When I lived in Philadelphia, my
roommate and I were heavily into Hong Kong cinema (or, at least, we thought we
were; there were enthusiasts who eclipsed us, then and now). The Western world was just getting on the
Woo, Lam, etcetera bandwagon, and we were no different. Of course, we had both seen plenty of martial
arts films when we were young (giving us an appreciation and a love for the
works of filmmakers like Chang Cheh, Lau Kar-leung, and so on), but these new(er)
films were something altogether different.
Sure, the plots and characters were relatively the same. The difference lay in the technical
aspects. The camerawork was kinetic and
inventive, while still clearly telling a story, and the stunt work was on
another level. They felt insane and viscerally
real at the same time.
Now, I had heard of Keith Li’s Centipede Horror from one of the grey
market VHS catalogs I had sent away for (remember those?), and it seemed right
up my alley. After all, it was a horror
movie, no? It’s right there in the
title. My roommate and I went on down to
Chinatown and opened an account at a small, Chinese video/grocery store (around
the area of the Trocadero on Arch Street, but I’m not totally clear on the
exact location, not that it matters all that much). The first two tapes we rented that day were
Stanley Tong’s Swordsman 2 and Centipede Horror. We both loved Swordsman 2 (despite those weird scenes of the characters singing
like they were doing whip-its all day long), but I don’t think we made it more
than thirty minutes (if that) through Centipede
Horror before we popped the tape out.
The film was grotty and dumb and made little to no sense. See, we were used to only a portion of Asian
cinema, and this was everything that was not.
Having now immersed myself a bit more in the multitude of Asian cinema
offerings, I’ve always meant to revisit Centipede
Horror to see if there’s anything redeeming about it. I do not, however, need to ever rewatch
Richard Park’s (aka Woo-sang Park) American
Chinatown because I now know how little redemptive value it has.
Lily (Liat Goodson) is the victim
of an attempted gang rape, but the cholos attempting it are thwarted and
roughed up by Yong (Tae-joon Lee, billed here as simply Taejoon, as if he were
Taimak or Gerardo [both apt descriptors]).
As their love sort of blossoms, Yong goes about his gang business under
the leadership of fellow one-time orphan (what is with Park and orphans,
anyway?) Eric (Robert Z’Dar). But Yong’s
twin paths come into direct conflict with each other, and only one can be
followed to happiness (or something, in theory).
Park’s Miami
Connection is a film which has recently been rediscovered, resurrected, and
regaled by hipsters, cult cinema lovers, and trash junkies the world over. It’s fun because, even when it’s being
serious, there’s a level of naïve optimism (sure, the members of Dragon Sound
were all “orpans,” but they were also the members of Dragon Sound, a band whose
enthusiasm and subject matter make The Wiggles look like G.G. Allin) that’s
infectious. The same cannot be said for American Chinatown. This film is self-serious and cloyingly
melodramatic while toying with the tropes of badass cinema (most particularly
Heroic Bloodshed films) which it doesn’t completely understand. Yes, there are plenty of fights, and these,
at least, are handled well enough in the choreography department. Park, thankfully, also shoots many of these
scenes wide enough to see what’s going on and to appreciate the physical
talents of the performers. Where Park
fails is in creating empathy for his characters and in crafting believable
(even for a film like this) interpersonal moments and relationships between
said characters (not good in a movie which relies upon them so heavily). Some examples of the choice dialogue. “You don’t want a guy like me!” “College frat boys don’t turn you on
anymore?” “Why are you doing this to
me?” “You’re my only hope and
dream.” All of this is delivered with
the conviction of a dish rag (though Z’Dar does an admirable job working with
nothing, as usual). I should stop
there. I don’t want people to get the
wrong idea and want to see this movie (I suspect there are those who would want
to, regardless).
Nearly every scene in American
Chinatown could (and maybe should) start with a title card reading,
“Suddenly…!” The movie opens like a case
of whiplash with the three cholos (I kept thinking of Mike Muir from Suicidal
Tendencies; Sorry, Mike) already well into their assault on Lily. Suddenly…!
Yong appears out of nowhere to save the day. Suddenly…!
Yong battles two urban samurai types and a kabuki guy. For no reason I could discern and with no
impetus for this encounter. Yong is
stabbed in the guts. Suddenly…! He’s living on a boat somewhere, and God only
knows how much time has passed. Yong
beats villain Wong (Sung-Ki Jun).
Suddenly…! He’s attacked by two
other henchmen (this is not the order in which things are done, Mr. Park), who
may be the samurai guys he fought before, maybe not. The entirety of this film is just pieces
thrown together like this. But if I want
to watch random stuff for a couple of hours, I can go on Youtube. At least there I could get suggestions for
other videos that might be of interest.
The males in this film are very, very male, indeed. Yong always kicks first, asks questions
later. He always wears sunglasses,
indoors and out, day or night. He’s
meant to be a real cool cat, but he comes off like a flipping jerk. Eric talks and acts like a kid playing at
tough guy. He’s also wishy-washy, though
this isn’t because he’s volatile; the writing is just bad. Wong and his goons are as unmemorable as you
can get. They show up every few minutes
for a fight scene, and that’s it. Jim
(Bobby Kim) comes close to having something to do as a mentor to Yong and a
foil for Eric, but he, too, ultimately plays like just another sad sack. And then there’s poor Lily. Jane (Kathy Collier) in Miami Connection was an ancillary character (think the Daphne to
Dragon Sound’s Scooby Gang), but she was still a more active part of that film
than Lily is here. Lily exists solely to
look good, be sexually assaulted by men, and be saved by Yong. There’s one excruciatingly implausible
“subplot” involving her “sisterly” relationship with Eric (and how in the hell
do Yong and Lily not realize that they both know Eric if they’re both supposed
to be so goddamned close to him?), but it blows in the wind like everything
else interesting in this film might have done but didn’t. It’s tough for me to decide what’s worse, watching
American Chinatown or watching a
mouthful of centipedes spew out of people’s mouths. But I definitely know which way I’m leaning.
MVT: The fight scenes are okay. And plentiful.
Make or Break: The opening scene is jarring, confusing (at
first), and surreal in the suddenness with which everything happens.
Score: 4/10
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