Zhang Ziyi rolls across a library floor in a gauzy white tunic, trying to perfect an action stunt and she's in pain. Her forefinger is a swollen lump, bruised from an injury the previous day, and each thrust of her sword sets it throbbing anew. Her instructor lists the problems to work on: straighten the legs, revolve the body faster and finish at a better angle. Ziyi huffs, shuffles her Nikes, then dives again. No good. She squeals in agony. Director Zhang Yimou gives his action director the word: "Simplify it." Cinematographer Chris Doyle heaves a sympathetic sigh, which you can see because it's so cold, swigs spirit from his hip flask and puts the moment in perspective: "You know, if this was America ... well, you wouldn't catch

Winona Ryder doing that."

No, and you also wouldn't catch many people attempting what Zhang Yimou, renowned for lush emotional masterpieces like Ju Dou and Raise the Red Lantern, has set out to achieve in his newest film, Hero. Flush with Chinese, U.S. and Hong Kong funding, Hero is the most ambitious martial-arts epic since Taiwanese director Ang Lee's Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon won four Oscars in 2001 and broke the box-office mold by becoming the most successful foreign film to hit the U.S. That victory remains both a blessing and a curse for the Chinese film industry: it raised awareness of Asian films tenfold in the West, but has compelled the region's filmmakers to try to duplicate Lee's magic formula.

On the shoulders of Hero ride the hopes of all Asian cinema. Did Crouching Tiger's popularity portend a huge global market for Asian movies, or was it a fluke? That uncertainty—and Hero's $30 million budget—has piled pressure on everyone on the set. It's palpable, but rarely mentioned, like the wire propelling an actor through an action sequence that gets computer-erased in the final print.

Conceived by the 50-year-old director, the plot of Hero offers an unexpected twist on a traditional tale set at the violent dawn of the Qin dynasty, circa 220 B.C. China's soon-to-be first Emperor is on the brink of conquering the war-torn land and three of his most passionate opponents (played by Maggie Cheung, Tony Leung and Zhang Ziyi) are trying to assassinate him. The Emperor hires one man (the inimitable Jet Li) to stop them. Love, jealousy, rivalry and a flurry of martial arts vivify this ripping yarn.

When it comes to making an epic action film, Zhang evidently felt: Why have cotton when you can have silk? The unprecedented collection of talent at work on this project reads like an A-to-Z list of the region's most beautiful, bankable and influential. Besides the stellar leads, Hong Kong actor/director Donnie Yen, the high-flying martial artist known for his rhythmic, graceful style, pits his gravity-defying leaps against Li in a scene that will have kung fu fans roaring for more. Working in three languages (Mandarin, Cantonese and English) and vastly different styles, these actors helped forge the martial-arts genre that made Hong Kong film's name.

It's hard to imagine a headier celebrity cocktail. Grand dame Japanese designer Emi Wada, who won an Oscar for Akira Kurosawa's Ran, is doing the costumes. Oscar-winning Crouching Tiger composer Tan Dun has been tapped for the score. But Academy toasts and red-carpet strolls are a long way off, and Zhang's attitude toward his work is decidedly sober. He must lead cast and crew through the grueling 150-day, 7-a.m.-to-midnight production schedule, slated to finish at the end of January. This afternoon, they are filming in Hengdian TV & Movie City—a local entrepreneur's attempt to build a Hollywood of the East, about a three-hour drive from the historic city of Hangzhou. Shooting stops for no one. Lights are rechecked; random crew members scurry out for cups of hot water or to make urgent transpacific calls on their cell phones. Action director Tony Ching shows Ziyi a new approach. He rolls over twice on the floor in his Polo Sport winter jacket, strikes a pose and gives her a self-congratulatory grin. He gets a wry one back. The Burberry scarf wrapped around his neck hasn't moved a bit.

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