From heroes of the people to superstars of the world, Chinese Kung-fu artists have come light years away from the simple, incognito guardians of temples, officials and small villages of the past to dominate the world cinematic stage. They are a continuing, palpitating presence of the Chinese past in the global imaginary. The present lecture treating Hou Yuanjia, Bruce Lee and Jet Li, offers a historical way of viewing the nationalization and commodification of the Kung-fu master in twentieth century, diasporic China. Tracing the lives, films and fames of these artists suggests a compelling narrative by which we may witness a traditional Chinese cultural practice evolve into a nationalistic and world-wide, financial force of entertainment.
Huo Yuanjia (霍元甲)(1868-1910)
Huo’s story is the stuff made of legend. He was raised in a family of boxers, where his father made a living as a bodyguard. Fighting prowess, however, was not the only skill passed down through the Huo generations. Legend has it that Huo’s father turned down on principle the offers of all the Fat Cats and officials who petitioned his services. Instead, his father was satisfied to lend his services only to those who truly needed it: the poor and misfortunate. He was morally opposed to backing corrupt officials and merchants no matter how enticing the offer (a genuine superhero). Huo, would absorb this sincerity for the masses that would come to characterize his history. At first, though, his future as a martial artist was dim. His father refused to teach a son so obviously physically disadvantaged. The potential damage to the family reputation was too great. But constant, secret training done at night turned him into an adept Labyrinthine boxer (密宗拳).
After his childhood years, Huo moved to Shanghai, a major international port city during the late Qing, where he ardently promoted the martial arts and established an institution called the Jingwu Gym (1910). He was a frequent contestant in international martial arts bouts and was widely known as the defeater of the Japanese and the Occidental strongmen. One of his most famous matches was with a Russian who had moved into Tianjin selling his arts and claiming to be the world’s greatest fighter (1901). Rumors flew that he disparaged the Chinese and their meager martial arts; China and its people were sickly (病夫之国). Huo was enticed by the Westerner’s claims and challenged to take him on in the ring. The crowd mocked him as he approached the mat, but he paid no attention. When he met his Russian contender, he said proudly, “I’m sickly, Asian Huo Yuanjia come to measure up with you on the mat” (“我是‘东亚病夫’霍元甲，愿在这台上与你较量”). Huo proposed two conditions and one consequence to the Russian: (1) retract his claim to be the world’s best fighter, (2) publically apologize for insulting the Chinese empire, or (3) fight to the death. The Russian having heard of Huo’s fame accepted the conditions and snuck out of town. (There are other accounts of similar things happening with foreign challengers). Huo’s fame spread so widely that Qing rebel and Father of the Chinese Republic, Sun Zhongshan (Sun Yat-sen) indicated Huo as the example of the health and vibrant spirit of the Chinese people: “If you want to make China strong, you must study the martial arts.” In his own hand, Sun wrote calligraphy that hung in Huo’s gym.
Huo's death occurred mysteriously, some believe at the hands of Japanese visitors to Shanghai. In 1910, a team of Judo masters came to Shanghai to test Huo and his students’ metal. They were soundly defeated. It was at a general banquet after the competition that Huo supposedly ingested poison. He died shortly thereafter. As a result of his exploits and fame, however, the martial arts experienced an explosion in interest. A decade after his passing, over 40 branches of his gym had been established with over 40,000 ascribed disciples.
Bruce Lee (李小龙)(1940-1973)
In posthumous evaluations of Bruce Lee’s life, all contributions find their ultimate significance in Lee’s success in publicizing the Chinese martial arts. Of all the things he was and the titles he was given (e.g. “One of the World’s Seven Best Fighters,” “Kung-fu King,” “The Emperor of Martial Arts,” etc.), the one that tied together all his other successes was the attribution that he was the most effective at promoting world-wide Kung-fu. Without that intense marketing and exposure, all other contributions might have remained personal gains, but they would have never ruptured the East/West divide on such a grand scale as he did in accelerating Hollywood’s affair with China and by spurring philosophical, intellectual and athletic interest in traditional, Chinese martial arts the world over. Thus, Bruce Lee’s expansive influence, largely taken for granted in its current pervasiveness, is a consequence of his relationship to the media, principally the videocamera. In many ways, Lee’s role as oriental object, and later director, of the international media blazed the trail for future Chinese actors, actresses and directors to assume prestigious heights in international cinema.
Lee’s first appearances on stage began long before his martial arts exploits. At the time of his birth in San Francisco in 1940, Lee’s father was counted among the most renowned actors of Hong Kong opera. Rumor has it that as an infant Lee was coddled around on stage. As a child growing up in Hong Kong, he would appear in numerous local films. In fact, before he left for the United States in 1959, he had already appeared in 20 productions. He was on course to becoming a famous actor like his father, but because of a scuffle with local gangs Bruce was forced to emigrate for his safety. While in the States, Bruce abandoned his dreams of becoming an actor and gave himself over to his childhood love for the martial arts. What had really began as a suggestion by his father to toughen up, became in his twenties a consuming passion while studying (or not studying) at the University of Washington in Seattle. The rest, as they say, is history. We look at Bruce Lee today for his interpretation of icon Huo Yuanjian in the film, Chinese Connection.
Materials:
Chinese Connection (1972)
Fearless (2006)
Questions:
(1) How is Kung-fu used as a tool for Chinese nationalism?
(2) Is the way Kung-fu used in these histories a means to modernization or the resistance of it?
(3) What is ironic about the use of cinema to lionize the power of a traditional Chinese art?
Links:
*Jet Li, Fearless (O'Brien Scene)
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