Michelle, wearing little, bares all

By Tee Hun Ching

TWO things that Michelle Yeoh wears strike you the minute she strides into the room.

Her mile-wide grin is one.

"Hello! Hello!'' she dispenses warmly, dispelling instantly the tension that had slowly been building up in the Four Seasons suite as two journalists, photographers and a camera crew counted down to her arrival.

"Gosh! Aren't you guys cold?'' her low, slightly gravelly voice creeps up half an octave higher as she rubs her bare shoulders vigorously.

Then a throaty chuckle that will punctuate the rest of the brief 20-minute interview frequently rings out.

"I know, I know, I'm wearing very little.''

And all attention turns eagerly to her shimmery beaded bare-back top that had been an instant head-turner.

This is the perfect excuse for all in the room to let their eyes linger on her lithe, tawny frame, the sculpted arms and the endless legs that are sheathed in a pair of green snake-skin pants.

Here to promote Lee Ang's gongfu period piece, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon with co-stars Chow Yun Fat and Zhang Ziyi, the 37-year-old ex-Bond girl is a picture of glowing health and high spirits.

Flicking back her lustrous tinted locks, she gushes about Chow.

"I've waited for this for a long time...He's a wonderful actor. For my role, I needed someone who could give and respond. And he inspires you to do even more.''

She plays a steely female warrior who harbours an unrequited love for Chow's character, Li Mu Bai, a legendary swordsman.

"Yu Shu Lien is a strong yet feminine character. She is a caring, compassionate person who is guiding Li gently, hoping one day he'll realise what an idiot he has been,'' she sums up neatly.

Having to spout classical Mandarin on set was the biggest obstacle, recalls the Malaysian-born star who speaks fluent English and Cantonese, and a smattering of Malay. She is not so proficient in Mandarin, the language used in Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon.

"It's like speaking Shakespeare. I literally had to memorise sounds...I went around the set murmuring to myself all the time. I don't remember ever being such a hard worker even when I was studying!'' she recalls, bubbling with mirth.

Sharing her anxiety, crew members from Hongkong apparently bit their nails every time it was her turn to speak.

"The major chunks of paragraphs were so complex. I remember the first time I finished, they all cheered!''

The blend of physical and emotional dimensions also makes this one of her most challenging roles ever, she declares.

"There is complete balance. There's the martial arts side and the dramatic side...In the final fight sequence for example, you are trying not to hurt or hit someone. The movements are very intricate. At the same time you have to mind your expressions and concentrate on how to convey different emotions.

"All the while I was thinking, 'How the hell do I get out of this sequence quickly?'."

A torn tendon 10 days into filming nearly forced her to pass up the role. The specialist she consulted in the United States gave her two choices: either undergo surgery immediately or have her leg bound up and forget about jumping and running. Fearful of losing her role, she rang Lee Ang up immediately with the bad news. "I could hear his devastation. He was like 'aaaarggghh'!'' she mimicks with gusto, shielding her face with her hands.

But the director bounced back immediately.

"He and Bill Kong, the producer, were very good. They told me, your knee is the most important thing. Don't worry, we will wait for you.''

Reassured, she allowed herself to be warded for a month.

Visits to the hospital are de rigueur to the feisty beauty hailed as Asia's top female action lead.

Four years ago for instance, she plunged head-first from a 2.5-metre highway bridge in a stunt that went awry and was laid up for a month while filming Ann Hui's Ah Kam: The Story Of A Stunt Woman.

But these are risks she takes without flinching.

After all, her label as the female Jackie Chan is a source of pride to her.

"I'm very grateful that people recognise my work. I'm not afraid of being typecast. Why do something and then say I didn't do it?'' she asks with arched eyebrows.

So strong is her work ethic that it has sounded the death knell on her two-year relationship with American cardiologist Alan Heldman.

In a recent interview with Hongkong's Ming Pao Weekly, she pooh-poohed talk that fingered her co-partner of film company Media Asia, Mr Thomas Chung Choi Sai as the third party.

They split, she said, because they were aiming for different goals -- he had set his sights on a family, while her drive for work was insatiable.

"I can't possibly ask the other party, 'Hey, wait for me for three years,' can I?'' she was reported as saying.

Asked about her sacrifices, she tells the two Singapore journalists: "This is not a 9-to-5 job. It takes a lot of understanding from people around you. I don't even know where I'm going to be next week. You have to seize the day. I live my life and make sure I have no regrets.'' The rumours do not irk her.

What annoys her though is when her friends are dragged through the same muck.

"It's very unkind to have your private space intruded upon. I'm a public figure, so I'm used to it. But I don't wish my friends to be affected. I want other people to know that we have private lives too,'' she says evenly, with an unwavering smile.

As the chat wraps up, she springs up, reaches for my hand for a farewell pump, and chirps: "Good! Now it's time for lunch.''

When told there would be one more round of reporters, she laments in mock distress: "Aiyah, I thought you said this was the last one?''

As her stylists fuss around her, preening her for the next volley of queries, she stands, hands on her hips, a smile playing on her lips.

A kick-chick tigress she might be on screen, but Yeoh is, at the end of the day, still a feline babe who turns heads with her luscious looks.