If you’ve read my recent Cultural Diet reviews, then you’ve probably noticed a preponderance of movies with ridiculous — and ridiculously awesome — titles like Ninja Knight Thunder Fox and Empire of the Spiritual Ninja. They’re all the work of one Godfrey Ho, a prolific Hong Kong filmmaker who used unorthodox — and possibly legally dubious — means to produce and release over a hundred films throughout the ’70s, ’80s, and ’90s.
Often working under aliases like Charles Lee, Ed Woo, and God-Ho Yeung, Ho was infamous for his “cut and paste” approach to filmmaking. He’d shoot footage for one film, which often featured ninjas doing crazy ninja things, and then combine it with footage from completely unrelated films by other directors. This questionable practice allowed Ho to make multiple films on the cheap, though it also meant that his actors — like Richard Harrison and Mike Abbott — never knew where their performances might pop up.
Not surprisingly, Ho’s films are a mess. For example, Ninja Knight Thunder Fox’s two protagonists — who supposedly run a joint detective agency — never appear in a single scene together because they’re actually from different films. (The scenes with Hsu Ying-Chu’s Bonnie were cribbed from Lai Wen-Hsing’s Fierce Lady.) The duo only ever interact over the phone, which Ho sells via creative editing and lots of bad English dubbing.
Ho’s loose approach to filmmaking also applied to his film’s soundtracks. Interestingly, Ho’s soundtracks reveal a surprisingly eclectic and discerning ear. Watch a Godfrey Ho film, and you might hear songs and music from ambient music pioneers Tangerine Dream and Jean-Michel Jarre, 4AD luminaries Clan of Xymox and Cocteau Twins, synth-pop mega stars A-ha, electronic artists from around the world (France’s Roland Romanelli, Japan’s Logic System, England’s Chris & Cosey), and even Barry White.
He also used music from other film soundtracks. The ominous strains of “Run Nancy” from Charles Bernstein’s Nightmare on Elm Street soundtrack appear in Ninja Knight Thunder Fox while 1984’s Ninja Thunderbolt makes liberal use of Lalo Schifrin’s Dirty Harry score. According to Wikipedia, Ho also used music from Miami Vice, Star Trek, Star Wars, and various anime and tokusatsu series — all of which was properly licensed and completely legal, I’m sure.
Make no mistake: Godfrey Ho’s films are bad, the very epitome of Z-grade cinema. And yet, for all of their considerable and obvious flaws, they’re endlessly fascinating, like glimpses of a surreal cinematic universe where it just makes sense that evil ninja empires, CIA agents, Garfield phones, and ominous toy robots all coexist. And watching eyeliner-wearing ninjas flip out, perform supernatural feats, and vanish in puffs of smoke to the strains of Tangerine Dream’s “Dolphin Dance” or A-ha’s “The Sun Always Shines on T.V.” only makes the surrealism that much more delightful.