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With the dusty, fatalistic vibe of a spaghetti western disguised as Shaw Brothers swordplay and blessed with an incredible black-and-white opening sequence, you'd be forgiven for thinking that The Flying Dagger would be a rape revenge tale lead by a female swordswoman; what you get instead is Lo Lieh wandering into town like a wuxia Clint Eastwood, throwing knives with absurd accuracy and looking cooler than everyone else in the room. It's certainly an impressive bait-and-switch, opting instead to deal with the internal struggle between good and evil that exists within all of us, where honour and chivalry often carry little weight in the world. Chang Cheh's direction already shows his growing fascination with violence, sacrifice and masculine heroism, hallmarks of his later works. The action is relatively brief but frequent, often punctuated by the deadly precision of thrown knives and colourful villains. Lo Lieh is always a great watch, dominating the screen with his effortlessly charming if not entirely noble persona, Yeung Chi Hung makes for a wonderfully nasty villain, cackling wildly and throwing daggers with absolute precision into his foe's limbs or torso as he sees fit, while Cheng Pei-Pei, who, despite headlining, unfortunately takes a backseat, barely getting a chance to break into action, is shackled to the tortured woman in love stereotype. It means that the third act is bogged down when the romantic sub-plot takes precedence over the film's main drive of loneliness, belonging and redemption. Still, the stylish camerawork and snappy pace mean that The Flying Dagger soon gets back on track, delivering just the right kind of heroic sacrifice and blood-soaked righteousness you'd expect.