The Eight Masters is haphazardly strung together with a series of nearly incomprehensible and extraordinarly convenient events, making the whole production come off like it was written after a major bender of Jagermeister and Benadryl, or perhaps in 1970's terms, Courvoisier and NyQuil. But, since director Joseph Kuo stuffs this film to the gills with plenty of hard-hitting old-school kung fu action, who cares about little things like story and plot?