Most critics take Hard Boiled as John Woo working at full stretch, and eight of the ten are in favour. The praise clusters on the set pieces: the teahouse shootout and the hospital sequence that closes the film, named in nearly every review. Critics describe the gunplay as balletic and the slow motion as choreography rather than decoration, and several find something underneath it, codes of honour between cop and gangster, a bond between the two leads, that lifts it above the run of action films. Chow Yun-Fat’s ease is mentioned repeatedly.
The spread is wide. The two dissenters, The New York Times and The Independent, both writing in the early 1990s, find the violence repetitive and the story too thin to give it meaning, and both reach for Sam Peckinpah as the comparison Woo does not survive. Even admirers concede the plot is familiar and has holes; the divide is whether the action alone is enough.
