MasterChugs Theater: ‘Kung Fu Hustle’

Stephen Chow might just be the saviour of action cinema. Anyone who caught his previous film, the deliriously wonderful Shaolin Soccer, will know what to expect: martial arts mayhem meets the vicious comic brilliance of vintage Tex Avery cartoons. No gag is too cheesy, no special effect too extreme. That is the wonder and awe of Kung Fu Hustle.

Set in a dilapidated apartment complex called Pig Sty Alley outside a stylized 1930s Shanghai, the action centers around a small time crook (played by director Steven Chow himself) who tries to swindle money from the locals by claiming to be a member of the sinister but oh-so-dapper Axe Gang. Two problems arise: these locals aren’t so easily fooled and the real Axe Gang turns up, none too pleased about the ruse.

But amusing as it is, this plot is merely an framework upon which Chow hangs an uproarious array of increasingly elaborate fight scenes. Each time a “master” is defeated, an even more powerful one emerges from the sidelines. When we reach our final showdown, it feels like the most extraordinary match ever waged. Each blow sends sprays of rubble flying into the wind. Chow cleverly incorporates comically cheap CGI effects into his fights so that combatants can be blasted miles into the sky, or appear to run like Wile E. Coyote or leap like a frog.

As an actor, Chow emotes very little and lacks the explosive presence of a Jackie Chan or a Jet Li, but his directorial skill more than makes up for it. He gets a terrific, especially animated performance from Yuen Qiu as a chain smoking, curler-wearing landlady who turns out to be yet another kung-fu master. And the icing on the cake: Two Hong Kong legends, Yuen Wo Ping and Sammo Hung, served as action choreographers, helping place Kung Fu Hustle in the pantheon of great martial arts comedies.

Speaking of the action choreography, let’s talk about that. The showstopping fight sequences are choreographed by the legendary Yuen Wo Ping (whose credits include “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” the “Matrix” movies and “Kill Bill“) and given an extra jolt of nutty inventiveness by some cheerfully crude digital effects. Chow and his special-effects team use computer-generated imagery the way Chuck Jones and Tex Avery used pen and ink – as a form of anarchic protest against the laws of physics and the limitations of physiology. Eyes pop, feet spin and fists leave dents and divots on their targets. All that’s missing is an Acme delivery truck and a ready supply of anvils.

If there’s any criticism to be leveled at it, it’s that Sing disappears about midway through the film to make room for Pokemon style gang battles, battles in which the powers of the combatants keep escalating until they’re ready to bring Sing back in to become a parody version of Neo. Of course when we think parody, we think obvious hack jokes. We think the Wayans brothers. Kung Fu Hustle works on a much more subtle, creative level to parody all sorts of things without beating you over the head with them. The disappearance of Sing is a bit odd narratively, though the battles that take place while he’s off camera are hilarious and wonderful. It just makes it a little hard to latch onto him as a main character, when he’s spending so much time off camera.

Kung Fu Hustle is inspired lunacy by design, the sort of movie best served with a hearty pitcher of beer and a big group of drunken friends. It crosses whatever cultural boundaries might normally separate American audiences from more serious Asian movies like Hero to create a universally fun viewing experience. You don’t need to “get” Asian cinema to laugh at the jokes, or giggle at the intentionally zany moves. Chow misses only a falling anvil to make Hustle a worthy, R-rated successor to Looney Tunes. This is a filmmaker who clearly loves making entertaining movies, and that joy translates into his absurdly delightful, screwball film.

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