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“There are such things as rules！” Mr. Six growls as he knocks the daylights out of a hapless thug， proceeding to drag him to the floor with a hammerlock. That kind of quick violence is surprising， considering that at the outset of the eponymously-titled film Mr. Six is meant to be one of the archetypal old guys wandering the Beijing back alleys—seemingly harmless old men who witlessly scratch at their bare bellies in the summer and are often found at the open air tables overflowing with empty beer bottles. “I’m just a regular old guy，” he drawls. Six operates a little convenience store out of the back of a hutong alley and spends his days affixed to the little Beijing street he’s lived on for what seems like eternity.
Maybe it’s precisely this “regular-old-guy-ness” that makes Mr. Six particularly inviting. Gangsters in Chinese culture date back to ancient legends， but they aren’t always bad people and are certainly capable of bad-ass acts of derring-do. Six just happens to have been one of the baddest gangsters of his day， the perfect set up for the conflict to come. Directed by Guan Hu （管虎）， Six is not just a character study into the archetypal “old dude”， but also a commentary on their place （or lack thereof） in modern society.
Six， played by veteran actor and director FengXiaogang （馮小刚）， is caught up in a wave of crime that involves his son Xiaobo， a befuddled young man who accidentally scratches the million-dollar Lotus of the latest hoodlums on the block—young street-racing thugs. Their rich， perfectly-coiffed man-boy leader， Xiaofei， played by Kris Wu （吴亦凡）， looks more like a model than a gangster. As repayment， he orders Xiaobo’s kidnapping， and demands ransom for his return. To make matters worse， Six has been diagnosed with heart disease， another mortal chink in his legendary armor. Six， up until this point， tries to be reasonable and pay the ransom off， but when things go south， there’s a moment when we see him undergo a transformation from has-been to the thug of local lore. The third act of the film portrays Six’s psychological build up in anticipation of the final showdown of the film， a fight to the finish on the frozen lake of the summer palace.
While the 137-minute drama tends to weigh down in some places—the third act tends to get caught up in Six’s philosophizing. And yet， Mr. Six levels some hard accusations at modern Chinese society： old warriors and their codes of honor have been discarded by greedier， more materialistic younger generations; no country for old men. As if that point wasn’t made clear enough， in one scene， Six sits in a chair， entranced by an ostrich that prances its way across the street. The absurdity is clear： Six and his fellow brothers-in-arms don’t have much of a place left in this modern society. Set up this way， the story plays out like a modern King Hu or Shaw Brothers wuxia opera： teach the brats a lesson in respect and go out with a bang. Director Guan Hu manages to stitch all this together in a nuanced and sublime cutting-room job. In a world where explosions and fast cars reign supreme （a dig at the concurrent box office runner Furious 7）， the long pauses， saxophone-dominant score and silver-screen magic of FengXiaogang evoke the sense of a burned out shell; a melancholy epitaph of a great warrior and era long gone， but also a style of movie-making， long gone. Though shot in the same bleak war-like contrast as Saving Private Ryan where every dimple， and skin blemish is magnified， and the harsh， blue overtones of winter， the simplicity of Mr. Six is still refreshing and thoughtful. If nothing else， on the next long walk through the hutongs of Beijing， it makes one think twice about arguing with the old men.
Six： Why’d you do that？
N@ m1 na？
你嘛呐？
Thief： What’s it to you？
Zh- sh#qing g8n n@ y6u sh1 gu`nxi a？
这事情跟你有啥关系啊？
Six： You dumped it here， so it’s got everything to do with me. You already have the money， how about you send the ID back to its owner？ It’s not hard， spare them the trouble.
R8ngzh-r ji& g8n w6 y6u gu`nxi le. Qi1n y0 n1 le， n3 sh8nf-nzh-ngr n@ g0i r9n j# hu！qu x！ng ma？ J^sh6u zh～ l1o， shu！ d4u b& r5ngy#.
扔这儿就跟我有关系了。钱也拿了，那身份证儿你给人寄回去行吗？举手之劳，谁都不容易。
Xiaofei： Fight？ That’s fine. How？
D2？ K0y@ ya. Z0nme d2？
打？可以呀。怎么打？
Dengzhaor： This is Beijing， let’s go by Beijing rules.
Zh- sh# z3i B0ij～ng， z1n d0i 3n B0ij～ng de gu～ju l1i.
这是在北京，咱得按北京的規矩来。
Xiaofei： what Beijing rules？
B0ij～ng sh0nme gu～ju？
北京什么规矩？
Dengzhaor： Ever heard of a mob fight？ Basically， in a week， let’s set a place， you bring as many people as you want. Don’t worry about how many we bring either. Winner takes all. Then it’s fair for everyone.
Ch1ji3 d6ng ma？ Ji&shi shu4， y# l@b3i zh～h7u z1nmen yu8 ge d#r， n@men 3i l1i du4shao r9n l1i du4shao r9n. N@men y0 b9nggu2n w6men d3i du4shao r9n l1i. Shu！ f%le su3n shu！ de. Zh- ji& b%su3n q～fu r9n le.
茬架懂吗？就是说，一礼拜之后咱们约个地儿，你们爱来多少人来多少人。你们也甭管我们带多少人来。谁服了算谁的。这就不算欺负人了。
Maybe it’s precisely this “regular-old-guy-ness” that makes Mr. Six particularly inviting. Gangsters in Chinese culture date back to ancient legends， but they aren’t always bad people and are certainly capable of bad-ass acts of derring-do. Six just happens to have been one of the baddest gangsters of his day， the perfect set up for the conflict to come. Directed by Guan Hu （管虎）， Six is not just a character study into the archetypal “old dude”， but also a commentary on their place （or lack thereof） in modern society.
Six， played by veteran actor and director FengXiaogang （馮小刚）， is caught up in a wave of crime that involves his son Xiaobo， a befuddled young man who accidentally scratches the million-dollar Lotus of the latest hoodlums on the block—young street-racing thugs. Their rich， perfectly-coiffed man-boy leader， Xiaofei， played by Kris Wu （吴亦凡）， looks more like a model than a gangster. As repayment， he orders Xiaobo’s kidnapping， and demands ransom for his return. To make matters worse， Six has been diagnosed with heart disease， another mortal chink in his legendary armor. Six， up until this point， tries to be reasonable and pay the ransom off， but when things go south， there’s a moment when we see him undergo a transformation from has-been to the thug of local lore. The third act of the film portrays Six’s psychological build up in anticipation of the final showdown of the film， a fight to the finish on the frozen lake of the summer palace.
While the 137-minute drama tends to weigh down in some places—the third act tends to get caught up in Six’s philosophizing. And yet， Mr. Six levels some hard accusations at modern Chinese society： old warriors and their codes of honor have been discarded by greedier， more materialistic younger generations; no country for old men. As if that point wasn’t made clear enough， in one scene， Six sits in a chair， entranced by an ostrich that prances its way across the street. The absurdity is clear： Six and his fellow brothers-in-arms don’t have much of a place left in this modern society. Set up this way， the story plays out like a modern King Hu or Shaw Brothers wuxia opera： teach the brats a lesson in respect and go out with a bang. Director Guan Hu manages to stitch all this together in a nuanced and sublime cutting-room job. In a world where explosions and fast cars reign supreme （a dig at the concurrent box office runner Furious 7）， the long pauses， saxophone-dominant score and silver-screen magic of FengXiaogang evoke the sense of a burned out shell; a melancholy epitaph of a great warrior and era long gone， but also a style of movie-making， long gone. Though shot in the same bleak war-like contrast as Saving Private Ryan where every dimple， and skin blemish is magnified， and the harsh， blue overtones of winter， the simplicity of Mr. Six is still refreshing and thoughtful. If nothing else， on the next long walk through the hutongs of Beijing， it makes one think twice about arguing with the old men.
Six： Why’d you do that？
N@ m1 na？
你嘛呐？
Thief： What’s it to you？
Zh- sh#qing g8n n@ y6u sh1 gu`nxi a？
这事情跟你有啥关系啊？
Six： You dumped it here， so it’s got everything to do with me. You already have the money， how about you send the ID back to its owner？ It’s not hard， spare them the trouble.
R8ngzh-r ji& g8n w6 y6u gu`nxi le. Qi1n y0 n1 le， n3 sh8nf-nzh-ngr n@ g0i r9n j# hu！qu x！ng ma？ J^sh6u zh～ l1o， shu！ d4u b& r5ngy#.
扔这儿就跟我有关系了。钱也拿了，那身份证儿你给人寄回去行吗？举手之劳，谁都不容易。
Xiaofei： Fight？ That’s fine. How？
D2？ K0y@ ya. Z0nme d2？
打？可以呀。怎么打？
Dengzhaor： This is Beijing， let’s go by Beijing rules.
Zh- sh# z3i B0ij～ng， z1n d0i 3n B0ij～ng de gu～ju l1i.
这是在北京，咱得按北京的規矩来。
Xiaofei： what Beijing rules？
B0ij～ng sh0nme gu～ju？
北京什么规矩？
Dengzhaor： Ever heard of a mob fight？ Basically， in a week， let’s set a place， you bring as many people as you want. Don’t worry about how many we bring either. Winner takes all. Then it’s fair for everyone.
Ch1ji3 d6ng ma？ Ji&shi shu4， y# l@b3i zh～h7u z1nmen yu8 ge d#r， n@men 3i l1i du4shao r9n l1i du4shao r9n. N@men y0 b9nggu2n w6men d3i du4shao r9n l1i. Shu！ f%le su3n shu！ de. Zh- ji& b%su3n q～fu r9n le.
茬架懂吗？就是说，一礼拜之后咱们约个地儿，你们爱来多少人来多少人。你们也甭管我们带多少人来。谁服了算谁的。这就不算欺负人了。