I Feel Like James Bond, But Minus The Girls: Jackie Chan's First Strike (1996)

It is rather clear that there will be a considerable battle between Jet Li and Jackie Chan for who will make the most appearances during this kung fu marathon and as it stands I believe they are both tied at a respectable three, with Jet Li's films taking a decidedly serious and historical turn, whereas, with the exception of Drunken Master, Chan's films are clearly intended to exist within the realm of the action/cop thriller comedy genre, making a considerable amount of sense, since his adoration of Harold Lloyd and the other silent comedy masters has previously received acknowledgement.  First Strike, is, technically part of the Police Story films, but considering that it is rather obvious that the version I obtained was reworked to make it entirely in English and more palatable to western audiences, I will consider it as such.  First Strike is incredibly clear in its being an homage to the James Bond films, although in decided Jackie Chan fashion, his character has to be a lovable loser, favoring his self-respect to those he encounters over demanding any sort of objectification of the women and others around him, aside of course from the villains who are already attacking him.  I would, in fact, argue that First Strike, while far from a perfect or even good movie, does manage to have some moments where Chan's love for the silent film slapstick over-the-top routine comes crashing together beautifully with some of the most iconic moments of the Bond filmic franchise.  Despite everything and everyone in the film being dubbed, First Strike also manages to be a considerably enjoyable study in the nature of international crime, moving between spaces that often do not receive heavy mention in the cinematic action language, specifically Ukraine and Australia.  I am assuming that First Strike is considered minor Chan, excluding that string of American films he made later in his career (The Tuxedo and The Medallion), it makes me interested to catch up with more of his work, because even in the films that are not exactly narratively engaging, I was surprised to find myself laughing at the excellent comedic execution of Chan even with as simple of a joke as screaming underwater.  I noted in a previous post about reconsidering Li as one of the great actors working today, I am thinking I might make the same extension towards Chan as a comedic actor.

First Strike begins with Jackie (Jackie Chan) finishing a job for the CIA that involves him tracking down a woman who is believed to be tied to a nuclear arms smuggling case.  The woman Natasha (Nonna Grishaeva), it is discovered, is heading to Ukraine, where Jackie is sent undercover to learn more about the issues of the trade.  Along with Natasha is a Chinese nuclear scientist named Tsui (Jackson Liu) who it is revealed has been working to obtain the secrets of the trade for the CIA, which are contained in a briefcase that is lost in a wild snowboard and snowmobile chase.  After a recovery in Russia, Jackie learns that the arms are being shipped to Australia via a Russian submarine, leading to his traveling to Brisbane, much to the disbelief of his superiors in China.  While in Brisbane, Jackie discovers that the nuclear smuggling extends to include a group of Chinese Triad bosses that have centered themselves in Australia, one whose son just happens to be the late Tsui.  During a meeting with Tsui's father, Jackie meets his sister Annie (Annie Wu) who is initially dismissive of Jackie, believing him to be her brothers killer, a disdain that grows when she discovers that Jackie has lied to her about his identity on multiple levels.  However, after more investigation on the part of Jackie, it is discovered that Tsui had tenuous ties to the KGB and was being forced to engage in illicit activities at their discretion, a fact, that once revealed to Jackie and others allows for Annie to break down her hesitations and help Jackie.  During the later father Tsui's death, an elaborate funeral is staged, which becomes the point of a wild brawl with guns and martial arts abound, eventually leading to a local aquarium where the fight takes an underwater turn, made expressly dangerous by the introduction of a maniacal shark that moves about the water and, at times, above it surface to attack people.  Fighting off lackeys and saving unsuspecting tourists, Jackie eventually tracks down the KGB official who possesses the warhead and has kidnapped Annie, stopping his endeavor and escaping with Annie in tow.  After the criminals have been apprehended, Jackie accepts warm thanks and returns to his job with a new degree of earned respect.

The movie really does have an international flare that I cannot help but embrace, particularly considering its nuclear warfare narrative.  The involvement of both Chinese and Russian forces in such a plot could be deemed the worst of Western nightmares coming to the full front, but considering that the China in this film is dedicated to a degree of disarmament it is far from problematic, indeed, almost ideal when discussing a world that still sees threats of nuclear warfare both on a large global scale, as well as at the hands of terrorist subsets who are bent on knocking down global powers with a singular crippling blow.  Of course, to set the film solely in China or Russia would be a bit overzealous not to mention a bit too obvious, particularly, since it is not in these countries that much of the heavy trafficking tends to occur.  The choice to pull the often overlooked Ukraine into the narrative was a brilliant writing decision, because this space, much like other Eastern European countries is a space of illegal trafficking of everything from drugs and nuclear weapons to human bodies.  Furthermore, since it is a film that deals with the western and eastern fears of nuclear warfare and a subsequent fallout staging, it is a space like Eastern Europe proves genius, because in its regional name alone it exists an oxymoronic divide between the two sides of the world.  Indeed, when the narrative then moves to the often overlooked Australia things take a decidedly wild turn, suggesting that Brisbane is a place where the Chinese triad has extended its global power.  I am not a person familiar with the demographics or even basic political world of Australia, but considering that it is the "land down under" and is often notably othered as a space in the world, it would seem like the idea location to plan and traffic nuclear weapons, because in a non-theoretical or critically grounded frame of reference, I would admit to saying that Australia would be the last place on Earth I would assume heavy trafficking in anything to occur.  However, writing that very statement would make me inclined to reconsider it as a space that is equal to, if not greater, in trafficking to Eastern Europe.

Key Scene:  The underwater fighting scene is really one of the greatest action sequences I have ever seen in cinema.  While it was made famous by Thunderball, it is perfected here in this film.

First Strike is not a great movie, but it is not unwatchable by any means.  A more "rentable" movie might not exist.

Do You Understand The Words That Are Coming Out Of My Mouth: Rush Hour (1998)

It might be easy to declare Rush Hour the biggest stretch in the entirety of my kung fu marathon in that it declares itself rather openly to be an action film and has cemented itself as one of the contemporary classics in the field of buddy cop flicks.  However, it does include Jackie Chan as one of it its stars, there is a good bit of fighting throughout and it is so heavily drawing from the Hong Kong action cinema of the decade, which, in turn, draws upon kung fu films that it is almost possible to argue that this is the most obvious inclusion for the marathon.  I am sure prior to watching this film last night that I had seen Rush Hour in its entirety, but it would easily have been fifteen years ago at this point, when it was originally released so any sort of memories I had from the film had, undoubtedly, been influenced by its references in popular culture.  The most obvious of these being the line that I used in the title of this post.  Given that I am wildly critical about every piece of film I consume these days, including the lowest of art, I went into Rush Hour assuming that it would be particularly offensive in the way it portrays Asian, particularly Chinese, culture, exploiting it for its most basic elements and appropriating them to create a narrative deemed producer friendly.  Much to my surprise, Rush Hour manages to take its Chinese presence very seriously, using locations in Chinatown as they turly exist, as opposed to creating simulacra of the spaces to make them, again, more producer friendly.  Praising this element of the film does not mean that it is a work void of problems.  Where the narrative takes careful trides to avoid stereotypical imagery of Chinese people, it manages to undermine the notion of racial performance by writing Chris Tucker's character as an over-performance of the stereotypes of African-American masculinity, only to have Tucker play into these depictions through many of his acting choices.  This is, easily the most frustrating element of the film, but it does not run throughout, making particular moments of the movie exude excellent action choreography and relatively watchable cinematography for a late-nineties action flick.

Rush Hour begins in a Hong Kong setting, focusing on the skills of Chinese Special Investigator Lee (Jackie Chan), whose persistence and dedication to his job has stifled the criminal activities of infamous syndicate Sang (Ken Leung).  His job earns him the gratitude of China's consulate to the United States Han (Tzi Ma).  This respect, affords, him a chance to come to America when Han's daughter is kidnapped by Sang and his lackeys for ransom.  Meanwhile, Carter (Chris Tucker) is an undercover cop with the LAPD, whose reputation for wild field choices and general garrulous behavior lead to him being threatened with suspension if he does not get his act together.  When the FBI is placed on the case to find and save Han's daughter they are hesitant to involve Lee in their investigation, assuming he will be dead weight.  Upon his arrival, a frustrated LAPD chief assigns Carter to be the aid to Lee, taking him around Chinatown and distracting him from actually becoming involved in the investigation.  Feigning a lack of English skills, Lee quickly realizes that Carter is tricking him and escapes, arriving at the FBI safe point hoping to speak directly with Han.  After fighting off guards who assume he is one of Sang's men, it is revealed that the FBI had attempted to distract Lee, as well as Carter, to the frustration of both, as well as Han who feels betrayed by the FBI.  Still, the FBI assures Han that it is in his best interests to allow only their organization to handle the case.  Yet, when Carter and Lee realize they posses far more information about the case than anyone at the FBI they take it upon themselves to hunt down the persons involved in the kidnapping, eventually recruiting the help of another officer on the LAPD force Johnson (Elizabeth Pena).  After a failed attempt to rescue Han's daughter at the hideout of Sang and his men, the threats on the girl rise, as does the ransom demand, culminating at a huge Chinese art exhibit, where it is discovered that Han's daughter is hidden in a van with a vest of C4 strapped to her chest.  Furthermore, it is realized that the person funding the entire kidnapping ordeal was much closer to Han than any person could have imagined.  Nonetheless, Carter and Lee are successful, earning Lee a spot on his countries secret service.  Carter is begrudgingly offered a place on the FBI, to which he refuses, choosing, instead; to travel with Lee to China.

I want to get out the racial performance element before talking about one of the more positive aspects of this film.  There is a ton of dialogue which is delivered by Tucker that requires him to heighten his voice and play into a shucking and shuffling that would be more indicative of a minstrel show of years gone by, which, while not a sole occurrence in Hollywood at the time, nor in contemporary films, when it does emerge it is a particular point of frustration, because it is played for comedy and often consumed by audiences of multiple races.  Indeed, Spike Lee's incisive and scathing consideration of the African-American male body in entertainment that was Bamboozled dealt with this issue to its most extreme form, with the intent of noting that while it may not appear in the extremes of new age blackface the performance element was still present.  It is films like Rush Hour that Lee is clearly considering.  In an extension beyond the hyper critical in a negative, I want to critically approach the film for its use of language as a metaphor for learning friendship and bonding.  Both Lee and Carter are initially hesitant to embrace one another because of clear stereotypes they have about one another's cultures that extend beyond not only their nation, but race as well.  Indeed, they both assume a degree of a language barrier, wherein, Carter assumes that Lee cannot speak any English and takes it upon himself to yell repeatedly in hopes that some sort of rage will get Lee to understand.  Carter still entrenched in his single-minded attitude cannot fathom the possibility of learning a language to speak to Lee who he neither respects or admires.  It is, indeed, Lee who makes the first step toward a friendship by revealing his ability to speak decent English, a fact that causes Carter to begin losing his hermit shell and opening up to Lee as a friend and partner.  Interestingly it is when they realize that language affords them a shared experience through stories of their fathers that the two really seem to bond, other cultural elements such as music and food help, but not to the degree that this interaction does, pushing Carter from a space where he would ignore the safety of his partner for self-advancement, to sacrificing his body and safety for the survival of Lee.  This comes full circle in the final moments of the film, when Carter himself speaks Chinese, showing his willingness to fully embrace Lee as a friend.

Key Scene:  While there are some great moments in this film, it possesses what might be the best of the credits blooper reals, adding a surprising layer to the language reading in the film.

You have likely seen this film, in which case it is not really worth revisiting, however, it is a cultural staple and catching up with it, despite its problems, helps make one more versed in the beast that is a "popular" collective memory.

Let's Drink A Toast To Our Ship That's Sinking: Drunken Master (1978)

I have rather vague memories of watching something regarding silent film stars while spending a summer with my grandparents.  From this documentary, I was able to glean two things:  First, I learned about Harold Lloyd and his doing amazing death defying stunts despite only having one hand.  This fact, remained in my memory and when I finally caught up with the film roughly around this time laster year, I was amazed to recollect it with little to no effort.  Secondly, I remember witnessing a portion of an interview with Jackie Chan, wherein he makes considerable note of the influences the early slapstick masters had upon his performances and particular choice to do comedic film.  The interview as aired with clips of Chan from Drunken Master, and ever since then it has been a film that seemed to just linger in my memory, so when I finally undertook this kung fu marathon, it was yet another title that "had to be" included.  There was a decided amount of hesitation to this inclusion, because I was worried that the vague memories might not have been as nice upon fully engaging with the film, particularly since the film does have a narrative it must incorporate while also displaying excellent martial arts choreography.  My memories were not completely betrayed however, because while the film does tend to wander narratively, almost to the point of being a set of sketches more than a coherent story, the choreography and fight scenes in this film are excellent, at times even outright hilarious.  I mea the fights in this are really really good, despite being under the guise of humor, what Chan and some of the other members of the cast are able to do with their bodies, often simultaneously, equals that of the prowess and perfection of the late Bruce Lee.  While I am uncertain as to where to fall critically on a film that, undoubtedly, embraces the possibility for highly functioning alcoholism, Drunken Master does manage to be a film that is both incredibly indicative of its late seventies production, while also possessing a degree of endearing coming of age elements that make for a decidedly worthwhile experience.  Chan manages to make light use of bawdy humor to great effect, while the narrative moves about in a critical manner, deconstructing misinformation concerning the expectations and limitations of gendered and classed bodies.

Drunken Master begins in a dojo where the cunning and often mischievous Wong Fei-hung, Freddy Wong in the English dub, (Jackie Chan) practices his martial arts under the tutelage of his father.  Given that his father is indeed the head of the dojo, affords Wong a considerable amount of indifference to all other authority figures, to the point of attacking them in jest.  During one day in the village, Wong makes unwarranted advances on a young girl, whose mother happens to also be present, an act that proves highly ill-conceived in the later discovery that the girl's mother is indeed related to the family.  When Wong's father discovers his childish and repugnant acts, he disowns him, claiming that the only way he could come to respect is son again would be for him to train heavily in martial arts and become a well-known master.  Of course, Wong's dad's idea of who would make a great master flies in the face of Wong's desultory lifestyle and the young man instead decides to take about moving through the world on his own.  His unemployment and lack of direction lead to attempts on his part to obtain meals from restaurants without paying, which immediately land him in hot water with the staff.  Instead of being obliterated by the other fighters, Wong is rescued by an elderly old man known as Beggar So (Yuen Siu-tien), who just happens to be a master in the unusual martial art techniques of The Eight Drunken Immortals, or more colloquially Drunken Boxing.  Still resistant to authority, Wong attempts to cheat at his training, often waiting until Beggar falls asleep to end training or advance his task in noticeable ways.  However, when Beggar is attacked by the martial arts assassin Thunderleg (Hwang Jang Lee) Wong comes to realize the importance of martial arts both as a way of defending onesself, as well as a means by which to aid those in need.  Putting slightly more effort into his training, Wong quickly becomes proficient at the various styles within drunken boxing, which range from kick heavy attacks to blocks that rely primarily on the wrist.  Wong, however, is hesitant to embrace the styles that are deemed feminine.  Nonetheless, while returning to show his father his skill, Wong meets Thunderleg in a fight, proving his skill and eventually using the very style he dismissed as a means to destroy the deadly assassin.  This act, one that happens to save his father, also gains the respect he had been denied prior, as well as a considerable amount of self-growth.

Can a film that essentially promotes a figure who uses alcohol as a means to attain his point of perfection, be considered entirely positive?  Probably not, but Drunken Master only uses this sort of stumbling buffoon iconography as a gateway to consider larger narratives of social expectation and access based on identity.  One cannot deny that Wong comes from a considerably well-to-do status since he is the son of a kungfu master and is provided a space within which to occupy indefinitely.  However, he is also a person who seems decidedly against performing stoicism or a follower of rigid social norms.  Indeed, where it not for his highly problematic advances towards the women at the beginning of the film, he would seem like a careless trickster, who was doing hardly any harm and when it did occur it was directed at persons of privilege and decadence.  As such, Drunken Master becomes not a film of conformity, but instead appropriation.  Considering that it is expected of Wong to train in martial arts and to, subsequently, become a master, a degree of seriousness is to be associated with the endeavor, much as is the case when a person decides to undertake a martial art, usually based on discipline.  Instead, Wong manages to find a martial art that, while no less impressive physically, does allow him a degree of improvisation and unruliness, thus letting his lifestyle influence his martial arts, as opposed to the restrictions of his discipline changing his personal behavior.  Wong could not be expected to ever earn a place in the prestigious ranks of a Shaolin temple, but, to be fair, he clearly has no desire to do so.  Knowing full and well that to attack the girls was wrong, Wong is capable of making changes to his life and reconsidering what is a necessary social agreement and what rules are made to be broken.  This is perhaps most clear when he steps up to defend his father against Thunderleg.  The Wong of the early portion of the film would likely have dealt with such an encounter with indifference, because he would not have seen how it affected him.  Yet, after earning the skills of his unusual form of martial arts, he also understands that killing for money is wrong and that defending against such acts is not a point of ambiguity.  Such meshes are welcomed in his mixing of styles, but not in the realm of defining and defending a human life.

Key Scene:  The moment when Beggar trains Wong through what can only be described as a "mannequin method" is impressive kung fu choreography, if only for its reliance on two bodies moving in unique ways.

This is a solid rental and well worth engaging with for its unique reconsideration of the genre, while also staying decidedly within its traditional confines.