"Bulletproof Monk"

The Monk has wound up in America, where he encounters a young street thief named Kar (Seann William Scott), who may be the chosen one to inherit his mantle. Kar tells the Monk he has learned his knowledge of martial arts from studying at the Golden Temple. He's referring to the rundown Chinatown movie palace where he's the projectionist. (In one of the best jokes, the Monk realizes Kar has learned his moves from martial-arts pictures and says, "No wonder your technique is so sloppy.")

There is also a bad girl called, for those of you who have trouble with names, Bad Girl (Jaime King, the actress and model formerly known as James King), who keeps crossing Kar's path and is a figure of mystery. Bad Girl is as much at home with a street gang who hang out in an abandoned subway tunnel as she is at the opening of a human rights museum.

The movie is just as silly as that description sounds. It's also resolutely good-natured, with nice character bits from the Japanese actor Mako (as the owner of the movie theater) and from Suresh John as a Punjabi cab driver. The director, Paul Hunter, a veteran, alas, of music videos and commercials, may not have the chops to keep the action sequences clear, but he knows how to keep them free of potential sadism. (If your kids are over 10 or so, "Bulletproof Monk" is a fun outing for all of you.) The excitement here isn't from the punches and body blows but from the speed of the combatants as they execute impossible leaps and fly through the air.

An early scene, where Kar faces down that subway gang, is carried off with some wit (much of it thanks to Marcus Jean Pirae as the gang's strutting Cockney leader, Mr. Funktastic -- he even has his moniker tattooed across his chest in gangsta script). The wit in the conception of the scene where Kar and Bad Girl meet and do flirtatious battle -- combat as foreplay -- saves it from the sloppy editing. And Hunter isn't so addicted to rapid-fire technique that he can't take time out to appreciate King's delicate snub-nose profile.

Models who turn to acting are always an easy target for the smartasses -- whether moviegoers or critics -- who want to get off a few easy laughs at their expense. There's no way of telling, from "Bulletproof Monk," whether King can act. In action movies, though, the way a performer moves is the performance, and on that not-inconsiderable level, King is a lot of fun to watch. She's got a dancer's slim build and kohl-lined raccoon eyes, and there's something improbably tough about her sleepy little face, the way there was whenever Dennis the Menace screwed his mouth into a tough-kid pout. Watching her twirl and kick when Bad Girl flies into action, or put reverse moves on Scott, affords the ticklish pleasure of seeing someone who has found her niche.

In Scott, however, King doesn't quite find the partner she needs, nor the movie the romantic presence it should have. He's a smirker, still too much Stifler from "American Pie," and without the sexiness that would make him truly a MILF (Monks I'd Like to Fuck). He gets better as the movie goes on, staying just on the right side of not being annoying, and earns some props for entering into the movie's goofy heroic spirit.

The real romantic presence here is Chow Yun-Fat. And in any movie with Chow, how could it be any other way? A colleague of mine speculated that, in terms of the years he's been working and the success of the movies he's been in, Chow may be the top movie star in the world. Whether that's accurate or not, at times Chow has felt like the truest movie star around. If Hong Kong filmmakers know how to make American-style movies, they also know how to find performers -- Chow, Jackie Chan, Maggie Cheung, Michelle Yeoh, Tony Leung, Brigitte Lin and Anita Mui among them -- who, in terms of sheer charisma and style, let you bask in the glory of watching movie stars.

Watching Chow points up the difference between a star who knows how to be fully attentive and alive when he has reined himself in and a stiff like Harrison Ford who stands around taking up space. Everything Chow does is shot through with slivers of humor. Even when he's in his silent and commanding mode, you get the sense of someone for whom being in front of a camera is the most natural thing in the world. And he possesses what I can only call -- and I know it sounds corny -- the inner light you see in some movie stars, the ability to allow themselves to be transformed by an emotion that lifts the movie to a place where the audience doesn't feel silly or ashamed for responding.

That's what Chow emanates at the end of the movie, which wraps up the story in the loveliest way possible, honoring both the responsibilities he passes on to his young successor as well as the romance we want from a movie. You can point to all sorts of failings of craft in "Bulletproof Monk," but you can't find a failing of spirit. It leaves a light, sweet aftertaste.

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