Chen Kaige's story of the third-century-BC Chinese king who was driven to unite the bloodily bellicose Six Kingdoms into one empire had the potential to be the Chinese Godfather and then some, but in the end it's part Grand Opera and part Oprah, part Shakespeare and part shake-and-bake. Li Xuejian as the king brings a certain nihilistic lunacy to his downfall, veering from Hamlet-like play to the high dudgeon of Lear. And Gong Li as his childhood sweetheart puts in an off-kilter performance, emerging as a spoiled woman who discovers her soul (she falls for the assassin, who's the unspoiled alter ego of the king) even as he loses his to the lust for power. The Emperor and the Assassin offers some of the most brilliant setpieces to be seen on the screen these days, moments of dramatic confrontation and visual poetry that are staggering. Like the Six Kingdoms, they rebel against the unifying vision and emerge discordant and triumphant.