When we first meet Su Can (Vincent Zhao), the hero of Yuen Woo Ping’s nearly two-hour-long martial-arts epic set near the end of China’s Qing dynasty, he’s the leader of some sort of half-bald badass army attempting to rescue a prince. He succeeds, of course, after the first of many intricately choreographed, overly long fight scenes. The prince offers Su Can a big promotion for his trouble (or really, what seemed like hardly any trouble at all — Vincent Zhao is crazy-eyed, but flawless), but Su Can refuses. He wants to return home and live in peace with his wife, Ying (Zhou Xun), so he tells the prince to give the promotion to his brother, Yuan (Andy On).

It’s a mistake. This is a martial arts movie, and we know our quick-fisted hero won’t be able to enjoy the domesticated life for very long. As it turns out, Yuan is Su Can’s foster brother, rather than his brother by blood, and Su Can’s wife is Yuan’s little sister. He is the creepy, vengeful sort, suffering from the familiar petulance that plagues siblings of over-achievers. And there’s a bit of a back story here too. Su Can’s father killed Yuan’s dad for getting way too good at something called the Five Venom Fists, and he took the two kids in and raised them as his own.

Jumping ahead five years, life is wonderful for Su Can, Ying, and their son, Little Feng, until Yuan returns with a bunch of slavish minions to seek revenge for his father’s death. Shocker, now Yuan has the Five Venom Fists, too — a completely fantastical form of fighting that consists of sticking one’s hands in a vat of poisonous creatures (snakes, spiders, you name it), soaking up all their venom, and then transferring the poison to one’s enemies via a well-placed punch. It is a metaphor (one a bit too literal for my tastes), which says something about shortcuts and cheaters never prospering. Yuan quickly offs Su Can’s father, and tries to do away with Su Can, fracturing the happy family and sending the demoralized, badly beaten warrior off on an inner journey.

The fists, the inner journey: True Legend is alternatively goofy and serious, and it is hard to tell if the movie is supposed to be entirely self-effacing or if we’re supposed to be reading something weighty into this over-the-top tale. Su Can embarks on a transformation from a by-the-book fighter to someone who has lost his faith in the justice of the world— forgetting, of course, that in this fantasy land of honor and discipline, justice is usually meted out by men like him.

Along the way there are some mildly entertaining cameos by the underused Michelle Yeoh as Sister Yu and the mythical martial arts masters, David Carradine and Jay Chou, who alternately taunt (Yoda-like) and train. If anyone shines in this one-dimensional lot it is the psychopathic Yuan. During his first fight with Su Can, Yuan rips off his shirt to reveal that he’s had impenetrable armor sewn into his skin, beautiful golden scales that turn him into some sort of gleaming avenging angel. Yuan declares he cannot die, which, of course, means that he eventually will. It’s an odd pleasure to watch Yuan fight at the end of his downward spiral, like an animal cornered in its cage. It looks real, which is perhaps the highest compliment I can give.

But just as if the film was actually two different movies, I can’t tell you too much about the circumstances that lead to True Legend’s second confused, mostly unnecessary chapter in which Su Can discovers yet another absurdly named fighting style: The Drunken Fist. The epic tale with something serious to say about the battles we must fight with ourselves suddenly feels like an excuse to watch a drunken homeless man win improbable battles. Su Can is set up as the ultimate truth-seeking hero with the martial arts skill to match. He can give you a good fight, but falls short of true heroism.