It is difficult to overstate the impact Bruce Lee had on the world of film. Exploding onto screens in the early 1970s, Lee’s athleticism, martial arts prowess, and screen magnetism were unlike anything that had come before, and, some would say, since. His films were released at a time the world was rapidly changing, and Lee became the first truly global film star.
He was a figure that most of the world’s cinemagoers, who looked nothing like 1970s Hollywood actors, could identify with and be inspired by; here was a cinematic hero who didn’t look like John Wayne and had no problem standing up to, and defeating, people who did look like him.
Lee was, in many ways, the first Chinese superhero. Even mainland China has recently made a concerted effort to emphasise Lee’s Chinese connection (pun intended), although he never actually set foot in the People’s Republic of China. He was born in San Francisco and grew up in Hong Kong, where he studied wing chun under grandmaster Ip Kai-man, known as Ip Man. He also studied dancing and was a child star in films such as The Orphan (1960).
Lee’s first martial arts film wasn’t supposed to be a star vehicle for him. The Big Boss (1971) featured Lee in a supporting role and James Tien as the lead. As filming progressed, the producers realised they were pointing the camera at the wrong person. Lee possessed that rarest of qualities that made it impossible for the viewer to look away.
Lee’s irresistible allure led to James Tien’s character being killed off in the first act, neatly opening the lead-role space for Lee to step into and narratively providing the motivation for Lee’s character’s revenge. The Big Boss was a big hit, and anticipation for Lee’s next film ran high.
Fist of Fury (1972), also known as The Chinese Connection, would exceed those expectations, becoming not only Lee’s best film, but a timeless classic that resonates as much today as it did when it was new half a century ago. During its theatre run in Hong Kong, the film’s fight scenes and ending were often met with standing ovations.
Lee plays martial arts student Chen Zen, who returns to his school in Shanghai just in time for the funeral of his master, Huo Yuanjia, who was poisoned. Chen Zen is a fictional character, but Huo Yuanjia (Fok Yuen-gap in Cantonese), did exist, and died under mysterious circumstances. His life and death were portrayed by Jet Li in Ronnie Yu’s Fearless (2006).
In Fist of Fury, all of Shanghai knows that the occupying Japanese murdered Huo, but Chen Zen is the only person willing to do anything about it. In a series of escalating incidents, he stands up for himself, his school, and the Chinese people, famously insisting, and then proving, that “we are not sick men”.
A movie martial artist is only as good as those he or she is exchanging blows with, and what made Lee’s films so breathtaking is the skill of the actors around him. He may move faster than the eye can see, but so can his co-stars. By keeping up with him, they elevate the action to martial arts magic.
The sharp-eyed viewer will have a field day spotting soon-to-be martial arts stars including Jackie Chan, Lam Ching-ying, Yuen Biao and Sammo Hung in Fist of Fury. Yuen Wah performs all of Lee’s acrobatic stunts, including the midair somersault preceding the iconic kick that destroys the “No Chinese or dogs” sign.
Lee’s message in Fist of Fury, and in much of his other work, is often framed as nationalism or Chinese pride, but it is more nuanced than that. Lee never felt at home in America, and he never went to China. Fist of Fury is not about nations or claiming Chinese (or American) superiority.
As Chen Zen makes clear, he is denying inferiority and insisting on equality. He makes sure his opponents know that Chinese people are not the “sick men” of Asia. The same attitude can be seen in Jet Li’s portrayal of Fok Yuen-gap, who wants only to show that he is as capable as his Western opponents.
Interpretations of Lee’s films have long been simplified, and opportunists continue to take advantage of his fame. Mainland China’s claim of ownership of this kung fu legend has led to Foshan being billed as Lee’s “ancestral home” and his purported former residence in Yongqingfang, Guangzhou, is open for tours, even though Lee never went there.
On the other hand, Hong Kong has failed to protect one of its biggest cultural legacies. Lee’s actual residence – the two-storey town house on Cumberland Road in Kowloon Tong, affectionately known as Crane’s Nest – was sold shortly after Lee’s death by its owner, Raymond Chow Man-wai, founder of film production company, Golden Harvest.
Passing through several hands, the house was at one time a love hotel before the owner promised to preserve it as a museum. Despite concerted efforts from family and fans, the plan did not gain any traction with the city’s government. In 2019, the same year Lee’s exhortation to “be water” was heard through the streets of Hong Kong, the building was demolished.
- From the Vault offers critiques, reviews and highlights of Hong Kong celluloid favourites, from the fascinating to the flawed to the flamboyant.
