Kung Fu Hustle *** (A must see) Directed by Stephen Chow Written by Chow, Tsang Kan Cheong, Xin Huo, Chan Man Keung With Chan, Kwok Kuen Chan, Qiu Yuen, Wah Yuen, and Siu Lung Leung
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Chow and his distributor, Sony Classics this time, have clearly packaged Kung Fu Hustle for American viewers, with an ad campaign that prominently displays Roger Ebert’s reference points: “Imagine a film in which Jackie Chan and Buster Keaton meet Quentin Tarantino and Bugs Bunny.” Chow’s choice of story, a loving homage to kung fu classics of the 70s, also heightens its crossover potential. The plot–what little there is of it–has Chow playing a two-bit hustler who sets off a showdown between the Axe Gang, a hatchet-toting triad of dark-suited dandies, and the humble peasant residents of a tenement slum known as Pig Sty Alley, led by their shrill landlady. This is classic Chow–colorful underdogs triumphing over thoroughly booable villains–and it’s one reason Chinese audiences have embraced the ultrawealthy celebrity actor-director.
In Sixty Million Dollar Man Chow plays a bionic shape-shifter who defeats a Terminator-like killer by turning into the most feared member of Hong Kong society –the grammar-school headmistress–then disposes of the robot by turning into a microwave oven and zapping it into oblivion. Such gags may baffle Americans –much of the humor in Chow’s early hits relies on giddy references to Hong Kong pop culture and untranslatable wordplay in his native Cantonese dialect–but they’re a major reason Chow’s films became a cultural phenomenon in Hong Kong, mainland China, and Taiwan. By using familiar domestic elements of Hong Kong life to defeat a technological threat, he’s giving Chinese audiences the empowering sense that the tools they need to overcome oppression can be found in their own daily lives. Many Chinese who admire his cheerfully subversive mode of contending with imminent disasters have appropriated his attitude to cope with the hardships of living in or near China–Hong Kong’s transition to Communist rule, the SARS epidemic, the endless stream of media reports that mirror government propaganda–and it might even encourage them to challenge political authority. Yet it’s also become part of a detached nihilistic posture prevalent among alienated Chinese youths.
As with John Ford’s Wagonmaster or Jacques Tati’s Playtime, the absence of a central star reinforces the sense of community that’s integral to the creative vision being presented. Indeed, Chow’s insistence on showcasing a community is ultimately what makes Kung Fu Hustle more than just computer-enhanced chop-socky or decaffeinated mo lei tau. The tenement setting is clearly idealized, but the details recall a way of life that’s cherished by Chinese audiences–and they’re vivid enough to be appreciated across cultures. A tracking shot across the doorways of each tenement apartment reveals men playing Chinese chess, the landlady beating her cheating husband, a bare-bottomed boy taking a dump in a corridor.
