In the mid-to-late ‘70s this eleven year old would pack a lunch, grab his allowance, lie to his parents about going to the museum and jump on a downtown bus for a full day of losing himself in whatever schlocky, R-rated grinder was playing that Saturday afternoon. It was a glorious rotation of cheesy horror, kick-ass blacksploitation, urban actioners, and poorly dubbed kung-fu genre flicks, and before my family would move far away from the bus lines, the two best years of bang-for-the-buck movie-going I would ever experience.
The audience was half the fun and didn’t care that these were second, third and fourth run films they’d seen so many times before. Like me, most were underage but also there for an immersive good time. In the back rows the alcoholics slept one off and make-out artists practiced their art, while dead in the middle of the action I’d sit quietly munching peanut butter sandwiches lost in the wonder of it all. When the movies sucked – which was most of the time – the audience became the entertainment, but when the audience was quiet – enraptured — that meant more than any critics’ thumbs up … and never do I remember more silence than during these four minutes:
No wire work, no shaky-cam, no hyper-editing, nothing speeded up in post… Other than sound-effects and rehearsal this is the real deal — all Bruce Lee – pulling off what for my money ranks as the greatest fight scene of its kind. I love how the camera stays on Lee; how he holds his ground as the faceless henchmen come to him; how Lee’s eyes focus on nothing so they can focus on everything; and oh how I love those nun chucks.
Most of all, I love that thirty-years on “Enter the Dragon” still thrills.
Don’t think. FEEL. It is like a finger pointing away to the moon. Do not concentrate on the finger or you will miss all that heavenly glory.
The villain is Han (Kien Shah), a renegade Shaolin Monk who’s now the crime lord of his own private island where he traffics in drug-addicted sex slaves and holds a tri-annual martial arts tournament. To avenge his sister and restore honor to the Shaolin Temple Han disgraced, Lee (Bruce Lee) agrees to work with the authorities and enter the tournament undercover in order to gain access to the island and collect evidence.
The contestants are taken by water taxi to the island. Through flashback we learn that Roper (John Saxon) is a gambling addict with the mob looking to punch his ticket and Williams (Jim Kelly) is a wanted man after getting into a racial scuffle with a couple of racist cops. Both served in Vietnam together. Both hope a tournament win might mean a second chance.
It is difficult to associate these horrors with the proud civilizations that created them: Sparta, Rome, The Knights of Europe, the Samurai… They worshipped strength, because it is strength that makes all other values possible. Nothing survives without it. Who knows what delicate wonders have died out of the world, for want of the strength to survive.
To put these plot points into place, 45 minutes will pass before the tournament gets under way – about twice the time a modern actioner might take – but well worth it.
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Jim Kelly talking to “Mr. Han-Man!”
Lee’s charisma and incredible fight choreography are why you watch, but the subplot involving Roper and Williams is the heart of the picture, the love story if you will, and why “Dragon” endures even more than Lee’s other films. Everything comes down to a point where Saxon’s desperate and somewhat sordid character is offered all he’s ever wanted and he’s ready to go for it until a particular moment arises when he’s asked to look the other way. His decision is the film’s one major turning point and a very satisfying one
Boards don’t hit back.
At sixty years of age and sporting a fierce widow’s peak, our villain Han isn’t what you expect. I’m unaware of any evidence that might back this, but I’ve always believed Han was meant to be a stand-in for then President Nixon. This was 1973 and most B-grinders came with a hearty dose of “social consciousness.” Going after The Man (and in the early ‘70s Nixon was The Man’s Man) not only appealed to audiences but served as a fig leaf of social importance for all the sex and violence.
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Bruce Lee was never a great actor but on Oscar night you could set off the fire sprinklers in the Kodak Theatre and not wet half the charisma Lee carried so effortlessly. Lee was pure movie star with a one-of-a-kind screen presence. Forget the action scenes. Watch him move. Watch him cross a room. The cult of personality that grew up around his death might be bullshit, but Lee wasn’t. There’s never been anyone like him, and as a fight choreographer he is unequaled.
A good fight should be like a small play but, played seriously. When the opponent expands, I contract. When he contracts, I expand. And when the opportunity presents itself, I do not hit. It hits all by itself.
With some exceptions like “The Matrix,” showy stunts, effects and editing only serve to undermine fight sequences. The key to a successful screen brawl is plausibility and this requires precise choreography, a lot of rehearsal and the camera staying the hell out of the way. No matter how big or numerous his opponents, whether it was a single kick or the iconic mirrored climax, Lee’s incredible skills as a performer (he was an accomplished martial artist in real life) and choreographer sold it like few others.
“Enter the Dragon” is Bruce Lee’s masterpiece and while he would live to see the finished film he died of a cerebral edema before it made him the international screen star he worked so hard to become.
He was 32.
from Big Hollywood
