Do you ever ask someone what their favorite film is, and you’re met with a Batman or an (insert any Wes Anderson film here)? Yeah. Me, too. While this answer might be getting old and—dare I say—predictable, these films are, indeed, worthy of that favorite-film status. Now, I don’t want to be the porter of cinema and act like there’s a wealth of art that is still out there by discrediting the artistic merit of Christopher Nolan and Wes Anderson, but I do think there’s something to talk about here. Nolan and Anderson consistently release films that are respected and loved by all: both cinephiles and the most casual moviegoers looking to be entertained. What is it about these directors and their films that begets palatability, entertainment, and artistry? Films like Fantastic Mr. Fox, Batman, Oppenheimer, and The Grand Budapest Hotel are no strangers to the Letterboxd top-four lists. How did they do it? How did Nolan and Anderson find the sweet spot of making movies that please the most vitriolic of critics and addlebrained of simpletons (for lack of a better word)?

Nolan grew to fame and as a canonized film director after the release of Memento, a mind-bending, psychological thriller playing with the concept of temporality. After establishing himself as an auteur, he reached household-name status with his gritty Batman movies. Dragon Inn, the 1967 wuxia film, follows a powerful eunuch, Tsao, in his pursuit for political power over his rivals. After killing General Yu in battle and exiling his children, Tsao plots to follow the children and have them killed by his secret police. What unfolds is a true epic—a masterpiece of martial arts choreography filled with cherished cultural kernels.

At first, I had a knee-jerk reaction to dislike the film for many reasons. I initially noticed that for the scenes filmed outside, the light source seemed to be beaming from every direction. Every character was perfectly well-lit, despite facing different directions. On top of this, every single fight scene was jarringly sped up and slowed down in a whiplash-inducing frenzy. It was a little much, at times. However, there was constant action that was, still, perfectly choreographed. The swordplay, the movements, the flips, the use of hidden trampolines to enhance movements—every beat in this film was breathtaking and trailblazing for action cinema. Despite my initial horror at the ostensibly unfinished final product, I eventually realized that there was practically nothing like this before its release. Because of this, Dragon Inn needs to be acknowledged as paramount in the history of film.

There’s something so beautiful about a movie shot on film and edited in a gritty and, admittedly, shoddy manner. Seeing an old movie possess and almost proudly flaunt evidence of craftsmanship is not something that exists anymore. Nowadays, movies want to be polished, devoid of blemishes and hints of error. As a result, they feel erroneous—uncanny. When something attempts to mimic real life too much, something inexplicably feels off. Dragon Inn, however, is proud to be a film. It’s proud to tell a story that people can’t necessarily relate to. It’s proud to show tacky, unrealistically fast flips and swordplay. It’s proud to depict a sun whose light shines in a 360-degree circle. It’s proud of all of these things because it was trying something new. It was revolutionary, and it should be remembered as such.

So, if you decide to sit down and watch Dragon Inn, my one piece of advice would be to watch the film through a 60s lens. Imagine you have never seen anything like it. Don’t think about the Tom Cruise blockbusters, The Avengers, The Uglies—streaming now on Netflix, starring Joey King as Tally. In fact, tackle every older film by placing yourself in the cultural hysteria of that time. Imagine yourself sitting in a theater in 1967 and taking a break from news about the US involvement in the Vietnam War. Imagine watching Jaws in the summer on Martha’s Vineyard, in a packed theater with kids who spent all day swimming at the beach. Image you’re passionately anti-war and just watched J. Robert Oppenheimer create the atomic bomb. Simply, forget everything you know about your current watch-history when diving into a film; check in to the Dragon Inn.

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