KUNG FU KORNER: Why I Love Kung Fu Cinema

I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I have a thing for old-school Kung Fu movies. I mean OK, sure, when they stand against a rich and varied history of world cinema they might seem like disposable cultural artifacts that don't have much to offer other than chop-socky viscera. But, as we learned from watching the carnage unfold after the small ragamuffin floor-mop boy turned into the unholy fire dragon drunken boxing ass kick machine, appearances can be deceiving. 

It's impossible to overstate how significant this explosively popular genre has been in the development of Hong Kong cinema. It brought attention - and much-needed revenue - to the Hong Kong film industry, allowing it to thrive and eventually, years down the line, its influence helped bring directors like John Woo and Ang Lee to international prominance.

Kung Fu cinema also cemented its version of Chinese culture as something of interest to people the world over. As a result Kung Fu filmmakers of the '60s, '70s and '80s, inspired perhaps by the success of westerns and samurai films and the desire to bring viewers back to theaters after the popularization of television, helped to establish a sense of Chinese identity and national pride. Setting Kung Fu films against the backdrop of various formative periods of China's socio-political uncertainty made for exciting adventure stories of chivalrous, noble heroes of action, all of whom seem to be fighting for their country or bloody revenge. Or both.

It's especially cool, however, that unlike trends in American westerns or Japanese samurai films - both genres that also romanticize the lawless rough patches in their countries' history - Kung Fu films seem to be more rooted in a classical, oral tradition of story-telling. We're not in subtlety country, here. Not only were these noble men and women of action fighting for what's right - and prevailing - but they were also able to fly, pull trees out of the ground and punch through rocks.

The heroes of most Kung Fu films tend to be mythologized in the same way that your uncle might describe the time he fought the Hells Angels and won. The legendary (super)heroes of these wuxia stories are larger than life and they helped make these adventure films even more exciting and fun to watch, each one more outrageous and fantastic than the last. This seems to indicate a conscious decision on the part of the filmmakers to try and elevate Kung Fu story-telling to the highest possible viscerally cinematic experience they were able to create. As a film-lover who gets a kick out of creative types who are constantly trying to top themselves, how could I possibly ignore these efforts? These films were tailor-made for someone like me.

During the 20 year period of that golden age of Kung Fu cinema, the conventions of the genre shifted and mutated in a way that may be directly related to its increase in international popularity. In the late '60s and early '70s, Kung Fu films were more story-driven and 'classically' cinematic: the camera work was more traditional and the martial arts were flashy enough to be impressive without seeming overly cartoonish. There was very little wire work used in the action scenes, relying instead on impressionistic camera tricks and creative, efficient choreography. In terms of filmmaking craft, many titles produced during these early years like The One-Armed Swordsman and Come Drink With Me feel very much like a direct response to the kind of films Sergio Leone and Akira Kurosawa were making.

By the mid-'70s and early '80s, however, Kung Fu films grew to be, in many cases, hilarious self-parodies that perhaps weren't as concerned with coherence and pacing as they were with hyper-stylized violence and absurd fantasy sequences. Films like 2 Champions of Shaolin and Holy Flame of the Martial World push the boundaries of reason and logic while simultaneously infusing a new level of blood lust into each character. The fighting became more and more acrobatic, theatrical, and ultra-violent, and almost every major fight scene included the use of wires to simulate impossible leaps and flips over roof-tops and fortress walls. Films made during this later period definitely seem to suggest that the creative well was drying up and also, perhaps, public interest; when you start to lose the crowd it only makes sense to yell louder and wave your arms harder.

The tragedy is that it's the films from this later period that many detractors of the genre might point to in order to knock it down a few pegs, rather than actually take the numerous high-quality contributions into account. Not all Kung Fu films are the same, just like not all western, horror or noir films are the same. For me, however, I personally love films from any period of this golden age of Kung Fu cinema. I love the romantic, classically forged adventure stories of the former, as well as the ridiculously over-the-top, hyper-violent nature of the latter.

As a whole, this genre fascinates me to no end, as it demonstrates on the part of the filmmakers a clear love of the medium of film as a means to tell stories in increasingly expressive ways. I love watching Kung Fu movies made by directors who try new things, experiment with their technical limitations and work with editors in ingenious ways to drive their stories deep into the viewer's consciousness. I also love the high attention to detail and the love that seemed to go into every single Kung Fu film's production design (well, every single Kung Fu film I've seen, anyways...). Mostly, though, I just love a good action/adventure story about good guys and bad guys beating the crap out of each other in ways that I can only dream about. That's why I love Kung Fu movies.
 
-Rajo