Glorious goofy goodness.
The brush of Buddha’s touch, scorching enough to set anyone ablaze brave or crazed enough to attempt such an unfathomable feat.
The cackles of the grandmasters echo throughout the valley, alerting any and all who believe themselves to be on par or superior to them of their arrival.
Yet another excellent example of unrelenting kineticism incarnate, the intangible imagination of that ever prolific clan of absolutely mad movie lads plastered and smeared all across a cinematic canvas, the only rhyme or reason to grasp onto within its ethereal euphoria is that of is that of a Dameng the dragon.
Its films like this that continue to conceive me in further prolonging my departure from this world in a futile effort to uncover more just like it. This is my cinematic cocaine