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This review contains mild spoilers.
I don’t necessarily think that The Way of the Dragon is a great kung fu movie, but I do think knowledge of its surrounding context helped me appreciate it a bit more. This was Bruce Lee’s third film for Golden Harvest, after two hits with The Big Boss and Fist of Fury. (Confusingly, The Big Boss has also been released as Fists of Fury in North America.) It was also Lee’s first film as director, which only happened after Lee tried to work out a deal with the rival Shaw Brothers studio, which had previously passed on him (or he’d passed on them) as a star. (It is interesting to contemplate if Lee’s cinematic output might be as fondly remembered had he gone with them instead of Golden Harvest. The more rigid house style and quality control of Shaw Brothers productions might make for better movies, but not necessarily ones that let their stars shine as strongly. But I also struggle to think of a Shaw Brothers star, of which there have been some greats, who are larger than life or at least bigger than the movies in the same way Lee was.) Lee at the same time was struggling to get American studios to take him seriously, and with this film was hoping to make something with international appeal that would get him noticed accordingly. While he was supposedly insecure about the film’s quality based on a lukewarm reaction from his brother, the film, on top of outgrossing his previous two films, succeeded in getting him noticed accordingly, as Warner Brothers soon gave him an offer to make Enter the Dragon.
The plot features Lee coming to Rome to help his restaurateuse cousin (the cute as a button Nora Miao, reuniting with him after Fist of Fury), who is antagonized by a white gangster looking to squeeze her for protection money, and it’s not hard to read that as a parallel for Lee’s struggles with the American film industry. The movie foregrounds Lee’s Chinese ethnicity, painting him as rather provincial and showing the characters celebrating Chinese New Year. But at the same time, the tone the movie strikes is quite a bit less nationalistic than Fist of Fury, where Lee declares that the Chinese are “not the sick men of East Asia” and kicks a sign that says “No dogs and Chinese allowed”. Here Lee is obviously proud of his heritage and shows off Chinese boxing to the audience, but he’s not above showing off other styles as well, regardless of origin. (It’s worth noting that his weapon of choice, the nunchaku, are Japanese in origin.) He casts a number of foreign martial artists, with at least one version of the opening credits listing out their qualifications. There’s Hwang In-Shik, the hapkido expert. There’s Robert Wall, who plays a heel here and would return to play heels in Enter the Dragon and Game of Death. And of course there’s Chuck Norris, who at this time was a decorated karate champion but not an established actor. (One wonders if he might have been cast in the John Saxon role in Enter the Dragon had he racked up more onscreen credits at the time. I love John Saxon and he certainly tries in the action scenes, but watching him in that movie is like seeing a kid on a tricycle compete in the Tour De France. Norris certainly would have been a better fit based on his abilities, despite being a weaker actor.)
Even when Lee defeats his foes (at least one of whom gets punched in the balls so hard that he dies), there’s a respect for their art, and Lee pleads for his allies to stop attacking a foe who had already surrendered. The climactic fight has Lee facing Norris in the ruins of the Coliseum (a soundstage during the fight itself, the real location in the surrounding scenes). Norris has a presence that can be flat in bad movies but is appropriately stonefaced here, as if his martial prowess transcends his personhood. The scene plays with a sense of timing that brings to mind spaghetti westerns, with Lee having to figure out how to adapt his style to defeat Norris. In that respect I don’t think it’s quite as accomplished as the Kareem Abdul-Jabbar fight in Game of Death in translating his martial arts philosophy, nor is the mise en scene as compellingly incorporated as the climax in Enter the Dragon, but it’s a highly entertaining fight nonetheless. When it reaches its end, the film strikes a melancholy tone, and Lee offers a gesture of respect to the fallen fighter, an indirect acknowledgement of the idea that the martial arts featured are greater than the specifics of the plot in this genre.
I don’t think The Way of the Dragon is a great kung fu film, as there’s enough dead air and lack of polish to keep it from greatness, but I’ve grown accustomed to the idea that some films are more fun to spend time in than get through and that applied to my viewing experience here. Lee is clearly working out a directing style here, and it’s enjoyable to see him play with tone, particularly in early scenes that pull from silent comedy where he has to figure out how to get a meal without speaking a word of English. There’s also a scene where his cousin lectures him on acclimating to local customs and informs him that people here are really friendly, resulting in him getting obliviously picked up by Italian Beauty Malisa Longo (as the credits refer to her, right after listing the martial artists in the cast). Lee’s magnetism as a performer can’t be overestimated, but I do like how he plays with his presence, making him not just heroic and highly skilled but also funny and kind of a rube. Regarding the action scenes, the crew apparently was not prepared for Lee’s insistence on multiple takes, so while they lack the slickness of the average Shaw Brothers production, they do a great job of showing off Lee’s martial arts prowess and physicality. The camera pores over Lee’s physique as he flexes in a manner akin to the hardbody action films of the ‘80s. (This happens most memorably prior to his fight with Norris, where his movements are likened to that of a nearby kitten.) This might seem arrogant in other situations but is easily justified here. Were I built like Lee (I am not) and directing myself in a kung fu movie (I am not), I would show off my body as well. In the words of Max Bialystock, when you’ve got it, flaunt it.
Way of the Dragon (Lee, 1972)
This review contains mild spoilers.
I don’t necessarily think that The Way of the Dragon is a great kung fu movie, but I do think knowledge of its surrounding context helped me appreciate it a bit more. This was Bruce Lee’s third film for Golden Harvest, after two hits with The Big Boss and Fist of Fury. (Confusingly, The Big Boss has also been released as Fists of Fury in North America.) It was also Lee’s first film as director, which only happened after Lee tried to work out a deal with the rival Shaw Brothers studio, which had previously passed on him (or he’d passed on them) as a star. (It is interesting to contemplate if Lee’s cinematic output might be as fondly remembered had he gone with them instead of Golden Harvest. The more rigid house style and quality control of Shaw Brothers productions might make for better movies, but not necessarily ones that let their stars shine as strongly. But I also struggle to think of a Shaw Brothers star, of which there have been some greats, who are larger than life or at least bigger than the movies in the same way Lee was.) Lee at the same time was struggling to get American studios to take him seriously, and with this film was hoping to make something with international appeal that would get him noticed accordingly. While he was supposedly insecure about the film’s quality based on a lukewarm reaction from his brother, the film, on top of outgrossing his previous two films, succeeded in getting him noticed accordingly, as Warner Brothers soon gave him an offer to make Enter the Dragon.
The plot features Lee coming to Rome to help his restaurateuse cousin (the cute as a button Nora Miao, reuniting with him after Fist of Fury), who is antagonized by a white gangster looking to squeeze her for protection money, and it’s not hard to read that as a parallel for Lee’s struggles with the American film industry. The movie foregrounds Lee’s Chinese ethnicity, painting him as rather provincial and showing the characters celebrating Chinese New Year. But at the same time, the tone the movie strikes is quite a bit less nationalistic than Fist of Fury, where Lee declares that the Chinese are “not the sick men of East Asia” and kicks a sign that says “No dogs and Chinese allowed”. Here Lee is obviously proud of his heritage and shows off Chinese boxing to the audience, but he’s not above showing off other styles as well, regardless of origin. (It’s worth noting that his weapon of choice, the nunchaku, are Japanese in origin.) He casts a number of foreign martial artists, with at least one version of the opening credits listing out their qualifications. There’s Hwang In-Shik, the hapkido expert. There’s Robert Wall, who plays a heel here and would return to play heels in Enter the Dragon and Game of Death. And of course there’s Chuck Norris, who at this time was a decorated karate champion but not an established actor. (One wonders if he might have been cast in the John Saxon role in Enter the Dragon had he racked up more onscreen credits at the time. I love John Saxon and he certainly tries in the action scenes, but watching him in that movie is like seeing a kid on a tricycle compete in the Tour De France. Norris certainly would have been a better fit based on his abilities, despite being a weaker actor.)
Even when Lee defeats his foes (at least one of whom gets punched in the balls so hard that he dies), there’s a respect for their art, and Lee pleads for his allies to stop attacking a foe who had already surrendered. The climactic fight has Lee facing Norris in the ruins of the Coliseum (a soundstage during the fight itself, the real location in the surrounding scenes). Norris has a presence that can be flat in bad movies but is appropriately stonefaced here, as if his martial prowess transcends his personhood. The scene plays with a sense of timing that brings to mind spaghetti westerns, with Lee having to figure out how to adapt his style to defeat Norris. In that respect I don’t think it’s quite as accomplished as the Kareem Abdul-Jabbar fight in Game of Death in translating his martial arts philosophy, nor is the mise en scene as compellingly incorporated as the climax in Enter the Dragon, but it’s a highly entertaining fight nonetheless. When it reaches its end, the film strikes a melancholy tone, and Lee offers a gesture of respect to the fallen fighter, an indirect acknowledgement of the idea that the martial arts featured are greater than the specifics of the plot in this genre.
I don’t think The Way of the Dragon is a great kung fu film, as there’s enough dead air and lack of polish to keep it from greatness, but I’ve grown accustomed to the idea that some films are more fun to spend time in than get through and that applied to my viewing experience here. Lee is clearly working out a directing style here, and it’s enjoyable to see him play with tone, particularly in early scenes that pull from silent comedy where he has to figure out how to get a meal without speaking a word of English. There’s also a scene where his cousin lectures him on acclimating to local customs and informs him that people here are really friendly, resulting in him getting obliviously picked up by Italian Beauty Malisa Longo (as the credits refer to her, right after listing the martial artists in the cast). Lee’s magnetism as a performer can’t be overestimated, but I do like how he plays with his presence, making him not just heroic and highly skilled but also funny and kind of a rube. Regarding the action scenes, the crew apparently was not prepared for Lee’s insistence on multiple takes, so while they lack the slickness of the average Shaw Brothers production, they do a great job of showing off Lee’s martial arts prowess and physicality. The camera pores over Lee’s physique as he flexes in a manner akin to the hardbody action films of the ‘80s. (This happens most memorably prior to his fight with Norris, where his movements are likened to that of a nearby kitten.) This might seem arrogant in other situations but is easily justified here. Were I built like Lee (I am not) and directing myself in a kung fu movie (I am not), I would show off my body as well. In the words of Max Bialystock, when you’ve got it, flaunt it.