The Prodigal Son (1981)

 

I only recently came upon the anecdote that, according to Sammo Hung's own recollection, when he, Jackie Chan, and their "little brother" Yuen Biao came out of a Bruce Lee movie in theater, he was the only one who was thoroughly won over by Lee's style. "It's brutal," he said, "This will take over the world." The other two guys were not as impressed. Sammo and Jackie went on to build their own stunt teams and glorious careers that revolutionized kung fu movie choreography. True to their youthful inclinations, Jackie's style remained joyful and humorous and very rarely bloody (except when he starred in a Sammo Hung movie), while Sammo became the most vicious choreographer of on-screen fighting since Bruce Lee. 

Years before I heard about Lee's influence on Sammo, it was evidence that Sammo's approach to choreography is more brutal and terrifying than anyone else's in Hong Kong cinema, even though he originated from the same Peking opera tradition of stage fighting and acrobatics as Jackie and Yuen Woo-Ping. He got into a lot of street fights since boyhood, which might be another reason he identified with Lee. He might not be as vocal about the real-world applications of kung fu as Lee was, but in "The Prodigal Son," one of his early masterpieces, he inserted some very practical advice of his own: When your opponent is down, follow through and kick him on the ground. If he is injured, keep hitting his injury so that it hurts more. Use any weapon at your disposal, like headbutts and aiming for his groin. 

Ostensibly the movie is an introduction to the Wing Chun style of martial arts, yet it is full of Sammo's signature hilarity and tragedy and absurdity. The Cantonese opera scenes recall the original profession of Sammo and his good friend and costar Lam Ching-Ying (not sure why he shaved his brows for the role, but it was certainly a distinctive look). One has to suspect that the bantering and jabbing on screen between these two guys was a carbon copy of their real-life relationship. The familiar yet discordant flashes of tragedy in the movie lack Chang Cheh's fatalism and instead suggest an undertone of unexpected melancholy. The trend of irreverent sifu-student stories of the late 1970s and early 80s is reflected here, except Sammo brought out a charming authenticity in the relationships between Yuen Biao and Lam, Lam and Sammo himself, and even Biao and his servant boy.

Also rather unusual for the time is the murky morality in the movie. The main bad guy, played by the Renaissance man Frankie Chan, is not that bad after all. He is a mirror image of Biao's character, both precious prodigal sons being over protected by their wealthy or powerful parents. They have grown up in a false sense of their own excellence, only to be taught a lesson by the brutal world. Thus, despite the practical lesson of fight to kill, Biao chooses not to kill Frankie in the end, unlike most movies in the genre at that time.

While full of highlights, the final showdown is not my favorite fight in the movie. The first exchange between Lam and Frankie gives me a cold sweat. It's not just the speed and intricacy of both actors' movement but also the sense of impact when their hands and bodies connect that suggests the possibility of an instant kill. 

Sammo went on to direct more vicious fight scenes in movies that are entirely different from Bruce Lee's but nevertheless evoke a similar sense of lethality.