Try as it Might, Be Coo/Can t Take its Own Advice Amanda Aikman, Managing Editor e Cool, the sequel to 1995’s far B superior Get Shorty, opens with John Travolta’s character Chili Palmer espousing on the lameness of film sequels. Tell us about it, Chili. Apparently, the Look Whos Talking franchise taught him nothing, and Travolta has returned to pummel the public with Be Coo/—another derivative, insulting mess of a sequel. The film reunites us with Palmer, Ger Shorty’s mobster-turned-film producer, but this time around he’s decided to give the music business a shot. Why the music business? Presumably, Palmer feels at home there because of all the “gangstas” in the industry. Oh, and it may also have something to do with the fact that his friend Tommy Athens (James Woods) was in the music business before he was gunned down at a café. Palmer was with Athens at the café, discussing a possible film project for Linda Moon (Christina Milian), a young singer that Athens had been interested in. After Athens dies (at Do You Kung Fu? a RPGS §=ahd §=ENGErOAINMENG the hands of a bumbling, toupee-wearing Russian mobster no less) Palmer takes over his friend’s job as head of NTL Records. Naturally. And why stop there? While he’s helping himself to his friend’s career he also helps himself to his friend’s widow Edie (Uma Thurman). And guess what? They even manage to dance together in the film! That’s right, in a completely unnecessary tacked-on moment at a Black-Eyed Peas concert, Travolta and Thurman hit the dance floor in a desperate attempt to remind fans of a time when the pair were in a good movie together (Pu/p Fiction). But the fun doesn’t stop there. No way. Just in case you haven’t had your fill of racial stereotypes lately, Be Coo/ will defi- nitely hook you up. The movie is plum full of big, scary, black gangsta rappers with guns stuffed into their comically low- waisted jeans. And there’s even a “white guy who thinks he’s a black guy” character. Now, that’s something we haven’t seen More people do, thanks to Ang and Yimou Dylan Ferguson, The Manitoban (University of Manitoba) ~ Chris Mitchel WINNIPEG (CUP)—With the Zhang Yimou romance House of Fhing Daggers soaring high in wide release, many impressed critics and filmgoers seem to think kung-fu movies have reached a level of ultimate artistry beyond the constraints of actual combat—like the cinematic equivalent of the 36th Chamber. With people everywhere jumping on board, there definitely seems to be a new move- ment developing in the world of kung fu, and it is pounding away at western percep- tions of the genre with the strength of the 14 | www.theotherpress.ca Shaolin Chin-kan Fist. Call it the New Fu, if you will. This trend began with Ang Lee’s Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, a worldwide smash hit that sparked a new generation of martial-arts flicks that emphasize artistry, an ethereal feel, and more wires than the Pentagon. While reviewing Zhang’s widely lauded Fhing Daggers on his iconic TV show, tiber-critic Roger Ebert enthusiasti- cally proclaimed that kung-fu movies have been greatly improved in recent years. But entrenched fans would beg to differ.. “I think it’s kind of garbage,’ says Chris Mitchell of the New-Fu movement. Mitchell, in addition to being an astute martial-arts fan, is co-owner, with Tim Yuen, of Asian video boutique Ir-ben Entertainment, whose hallowed shelves are home to one of finest collections of classic kung fu in Winnipeg. “I think chop-sockey stuff, the old stuff, is more inventive. I think a lot of the new stuff they make right now is to sell it to North America.” Indeed, while the milky directing, Yo- Yo Ma musical scores, and bloodless acrobatics of New Fu make the genre accessible to every latte-sipping, Enya-lis- tening white person on the continent, they leave many die-hard fans in the dark. They before. Raji (Vince Vaughn) wears red tracksuits, has a Scarface poster in his office, and says things like “mad respect.” Brilliant. Vaughn is a talented and charismatic actor, so there are moments that border on humorous in his performance, but there’s only so much even he can do with the material here. Oh, and we mustn’t forget about Elliot (The Rock), the big, gay Samoan body- guard who really just wants to be an entertainer. He has an afro, wears satin pantsuits, and can raise one eyebrow really high. Apparently, the filmmakers are espe- cially proud of The Rock’s facial flexibility, because they seem to mercilessly trot out the eyebrow gag whenever the story starts to drag. Sadly, if the shrieks of laughter lack the unpolished cool, the gritty fun, and the underlying humour of ’70s “True Fu,” not to mention the violence. You won't find a single severed arm, ‘gushing slit throat, detached eyeball, exploded heart, or flying guillotine in Zhang Yimou. Sikung Pat Gallagher is owner of Tiger Claw Gung-fu School, and, even after more than 40 years as a top kung-fu instructor, the large, solid, bald man is an imposing presence. When I talked to the grandmaster, he insisted all kung-fu movies are simple entertainment, but he acknowledges how they have helped to sow western interest in the Chinese arts. “When Bruce Lee came around in the ’70s that was the popularity thing,” he says, referring to the fad status to which t-shirt icon Lee raised the martial arts. “Now you have every master—you have Jackie Chans and Jet Lis, and they’re all over. Movie after movie. And they all claim to be Bruce Lees. There’s a new one out. I can’t remember what his name is.” “Tony Jaa? The Thai guy?” I say. “The Thai guy, yeah. He’s going to be the replacement for Bruce Lee. But I’ve heard of a hundred of those,” says Gallagher. The fact that this one aspect of Chinese culture has registered with west- erners since The Dragon leapt onto the scene is certainly not lost on the Chinese themselves. It just might be a key instiga- tor in the move to make martial-arts movies more accessible to the rich western market. Mitchell explains why he thinks North were any indication, the full house at the preview I attended fell for it every time. To each his own, I suppose. The movie tries to weave a complex storyline around a weak concept—Palmer wants to get Moon out of her contract with Raji so she can become a big star—by adding in all sorts of crazy characters and plot twists. Mafiosos, gangstas, homopho- bic and racist clichés, Aerosmith—Be Coo/ has many distractions, but none of them are able to disguise the truth—there’s nothing cool about this tepid sequel. Americans like artistic kung-fu movies. “Tt fits into their stereotype of what an Asian movie should be, or at least what they think Asian culture is,” says Mitchell. The success of these films does seem to expose ignorance, if not an outright condescension, toward Chinese cinema in the West. I wonder how many of the crit- ics who showered praise on House of Fhing Daggers have seen, ot even heard of, Chinese films like Wong Kar Wai’s medita- tive romance 2046, or Li Chuan’s masterpiece of stark minimalism Kekexili—two much better jade-screen releases from 2004. In fact, Zhang’s kung- fu films were produced with funding from the Chinese government, a luxury which filmmakers like Wong and Li have to do without because their films don’t have people kicking each other, and thus have no market value in the west. So, how will kung-fu cinema evolve in the future? “IT hope it doesn’t,’ says Mitchell. “I hope they keep it simple and don’t do too much special effects and wires and all that. I like it when it’s just Jet Li doing his thing. Or that new Tony Jaa guy.” It is interesting that, like Sikung Gallagher, he brought up Tony Jaa, because the Thai film Ong-bak, which is playing all over the city, marks a return to the kind of gritty, nose-breaking martial- arts pic that has all but disappeared in Hong Kong. The New Fu may be the 36th Chamber, but, like the Master Killer dis- covered, kung fu should also be out on the streets. Match 9/2005