Personally speaking, Stephen Chow’s Kung Fu Hustle was the film fest’s real opening night film. Following the draining Lost Highway-reimagined-by-Bresson-at-half speed doldrums of Michael Haneke’s Hidden, Hustle was a much-needed pick-me-up. An exhilarating pop culture gorging of ‘30s gangster melodramas, Road Runner cartoons and Shaw Brothers kung fu, Hustle cranks up the CGI assault merely hinted at in Chow’s previous Shaolin Soccer and really goes to town with it. But what’s still evident is Chow’s inventive comic staging, seemingly boundless supply of sight gags, and effortless tonal juggling of comedy and action.

Chow remains the slightest bit overzealous in his use of CGI, but even if he openly quotes the Burly Brawl from The Matrix Reloaded, his film lacks the cold, calculated showboating of the Wachowskis. However over-the-top and silly his setpieces are, they fit neatly within the Hustle’s warm-hearted, outlandish design. Yuen Woo-ping’s wire-loaded choreography (with a couple of sequences by Sammo Hung) is enjoyably cartoonish, but the film is violent and doesn’t shy away from making the viewer flinch.

Meanwhile, the sprawling narrative, stocked with classic old school kung fu conventions both reverently and irreverently homaged, isn’t particularly focused with its multiple subplots and characters – there are bumbling con artists, a generous helping of unstoppable, super-powered villains, sentimental childhood flashbacks, a chain-smoking diva-like landlord with an ear-splitting roar to name a few. But its ability to catch the viewer off-guard, popping in another nifty twist of some sort every 10 minutes is downright infectious. It reminds me what I’ve been missing from most films today (well, at least since Ong Bak): giddy feelgood exuberance. And it’s goddam fucking funny to boot.—AY