Enter The Dragon

She saunters into the room, entourage in tow, the raspy sound of her tight leather pants preceding her. She greets her visitor with a gentle handshake, unwrapping herself from a beige pashmina shawl and asking that the heat be turned on. It is, after all, only 50 degrees outside, and she’s wearing gold sling backs and a short-sleeved, snug red silk top bearing a dragon.

Even as a little girl, actress Zhang Ziyi was not shy about facing an audience and doing as she pleased. She likes to recall her elementary school experience in Beijing: When a teacher would ask for a front-of-the classroom volunteer, her peers would offer Zhang for the task. She was the fearless one. Knowledge of the answer was inconsequential; Zhang would stroll to the chalkboard and write out whatever her heart desired.

In retrospect, she seems a natural to play Jen, one of the leads in Ang Lee’s martial arts fantasy film “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.”

The plot of the movie is propelled by Jen’s willful pride and arrogance: She steals an enchanted sword, refuses an arranged marriage and then faces down a master martial artist played by Chow Yun-fat. She wrestles and then makes love to a bandit in the sand dunes of the Chinese desert--not exactly proper behavior for the pampered daughter of a nobleman in 19th century China. She pits herself against the master swordsman in a dangerous dance atop the thin bamboo branches of a wild forest. And, thanks to special effects, she flies through the air, sword in hand, like a stealth ninja warrior.

Lee originally envisioned Jen as a tomboy, but the casting of Zhang required changes in the script.

“She is the hidden dragon,” he says. “I was looking for mystery, something that would speak to desire and repressed desire in a traditional Chinese society. She is the untamed nature in all of us. Though she is very innocent, in a way there is something devilish about her that can bring us to destruction and find a passion that is so romantic that it can demolish everything.”

“Crouching Tiger” has appealed to all age groups and demographics, and Zhang’s high-flying performance as the woman warrior who is equal to any man has been a revelation to Western audiences. While she fights, she loves and is defeated, yet she never loses her supreme sense of confidence. Jen and Zhang Ziyi seem like soul mates--both determined to advance their way through life on their own terms.

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“CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN DRAGON” IS THE most successful foreign film ever made (as of March 12, it had earned $94.5 million at the box office), but Zhang says she was caught off guard by the success. “Crouching Tiger” was only her second film and the movie was not a big hit in China. “For a Chinese film--a subtitled film--to be so popular in the U.S. and Europe? That is surprising! Even though it has all this international talent--the best in the Chinese-speaking world--I am still amazed.”

Zhang’s career arc has benefited from a case of good timing; she’s come of acting age at a moment of growth and openness in Asian--especially Chinese--filmmaking. At the same time, U.S. studios and the markets they serve have broadened their focus to embrace a growing number of international co-productions and subtitled films. In the last few months, Asian films have been in the international spotlight, ranging from Taiwan’s “Crouching Tiger” and “Yi Yi,” to Hong Kong’s “In the Mood for Love,” to the Korean epic “Chunhyang,” to the Chinese film “Breaking the Silence.”

For the past few years, the Cannes Film Festival has dedicated a part of its lineup to Asian films. Festival organizers believe there’s an increase in demand, says Los Angeles Times film critic Kenneth Turan. “I can’t remember a year when there were four really critically well-received Asian films playing [in general release] at the same time--that seems remarkable,” he adds.

Hong Kong, Taiwan and China used to function as independent entities, but now there is an increasing amount of cooperation between the three Chinese-speaking areas. Directors, actors and producers are now able to cross boundaries and have created an unofficial pan-Asian cinema.”Now we are getting the fruit of what started many years before,” says Zhang, speaking through an interpreter. “I may be a perfect example of this since my first film was with a Chinese director, my second with a Taiwanese, my third with Tsui Hark, a Hong Kong director, my fourth with a Korean and fifth one with an American director.”

Later this year she will appear in her first U.S. production, “Rush Hour 2,” starring Jackie Chan. Zhang plays a Chinese-speaking beauty, seemingly shy and helpless. But in reality she’s a terrorist expert in explosives. The film, which is currently in production, will be released in August.

If anything can hamper her career in the United States, it is her inability to speak a language other than Mandarin. But her new handlers at the William Morris Agency have big plans.

“Her lack of English will only be a problem if she doesn’t overcome it,” says Nicole David, one of her agents. “But she is committed to learn . . . so she can be a universal star, not just a star in Asia.” A three-month English-language immersion course is in her future.

If Zhang is concerned about her limited English skills, she doesn’t let on. She says she’s eager to work with Chinese language directors she admires such as Wong Kar-wai (“In the Mood for Love”) and Edward Yang (“Yi Yi”).

As she speaks, traces of that defiant little girl in elementary school are still evident. Though she answers questions in Mandarin, her zeal and energy break through the language barrier.

“We have all this talent and the space of Chinese cinema is so huge,” she says. “I think that living at this moment it is a very good time for actors.”

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ZHANG’S FIRST PERFORMANCES WERE AS A DANCER. SHE WAS A sickly child, she says, so her mother enrolled her in a Beijing dance academy to strengthen her body. Her internal resolve kicked in quickly. By 16, after six years of studying traditional Chinese dance, she decided to broaden her career goals.

“I suddenly realized that in China the most you can do, the peak of a professional dancer, is dancing in concerts with a singer in front. So why would I want to do that? Gradually, I changed my direction.”

Zhang was enrolled in China’s prestigious Central Drama Academy for four years. It was there that director Zhang Yimou (“Raise the Red Lantern”) noticed her during an audition for a shampoo commercial. He cast her as the star of his latest film, “The Road Home,” which was filmed in 1999 but is scheduled for release in the United States by Sony Pictures Classics on May 25.

Zhang’s performance in “The Road Home” is a jarring contrast to “Crouching Tiger.” She plays a meek and loyal country girl, willing to wait outside for her lover in sub-freezing temperatures and waking at the crack of dawn to make him homemade dumplings.

So which character is closest to her heart?

“I used to be more like the girl from the ‘Road Home’ but now I’m more like the girl from ‘Crouching Tiger,’ ” she says. “I learned a great deal from having shot both movies. I’m confident from the recognition I’m getting.”

Confident and more. Zhang, at the tender of 21, is beginning to show symptoms of a common Hollywood affliction, divadom. She was rumored to be having an affair with Zhang Yimou, who is about 30 years her senior. The Straits Times in Singapore reported that the Chinese film community refers to Zhang as “Little Gong Li,” after the actress who partnered with Zhang Yimou for such movies as “Raise the Red Lantern.”

In Los Angeles, at a recent photo shoot, she arrived with an escort of at least half a dozen people. True to form, she took charge of the situation, picking out her clothing, showing a preference for the more revealing styles, disregarding the softer, subtle clothing suggested by a stylist and editor.

Perhaps this behavior--confidence? arrogance?--is inevitable from a newcomer whose second movie has already surpassed box- office records for any foreign film in the United States and received the most Academy Award nominations (10) of any foreign film. Fawning journalists have called her work “breathless” and “exquisite.”

Zhang is well aware of her popularity.

“[‘Crouching Tiger’] caught the heart of the American people; just like in Europe it took off,” she says. “I’m a big beneficiary of it because audiences like the movie and they also like me. So I am very pleased.”

But she was not the original choice for the part. The role had been offered to another actress who declined because it entailed so much physical work. After trying out for the part, one of Lee’s assistant directors put Zhang under demanding tutelage, with experts teaching her calligraphy, martial arts, 19th century Mandarin and the elegant movements of a classic noblewoman. She found herself in a room practicing for a part that, unbeknownst to her, wasn’t yet hers.

“Every day while I was taking these lessons, I would hear a knock on the door and then the assistant director would say, ‘Another five came,’ ” she recalls.

“So one day, on the excuse that I was going to the bathroom, I came outside, took a look and saw these girls coming in. I was so mad. They were inviting young, fresh talent to try out for the part without telling me. So the more girls I saw the more I felt threatened, the more I felt ‘the competition is on and it is never stopping.’ ”

Lee says he was nervous about casting an inexperienced unknown for such a complicated part.

“Of course, it was a dreadful thing to do, but I hope the indignity I made her go through came out in the film,” Lee says.

Finally, after a month and a half, she was officially offered the part.

Zhang has been busy ever since. Her next film, “2046,” in which she’ll portray a young career woman living in futuristic Hong Kong, will be with director Wong Kar-wai. She’s carefully plotting her career with a role model in mind: Maggie Cheung, the 37-year-old star of “In the Mood for Love,” not because Cheung is beautiful or a great actress, but because she has transformed herself from a martial arts-pop movie queen in her native Hong Kong to a more mature film maven starring in art-house cinema worldwide.

“She is able to control her career,” Zhang says. Control--and passion--are, after all, what fuels the woman warrior.

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(Page TM31) Alberta Ferretti silk chiffon dress, $2,590, at Little Italy, New York. Ann Smythe parchment pearl lariat.

Opposite (Page TM30) Richard Tyler Collection Chinese silk brocade V-neck dress, $760, at Richard Tyler, Los Angeles. Styled by Daniel Caudill/Celestine; stylist assistant: Michelle Bronson; hair: David Cox for Bumble & Bumble; makeup: Antonella/Cloutier.