American Shaolin

(1991, HK/US, Seasonal Films)

Dir. Lucas Lo; Pro. Keith W. Strandberg; Scr. Keith W. Strandberg; Action Dir. Corey Yuen Kwai; Cast Reese Madigan, Trent Bushey, Henry O, Alice Zhang Hung, Daniel Dae Kim.

106 min.

Affable if honkingly predictable Sino-American romp from Seasonal Films who add a lighter tone to the Shaolin temple story.

After humiliation at a kickboxing tournament at the hands of contemptuous headcrunching uber-douche Trevor Gottitall (see what they did there?), American teen slacker Drew Carson (Madigan) boards a quick flight to China to study at a mostly English speaking Shaolin temple.

Shaolin is portrayed as a military boot camp, where new inmates are bossed about by a stern kung fu captain who has them breaking rocks like prisoners. Drew has a Spartacus moment after befriending his fellow monks with the help of American pornography and a song and dance routine where he teaches everyone the words to Eddie Cochran’s Summertime Blues (charmingly altered to Shaolin Temple Blues). But he soon gets into the swing of things, learning discipline, humility and loads of kung fu.

The film enters Raiders of the Lost Ark territory as Drew confronts the fabled wooden dummies guarding the Shaolin exit besieged by a series of falling traps. He conveniently graduates in time to face Trevor in a final battle at a wushu tournament in Shanghai. “The Shaolin monks are pussies!” yells the cretinous Trevor, whose cheap finishing move involves pulling his opponent’s pants down.

Trevor represents a crass symbol of western aggression, obsessed by ego and prestige and the antithesis of the Shaolin way. Drew’s cathartic journey, both physically and spiritually, transcends to such a degree that he almost opts out of the final fight.

He doesn’t, obviously, leaving more screen time for Corey Yuen to showcase his sublime choreography. The film also makes ample time for some authentic location shots and an erstwhile morality. As an accessible introduction to the wisdom and teachings of the Shaolin temple for a younger western audience, the film is perfectly acceptable and rather enjoyable.

AKA: King of the Kickboxers II; No Retreat, No Surrender 5

Fist of Fury

(1972, HK, Golden Harvest)

Dir. Lo Wei; Pro. Raymond Chow Man-wai; Scr. Lo Wei; Action Dir. Han Ying-chieh, Bruce Lee; Cast Bruce Lee, Nora Miao Ker-hsiu, Maria Yi Dut, James Tien Chun, Tien Feng, Huang Chung-hsin, Han Ying-chieh, Lo Wei, Lee Quin, Robert Baker, Riki Hashimoto, Paul Wei Ping-ao.

100 min.

Lee’s most intense performance, Lo Wei’s powerful kung fu film is ripe with anti-Japanese hysteria, so much so there is not a single pleasant Japanese character in the movie (unlike Gordon Chan’s remake Fist of Legend).

Politics aside, this is a riotous Bruce Lee vehicle, kicking out trademarks and smashing teeth in the process. The revenge plot (based on factual events) has Lee’s sifu poisoned by a rival Japanese school in turn of the century Shanghai. All of which acts as a fine excuse to string together a great succession of fight sequences.

Lee’s majesty of touch with the fight choreography shows an appreciation for technique and tradition – as well as a keen cinematic eye – which was light years ahead of his contemporaries. This is best displayed when Lee is pounding the life out of a dojo full of karate students using only fists, feet and nunchaku. The duel with Robert Baker (Lee’s real life bodyguard) near the film’s end is another triumph.

As kung fu theatre goes, Fist of Fury is an immensely satisfying experience and stands as probably Lee’s best Hong Kong work.

AKA: The Chinese Connection; Fists of Fury; The Iron Hand; School for Chivalry