First, I shall clarify my suggestion of poetry. The immediacy of Hero’s cinematic storytelling does not produce the epic scope of the Anglo-Saxon poem I have invoked – especially at under 120 minutes for the US release. Further, the medium of pictorial cinema, though it continues to accrue scholarly recognition for literature-like qualities, is far from acceptance as canonical fiction. I, on the other hand, consider such films as Ozu’s Late Spring (1949) worthy of the most prestigious libraries. Nevertheless, I stand by my simile as both mentioned works are heroic narratives. （）

Jenny Kwok declares, “Hero is a martial arts poem painted in color” (Kwok). Indeed, the Technicolor-proficient Zhang creates his lyrical text by using color expressively; saturated colors, particularly reds as seen in Ju Dou (1990), are often a basic component of his mise en scène. With Australian cinematographer Christopher Doyle and the use of digital special effects, Zhang structures the distinct episodes from the screenplay, which evolves from unreliable to reliable narration, using discrete color schemes. A brightly illustrated New York Times online article by Robert Mackey inaccurately characterized the film’s structure as “one story by different perceptions,” probably with Kurosawa’s Rashomon (1950) in mind, but he did identify the colors that shape the major segments: Red, Blue, White and Green. Red suggests deception and compulsion. Blue, rationalization and intellect. White, purity. Green, enlightenment and wisdom. Whatever combination of flavours the audience picks up on, including other ones like black & yellow, the filmmakers’ intention remains constant: contrast. The colors in Hero are primarily a cons