Dateline:
San Francisco, 1964. Bruce Lee is the most prominent martial artist on the West
Coast, poised for motion picture superstardom. Just ask him, he’ll be happy to
tell you. Wong Jack Man was a traditional Shaolin practitioner who came to
America to do penance. He would find redemption by helping the cocky Lee
reconnect with the spiritual dimension of Kung Fu. At least that is how their
mythic behind-closed-doors martial arts match is framed in George Nolfi’s Birth of the Dragon (trailer here), which is now
playing in New York.
The
fight between Lee and Wong remains a real life martial arts Rashomon. Who won depends on who you
ask. Lee partisans have a greater platform to make their case, but if you dive
deep enough into San Francisco’s Chinatown, you will find old-timers who claim
Wong really won.
According
to Birth, Wong was not in San
Francisco to serve as a Kung Fu cop, but to lower himself after disgracefully
maiming an honorable opponent in an exhibition match. Some claim Wong was
outraged to find Lee teaching dorky white guys. Initially, he does indeed have
his reservations, yet he spends a heck of a lot of time trying to pass on some
wisdom to Steve McKee, Lee’s former hotheaded Hoosier student. In fact, McKee
will serve as a catalyst for the controversial match, when Wong finally agrees
to fight Lee partly to secure the freedom of the student’s not-so-secret
girlfriend Xiulan Quan from Chinatown human trafficker Auntie Blossom. However,
he also hopes a dose of humility will do wonders for Lee’s karma.
Reportedly,
Birth has been dramatically re-edited
from the cut that screened at last year’s TIFF. At the time, the Lee family
made their lack of amusement very clear. Yes, Nolfi and screenwriters Stephen
J. Rivele and Christopher Wilkinson (adapting an article originally published
in Official Karate, perhaps
representing a motion picture first) portray Lee as being boastful and
ambitious. However, nobody comes up through the mean streets to become an international
movie icon if they’re a shrinking violet. Nevertheless, the film is obviously aligned
with Team Wong (giving it a distinctly different perspective), but they
eventually try bring the two masters into harmony, setting them against the
villains of Chinatown. That might not satisfy Lee or Wong loyalists, but it is
exactly what the rest of us want to see.
No
matter which sifu you identify with, you have to admit Philip Ng Wan-lung is a
spooky dead-ringer for Lee. If there was a curse, it might turn on him now. Plus,
he is deeply steeped in Wing Chun, so the fight scenes he choreographed in
collaboration with Cory Yuen (credited as “fight designer”) look spectacular,
but there is also a grittiness to them that is in keeping with Lee’s classic
films.
Yet,
Yu Xia (somewhat ironically) takes ownership of the film as the self-effacing Shaolin
master. He makes Wong’s complicated mixture guilt and enlightenment look pretty
darn charismatic. He also forges some appealing mentor-student chemistry with
Billy Magnussen’s McKee, whose likable screen presence will frustrate those who
would resent his screen time. Of course, it is always fun to see Ron Yuan do
his thing as Auntie Blossom’s chief enforcer.
