The Forbidden Kingdom
Directed by Rob Minkoff
Opening with a mountain-peak image of the Monkey King, a half-man, half-simian warrior showing off his prowess with a magical spear, The Forbidden Kingdom’s high-flying exhilaration strikes the right note for the first onscreen pairing of action-movie legends Jet Li and Jackie Chan. That mountaintop overture promises that this summit meeting won’t be like De Niro and Pacino’s boring stare-down in Heat: This clash of titans will—literally—soar.
Just as you’d want it, Chan and Li are not adversaries. Both play heroes—drunken Kung Fu master Lu Yan (Chan) and maverick warrior Silent Monk (Li). Their roles are balanced as they unite to help Jason (Michael Angarano), an American kid who slipped backward through time, survive an ancient Chinese battle, rescue the imprisoned Monkey King and get back to his present-day home. Lu Yan and Silent Monk each show Jason the meaning of kung fu (“he must learn speed, accuracy, power”). Their teacher-pupil montages not only parody The Karate Kid but also take Uma Thurman’s Kill Bill training sequences and treat them as comical myths. Every fighting move—Drunken Fist, Praying Mantis vs. Tiger, Intercepting Fist and Buddha’s Palm—is presented as a fabled gesture in Hong Kong lore. It’s Li and Chan’s athletic and artistic supremacy doing these moves that has entranced moviegoers (especially kids) across the globe.
Rather than infantilizing HK action cinema or subordinating it to the needs of Western audiences (as if providing life-lessons to Jason made HK culture significant), the artists behind The Forbidden Kingdom respect Chan and Li’s artistry. In the neighborhood store where Jason buys rare kung-fu DVDs, the old Chinese proprietor teases him, “You watch too much Hong Kong Phooey. Crouching Tiger, Spanking Monkey”—a joke on how an authentic pop culture has been trivialized and misunderstood in the West. This won’t be a dull-witted genre parody like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s 1993 The Last Action Hero: It’s a tribute.
Director Rob Minkoff brings appropriate expertise. As the director of Disney’s The Lion King and the F/X family film Stuart Little, Minkoff knows that scale and movement make HK cinema special. His animation background frees him from the stolidity of most American filmmakers. That first mountaintop sequence features the amazement of spatial distance and flight. He appreciates what’s cheesy and corny in HK, but he can also do what’s freakin’ fantastic. His imagery—his choreographed geometry—fits right in with Chan and Li’s élan.
In recent years, most American action movies have been either lame or chaotic, like the jittery Bourne contraptions, while the finest Chinese filmmakers have turned action cinema into visionary masterworks—Chen Kaige’s The Promise, Zhang Yimou’s Hero and Curse of the Golden Flower and Stephen Chow’s Kung Fu Hustle. This is the standard saluted by Minkoff, screenwriter John Fusco, cinematographer Peter Pau and fight master Yuen Wo Ping. Jason’s trip back in time lets the filmmakers explore the mythic past—“Through the gate of no gate,” Jason is told. His journey to Five Elements Mountain with Lu Yan, Silent Monk and the orphan girl Golden Sparrow (Liu Yifei) is a Wizard of Oz–like trip but with HK splendor.
The many worthy images include the group of misfits walking along the snaking crests of sand dunes—vistas that pan from mountains to a valley of blossoming trees. In one fight, Jade War Lord’s (Collin Chou) soldiers ride through tree blooms, which is an epiphany worthy of Shakespeare’s Birnam Wood. The climactic Five Elements temple battle becomes a mini epic. Li Bingbing as the White-Haired Witch shows sensational aggression; her clawing poses give extravagant definition to cat-fighting. Yet it’s Chan and Li, older and slightly less quicksilver, who fulfill the special purpose of HK cinema. They fight heroically—with hope of faith, fairness, goodness and triumphant justice.
The Forbidden Kingdom isn’t one of the greatest HK epics, but it’s a fan’s delight. In the sequence where Golden Sparrow recounts her childhood bereavement, Minkoff’s dissolve from a child hidden in a well to the pool of tears in the adult Golden Sparrow’s eyes proves he understands the aesthetics and the spirit of HK cinema. Fan loyalty is respected.
Directed by Rob Minkoff
Opening with a mountain-peak image of the Monkey King, a half-man, half-simian warrior showing off his prowess with a magical spear, The Forbidden Kingdom’s high-flying exhilaration strikes the right note for the first onscreen pairing of action-movie legends Jet Li and Jackie Chan. That mountaintop overture promises that this summit meeting won’t be like De Niro and Pacino’s boring stare-down in Heat: This clash of titans will—literally—soar.
Just as you’d want it, Chan and Li are not adversaries. Both play heroes—drunken Kung Fu master Lu Yan (Chan) and maverick warrior Silent Monk (Li). Their roles are balanced as they unite to help Jason (Michael Angarano), an American kid who slipped backward through time, survive an ancient Chinese battle, rescue the imprisoned Monkey King and get back to his present-day home. Lu Yan and Silent Monk each show Jason the meaning of kung fu (“he must learn speed, accuracy, power”). Their teacher-pupil montages not only parody The Karate Kid but also take Uma Thurman’s Kill Bill training sequences and treat them as comical myths. Every fighting move—Drunken Fist, Praying Mantis vs. Tiger, Intercepting Fist and Buddha’s Palm—is presented as a fabled gesture in Hong Kong lore. It’s Li and Chan’s athletic and artistic supremacy doing these moves that has entranced moviegoers (especially kids) across the globe.
Rather than infantilizing HK action cinema or subordinating it to the needs of Western audiences (as if providing life-lessons to Jason made HK culture significant), the artists behind The Forbidden Kingdom respect Chan and Li’s artistry. In the neighborhood store where Jason buys rare kung-fu DVDs, the old Chinese proprietor teases him, “You watch too much Hong Kong Phooey. Crouching Tiger, Spanking Monkey”—a joke on how an authentic pop culture has been trivialized and misunderstood in the West. This won’t be a dull-witted genre parody like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s 1993 The Last Action Hero: It’s a tribute.
Director Rob Minkoff brings appropriate expertise. As the director of Disney’s The Lion King and the F/X family film Stuart Little, Minkoff knows that scale and movement make HK cinema special. His animation background frees him from the stolidity of most American filmmakers. That first mountaintop sequence features the amazement of spatial distance and flight. He appreciates what’s cheesy and corny in HK, but he can also do what’s freakin’ fantastic. His imagery—his choreographed geometry—fits right in with Chan and Li’s élan.
In recent years, most American action movies have been either lame or chaotic, like the jittery Bourne contraptions, while the finest Chinese filmmakers have turned action cinema into visionary masterworks—Chen Kaige’s The Promise, Zhang Yimou’s Hero and Curse of the Golden Flower and Stephen Chow’s Kung Fu Hustle. This is the standard saluted by Minkoff, screenwriter John Fusco, cinematographer Peter Pau and fight master Yuen Wo Ping. Jason’s trip back in time lets the filmmakers explore the mythic past—“Through the gate of no gate,” Jason is told. His journey to Five Elements Mountain with Lu Yan, Silent Monk and the orphan girl Golden Sparrow (Liu Yifei) is a Wizard of Oz–like trip but with HK splendor.
The many worthy images include the group of misfits walking along the snaking crests of sand dunes—vistas that pan from mountains to a valley of blossoming trees. In one fight, Jade War Lord’s (Collin Chou) soldiers ride through tree blooms, which is an epiphany worthy of Shakespeare’s Birnam Wood. The climactic Five Elements temple battle becomes a mini epic. Li Bingbing as the White-Haired Witch shows sensational aggression; her clawing poses give extravagant definition to cat-fighting. Yet it’s Chan and Li, older and slightly less quicksilver, who fulfill the special purpose of HK cinema. They fight heroically—with hope of faith, fairness, goodness and triumphant justice.
The Forbidden Kingdom isn’t one of the greatest HK epics, but it’s a fan’s delight. In the sequence where Golden Sparrow recounts her childhood bereavement, Minkoff’s dissolve from a child hidden in a well to the pool of tears in the adult Golden Sparrow’s eyes proves he understands the aesthetics and the spirit of HK cinema. Fan loyalty is respected.
