Built in a matter of days from an old retail unit in Surawong, central Bangkok, the “police station” looks so realistic from the outside that many passersby stop and stare, perhaps wondering if this is where they should come to report some petty crime in the nearby Patpong red light district.
Inside, the building’s temporary status as a film set for the martial arts action movie “The Furious” quickly becomes apparent. Between the rusty, gray metal offices, the ground floor has all the trappings of a bustling, dilapidated police station. There are advertisements on every wall: wanted posters, mission statements, job postings, regulations. But the telltale sign—that the film is set in an unnamed part of Southeast Asia, not any specific country—is that the background text is mostly in English. Among the police paraphernalia are piles of lighting and camera equipment, being readied for the next shoot.
The police station was used for 18 days of the three-month shoot and is a key location for “The Furious,” an action-revenge film that veteran producer Bill Kong (“Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon,” “Hero”) hopes will serve as a powerful reminder that Asian martial arts movies can still rival the high-tech thrills of their modern Hollywood counterparts.
Kong has assembled a formidable Asian cast of actors and fighters and built the film around Tanigaki Kenji, the Japanese choreographer-turned-director and Donnie Yen's partner. Tanigaki has spent so much of his career in Hong Kong that the dominant language on set is Cantonese, before Thai, Japanese or English.
The day that diverse When the production visited, the station was used for a dramatic scene that would appear in the final section of the final picture. As two prisoners exchange their thoughts, the scene represents the calm before the final storm. Reverse angles are the order of the day, and despite the lack of space, the setup required three cameras.
Kong explains that depending on the script, the final episode could last 15 to 20 minutes in total, and that all but three of those minutes will be intense action scenes. “But you need the drama between the fights to let the audience breathe. To keep them connected to the characters,” he says, before adding, “I could never be a director.”
The real director, Tanigaki, was nowhere to be seen until he was finally spotted in a corner of the ground floor. He was sitting cross-legged on a low plastic chair, motionless, looking intently at a cluster of screens with antennas and Wi-Fi connectors.
The scene lasts for a minute. The actors wander around the cells next to them—smoking and stretching—and then get into the act. After two minutes, they begin to deliver their lines. But the dialogue is inaudible to anyone not in the cell with them or wearing headphones. Finally, Tanigaki ends the scene in Hong Kong style.
Instantly, the noise level rises and Tanigaki emerges from hiding, now moving as he had before. He has a deeply wrinkled smile, thick hair and walks fast on the legs of a soccer player. The first people he approaches are businessmen and actors.
Sometimes Tanigaki pulls out his cell phone to show them footage of previous training sessions or past shoots, explaining exactly how he wants things to be done. Other times, he playfully performs the moves. He’s reminiscent of a Japanese version of Jackie Chan, and it’s easy to imagine him doing a full-on jump at any moment.
Tanigaki explains that he prefers long takes because they allow time for the cinematic magic to happen—and it's not as if three-camera shots would go unedited.
“Giga [Yanin] Or Joe Taslim can usually get what he wants on the first take. But I always look for miracles and do more takes. Sometimes those miracles happen,” he says. diverse.
Even with a cast of experienced action actors, Tanigaki knows he's asking a lot. “In regular action movies, we use stunt doubles for the stunts,” he says. “Here, it's all one actor. The preparation we did was very helpful. The dances make it feel natural and unscripted when we're in front of the cameras, but I still like to do the movements on set.”
The director says the training “helps build confidence,” which “makes things safer” for the complex stunts. “We do things that look dangerous on screen, but in reality they’re not,” he says.
But that doesn’t seem reassuring to co-producer Todd Brown, who’s visiting the set for the first time and is disturbed by the rigidity of some of the police station’s facilities. “It doesn’t feel like a lot of things are designed to be separated,” Brown says.
Tanigaki still smiles at his earlier explanation. He is also very serious. “I said before that we wanted to go beyond the boundaries of the master’s film,” he says. “After two-thirds of the way through the film, I feel satisfied that we managed to do that.”
Tanigaki and Kong praise the Thai workers. “The Thai crew is very professional and integrates with the Japanese stunt team,” Tanigaki says.
Kong agrees, adding that the friendliness and flexibility of local crews has helped Thailand become a popular destination for international film projects. There is also a contingent of Thai actors who are often hired to play henchmen and are beaten up by the main cast.
With production wrapping on schedule in late July and an official budget approaching “under $20 million,” Brown and his colleagues at XYZ Films will take the next steps. They aim to launch the film properly at the upcoming Toronto International Film Festival, with the finished film due in 2025.
Brown says the buyers’ meeting will be held in Toronto, “where Netflix and others are invited to attend.” “We’re obviously targeting a theatrical release, but we also have a price in mind if a streaming company really wants to take the film from us,” he adds.
The film is scheduled to premiere in the second quarter of 2025, but the producer says a Berlin Film Festival premiere is not out of the question. “The festival has been a great platform for this kind of film, and I hope its legacy is not forgotten,” says Brown.
