Films of Fury: The Kung Fu Movie Book (39 page)

That was all well and good, but there was still one big elephant in the room (along with all the bears, monkeys, tigers, snakes, and cranes) … and it comprised two words out of their three-word film title. If there’s one thing this chapter shows, it’s that America, when left to its own devices, doesn’t know its kung fu from its karate
. “Our goal with our kung fu scenes was to create something that had not been seen before,” Stevenson said, “legitimate martial arts action done in animation, covering the whole spectrum of styles from humorous to very dark — with every fight scene having its own distinct visual design and color theory.

“The key people responsible for designing our kung fu sequences were Jen Yuh Nelson
, Simon Wells
and Rodolphe Guenoden
. Jen was our head of story, but also a brilliant storyboard artist in her own right with a particular flair for action sequences. Simon Wells
is a gifted writer/director and a superb draughtsman. For years Simon and Jen, independently, were the ‘go-to’ people for action scenes (I think Simon has storyboarded and designed almost all the climactic scenes in every DreamWorks movie). We made them into a unit charged with the task of designing and storyboarding each of our main kung fu sequences.

“Rodolphe Guenoden
is a master storyboard artist and animator who has also trained in martial arts for many years. Rodolphe was a key part of our story team and developed many of the ideas that found their way into our kung fu scenes. Rodolphe would take Jen and Simon’s sequences, and design specific kung fu moves that adapted the real animal fighting style to the animal’s anatomy. One of the conceits of the film was that our kung fu masters were the living embodiment of the many animal-inspired styles of fighting. But working out how a snake or mantis does kung fu in those styles was no easy thing. Because Rodolphe had an intimate first-hand knowledge of martial arts, and was a superb draughtsman, he was able to break down the complex actions into easy to understand drawings, which could be shared with our brilliant animation team led by master animator Dan Wagner.”

Rodolphe was also the one remaining crew member who had attended my seminar years before. Thankfully for the film, I was preaching to the choir. But the rest also wanted to walk the walk. “We also had the whole crew (including Mark, Melissa and I) take an intensive (and painful) kung fu class with martial arts consultant Eric Chen
, just so that all of us would experience first-hand some of what Po undergoes in the film,” Stevenson clarified. “Most of us were horribly out of shape, but we told Eric not to take it easy on us — and he took our directive to heart. We were all black and blue for weeks. We also had regular lunchtime kung fu classes for the animators led by Rodolphe. We found that only by physically doing kung fu and understanding the stresses and strains first hand could our animators animate kung fu convincingly. They had to feel it in their bodies first before translating it in their imaginations. We had an amazing unit in Jen, Simon and Rudolphe, who collectively were our action director.”

That took care of the external, martial applications of kung fu, but there was still the pesky question of the internal, healing reality of real kung fu. Any other American production would (and many did) ignore that, or make excuses for omitting it. This was, after all, a “kid’s film.” Even DreamWorks’ own marketing department and the Mattel Toy Company, who produced the film’s tie-in merchandise, seemed committed to that juvenile, unbalanced, approach. But not John, Mark, Melissa, and company.

“In Bruce Lee
’s
The Silent Flute
(aka
Circle Of Iron
), the main character goes on a quest for the Book Of Enlightenment, only to discover that the book is a mirror, showing that the secrets to self-knowledge are already within him,” Stevenson remembered. “We experimented with variations on this idea. We had a box that bore the inscription ‘True Power Lies Within’ that proved to be empty; we had a gauntlet of trials that had the same inscription above the door where Po would fight his way through to a room with a mirror; we had a legend about the all-powerful Dragon
Sword that made the bearer invincible hidden behind massive doors that bore the same inscription in a chamber below the Jade Palace that turned out not to exist, and many other experiments with the same basic concept. Eventually the Dragon Sword became The Dragon Scroll containing ‘the secret to limitless power.’”

That power is your own chi energy, waiting for each individual to use it properly. “There is no magic, just you. In our minds, Po was the only one who could understand this message; it is clear that neither Shifu nor Tai Lung (or probably any other conventional warrior) can grasp the idea. Po is the only one who gets it, which is why he is The Dragon
Warrior
; something Oogway realized when Po crashed in front of him at the tournament ‘by accident.’”

That only left the ultimate kung fu film conundrum: if kung fu is self-improvement where the highest form is not to fight, how do you create a kick-ass climax that satisfies both the blood-thirsty and the benevolent? For
Kung Fu Panda
, that came in one defining battle. “The origins of the showdown came from our experiments with how we could have Po legitimately defeat Tai Lung without turning him into Bruce Lee
. Po had to beat Tai Lung by being the best version of himself. I had taken taichi
and aikido
in my youth, so was familiar with the ideas of ‘hard’ versus ‘soft’ forms of martial arts. Obviously Po had to epitomize ‘soft’ while Tai Lung would be the living embodiment of ‘hard.’ Soft style martial arts seek to re-direct the force of an attacker back against them, and upset their balance. In aikido, there are no offensive moves, you cannot instigate an attack, only defend yourself from one.

“This seemed appropriate for Po … and reminded me of another of my cartoon heroes: Bugs Bunny. In the Bugs films directed by Chuck Jones
, he never provoked or started a conflict. But when trouble found him, watch out. Bugs would demolish the guy. We had also read the
Tao Te Ching
by Lao-tzu
and had found in the seventy-sixth verse the stanza ‘the hard and strong will fall, the soft and weak will overcome’ — which gave us the philosophical underpinnings to go along with our martial arts approach.”

Not only did they have their approach, but they also included foreshadowing to the monumental moment. “Rodolphe had drawn extensive boards of Po fighting the training dummy when he first meets The Furious Five. Originally this was a much more elaborate scene with Po launching repeated assaults on the dummy and getting bounced off. That scene eventually got boiled down to just one punch from Po in the final movie. Then we also used to have a protracted scene of Tai Lung attacking Po in front of his gang of wolf bandits (before we realized Tai Lung was so tough he didn’t need a gang), and Po just kept on bouncing back like the dummy until Tai Lung was humiliated.

“As in the dummy training scene, this got refined down to one huge blow from Tai Lung (provoked by his anger at not understanding the secret of the Dragon
Scroll), and Po acting like the training dummy — returning Tai Lung’s force ten-fold. Simon Wells
did the final boards for this scene. Po looks at his hands in wonder, because that is the moment when he finally believes without any doubt that he can do it. He accepts that he is the Dragon Warrior
, a kung fu master and the only one able to stop Tai Lung. And that makes him happy.”

It also made kung fu students, kung fu teachers, kung fu film fans, and moviegoers happy all over the world. Despite the fact that projections for its opening weekend topped out at about thirty million dollars,
Kung Fu Panda
made twice that in three days — making it DreamWorks Animation’s biggest opening for a non-sequel film. It went on to become the highest grossing animated movie of the year (and the third-highest overall, animated or live action). But in terms of this book’s subject, it also did something unprecedented: it was reported that the Chinese Government chided its own film industry for not doing something like it first. And, unlike
Forbidden Kingdom
or even
Crouching Tiger
, the film was also a big hit in China.

It has now spawned a sequel, as well as a TV series on Nickelodeon (for which I was asked to do a second seminar – one of the unexpected rewards for which serves as my “about the author” picture on the back cover). “
Kung Fu Panda
was a huge labor of love for everyone who worked for more than four years to bring it to the screen,” John Stevenson concluded. “It was always hard work, but it was work we loved. It will always be a happy memory for me. I hope King Hu and Jim Henson would have liked it.”

Picture identifications (clockwise from upper left):

Sammo Hung
vs. Donnie Yen
in
Ip Man
2
; Wu Jing
in
Master of Taichi
; Stephen Chow
in
Kung Fu Hustle
; Michael Jai White
in
Blood and Bone
; Tony Jaa
in
Ong Bak
2
; Andy Lau
and Nicholas Tse in
Shaolin
.

At the end of the first decade in the 21
st
century, kung fu films ar
e back to where they started. Although an animated Panda has shown Westerners the way, for the most part, kung fu films have retreated from Hollywood — which has made it clear that they not only do not understand, but don’t particularly appreciate the cinematic technique involved. One of the very few who does is Michael Jai White
.

Born in Brooklyn, New York, then raised in Bridgeport, Connecticut, he started soaking in martial arts at the age of seven. “I was taken by it from the first moment I saw a kung fu movie,” he told me. “It was
Five Fingers of Death,
and it scared the life out of me! I was too young to see a picture where they were tearing eyes out of people. After that there was a kung fu craze. I had a picture of Joe Louis on my wall, and I said when I grow up I want to look like that! I wanted to be powerful and have that prowess.”

By the time he was fourteen, he had worked extensively with Eric Chen
and his teacher Wu Bin
, who was the coach of the prestigious Beijing wushu team — as well as sparred with Bill Wallace
, among many other world champion boxers and kickboxers. Through all of them, he not only learned about the external martial aspect, but the internal, self-improvement aspect as well. “When I was a celebrated fighter, I was less of a martial artist. I didn’t want to win as much as I wanted to learn something. I respect every opportunity to better myself. It’s really about that.”

All along, White was winning multiple contests, and teaching. His desire for learning developed as fast as his physique. “When I got a chance to start martial arts I trained incessantly. I didn’t play basketball or baseball, I practiced martial arts. Meanwhile I would take acting and filmmaking classes for fun. Started going on auditions, and landed three things at the same time. At that point I figured I had better start paying attention to this.”

Producers and directors had certainly already started paying attention to him. After extensive experience in New York plays, White followed his agent out to Hollywood where he found parts in cheap movies (1989’s
The Toxic Avenger
Parts II
and
III
, for example) and TV series before nailing the lead role of boxing champ Mike Tyson
in the
Tyson
(1995) TV movie. That led to playing the title superhero in the live action movie version of the comic book
Spawn
(1997).

To his fans and peers, he was best known as an actor, but his friends knew his consummate kung fu skills. Throughout his career, White wanted to meld both, and it would look like he would be able to do just that when Quentin Tarantino
came calling with a major supporting role in
Kill Bill
.

“At first I was supposed to do a much larger role in the movie,” he revealed. “There was a whole casino sequence where Bill (David Carradine
) was originally going to be introduced. I was the guy running the place, and Samuel L. Jackson
was going to do a cameo as the piano player. I was going to be a tuxedo-and-Hanzo-sword-wearing boss who’s partnered with the piano player’s wife. But later on, Quentin changed it. I didn’t take that personally, because we were friends before I went to work with him. Then, later, he called with the idea of a flashback to highlight David Carradine
’s skill because, one, he wanted a fight scene with me, and two, the audience had never seen David’s prowess. Although it didn’t really fit even then, I still got to go to Beijing, meet Gordon Liu
, and had a great time. But I wasn’t surprised when it didn’t make the final cut.”

Happily, the edited fight scene is available for viewing on the
Kill Bill
Volume 2
DVD, and it inspired White to take an even greater role in shaping his own destiny. “I’ve always been a writer, so when I’m not satisfied with scripts I’m getting I write my own.”
Blood and Bone
(2009) was a prime example, and White’s first major showcase displaying both external brawn and internal skill. “It’s not the muscle,” he said, “it’s the technique.”

It was also a satisfying experience, and, even before he finished making the film, he already had his next film prepared. “I finished
Blood and Bone
and started
Black Dynamite
ten days later,” he said. “I knew I had to take the reins on it because all too often people in power at the major studios can’t admit when they don’t know how to do something right. I knew how to do this movie, so I didn’t want to go the studio route.”
Black Dynamite
(2009), a delightful satire of the blaxploitation genre, became an international phenomenon — showing White the way to make a childhood dream come true.

“I want to continue this way, especially for kung fu films,” he explained. “Usually the best martial artists are not self-promoters, so a lot of Hollywood martial art films are choreographed by people who really don’t know a lot of, or a lot about, martial arts. I’d love to change that. In fact, I feel like I haven’t even gotten in my stride yet. Martial arts is pervasive all over the world and is a great money maker. Great kung fu, and how it should be depicted, is not going to come from the studio system. I want to find good people, stick with them, and do great work.”

As Michael Jai White
uses his many talents to change the course of live action American kung fu films, John Woo
slowly reclaimed his reputation by returning to China to make
Red Cliff
Part One
(2008) and
Two
(2009). An epic examination of the battles that ended the Han Dynasty in 209 AD, it cost more than any Asian-financed film in history, and presented Woo with incredible obstacles and challenges — not the least of which was Chow Yun-fat
exiting the lead role. He was replaced with Tony Leung
(as he had been before during
Bullet in the Head
).

As exciting as the sweeping saga was — with Woo filling the screen with extraordinary beauty, and deftly resting the fate of a war on a change of wind and a cup of tea — the real treat for kung fu fans was the production’s realization of several historical martial art icons. Generals Guan Yu and Zhang Fei will be familiar to anyone who’s ever visited a Chinese souvenir shop … although they might not recognize their names. Both men are the models for multiple sculptures in every medium.

But, as realized in
Red Cliff
by actors Ba Sen Zha-bu
and Zhang Jin-sheng
, respectively, then choreographed by Corey Yuen Kwai
, these seemingly mythical characters are brought to life in several show-stopping “battlefield-fu” sequences — ala Orlando Bloom
’s Legolas in the
Lord of the Rings
movies (as you may recall, Legolas was really the only character given a virtuoso fighting scene in all three films). But, as previously stated, it was these terrific displays of kung fu prowess that were either eliminated or homogenized in the two-hour-thirty-minute U.S. version of the original three hundred and twenty-minute, two-part Chinese version. The reported reason for the editing was that these superlative kung fu displays were “unrealistic.” So, again, “standard operating ignorance” takes its place alongside “standard operating racism.”

In any case, both the Chinese and American versions of
Red Cliff
were worthwhile and successful — winning awards and setting new box office records in Asia. John Woo
recovered from the arduous production by helping out with
Reign of Assassins
(2010), his first flat-out wuxia
film, co-directed by Su Chiao-pin
and starring Michelle Yeoh
. Premiering at the Venice Film Festival, it took another great step in reinstating Woo’s cinematic standing, garnering rave reviews for its action, humor, and filmmaking verve in every corner of the world.

But Woo, then sixty-four years old, is just one of the old guard still fighting his way into the new century. Zhang Yimou
, having illuminated kung fu and wuxia
films with the magnificent
Hero
, mysterious
House of Flying Daggers
, and maddening
Curse of the Golden Flower
, has moved on to other genres. Yuen Wo-ping
, sixty-five years old in 2010, and Liu Chia-liang
, seventy-four, started collecting lifetime achievement awards. Jackie Chan
, fifty-seven, loves making movies, but keeps announcing his eventual exit from doing elaborate on-screen kung fu. Same with Jet Li
, forty-seven.

So what is a genre to do? Well, there’s always China. Although the Peking Opera
Schools are closed in Hong Kong, the China Sports Universities are still going strong. China’s history is all about kung fu, and, although the government stresses the sports version, wushu, that’s more than enough for filmmakers and action actors. It’s also more than enough for the Asian movie industry, which finds kung fu films far easier to get approved by the ever-vigilant Chinese Communist Party than almost anything else. So, if any actor knows kung fu, they have a great shot at longevity. Just ask Sammo Hung
, Yuen Baio
, Chen Kuan-tai
, Lo Mang
, and Fung Hak-on
— all old school stars who work as much as they want to.

But 21
st
century China is a double-edged sword for kung fu film hopefuls. While the old guard are back at work, the men who might have been Jackie or Jet are in a holding pattern. Clearly the biggest kung fu-star-waiting-to-happen is Jacky Wu Jing
, aka Jason Wu. Another graduate of the Beijing Sport University, he was discovered by Yuen Wo-ping
, who was looking for someone to help him better capture the power and beauty of taichi
on screen. He looked no further than Wu Jing.

Born in 1974 into a royal Manchurian family, his father was an assistant coach of the Beijing Wushu Team who sent his son to start training at the age of six. That’s where Wo-ping found him fifteen years later. Following
The Tai Chi Master
with Jet and Michelle Yeoh
, Master Yuen wanted to try again with
Tai Chi II
(1996). It was within this film that Wu’s character took on the first name Jacky, and it stuck. Although Wu’s charm was obvious, and his kung fu technique phenomenal, the plot was even goosier than in the original.

Even so, Yuen Wo-ping
signed Wu to a three-year contract, and kept them both busy with the landmark television series
New Shaolin Temple
(1998),
Swordsman of Flying Dagger
(1999), and, most notably,
Master of Taichi
(1997) — which contains the finest taichi
ever put on screen. Although available in a complete form on DVD, when Tai Seng
Entertainment cut the series down into an American TV movie, they inexplicably changed the title to
The Tai Chi Master
… creating endless confusion with the Jet Li
version.

Under any name, it contains some of the finest fights in kung fu film history. Using much the same cast as
Tai Chi II
, there is authentic taichi
throughout, as well as two taichi versus ba qua battles that remain the industry standard. The movie’s central sequence puts Wu in a Bruce Lee
situation: having to fight five true martial art masters, each on a different floor of a pagoda, but Yuen takes the
Game of Death
conceit and turns it into a magnificent kung fu lesson in both physical and mental martial arts.

Although the pagoda fights are the most memorable, the final fight is the most interesting and telling. Forced to face an obstinate, rage-full general (expertly played by Billy Chow
), the entire confrontation is the finest “hard” versus “soft” kung fu fight ever conceived and executed — from the pre-battle stretching to the post-battle realization. All three TV series were hugely successful throughout Asia. At any other time in modern history, they would have heralded the discovery of a new kung fu star, but when Wu Jing
left Yuen’s wing, the Hong Kong film industry was in deep, post-1997 takeover, post-Japanese-economic-meltdown, post Triad-mobster-infiltration funk.