THE STORY OF YEOH

In Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon Michelle Yeoh rises to new heights-and we're not just talking about those high-flying sword fights

By Nicole Keeter
Photograph by Mark Mann

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The safety dance The ladies of Crouching Tiger spill their combat secrets.


Michelle Yeoh has a weakness, and it's a doozy for a woman made famous by her altitudinous escapades: "I have a great fear of heights," she admits.

The actor who soared with Jackie Chan (in Police Story III: Supercop, released in the U.S. in 1996) and Pierce Brosnan's James Bond (in 1997's Tomorrow Never Dies) is sitting in a sunny alcove on the fourth floor of Shanghai Tang, the Hong Kong-based luxury-goods chain, detailing the intense mental and physical preparation required to pull off the wire-engineered fight scenes in her latest film, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. In it, as always, she performed her own high-flying stunts. She gestures toward the adjoining balcony. "I wouldn't stand there just to look out," she says. "But when I'm on the set doing things for the role, the anxiety just shuts off." Okay, so Asia's action queen can conquer her fears. But who would have guessed she had any in the first place?

Yeoh, 38, has made her reputation by being fearless and fabulous. In the gallery of cinematic types, some girls are pretty, some are smart and some are nice; Yeoh, the daughter of English-speaking ethnic Chinese Malaysians, is all three-abundantly so, both onscreen and off. And her more obvious and pleasant assets are reinforced by an iron will. Just by being herself, she has forged a fierce new model for women in film.

Her preshowbiz career may look frilly on the surface-studying ballet at London's Royal Academy of Dancing, winning a 1983 Miss Malaysia title-but those endeavors required a dedication and toughness that came in handy when she landed her first starring role in the 1985 Hong Kong actioner Yes, Madam. The 23-year-old Yeoh had no martial-arts skills, and when she got to the set she was surrounded by male crew members who were openly doubtful of her ability to handle the stunts. But she worked hard and mastered the moves. Though her first attempts weren't pretty, she says, they proved a point: "So I got a few bumps and bruises. The hardest part was earning their respect."

Over the course of 20 films in the next decade, she went on to win great fame in her native hemisphere. But being one of the most popular actors (and the highest-paid female star) back home meant little when Yeoh made the leap to L.A. in 1995. "There is this thinking [in Hollywood], 'She's Chinese? How do we explain a Chinese face in all of this?' " Yeoh says. "Fortunately, it's getting so that more Asian faces are seen in American films. When I first came out here, however, it was like going back to kindergarten. But I thought, What have I got to lose? It may be a little humiliating, but that's good for the soul." Thanks in part to supporters such as Hong Kong director John Woo, who was making Broken Arrow with John Travolta at the time, she was cast in Tomorrow Never Dies as a Chinese spy, the first female to keep pace with James Bond.

Most onlookers assumed that, once she'd established a foothold in Hollywood, she'd remain there and try to capitalize on her gains. But for her next major role, Yeoh returned to China to film Ang Lee's Mandarin-language epic Crouching Tiger, which is set during the 19th-century Qing Dynasty. Choreographed by The Matrix's Hong Kong action maestro, Yuen Woping, the film's stunts-especially those staged high atop roofs and trees-are visually stunning. But Lee, the Taiwan-born director of such stately dramas as Eat Drink Man Woman, Sense and Sensibility and The Ice Storm, brings a new narrative depth to the genre. Crouching Tiger won raves at this year's Cannes and New York film festivals, and Lee is considering making both a prequel and a sequel.

Yeoh stars as Yu Shu Lien, a renowned sword fighter who tutors a headstrong female martial-arts prodigy, Jen (Zhang Ziyi), and balances her professional obligations with her unexplored attraction to a fellow warrior, played by Chow Yun Fat. Yeoh's eye-catching performance has put her in contention to costar with Harrison Ford in Steven Spielberg's Indiana Jones 4, and the heretofore little-seen subtleness and gravity she displays under Lee's tutelage have raised her stock as a serious actor. Deservedly so, says Lee: "She doesn't get to show off dramatically a lot, but I knew she could do it."

For all its rewards, Crouching Tiger was Yeoh's most difficult shoot yet. She broke her knee early on, the latest in a series of injuries she's sustained on various sets over the years. (She was banged up doing a motorcycle stunt for Supercop and broke her back on an 18-foot tumble while filming The Stunt Woman.) "We had been fighting at night, and I was on and off wires-it got to a point where my brain wasn't quite sure when I was off the wire and when I was not," she says. "It was a mistiming. The person I was fighting with went under my legs a little bit, and we weren't even aware of it. When I landed, my leg collapsed." The recuperation period was pure misery, but just one day after surgery, she was in therapy. "It taught me great patience," she says, sighing. "All the teachings of Taoism and Zen came to me, and I thought, Okay-I can cope with this."

Within a month, she was back on the set, rounding out her acting duties by teaching her younger costars how to throw punches. Yeoh helped Zhang, in private, to gain the confidence she would need when shooting began. "It's very intimidating when someone is charging at you with a sword," Yeoh explains. "Punches don't come slow-they come fast and furious. You have to learn to be calm. I would take her aside and tell her to throw punches at me; then, I would do the same to her so that she would learn how to take it and not look scared. If you don't have the confidence, you cannot do it. There are so many movements to remember, but you cannot anticipate the blow or kick that's coming-you have to react at the final half second."

Despite the brutal physical hurdles, the real stretch for Yeoh (who speaks Cantonese but does not read Chinese) was learning the Mandarin dialect phonetically and then portraying a character unlike herself or any she'd played before. "Yu Shu Lien was daunting at first," says Yeoh. "I'm naturally very animated, but she was Zen-like. She had to be commanding and at the same time a woman. It was very, very challenging."

Actually, Yeoh has been quite adept at balancing her femininity with her take-charge activities onscreen. It was the sexy curtain of ebony hair whipping about as she and Brosnan raced through the streets by motorcycle in Tomorrow Never Dies, for example, that made the stunt scenes truly spectacular-even though Yeoh's mane, which now sports fashionable honey-colored streaks, can present a logistical nightmare. "It does get in my way," she says. "But that makes the movie!"

As that remark would indicate, Yeoh is as savvy as any celebrity about managing the image that "makes the movie." She trains extensively in order to perform her stunts, but she's careful to keep her five-foot-four-inch frame shapely and lithe. "It defeats the purpose if you walk into the room and everybody thinks 'action' because you're going boom, boom, boom," she says, pantomiming the rumbling gait of musclebound WWF gals like Chyna. But Lee notes that she is not overly conscious of her appearance on the set. "She has such an innocence before the camera," he says. "Other big stars, they're always aware of their camera angles and such, but she does nothing like that."

Restrictive gender roles have given her more trouble offscreen. Her 1988 marriage to Hong Kong mogul Dickson Poon ended because he wanted her to give up her career. She agreed, but three years later divorced him and returned to filmmaking. Over the summer, as Crouching Tiger began to heat up international interest in her and secured her a three-picture deal with Media Asia, Yeoh broke her engagement to a Maryland cardiologist who also wanted her to settle down. She recently told Hong Kong's Ming Pao Weekly, "I can't possibly ask the other party, 'Hey, wait for me for three years,' can I?"

Right now, Yeoh's dogged focus remains on her work. She plans to nurture budding creative talent though her Hong Kong-based production company, Mythical Films, and she also wants to tackle English-language romantic comedies and dramas, though she insists she has no plans to ditch the action genre. Even though Hollywood is catching on to the idea that girls look cool kicking ass-and can be knockouts at the box office doing so-Yeoh still has a thing or two to teach Western cinema about its depictions of women, Asian women in particular. "It's starting to come out that a Chinese woman is not just a Ming vase and that we do not just demurely follow behind the man," she says. "But there are still lots of walls to break down."

Additional reporting by Gia Kourlas.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is now playing in theaters.

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THE SAFETY DANCE
Invisible wires saved the Crouching Tiger stars from harm, but ballet classes gave them their grace

By Gia Kourlas

Gravity doesn't apply to many of the scenes in Ang Lee's electrifying Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, least of all the first. In the dark, two cloaked figures fly across rooftops, leap softly to the ground 30 feet below, and glide right back up with fearless speed, hesitating in midair with balletic ballon-that light, elastic quality demonstrated by dancers when they seem to defy the laws of physics-until a sharp kick with a backward twist spins them back to earth. The mysterious fighters aren't men but a pair of beautiful, graceful women, one intent on capturing, the other on killing.

Hong Kong action veteran Michelle Yeoh and luminous newcomer Zhang Ziyi are just what director Lee needed for his adaptation of the fourth installment of a five-part novel by Wang Du Lu. The film is anchored in their flowing elegance and feminine sensuality, but Yeoh and Zhang never let you forget how tough they are. Their explosive strength comes from the masterful fight choreography of Yuen Woping (Drunken Master, The Matrix), whose movement wizardry-which lets the actors take flight with the aid of microthin wires-gives a ferocious edge to Lee's emotional depth.

For the meticulous Lee, the film was a fantasy; the director wanted to return to his Asian roots by telling a story based in the wuxia pian, or films of martial chivalry. "Woping is one of my heroes," says Lee. "He may look like a tough guy-and he refuses to say he's an artist-but I think, at heart, he cares about art. I suspect that in Hollywood doing The Matrix, he wasn't doing his best work. He wasn't allowed to take over and do whatever he wanted."

Both Yeoh, who attended the Royal Academy of Dancing in London, and Zhang, who studied ballet and Chinese folk dance, have extensive dance training. But the latter, 21, was subjected to a crash course in martial arts, and also in comportment, classic movement, calligraphy, etiquette, voice and diving, to prepare her for the demands of her role as the dangerous and elegant daughter of a Qing Dynasty governor. "A dancer is, of course, better than a physically untrained person," says Lee. "But a dancer needs a lot of training to adjust to being a fighter. Dance is about stretch, and Chinese martial arts are about conserving strength and depicting a powerful and reflective kind of movement."

Before Zhang was even offered the part, she trained with Yuen and a fighting coach. "I didn't even know why they wanted me there," she says. "I finally asked the fighting coach, 'Do you know what role I'm going to play?' and he said, 'Don't worry-just do your best.'" In order to fly with the help of wires, her torso was encased in a steel structure; fittingly, it was her dance background that helped her through the excruciating sessions. "Dance teaches you how to endure physical pain," she says. "The first time I did vaulting wire-work, I had tears in my eyes, but I didn't dare cry because I was afraid people would laugh at me."

Yeoh, who originally aspired to become a choreographer and dance teacher, has done more to promote the form of martial arts than anyone in movies today, save Jackie Chan. It is her belief, grounded in her days in the studio, that fight choreography should be as esteemed as traditional dance. "I think dance will always be much more beautiful to visualize and more lyrical," she says. "But I don't think there are people who turn up their noses and think, It's just martial arts. You can recognize the beauty of it as well as the power and degree of difficulty. I think, through the movies, it gets the respect that it is due."