In Chinese ghost myths, as well as those of other Asian countries, there’s a folkloric creature that takes the form of a cursed woman’s floating head trailing gory, dripping internal organs. It bites people with its long fangs and drinks their blood to sustain itself. As curses go, your head flying off is a pretty rough one. It’s amazing that this concept goes back to antiquity, because it’s pretty damn gruesome to even contemplate. Because of that, Fei tou mo nu, made in Taiwan and known in English as The Witch with Flying Head, doesn’t have to do much more for success than make the flying head realistic enough for suspension of disbelief.
That happens, alright, though barely, and everything else follows as smoothly as entrails. The woman in question, high born lady Hsiu-Chen Chen, is tricked by sorcerer Shang-Chien Liu in the early moments of the film, given a magical poison. Why does Shang-Chien curse Hsiu-Chen? He wants to marry her. Clearly, trust, honor, and respect would not feature in such a union—could she ever really forget being coerced into marriage? And as for him—could he ever set aside the fact that his wife had sucked the bodily fluids of numerous men? They’d both have to enter the relationship in a spirit of forgiving past transgressions.
A powerful magician is brought in to protect Hsiu-Chen, but he discovers that the head does more than fly. It breathes fire too. He’s defeated in due course, learning too late never to turn his back on a flying head. Seems like that would be in the sorcerer’s manual on page one, but whatever. Hsiu-Chen and her two faithful servant ladies next move to the wilderness so the head has nobody to suck on. Think that’ll work? Of course not—even in the countryside people wander haplessly by to be drained. Luckily beneficent old mages with useful talismans are not as thin on the ground in the middle of nowhere as you’d presume.
Fei tou mo nu is entertaining despite itself. Its main flaw is that its last twenty minutes veer into grating, intergenerational melodrama. Still, we bet the cultural relevance of its premise helped it to earn well in Asia at the time. Its other traits—it’s cheap, garish, ludicrous, and overacted—make it a perfect U.S. style grindhouse feature. If it ever reached American cinemas those must have been uproarious showings. Seems like it could be adapted into a modern, gory, body horror masterpiece. We’ll patiently await that, Hollywood. Or Bollywood. Or Y’allywood. Anywood—just get on it. Fei tou mo nu premiered in Taiwan today in 1982, but we’ve shared its Thai poster because that’s the best one available.
