TV’s Shane: E1-3

He is the cowboy most famous for leaving, but this short-lived TV series was all about him finding reasons to stay. This is sort of the Shane of Jack Schaefer’s novel and George Stevens’ classic film, but younger—and also somewhat more remorseful. It was far from a hit in 1966, but Shane lives on in reruns on getTV, where the first three episodes will soon be airing.

Shane was one of the deadliest gunslingers ever, but he accepted a position as a farm hand with the Starrett family. Obviously, the widowed Marian Starrett was another motivation, but it is her naïve son Joey who truly adores Shane. Wyoming cattle baron Rufe Ryker is not so enamored with the hired-gun turned hired-hand, but he probably understands Shane better than the Starretts. Nevertheless, Shane consistently sides against the old school cattleman in his campaign to chase out the recently arrived homesteading “sod-busters,” like the Starretts.

The battle turns particularly nasty in the first episode, “The Distant Bell,” in which Ryker does his best to sabotage the settlers plan to build a school in town. Naturally, he opposes anything that would build a sense of permanent community, but Shane believes the local kids deserve a chance to get the education he never had.

“Bell” is a good example of one Shane’s primary themes—the evolution of the frontier from a wild land of opportunity to more settled and regulated communities. In fact, the series is not wholly unsympathetic to Ryker (even though there it sometimes stokes suspicions he might have been complicit in the death of Starrett’s husband). Veteran character actor Burt Freed’s work as Ryker is consistently one of the best things about the series, starting right from the pilot.

The other major theme of Shane is the guilt the title character carries from the sins of his past. The conflicted Shane wants atonement, but it is still in his nature to keep moving, much like a shark. That inner turmoil is brought front-and-center in the second episode, “The Hant,” wherein the grieving father of a man Shane killed during the height of his gunslinging days starts haunting him, like a spirit. He is a sad ghost, rather than an angry one, nicely played by John Qualen, but that rather makes it worse for Shane.

Both themes converge in “The Wild Geese,” whose instinctive migration habits clearly serve as a metaphor for Shane’s own impulses. Once again, Ryker is hoping to drive out the Starretts, but this time it just might work. With no paycheck coming, Shane reluctantly agrees to sign up with an old associate hiring guns for range war in Canada, hoping to use his fee to shore up the struggling Starrett farm, but the widow Marian refuses to accept any blood money.

Shane episodes are moodier than typical TV oaters, but they usually build towards a legit western climax (the one in “Bell” is especially well executed). As Shane, the weirdly young-looking David Carradine is solid brooder and he already had respectable action chops. (Arguably, westerns were his second most identifiable genre after martial arts, with Kung Fu qualifying as both). He also has some ambiguously suggestive chemistry with Jill Ireland’s Marian Starrett (she was already seeing Charles Bronson at this point, so you can figure the strong, silent Shane was her type.)

White Crane Chronicles: David Carradine Back in China

He walked the earth “like Caine from Kung Fu,” but he eventually returned to his Wudang monastery to find peace in his later years. Unfortunately, the violence of the outside world will give him no respite. His name is Crane, not Caine and this time the late David Carradine was not pretending to be anything but caucasian, but there was definitely a lot of winking and nodding going on towards his 1970s television show. Regardless, the fight direction and production values were definitely a cut above average in The White Crane Chronicles (a.k.a. Kung Fu Killer parts I & II, a two-part miniseries (also considered two be a back-door pilot that did not get a full series pick-up), which releases this Tuesday on BluRay, from Mill Creek Entertainment.

After Crane’s missionary parents were murdered, Myling, the grand abbess of the monastery, took in the young white waif. Of course, he thrived under her instruction, but felt compelled to leave, for reasons that will be partially explained in the second installment. Regardless, his tranquil golden years hiatus will be short lived when the soldiers and thugs hired by the Warlord Khan gun down most of the Wudang monks and students, including Myling. Only White Crane and his student Lang Han survive.

Despite Myling’s dying words, Crane ventures back to 1920s Republican Shanghai in search of vengeance, leaving Lang Han to look after the villagers who had been protected by the Wudang monks. Once there, he quickly befriends Jane Marshall, an American torch singer performing in the night club managed by her sort-of-lover, Bingo Quo. Khan is her biggest fan and would be patron, but he also happens to be holding her opium-addicted brother Peter Marshall (just try not to think of the Hollywood Squares whenever you hear his name) captive, forcing him to mix a particularly lethal concoction of poison gas to fuel his ambitions of Chinese conquest and unification.

Things will be mostly resolved at the end of part one, but Bai, a briefly seen bitter rival from Crane’s past reappears in the concluding segment. In fact, part two feature some of the best fight sequences, thanks to the skills and action cred of Anya Wu, who is terrific as the villainous Bai’s chief lieutenant. The bald and scarred Bai, as played by Lim Yu-Beng is also a worthy opponent for White Crane.

Indeed, there are a number of terrific fight sequences choreographed by Cai Li (whose work includes Hero and House of Flying Daggers). He wisely tailors the moves for Carradine, who was then in his early seventies, but still looked relatively credible (words cannot express the superiority of White Crane over Son of the Dragon, another Carradine miniseries filmed in China two years earlier).

Son of the Dragon: the Thief of the Silk Road

Fantasy relic quests are rotten way to choose husbands. They favor the ruthless, like the tyrant, or the deceitful, like the thief. At least, they rule out the stupid, like the dithering royal twit. Still, those three suitors represent some pretty slim pickings for a soon-to-be-betrothed Chinese princess. Nevertheless, she will find a way to pick a white guy in Son of the Dragon (trailer here), a two-part mini-series that releases today on DVD from Mill Creek Entertainment.

The governor of our fair city is not a bad sort and his daughter, Princess Li Wei is both beautiful and dutiful. Unfortunately, his appointed regent Lord Shing is cruel and corrupt. To alleviate the people’s suffering, D.B. (or “Devil Boy”) frequently commits acts of Robin Hood-ish daring. Discovered as a foundling, D.B. learned his thievery craft from Bird, a former mercenary who now raises cast aside orphans in his picturesque sewer retreat to alleviate his guilt.

When the governor announces an ancient reality show-style competition for nobles hoping to win his daughter’s hand in marriage, the thief styles himself “Prince D.B. of the Seven Seas” (I mean seriously, give us a break), in order to gain access to the palace—and its jewels. Much to the disgust of Bird, Devil Boy is rather taken with the Princess, deciding to play for her heart in earnest. This does not sit well with his foster sister Ting Ting, either. She now works as the Princess’s maid and carries an inexplicable torch for D.B. She knows the big dummy is in over his head, especially when he starts antagonizing the brutal Prince of the North.

Directed and edited by the Hong Kong-born, Canadian-naturalized David Wu (known for the Bride with White Hair franchise), Dragon has some impressively large-scale sets (befitting a Halmi production) and a rip-roaring concluding battle. However, despite its riffs on the Thief of Baghdad (there will be the odd flying carpet here and there), the teleplay is burdened with consistently clunky dialogue and an excess of slapsticky shtick.

Of course, there is something fundamentally problematic about an adventure set entirely within ancient China that features three white dudes on its cover. We can grandfather in David Carradine. After all, he was Caine. He walked the earth. Not surprisingly, he fares the best, smirking his way through the mini as the wiser-than-you Bird, until it is time to get busy in his big fight scene with Bird’s old nemesis.

The less said about John Reardon as D.B., the better. However, the casting of the ordinarily quite fine actor Rupert Graves (Lestrade in the Cumberbatch Sherlock) as the Prince of the North (which certainly implies Mongolia through simple geography, as well as by costuming) is pretty darn baffling, especially when Emma Stone would have been so perfectly suited for the role. Still, he glowers rather menacingly. At least Desiree Ann Siahaan looks the part of the Princess and flirts quite coyly. However, only Theresa Lee deserved breakout recognition for the vulnerability and action chops she demonstrates as Ting Ting.

Despite its flaws, you can definitely see plenty of Carradine’s roguishness shine through. It would have been much better if Dragon had tacked a darker course, like Netflix’s Marco Polo, but that probably would not have worked for the Hallmark Channel, where it premiered. Enjoyable at times for some nicely choreographed fights and its goofy mysticism, Son of the Dragon is an old fashioned, light-weight, inconsequential, occasionally groan-inducing time-filler, now available on DVD from Mill Creek Entertainment.