter Ni Kuang’s derivative screenplay (you’d be forgiven for confusing this movie with the following year’s Disciples of Shaolin (aka: Invincible One, 1975) serves its purpose as a delivery system for veteran choreographers Chia Tang and Lau Kar-leung’s increasingly fantastic fight sequences.

Due in part to being a sequel, a lot of the narrative is told via exposition dumps and flashbacks, which can make the talky first half a bit frustrating to follow. My advice is to enjoy the film as it was intended, by marveling at the acrobatics and ignoring these narrative shortcomings. Also, be rest assured knowing that the second half, which focuses directly on the Shaolin students’ insurgency and revenge against the Manchu, flows much better. Kuan-Chun Chi’s character’s final battle against a small army is also notable for possibly inspiring Kill Bill: Vol. 1’s (2003) Crazy 88 fight. Both sequences cut from full color to monochrome to emphasize and censor the bloody violence.

Shaolin Martial Arts (1974)

Shaolin students are forced to defend their school after a supposedly peaceful martial arts demonstration goes terribly awry, prompting intervention from the Manchu.

The Shaolin Cycle continued with Shaolin Martial Arts, released the same year as Men from the Monastery. Technically, they share some continuity, as characters sometimes mention events of previous films, but this is really less of a sequel and more like a second shot at the same idea, which is kind of the case with the entire series. Several cast members return to play similar, but technically different characters, which I imagine could confuse viewers unfamiliar with Shaw Bros.’ formula of reusing its stars. Ni and Chang’s script is relatively simplified and to the point, though the film itself runs a bit too long (there’s an entire training arc that doesn’t work and leads into another training arc).

There’s no mistaking Chang’s leadership here, given the emphasis on macho underdogs, vengeance, and heroic sacrifice, but the presence of a young Gordon Liu (in his second credited role), the emphasis on the intricacies of technique and training, and lighthearted romantic sideplots all seem to imply an increased influence from co-choreographer Lau Kar-Leung. Chang was Lau’s collaborator for years, so the influences went both ways, but, overall, Shaolin Martial Arts has the tonal feel of the films Lau himself directed after a falling out with Chang on the set of Marco Polo (1975).

Tarantino fans can find more Kill Bill references here, too. Specifically, the Pai Mei training flashbacks from Vol. 2 (2004) include a number of nods to the third act of Shaolin Martial Arts, top among them, Kuan-Chun Chi’s learning a on- inch finger punch technique. Also note that Pei Mei was portrayed by Liu, though Tarantino himself originally planned on playing the character (thankfully, he didn’t). 

Video/Audio

Both Men from the Monastery and Shaolin Martial Arts were previously available on R3 DVD from HK and Thailand, as well as North American streaming digital HD. Like every title in this collection, the transfers have been supplied directly from Celestial Films and tend to match the expectations of Eureka’s other Shaw Bros. discs. Both are a bit soft, but this is usually due to shabby focus-pulling, rather than DNR. Shaolin Martial Arts has slightly better grain texture and detail levels.

Both films include Mandarin and English dub mono tracks in uncompressed DTS-HD Master Audio. The swish & smack fight effects and largely archive-based music (including swipes from Holst’s Planets suite) generally match between the two language options, though the Mandarin mixes tend to better blend dialogue, effects, and music together. 

Extras

• Men from the Monastery commentary with David West – The author of Chasing Dragons: An Introduction to the Martial Arts Film (I.B. Taurus, 2006) explores Chang’s Shaolin Cycle, the legends and real history behind Shaolin storytelling, connections to other films and genre traditions, and the careers of the cast & crew. He’s not completely convinced that the film cuts to black & white in order to please the censors and offers alternate theories.

• Shaolin Martial Arts commentary with Frank Djeng and Michael Worth – Everyone’s favorite festival programmer and Hong Kong movie expert, Djeng, is once again paired with martial artist/filmmaker Worth. The duo discusses the film’s release, the careers of the cast & crew, the Shaw house style, the various styles represented in the film, and Chang and Lau’s relationship.

• Saving Shaolin (15:45, HD) – Columnist, critic, screenwriter, and prolific author Jonathan Clements investigates the real history and folk legends of the Shaolin temple, the lineage of the region’s famed martial artists, various Shaolin-based films (emphasizing Chang’s cycle), and separates the fact from the fiction. 

• VHS footage (2:48, SD) – Export credits, export mid-film credits, and export & original theatrical ending.

Disc 2:

King Eagle (1971)

Against his better judgment, a swordsman named Jin Fei and known as King Eagle (Ti Lung) finds himself embroiled in the inner conflicts of a powerful clan.

King Eagle is notable as an early headlining role for developing wuxia superstar Ti Lung and benefits from a brisk storytelling pace. The script is vintage Chang Cheh & Ni Kuang stuff, brimming with conspiracy and bloody melodrama, to the point that, had Ti been missing a limb, it might have worked as an alternative sequel to The One-Armed Swordsman (1967), given the similarities between the titular characters at the beginning of this film and the official sequel, Return of the One-Armed Swordsman (1969). There are also a few allusions to Akira Kurosawa’s Yojimbo (1961), though, unlike that film’s wandering ronin, this hero here has plenty of allies, including Lee Ching as his love interest, who ends up having nearly as much screen time as Ti during the second half of the movie (a somewhat unfair comparison, since she also plays her own sister).

The stunt coordination and fight design falls to Chia Tang and Yuen Cheung-Yan, brother of Yuen Woo-ping and member of the famed Yuen Clan. The Yuen influence can be seen in the flow of group fights and occasional use of wires, which would become a family trademark by the following decade. Chang’s influence is still very clear, though, especially in terms of cartoonishly graphic bloodshed. The coolest confluence of the Yuen and Chang styles is a bit where Jin Fei uses a whip to drag a villain to his death behind his horse. The director’s love for gimmicky weapons – something I believe he first dabbled in when he made the aforementioned Return of the One-Armed Swordsman – is represented by a flute that hides a needle-firing mechanism, an iron hook prosthetic, and metallic razor claws. 

Iron Bodyguard (1973)

The legendary martial artist Wang Wu (Chen Kuan-tai) and revolutionary Tan Sitong (Yueh Hu) battle corruption within the Qing Dynasty.

Co-directed with Pao Hsueh-li, Iron Bodyguard sees Chang and Ni digging into comparatively recent Chinese history (recent as in just one century before the time of release, instead of several) to explore the legacies of two Qing era folk heroes – a chivalrous greatsword master named Wang Wu (aka: Wang Zhengyi) and a reformist scholar named Tan Sitong. Ni’s plot mythologizes their budding friendship to its tragic end. Possibly inspired by Hollywood revisionist westerns, like George Roy Hill’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969) and Sam Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch (1969), Ni ends up changing history to make the ending even more tragic than it actually was.

Star Chen Kuan-tai, fight choreographers Lau Kar-leung and Tong Kai, and the two directors were all coming off a collaboration at the time, The Boxer from Shantung (1972). Iron Bodyguard is a step down from that film’s classic pastiche of pre-code gangster thriller and kung fu bone-smasher, but it is considerably better paced and Chen manages a better dramatic performance. Wu’s adventures were chronicled over a number of motion pictures, including Sammo Hung’s Blade of Fury (1993), but he seems to have been more popular as a television character, inspiring at least eight different shows.

Video/Audio

Iron Bodyguard is another movie that was previously on R3 DVD and HD streaming, while King Eagle is the only title in Furious Swords & Fantastic Warriors that was officially released on US DVD (via Image Entertainment). King Eagle looks pretty great, if perhaps a bit soft, as usually expected from a Celestial transfer, but without the oversharpening and compression artifacts that mar many similar releases. The sole Mandarin dub is also cleaner than expected. Iron Bodyguard is a bit harsh in terms of contrast, leading to overblown whites, and there are signs of DNR. Its Mandarin and English audio options have minor high end distortion issues.

Extras

• King Eagle commentary with Mike Leeder and Arne Venema – Casting director/stunt coordinator/producer, Leeder, and his critical companion and Neon Grindhouse: Hong Kong co-writer, Venema, bring their typically friendly energy to discussions of the making of the film, the state of Shaw Bros. and Hong Kong cinema at the time, story themes, the careers of the cast & crew, and connections to Chang’s other movies.

• Iron Bodyguard commentary with Frank Djeng and Michael Worth

• A Sword Raised to the Sky: History and Iron Bodyguard (15:08, HD) – Jonathan Clements returns to look into the historical figures that inspired the Iron Bodyguard, changes made to the real-world events, and writer Ni Kuang’s political leanings.

Disc 3:

The Fantastic Magic Baby (1975)

When his master is taken, Sun Wukong, the Monkey King (Lau Chung-Chun) must gather his allies to defeat the child god the Red Boy (Ting Wa Chung), son of Princess Iron Fan (Woo Gam).

Wu Cheng'en’s Journey to the West (originally printed in 1592) might be the single most adapted Chinese language text in history. From a film standpoint alone, adaptations date back to the silent era and included Dan Duyu’s The Cave of the Silken Web and its sequel (1927, 1930), the first Chinese animated feature, Wan Guchan & Wan Laiming’s Princess Iron Fan (1941), and a tetralogy of films from Black Magic (1975) director Ho Meng-hua and Shaw Bros. (1966-’68). And that’s not counting decades of the Dragon Ball films and knockoffs. When Shaw returned to the well for The Fantastic Magic Baby, they brought on their Golden Boys Chang and Ni to direct and write. The duo focused on the lesser told tale of the Red Boy.

Chang’s later films, especially those in the Venom Mob canon, have a fantastical quality to them, but I’d hardly call them fantasy films, so it’s fun to see him playing with the visual languages of Peking Opera and children’s entertainment. In-camera effects tricks aside, The Fantastic Magic Baby plays out more like a filmed stage performance than a wuxia movie. The location alternates between only two painted backdrops, the martial arts sequences look more like acrobatic demonstrations than life & death battles (complete with an opera-esque percussive score), and the make up is designed for visibility, not believability. The film clarifies the stage connection by ending with about 30 minutes of footage from a condensed stage version and a short documentary about the Peking Opera. It’s strange from a pacing standpoint, but fascinating as a historical record.

The Weird Man (1983)

Magistrate Xu Gong's (Wong Lik) has Taoist priest Yu Ji (Cheng Tien-Chi) publicly executed for magical mischief, but bites off more than he can chew when the priest returns to pester him from beyond the grave.

This second fantasy-tinged mini-epic has less stagey artifice than The Fantastic Magic Baby and, instead, matches the aforementioned mythological vibe of the Venom Mob movies, especially the previous year’s Five Elements Ninjas (not technically a Venom Mob entry, 1982), which is, in my opinion, Chang’s masterpiece. The Weird Man isn’t that good or eyewateringly gory, but it is still a quite fun combination of imaginative magic tricks, searing color gels, and the director’s typical late-in-the-game martial arts formula. At its best, it’s a more conventional take on one of Kuei Chih-Hung’s voodoo battle geekfests.

According to the credits, Chang wrote the screenplay on his own this time, though I suspect the final script was as light on words as the film is on plot. The Weird Man skips narrative subtleties and development to get right to the point. It’s practically abstract, but not as incomprehensible as it is sometimes accused of being. This was Chang’s final film as director at Shaw Bros, after which he moved on to produce another 11 films over the following decade for other studios.

Video/Audio

Before this, Fantastic Magic Baby has been a HK exclusive, while The Weird Man made its Blu-ray debut via Australian company Imprint. The 1080p Fantastic Magic Baby transfer passes muster in terms of its vibrant color quality, which really counts for a film this vivid and cartoonish, but falls short in the texture department, being one of the softer Shaw Bros. releases I've seen from Eureka. The solo Mandarin soundtrack makes up for some minor vocal hiss with clean music and effects. The Weird Man has a bit more grain and includes an English dub track, though the Mandarin track is cleaner in this case.

Extras

• Fantastic Magic Baby commentary with Mike Leeder and Arne Venema

• Fantastic Magic Baby commentary with Frank Djeng

• The Weird Man commentary with David West* 

* Note that the Imprint Weird Man Blu-ray comes with a commentary featuring Arne Venema and friend of Genre Grinder Stefan Hammond 

Disc 4:

Trail of the Broken Blade (1967)

After assassinating the man responsible for his father’s death, Li Yueh (Jimmy Wang Yu) goes into hiding as a stablehand. In his absence, Yueh’s beloved (Chiao Chiao) is betrothed to a swordsman named Chao Fang-chun (Chiao Chuang), who, in an act of genuine kindness, goes in search of the man his fiancée truly loves. 

Disc 4 throws us back in time once again to a classic-style wuxia that Chang released between his breakthrough film, The Magnificent Trio (1966), and his first big hit, The One-Armed Swordsman. Trail of the Broken Blade is usually overlooked in favor of The One-Armed Swordsman, in particular, which is credited as both boosting Chang’s career and that of star Jimmy Wang Yu, who also appears here. Chang, who wrote his own screenplay, doesn’t really attempt to expand the genre beyond its usual boundaries. His plot is predictably convoluted and often bogged down in repetitive melodrama, extending a snappy 9-minute adventure over nearly two hours. Fortunately, while it’s lacking in action, Trail of the Broken Blade tends to shine as a sentimental romance, topped off with a couple of unexpected musical interludes.

Visually, it’s less consistent than the director’s better wuxia flix. Chang flips between the harshly-lit, candy-coated, and artificial quality of his later work – something he hadn’t really perfected yet – and the moodier, more naturalistic look of The One-Armed Swordsman in a way that doesn’t match. There is no credited stunt coordinator, but several members of the Yuen Clan (Woo-ping, Shun-yi, and Cheung-yan) are featured in unnamed supporting roles, so it’s easy to assume they were involved in choreographing the infrequent fight sequences. The best bits are at the very end, including massive group fights and a cave full of deadly traps.

Wandering Swordsman (1970)

A skilled rapscallion adventurer named Yu Hsieh Erh (David Chiang) falls in with a group of bandits known as the Flying Robbers, who claim to be giving their ill-gotten gains back to the community.

What could’ve been another interchangeable Chang Cheh/Ni Kuang swordplay pot-boiler sets itself apart by subverting aspects of the Robin Hood legend within the context of a sort of Mandarin samurai movie. I assume that the English language title was meant to imply as much, given the tradition of wandering swordsmen in samurai fiction (the term rōnin nearly translates to ‘wandering man,’ afterall). Ni even pads the runtime with a gambling subplot, possibly implying inspiration specifically drawn from the ​​Zatoichi series. 

This was the first title role for David Chiang and first leading role for Lily Li. Both actors had been working for the studio since they were children (in Chiang’s case, his debut was as ‘infant’ in a Shaw and Sons release). The action choreography is credited specifically to Yuen Cheung-yan this time (implying the participation of other Clan members, most of whom appear in the film), alongside Shaw acting/stunt stalwart Chen Shao-peng. There’s a lot of wire and trampoline work in this one, though these tricks are mostly used to illustrate supernatural jumping abilities and are rarely used during combat. The action isn’t Chang’s bloodiest, but it does grow increasingly violent as the story unfolds. 

Video/Audio

These two titles also have R3 DVD releases, but were otherwise unavailable stateside. Again, we have typical Celestial transfers. Trail of the Broken Blade has some minor blocking issues created through what seems to be too much DNR, but features a beautiful palette and has plenty of texture, which is bolstered by some occasional exterior photography. Wandering Swordsman is a bit grittier with earthy colors and naturalistic lighting cues. There’s less blocking and DNR, but the white levels are sometimes overcooked.

Trail of the Broken Blade has Mandarin and English mono options, both in uncompressed LPCM. The English track is a bit quieter and muffles some of the effects work, and both tracks are occasionally overwhelmed by Wang Fu-Ling songs and De Wolfe library cues. Wandering Swordsman has only a Mandarin option, but the mix is tidy, including clean dialogue and somewhat dynamic musical cues. Wang’s score is supplemented this time by James Wong’s “The Immortal Four Heavens.”

Extras

• Trail of the Broken Blade commentary with David West

• Wandering Swordsman commentary with Mike Leeder and Arne Venema

Disc 5:

Trilogy of Swordsmanship (1972)

Shaw Bros. made something like 25 anthology/portmanteau films over the course of the ‘70s and ‘80s, but almost all of them were of the horror, exploitation, or softcore variety. As far as I can tell (there are so many Shaw Bros. movies), only one, Trilogy of Swordsmanship, was a bread & butter, costumed wuxia. 

The first of three episodes, The Iron Bow, was directed and written by veteran Griffin Yueh Feng, whose career dated back to the early 1930s. It’s a surprisingly bloody little romcom fable about the rivalry for a restaurant owner’s daughter’s hand between an obnoxious aristocrat and swashbuckling swordsman. While this particular plot could have easily sustained a feature runtime, the storytelling is brisk and to the point, and it plays to the strengths of shortform storytelling.

The second part, The Tigress, is the longest of the three and explores the complex schemes of a concubine with a heart of gold, who uses her charms to stoke political change between generals, warlords, and bandits. It is helmed by Cheng Kang, who co-directed two more Shaw anthologies, Tales of Larceny (1973) and The Criminals (1976), as well as Flying Guillotine II (1978, co-directed with Hua Shan), and the epic 14 Amazons (1972). This is a fantastic mini-epic that hinges on Cheng and co-writer Yi Wen’s efficient script and Lily Ho’s commanding central performance. Had it been feature-length, The Tigress would make a perfect double-feature with Chor Yuen’s Intimate Confessions of a Chinese Courtesan, which was released the same year and also starred Ho.

Chang himself wraps things up with the all-star showdown White Water Strand featuring David Chiang, Ti Lung, Ku Feng, Bolo Yeung (who also appears in the first chapter), Li Ching, and other big name Shaw regulars. While Hu Pao and Shi Nai'an’s overstuffed script leaves a lot to be desired, the Chia Tang choreographed climatic wuxia battle is at least extremely violent.

New Shaolin Boxers (aka: Grand Master of Death, 1976)

A horse-drawn carriage driver named Zhong (Alexander Fu Sheng) intervenes during a robbery and is stabbed. For his troubles, he’s kicked out of his martial arts school, shunned by his father, fired from his job, and forced to face the criminals responsible alone. 

The final film in the Furious Swords and Fantastic Warriors collection returns again to Chang’s Shaolin cycle, though with a new coat of paint. New Shaolin Boxers isn’t considered an official entry, because it takes place in a different era (the turn of the previous century) and is more of a rock ‘em, sock ‘em kung fu flick in the spirit of Wei Lo’s The Big Boss (1971) and Chang’s own The Boxer from Shantung. It’s not quite as good as either of these (few films are), but gets by on its own merits, specifically that it’s more of a vigilante movie than a gangster story. Well, that is before the main protagonist loses a fight and it turns into a more typical Chang Cheh revenge movie that emphasises training scenes. 

Chang’s direction is efficient and the fight choreography (from Chen Hsin-Yi, Chen Yi-Liang, and Tse Hsing) is satisfying, especially during the rip-roaring, limb-lopping climax, but New Shaolin Boxers wouldn’t work without its charming central performance from Alexander Fu Sheng. Fu is smart to lean on his vulnerability and sense of humor, and to avoid emulating Bruce Lee, which was something a lot of contemporaries tried (and failed) to do at the time, especially when appearing in Big Boss-inspired roles. Some sources list Wu Ma as a co-director. Wu is typically remembered as an actor, but did direct a number of films, including co-director duties with Chang on The Water Margin (1972), All Men Are Brothers (1974), and Shaolin Temple (1976).

Video/Audio

The final two titles were also available on R3 DVD and New Shaolin Boxers previously made its way to German Blu-ray (via Black Hill). Trilogy of Swordsmanship is one of the cleaner transfers, sometimes to its detriment, as it is lacking texture and grain. New Shaolin Boxers is a bit richer and features much better texture, including a fine sheen of filmgrain. A lot of the brighter, daylight scenes have an overcast, soft focus quality, so don’t expect the sharpest details, but, in spite of some inconsistencies, I think this is one of Eureka’s better Shaw transfers. Once again, I’d like to remind viewers that the anamorphic lens distortions seen throughout these films are part of the original footage. 

Trilogy of Swordsmanship is only available with a LPCM Mandarin mono dub, while New Shaolin Boxers includes both Mandarin and English options (excluding a few scenes that were never dubbed, where the audio defaults back to Mandarin). Trilogy of Swordsmanship has comparatively outstanding lip sync and only minor buzz. New Shaolin Boxers’ English dub is pretty good, perhaps a bit hissy, and the sound effects and music cues are almost identical between the tracks. Trilogy of Swordsmanship’s music was divided between Chen Yung-Yu and Chow Lan-Ping, who wrote traditional Chinese-style title tracks, while New Shaolin Boxers is credited to Frankie Chan, but mostly made of recognizable De Wolfe tracks.

Extras

• Trilogy of Swordsmanship commentary with Mike Leeder and Arne Venema

• New Shaolin Boxers commentary with Frank Djeng and Michael Worth

• Interview with Wayne Wong (18:27, HD) – The Hong Kong cinema scholar wraps things up discussing Trilogy of Swordsmanship, Shaw Bros.’ use of the anthology format, and the influence of Peking opera on the film’s tone, story, and style. He also talks about Chang’s obsession with masculine sacrifice and use of mise-en-scene.

The images on this page are taken from the BDs and sized for the page. Larger versions can be viewed by clicking the images. Note that there will be some JPG compression.