Chan Kong-sang was born on Victoria Peak in Hong Kong in 1954, the son of two servants to the French ambassador. He spent his toddler years within the confines of the embassy where they lived. Despite the rigid discipline of his father, the young Chan showed a great dislike for academic study, preferring instead his lessons in kung fu and the ingestion of large quantities of food (his father was the cook at the embassy). After only one year at school, it was clear Chan was struggling, and so his parents took the decision to withdraw him from school and look for another solution.
The Academy
The search for a way to educate Chan became more important when his father was offered a job in Australia. Benefits of the move were clear, they would obtain Australian citizenship, and earn more money (enough to save rather than merely survive on). However, Chan and his mother would have to stay behind initially, and without the discipline of his father Chan might slip into delinquency. His father’s friends eventually suggested a course of action which would provide support, education and discipline for the boy.
Chan was sent to Master Yu’s China Drama Academy on Kowloon Island. In return for being taught the skills of dramatic performance (which included music, gymnastics and martial arts) and being given food and housing, Chan would be expected to remain under Master Yu’s tutelage for a period of ten years. At first he found it difficult to fit in with the rigid hierarchy imposed upon himself and his fellow students, but gradually he began to demonstrate competence in every area of study. Chan was frequently in confrontation with the elder students who had disciplinary power over the younger children – an echo of his days back home when he used kung fu against the local bullies, and a glimpse of his future personality.
Once the students of the Academy were sufficiently practised in their given profession they began putting on performances of classic Chinese operas in a theatre at a local amusement park. These provided the money to keep the Academy running, along with providing students as extras in film productions. Chan took leading parts in the Academy productions, receiving praise from audiences and earning the respect of his Master. It was here, in the spotlight, that Chan realised he wanted to be a star.
As time passed and Chan neared the end of his ten year contract, it became clear that working in traditional Chinese opera was becoming an increasingly difficult way to make money. The entertainment business in Hong Kong was now centred around the film studios, where Chan’s elders graduated to after their stay at the Academy. They rose to every conceivable position in the industry, from acting talent to behind-the-scenes production roles. When it was Chan’s turn to leave Master Yu behind, there was only one viable choice for someone with his mix of acting and martial arts skills; he became a stuntman.
Action in the Movies
Chan had performed a few stunt roles during his days as a student, but now he had to find enough work to support himself (his mother had also moved to Australia during his time at the Academy). Luckily for him, cinema production in Hong Kong exploded in the early 1970′s thanks in no small part to the emergence of Bruce Lee as a superstar. Suddenly action and martial arts films were in huge demand in Asia, and that meant no shortage of work for the stuntmen. In this environment, Chan worked quickly at building a reputation for attempting seemingly impossible, and usually very dangerous, stunts. He even worked with Lee on two of his films. Unfortunately, this brief period of success was tragically cut short. When Bruce Lee met his untimely death, it signalled the end of the lucrative years for the studios, and many people lost their jobs, including Chan.
Unable to make money in Hong Kong, Chan travelled to Australia and lived with his parents, working on construction sites to make ends meet. One of his workmates was a fellow named Jack, who took Chan under his wing. The pair were jokingly referred to as Big Jack and Little Jack on site. Over time, Little Jack became Jackie, the name which finally stuck and became known worldwide.
Even through this period, Jackie did not give up on the dream of stardom, and he kept in regular touch with contacts in the film industry back home. One of these contacts was Willie Chan, a manager working for one of the most famous directors in the business, Lo Wei. They were looking for a young actor to mould into a star. When Jackie was offered the job, he hesitated. The money was nowhere near what he had been making previously, but the lure proved too great and he agreed to a ten-year contract with the company.
Initial efforts did poorly at the box office, mainly because of Lo Wei’s refusal to open up to new ideas. Instead, he attempted to recreate the Bruce Lee era, resulting in films completely lacking in originality.
Just as it was looking like Jackie’s dreams were coming to an end, Willie found a temporary solution in a loan deal to a rival studio, Seasonal Films. Infused with more creative freedom than he had ever before experienced, Jackie scored his first big hits – Snake in the Eagle’s Shadow, and Drunken Master. The rise was meteoric, from relative obscurity to household name in three months. But the solution was only temporary, and he did not relish his return to Lo Wei’s studio. Even when Wei relented and let Jackie direct Fearless Hyena, the amount of control he exhibited over wages and creative output became too much. Finally matters came to a head, and Willie announced he had secured a deal for Jackie to join Golden Harvest Productions, without Lo Wei’s consent. Increasingly desperate to remain in the film industry, Lo Wei turned to the Triads to force Jackie to stay with him. Fortunately, negotiations took place before the situation could become more serious (although Jackie was forced into brief exile in America by the experience), and Golden Harvest bought out Lo Wei’s contract.
The switch to Golden Harvest, for whom Chan had worked for years earlier as a simple stuntman, gave him full creative freedom and even directorial duties in some cases. That first benefit gave rise to Jackie’s trademark, ‘the superstunt’, an enormous one-take scene involving large amounts of destruction and danger. An example of this comes from Police Story 2, where Jackie rides along on the top of a double-decker bus, dives off the roof into the air and sails through a second-floor plate glass window. This is the kind of spectacular moment which sells movie tickets, and Jackie has provided over two decades’ worth of them.
The Pacific Divide
Jackie’s star status in Asia has been unquestionable ever since those first films in the late 1970s. Translating that success into global stardom has proved much more difficult. In particular, the American market was very unreceptive, due to a combination of bad marketing and bad casting. His first US feature film, Battle Creek Brawl saw him portraying a vengeful loner, a routine which had already been done before by countless actors and was not suited to Jackie’s comedic talent. His next American film, Cannonball Run, was a hit, but it was an ensemble piece and did not give a good idea of audience reaction to Chan himself.
A further complication was the restriction to Chan’s style of working, enforced mainly by the studios fearful of legal action if their investment were ever to injure himself on set. The lack of actual contact during action scenes removed the intensity which was his hallmark, which added to the frustration.
This initial flirtation with the USA market soured his opinion and he resolved to stay away, reasoning that the Asian market was bigger anyway. However, he did not give up completely on breaking into other markets, and he raised the international appeal of his films by including actors from many other countries.
It was not until 1994 that Jackie finally decided to try the States again, when Rumble in the Bronx was released. When it made almost $10 million on its opening weekend and became the first Hong Kong film to make it to number one at the US box office, he had finally cracked it. Every film Jackie has made since has seen a successful American release, making him a true global phenomenon.
Hazards of the Job
Success for a stuntman comes at a price, perhaps the ultimate price if luck is against him. Jackie has certainly had a severe physical toll exacted on him. Almost every part of his body has suffered some form of injury, whether it be simple cuts and bruises or dislocations and fractures.
The worst incident came during the filming of Armour of God in Yugoslavia. The stunt itself was relatively simple, by Jackie’s standards, a leap from the top of a 15 foot wall into a tree. However, he missed his landing and fell to the ground, hitting his head on a boulder below the tree. The blow resulted in a skull fracture so severe a bone fragment lodged itself in his brain, causing a life-threatening haemorrhage. He survived because the nearest hospital happened to have the country’s best brain surgeon on the staff. The accident left Jackie hard of hearing in one ear and a hole in his skull remains.
To give the audience some idea of just how dangerous the whole process is, Jackie began adding footage of stunts which went wrong to the end credits of his films, interspersed with shots of the setting-up of the superstunts and more comedic out-takes. He was inspired to include this footage after seeing the finished Cannonball Run, and the tradition has continued to this day.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A592760

Jackie Chan was born in Hong Kong on April 7th, 1954. His parents, Charles and Lee-lee Chan named him Chan Kong-sang which means “born in Hong Kong.” Jackie weighed 12 pounds when he was born and his mother required surgery to deliver him. Jackie’s parents were so poor that they had to borrow money from friends to pay the

doctor.

Although Jackie’s parents were poor, they had steady jobs at the French embassy in Hong Kong. Charles was a cook and Lee-lee was a housekeeper. Together, the Chan family lived on Victoria Peak in Hong Kong. When Jackie was young, his father would wake him early in the morning and together they would practice kung fu. Charles Chan believed that learning kung fu would help build Jackie’s character, teaching him patience, strength, and courage.

When Jackie was seven years old Charles took a job as the head cook at the American embassy in Australia. He felt that it would be best for Jackie to stay behind in Hong Kong to learn a skill and so enrolled him in the China Drama Academy where Jackie would live for the next 10 years of his life.

During Jackie’s time at the school, he learned martial arts, acrobatics, singing, and acting. The school was meant to prepare boys for a life in the Peking Opera. Chinese opera was very different from any other kind of opera. It included singing, tumbling, and acrobatics as well as martial arts skills and acting. Students at the school were severely disciplined and were beaten if they disobeyed or made mistakes. It was a very harsh and difficult life but Jackie had nowhere else to go, so he stayed. He rarely saw his parents for many years.

While at the China Academy, Jackie made his acting debut at age eight in the Cantonese movie “Seven Little Valiant Fighters: Big and Little Wong Tin Bar.” He later teamed with other opera students in a performance group called “The Seven Little Fortunes.” Fellow actors Sammo Hung and Yuen Biao were also members. Years later the three would work together and become known as The Three Brothers. As Jackie got older he worked as a stuntman and an extra in the Hong Kong film industry.

When Jackie was 17, he graduated from the China Drama Academy. Unfortunately the Chinese opera was no longer very popular, so Jackie and his classmates had to find other work. This was difficult because at the school they were never taught how to read or write. The only work available to them was unskilled labor or stunt work. Each year many movies were made in Hong Kong and there was always a need for young, strong stuntmen. Jackie was extraordinarily athletic and inventive, and soon gained a reputation for being fearless; Jackie Chan would try anything. Soon he was in demand.

Over the next few years, Jackie worked as a stuntman, but when the Hong Kong movie industry began to fail, he was forced to go to Australia to live with his parents. He worked in a restaurant and on a construction site. It was there that he got the name “Jackie.” A worker named Jack had trouble pronouncing “Kong-sang” and started calling Jackie “little Jack.” That soon became “Jackie” and the name stuck.

Jackie was very unhappy in Australia. The construction work was difficult and boring. His salvation came in the form of a telegram from a man named Willie Chan. Willie Chan worked in the Hong Kong movie industry and was looking for someone to star in a new movie being made by Lo Wei, a famous Hong Kong producer/director. Willie had seen Jackie at work as a stuntman and had been impressed. Jackie called Willie and they talked. Jackie didn’t know it but Willie would end up becoming his best friend and manager. Soon Jackie was on his way back to Hong Kong to star in “New Fist of Fury.” It was 1976 and Jackie Chan was 21 years old.

Once Jackie got back to Hong Kong, Willie Chan took control over Jackie’s career. To this day Jackie is quick to point out that he owes his success to Willie. However, the movies that Jackie made for Lo Wei were not very successful. The problem was that Jackie’s talents were not being used properly. It was only when Jackie was able to contribute his own ideas that he became a star. He brought humor to martial arts movies; his first success was “Snake in Eagle’s Shadow.” This was followed by “Drunken Master” (another blockbuster) and Jackie’s first ever directing job, “Fearless Hyena.” All were big hits.

Jackie was becoming a huge success in Asia. Unfortunately, it would be many years before the same could be said of his popularity in America. After a series of lukewarm receptions in the U.S., mostly due to miscasting, Jackie left the States and focused his attention on making movies in Hong Kong. It would be 10 years before he returned to make Rumble in the Bronx, the movie that introduced Jackie to American audiences and secured him a place in their hearts (and their box office). Rumble was followed by the Rush Hour and Shanghai Noon series which put Jackie on the Hollywood A List.

Despite his Hollywood successes, Jackie became frustrated by the lack of varied roles for Asian actors and his own inability to control certain aspects of the filming in America. He continued to try, however, making The Tuxedo, The Medallion, and Around the World in 80 Days, none of which was the blockbuster that Rush Hour or Shanghai Noon had been.

Jackie’s lifelong devotion to fitness has served him well as he continues to do stunt work and action sequences in his films. In recent years, Jackie’s focus has shifted and he is trying new genres of film – fantasy, drama, romance – and is spending more and more time on his charity work. He takes his work as Ambassador for UNICEF/UNAIDS very seriously and spends all his spare time working tirelessly for children, the elderly, and those in need. He continues to make films in Hong Kong, including the blockbuster drama New Police Story in 2004.

Jackie has been married to Lin Feng-Jiao since 1982 and has a son, actor-singer Jaycee Chan. To learn more about Jackie you can read his biography, I Am Jackie Chan.

http://www.jackiechan.com/about/about_bio.html

Etymology
“Beijing opera” or “Peking opera” is the English term for the art form; the Oxford English Dictionary’s earliest record of the term is from 1953.
In China, the art form has been known by many other names in different times and places. The earliest Chinese name was a combination of the Xipi and Erhuang melodies, and was called Pihuang. As it increased in popularity, its name became Jingxi or Jingju, which reflected its start in the capital city, Jing, and the form of the performance, Xi. From 1927 to 1949, Beijing was known as Beiping, and Beijing opera was known as Pingxi or Pingju to reflect this change. Finally, with the establishment of the People’s Republic of China, the name of the capital city was reverted to Beijing, and the formal name of Beijing theatre in mainland China was established as Jingju. In Taiwan, this type of opera is known as Guoju, national theatre style, reflecting disputes over the true seat of the Chinese government.

History

Origins
It is regarded that Beijing opera was born when the Four Great Anhui Troupes came to Beijing in 1790. Beijing opera was originally staged for the court and came into the public later. In 1828, some famous Hubei troupes came to Beijing. They often jointly performed in the stage with Anhui troupes. The combination gradually formed Beijing opera’s main melodies. Beijing opera is generally regarded as having fully formed by 1845. Although it is called Beijing opera (Beijing theatre style), its origins are in the southern Anhui and eastern Hubei, which share the same dialect of Xiajiang Mandarin (Lower Yangtze Mandarin). Beijing opera’s two main melodies; Xipi and Erhuang originated from Shaanxi but developed in Anhui and Hubei. Xipi literally means ‘Western Skin Puppet Show’, referring to the puppet show that is originated from Shaanxi province. Puppet Shows in China always involve singing. Much dialogue is also carried out in an archaic form of Standard Mandarin, in which Zhongyuan Guanhua (Zhongyuan Mandarin) dialects in Henan and Shaanxi are closest. This form of standard Mandarin is recorded in the book Zhongyuan Yinyun. It also absorbed music and arias from other operas and local Zhili musical art forms. Some scholars believe that the Xipi musical form was derived from the historic Qinqiang, while many conventions of staging, performance elements, and aesthetic principles were retained from Kunqu, the form that preceded it as court art.
Thus, Beijing opera is not actually a monolithic form, but rather a coalescence of many older forms. However, the new form also introduced its own innovations. The vocal requirements for all of the major roles were greatly reduced for Beijing opera. The Chou, in particular, rarely has a singing part in Beijing opera, unlike the equivalent role in Kunqu style. The melodies that accompany each play were also simplified, and are played with different traditional instruments than in earlier forms. Perhaps most noticeably, true acrobatic elements were introduced with Beijing opera. The form grew in popularity throughout the 19th century. The Anhui troupes reached their peak of excellence in the middle of the century, and were invited to perform in the court of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom that had been established during the Taiping Rebellion. Beginning in 1884, the Empress Dowager Cixi became a regular patron of Beijing opera, cementing its status over earlier forms like Kunqu. The popularity of Beijing opera has been attributed to the simplicity of the form, with only a few voices and singing patterns. This allowed anyone to sing the arias themselves.
Beijing opera was initially an exclusively male pursuit. The Qianlong Emperor had banned all female performers in Beijing in 1772. The appearance of women on the stage began unofficially during the 1870s. Female performers began to impersonate male roles and declared equality with men. They were given a venue for their talents when Li Maoer, himself a former Beijing opera performer, founded the first female Beijing opera troupe in Shanghai. By 1894, the first commercial venue showcasing female performance troupes appeared in Shanghai. This encouraged other female troupes to form, which gradually increased in popularity. As a result, theatre artist Yu Zhenting petitioned for the lifting of the ban after the founding of the Republic of China in 1911. This was accepted, and the ban was lifted in 1912, although male Dan continued to be popular after this period.

Beijing opera after the Chinese Civil War
After the Chinese Civil War, Beijing opera became a focal point of identity for both involved parties. When the Communist Party of China came to power in mainland China in 1949, the newly formed government moved to bring art into line with Communist ideology, and “to make art and literature a component of the whole revolutionary machine”. To this end, dramatic works without Communist themes were considered subversive, and were ultimately banned during the Cultural Revolution (1966–1976). Among the eight model plays eventually retained during that time were five Beijing operas. Notable among these operas was The Legend of the Red Lantern, which was approved as a concert with piano accompaniment based on a suggestion from Jiang Qing, wife of Mao Zedong. Performances of works beyond the eight model plays were allowed only in heavily modified form. The endings of many traditional plays were changed, and visible stage assistants in Beijing opera were eliminated. After the end of the Cultural Revolution in the late 1970s, traditional Beijing opera began to be performed again. Beijing opera and other theatrical art forms were a controversial subject both before and during the Twelfth National People’s Congress in 1982. A study carried in the People’s Daily revealed that over 80 percent of musical dramas staged in the country were traditional plays from the pre-Communist era, as opposed to newly written historical dramas promoting socialist values. In response, Communist party officials enacted reforms to curb liberalism and foreign influence in theatrical works.
After the retreat of the Republic of China to Taiwan in 1949, Beijing opera there took on a special status of “political symbolism”, in which the Kuomintang government encouraged the art form over other forms of performance in an attempt to claim a position as the sole representative of Chinese culture. This often occurred at the expense of traditional Taiwanese opera.[25][26] Due to its status as a prestigious art form with a long history, Beijing opera has indeed been studied more and received more monetary support than other forms of theater in Taiwan. However, there has also been a competing movement towards advocating native opera to differentiate Taiwan from the mainland. In September of 1990, when the Kuomintang government participated in a state-sponsored mainland cultural event for the first time, a Taiwanese opera group was sent, possibly to emphasize “Taiwaneseness”.

Modern Beijing opera
During the second half of the 20th century, Beijing opera witnessed a steady decline in audience numbers. This has been attributed both to a decrease in performance quality and an inability of the traditional opera form to capture modern life. Furthermore, the archaic language of Beijing opera required productions to utilize electronic subtitles, which hampered the development of the form. The influence of Western culture has also left the younger generations impatient with the slow pacing of Beijing opera. In response, Beijing opera began to see reform starting in the 1980s. Such reforms have taken the form of creating a school of performance theory to increase performance quality, utilizing modern elements to attract new audiences, and performing new plays outside of the traditional canon. However, these reforms have been hampered by both a lack of funding and a sensitive political climate that makes the performance of new plays difficult.
In addition to more formal reform measures, Beijing opera troupes during the 1980s also adopted more unofficial changes. Some of those seen in traditional works have been called “technique for technique’s sake”. This has included the use of extended high pitch sequences by female Dan, and the addition of lengthier movement sections and percussion sequences to traditional works. Such changes have generally met with disdain from Beijing opera performers, who see them as ploys to gain immediate audience appeal. Plays with repetitive sequences have also been shortened to hold audience interest. New works have naturally experienced a greater freedom to experiment. Regional, popular, and foreign techniques have been adopted, including Western style makeup and beards and new face paint designs for Jing characters. The spirit of reform continued during the 1990s. To survive in an increasingly open market, troupes like the Shanghai Beijing opera Company needed to bring traditional Beijing opera to new audiences. To do this, they have offered an increasing number of free performances in public places.
There has also been a general feeling of a shift in the creative attribution of Beijing opera works. The performer has traditionally played a large role in the scripting and staging of Beijing opera works. However, perhaps following the lead of the West, Beijing opera in recent decades has shifted to a more director and playwright centered model. Performers have striven to introduce innovation in their work while heeding the call for reform from this new upper level of Beijing opera producers.
Channel CCTV-11 in mainland China is currently dedicated to broadcasting classic Chinese opera productions, including Beijing opera.

Beijing opera around the world
In addition to its presence in mainland China, Beijing opera has spread to many other places. It can be found in Hong Kong, Taiwan, and overseas Chinese communities elsewhere. Mei Lanfang, one of the most famous Dan performers of all time, was also one of the greatest popularizers of Beijing opera abroad. During the 1920s, he performed Beijing opera in Japan. This inspired an American tour in February of 1930. Although some, such as the actor Otis Skinner, believed that Beijing opera could never be a success in the United States, the favorable reception of Lanfang and his troupe in New York City disproved this notion. The performances had to be relocated from the 49th Street Theater to the larger National Theater, and the duration of the tour extended from two weeks to five. Lanfang traveled across the United States, receiving honorary degrees from the University of California and Pomona College. He followed this tour with a tour in the Soviet Union in 1935.

Performers and roles

Training

Becoming a Beijing opera performer requires a long and arduous apprenticeship beginning from an early age. Prior to the 20th century, pupils were often handpicked at a young age by a teacher and trained for seven years on contract from the child’s parents. Since the teacher fully provided for the pupil during this period, the student accrued a debt to his master that was later repaid through performance earnings. After 1911, training took place in more formally organized schools. Students at these schools rose as early as five o’clock in the morning for exercises. Daytime was spent learning the skills of acting and combat, and senior students performed in outside theatres in the evening. If they made any mistakes during such performances, the entire group was beaten with bamboo canes. Schools with less harsh training methods began to appear in 1930, but all schools were closed down in 1931 after the Japanese invasion. New schools were not opened until 1952.
Performers are first trained in acrobatics, followed by singing and gestures. Several performing schools, all based on the styles of famous performers, are taught. Some examples are the Mei Lanfang school, the Cheng Yanqiu school, the Ma Lianliang school, and the Qi Lintong school. Students previously trained exclusively in the art of performance, but modern performance schools now include academic studies as well. Teachers assess the qualifications of each student and assign them roles as primary, secondary, or tertiary characters accordingly. Students with little acting talent often become Beijing opera musicians. They may also serve as the supporting cast of foot soldiers, attendants, and servants that is present in every Beijing opera troupe. In Taiwan, the Ministry of National Defense of the Republic of China runs a national Beijing opera training school.

Sheng
The Sheng (生) is the main male role in Beijing opera. This role has numerous subtypes. The laosheng is a dignified older role. These characters have a gentle and cultivated disposition and wear sensible costumes. One type of laosheng role is the hongsheng, a red-faced older male. The only two hongsheng roles are Guan Gong, the Chinese God of War, and Zhao Kuang-yin, the first Song Dynasty emperor. Young male characters are known as xiaosheng. These characters sing in a high, shrill voice with occasional breaks to represent the voice changing period of adolescence. Depending on the character’s rank in society, the costume of the xiaosheng may be either elaborate or simple. Off-stage, xiaosheng actors are often involved with beautiful women by virtue of the handsome and young image they project. The wusheng is a martial character for roles involving combat. They are highly trained in acrobatics, and have a natural voice when singing. Troupes will always have a laosheng actor. A xiaosheng actor may also be added to play roles fitting to his age. In addition to these main Sheng, the troupe will also have a secondary laosheng.

Dan
The Dan (旦) refers to any female role in Beijing opera. Dan roles were originally divided into five subtypes. Old women were played by laodan, martial women were wudan, young female warriors were daomadan, virtuous and elite women were qingyi, and vivacious and unmarried women were huadan. One of Mei Lanfang’s most important contributions to Beijing opera was in pioneering a sixth type of role, the huashan. This role type combines the status of the qingyi with the sensuality of the huadan. A troupe will have a young Dan to play main roles, as well as an older Dan for secondary parts. Four examples of famous Dans are Mei Lanfang, Cheng Yanqiu, Shang Xiaoyun, and Xun Huisheng.[52] In the early years of Beijing opera, all Dan roles were played by men. Wei Changsheng, a male Dan performer in the Qing court, developed the cai ciao, or “false foot” technique, to simulate the bound feet of women and the characteristic gait that resulted from the practice. The ban on female performers also led to a controversial form of brothel, known as the xianggong tangzi, in which men paid to have sex with young boys dressed as females. Ironically, the performing skills taught to the youths employed in these brothels led many of them to become professional Dan later in life.

Jing
The Jing (净) is a painted face male role. Depending on the repertoire of the particular troupe, he will play either primary or secondary roles. This type of role will entail a forceful character, so a Jing must have a strong voice and be able to exaggerate gestures. Beijing opera boasts 16 basic facial patterns, but there are over 1000 specific variations. Each design is unique to a specific character. The patterns and coloring are thought to be derived from traditional Chinese color symbolism and divination on the lines of a person’s face, which is said to reveal personality. Easily recognizable examples of coloring include red, which denotes uprightness and loyalty, white, which represents evil or crafty characters, and black, which is given to characters of soundness and integrity. Three main types of Jing roles are often seen. These include tongchui, roles that heavily involve singing, jiazi, roles with less emphasis on singing and more on physical performance, and wujing, martial and acrobatic roles.

Chou
The Chou (丑) is a male clown role. The Chou usually plays secondary roles in a troupe. Indeed, most studies of Beijing opera classify the Chou as a minor role. The name of the role is a homophone of the Mandarin Chinese word chou, meaning “ugly”. This reflects the traditional belief that the clown’s combination of ugliness and laughter could drive away evil spirits. Chou roles can be divided into Wen Chou, civilian roles such as merchants and jailers, and Wu Chou, minor military roles. The Wu Chou is one of the most demanding in Beijing opera, because of its combination of comic acting, acrobatics, and a strong voice. Chou characters are generally amusing and likable, if a bit foolish. Their costumes range from simple for characters of lower status to elaborate, perhaps overly so, for high status characters. Chou characters wear special face paint, called xiaohualian, that differs from that of Jing characters. The defining characteristic of this type of face paint is a small patch of white chalk around the nose. This can represent either a mean and secretive nature or a quick wit.
Beneath the whimsical persona of the Chou, a serious connection to the form of Beijing opera exists. The Chou is the character most connected to the guban, the drums and clapper commonly used for musically accompaniment during performances. The Chou actor often uses the guban in solo performance, especially when performing Shu Ban, light-hearted verses spoken for comedic effect. The clown is also connected to the small gong and cymbals, percussion instruments that symbolize the lower classes and the raucous atmosphere inspired by the role. Although Chou characters do not sing frequently, their arias feature large amounts of improvisation. This is considered a license of the role, and the orchestra will accompany the Chou actor even as he bursts into an unscripted folk song. However, due to the standardization of Beijing opera and political pressure from government authorities, Chou improvisation has lessened in recent years. The Chou has a vocal timbre that is distinct from other characters, as the character will often speak in the common Beijing dialect, as opposed to the more formal dialects of other characters.

Performance elements

Beijing opera performers utilize four main skills. The first two are song and speech. The third is dance-acting. This includes pure dance, pantomime, and all other types of dance. The final skill is combat, which includes both acrobatics and fighting with all manner of weaponry. All of these skills are expected to be performed effortlessly, in keeping with the spirit of the art form.

Aesthetic aims and principles
Beijing opera follows other traditional Chinese arts in emphasizing meaning, rather than accuracy. The highest aim of performers is to put beauty into every motion. Indeed, performers are strictly criticized for lacking beauty during training. Additionally, performers are taught to create a synthesis between the different aspects of Beijing opera. The four skills of Beijing opera are not separate, but rather should be combined in a single performance. One skill may take precedence at certain moments during a play, but this does not mean that other actions should cease. Much attention is paid to tradition in the art form, and gestures, settings, music, and character types are determined by long held convention. This includes conventions of movement, which are used to signal particular actions to the audience. For example, walking in a large circle always symbolizes traveling a long distance, and a character straightening his or her costume and headdress symbolizes that an important character is about to speak. Some conventions, such as the pantomimic opening and closing of doors and mounting and descending of stairs, are more readily apparent.
Many performances deal with behaviors that occur in daily life. However, in accordance with the overriding principle of beauty, such behaviors are stylized to be presented on stage. Beijing opera does not aim to accurately represent reality. Experts of the art form contrast the principles of Beijing opera with the principle of Mo, mimesis or imitation, that is found in western dramas. Beijing opera should be suggestive, not imitative. The literal aspects of scenes are removed or stylized to better represent intangible emotions and characters. The most common stylization method in Beijing opera is roundness. Every motion and pose is carefully manipulated to avoid sharp angles and straight lines. A character looking upon an object above them will sweep their eyes in a circular motion from low to high before landing on the object. Similarly, a character will sweep their hand in an arc from left to right in order to indicate an object on the right. This avoidance of sharp angles extends to three dimensional movement as well; reversals of orientation often take the form of a smooth, S-shaped curve.[65] All of these general principles of aesthetics are present within other performance elements as well.

Staging and costumes

Beijing opera stages have traditionally been square platforms. The action on stage is usually visible from at least three sides. The stage is divided into two parts by an embroidered curtain called a shoujiu. Musicians are visible to the audience on the front part of the stage. Traditional Beijing opera stages were built above the line of sight of the viewers, but some modern stages have been constructed with higher audience seating. Viewers are always seated south of the stage. Therefore, north is the most important direction in Beijing opera, and performers will immediately move to “center north” upon entering the stage. All characters enter from the east and exit from the west. In line with the highly symbolic nature of Beijing opera, the form utilizes very few props. This reflects seven centuries of Chinese performance tradition. The presence of large objects is frequently indicated through conventions. The stage will almost always have a table and at least one chair, which can be turned through convention into such diverse objects as a city wall, a mountain, or a bed. Peripheral objects will often be used to signify the presence of a larger, main object. For example, a whip is used to indicate a horse and an oar symbolizes a boat.
The length and internal structure of Beijing opera plays is highly variable. Prior to 1949, zhezixi, short plays or plays made up of short scenes from longer plays, were often performed. These plays usually center on one simple situation or feature a selection of scenes designed to include all four of the main Beijing opera skills and showcase the virtuosity of the performers. This format has become less prevalent in recent times, but plays of one act are still performed. These short works, as well as individual scenes within longer works, are marked by an emotional progression from the beginning of the play to the end. For example, the concubine in the one act play The Favorite Concubine Becomes Intoxicated begins in a state of joy, and then moves to anger and jealousy, drunken playfulness, and finally to a feeling of defeat and resignation. A full-length play usually has from six to fifteen or more scenes. The overall story in these longer works is told through contrasting scenes. Plays will alternate between civil and martial scenes, or scenes involve protagonists and antagonists. There are several major scenes within the work that follow the pattern of emotional progression. It is these scenes that are usually excerpted for later zhezixi productions. Some of the most complex plays may even have an emotional progression from scene to scene.
Due to the scarcity of props in Beijing opera, costumes take on added importance. Costumes function first to distinguish the rank of the character being played. Emperors and their families wear yellow robes, and high ranking officials wear purple. The robe worn by these two classes is called a mang, or python robe. It is a costume suitable for the high rank of the character, featuring brilliant colors and rich embroidery, often in the design of a dragon. Persons of high rank or virtue wear red, lower ranking officials wear blue, young characters wear white, the old wear white, brown, or olive, and all other men wear black. On formal occasions, lower officials may wear the kuan yi, a simple gown with patches of embroidery on both the front and back. All other characters, and officials on informal occasions, wear the chezi, a basic gown with varying levels of embroidery and no jade girdle to denote rank. All three types of gowns have water sleeves, long flowing sleeves that can be flicked and waved like water, attached to facilitate emotive gestures. Tertiary characters of no rank wear simple clothing without embroidery. Hats are intended to blend in with the rest of the costume and will usually have a matching level of embroidery. Shoes may be high or low soled, the former being worn by characters of high rank, and the latter by characters of low rank or acrobatic characters.

Music

The accompaniment for a Beijing opera performance usually consists of a small ensemble of traditional melodic and percussion instruments. The lead melodic instrument is the jinghu, a small high pitched two string spike fiddle. The second is the circular bodied plucked lute, the ruan. Percussion instruments include the Daluo, Xiaoluo, and Naobo. The player of the Gu and Ban, a small high pitch drum and clapper, is the conductor of the entire ensemble. The two main musical styles of Beijing opera, Xipi and Erhuang, originally differed in subtle ways. In the Xipi style, the strings of the jinghu are tuned to the keys of A and D. The melodies in this style are very disjointed, possibly reflecting the style’s derivation from the high and loud melodies of the Qinqiang opera of northwestern China. It is commonly used to tell joyous stories. In Erhuang, on the other hand, the strings are tuned to the keys of C and G. This reflects the low, soft, and despondent folk tunes of south-central Hubei province, the style’s place of origin. As a result, it is used for lyrical stories. Both musical styles have a standard meter of two beats per bar. The two musical styles share six different tempos, including manban (a slow tempo), yuanban (a standard, medium-fast tempo), kuai sanyan (“leading beat”), daoban (“leading beat”), sanban (“rubato beat”), and yaoban (“shaking beat”). The xipi style also utilizes several unique tempos, including erliu (“two-six”), and kuaiban (a fast tempo). Of these tempos, yuanban, manban, and kuaiban are most commonly seen. The tempo at any given time is controlled by a percussion player who acts as director. Erhuang has been seen as more improvisational, and Xipi as more tranquil. The lack of defined standards among performance troupes and the passage of time may have made the two styles more similar to each other today.
The melodies played by the accompaniment mainly fall into three broad categories. The first is the aria. The arias of Beijing opera can be further divided into those of the Erhuang and Xipi varieties. An example of an aria is wawa diao, an aria in the Xipi style that is sung by a young Sheng to indicate heightened emotion. The second type of melody heard in Beijing opera is the fixed-tune melody, or qupai. These are instrumental tunes that serve a wider range of purposes than arias. Examples include the “Water Dragon Tune” (shui long yin), which generally denotes the arrival of an important person, and “Triple Thrust”(ji san qiang), which may signal a feast or banquet. The final type of musical accompaniment is the percussion pattern. Such patterns provide context to the music in ways similar to the fixed-tune melodies. For example, there are as many as 48 different percussion patterns that accompany stage entrances. Each one identifies the entering character by his or her individual rank and personality.

Repertoire

The repertoire of Beijing opera includes nearly 1,400 works. The plays are mostly taken from historical novels or traditional stories about civil, political and military struggles. Early plays were often adaptations from earlier Chinese theatre styles, such as kunqu. Nearly half of 272 plays listed in 1824 were derived from earlier styles. With such a large number of plays, it is not surprising that many different classification systems have been used over time to sort them. Two traditional methods have existed since Beijing opera first appeared in China. The oldest and most generally used system is to sort plays into civil and martial types. Civil plays focus on the relationships between characters, and feature personal, domestic, and romantic situations. The element of singing is frequently used to express emotion in this type of play. Martial plays feature a greater emphasis on action and combat skill. The two types of play also feature different arrays of performers. Martial plays predominantly feature young sheng, jing, and chou, while civil plays have a greater need for older roles and dan. In addition to being civil or martial, plays are also classified as either daxi (serious) or xiaoxi (light). The performance elements and performers used in serious and light plays greatly resemble those used in martial and civil plays, respectively. Of course, the aesthetic principle of synthesis frequently leads to the use of these contrasting elements in combination, yielding plays that defy such dichotomous classification.
Since 1949, a more detailed classification system has been put into use based on thematic content and the historical period of a play’s creation. The first category in this system is chuantongxi, traditional plays that were in performance prior to 1949. The second category is xinbian de lishixi, historical plays written after 1949. This type of play was not produced at all during the Cultural Revolution, but is a major focus today. The final category is xiandaixi, contemporary plays. The subject matter of these plays is taken from the 20th century and beyond. Contemporary productions are also frequently experimental in nature, and may incorporate Western influences. In the second half of the 20th century, Western works have increasingly been adapted for Beijing opera. The works of Shakespeare have been especially popular. The movement to adapt Shakespeare to the stage has encompassed all forms of Chinese theatre. Beijing opera in particular has seen versions of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and King Lear, among others.

Beijing opera in film
Beijing opera and its stylistic devices have appeared in many Chinese films. It often was used to signify a unique “Chineseness” in contrast to sense of culture being presented in Japanese films. Fei Mu, a director of the pre-Communist era, utilized Beijing opera in a number of plays, sometimes within “Westernized”, realistic plots. King Hu, a later Chinese film director, utilized many of the formal norms of Beijing opera in his films, such as the parallelism between music, voice, and gesture. In the 1993 film Farewell My Concubine, by Chen Kaige, Beijing opera serves as the object of pursuit for the protagonists and a backdrop for their romance. However, the film’s portrayal of Beijing opera has been criticized as one-dimensional. Beinjing opera is also featured in Peking Opera Blues by Tsui Hark.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beijing_opera

Jackie Chan was born in 1954 on Victoria Peak, Hong Kong, as Chan Kong Sang (meaning “born in Hong Kong”) to Charles and Lee-Lee Chan, refugees from the Chinese Civil War. He was nicknamed Pao Pao (Chinese: 炮炮, literally meaning “Cannonball”) because he was always rolling around as an infant. Since his parents worked for the French ambassador to Hong Kong, Chan spent his formative years within the grounds of the ambassador’s residence in the Victoria Peak district.
Chan attended the Nah-Hwa Primary School on Hong Kong Island, where he failed his first year, after which his parents withdrew him from the school. In 1960, his father emigrated to Canberra, Australia to work as head cook for the American embassy, and Chan was sent to the Chinese Drama Academy, a Peking Opera School run by Master Yu Jim Yuen.
Chan trained rigorously for the next decade, excelling in martial arts and acrobatics. He eventually joined the Seven Little Fortunes, a performance group made up of the school’s best students, gaining the stage name Yuen Lo in homage to his master. Chan became close friends with fellow group members Sammo Hung and Yuen Biao, the three of them later to be known as the Three Brothers or Three Dragons.
At the age of 8, he appeared with some of his fellow “Little Fortunes”, in the film Big and Little Wong Tin Bar (1962), with Li Li Hua playing his mother. Chan appeared with Li again the following year, in The Love Eterne (1963) and had a small role in King Hu’s 1966 film, Come Drink with Me. After an appearance as an extra in another King Hu film, A Touch of Zen, Chan began his adult career in the film industry. At the age of 17, he worked as a stuntman in the Bruce Lee films Fist of Fury and Enter the Dragon under the stage name Chen Yuen Long. He received his first starring role later that year, in Little Tiger of Canton, which had a limited release in Hong Kong in 1973.
Chan joined his parents in Canberra in 1976, where he briefly attended Dickson College and worked as a construction worker. A fellow builder named Jack took Chan under his wing, earning Chan the nickname of “Little Jack” which was later shortened to “Jackie”. In addition, Chan changed his Chinese name to Fong Si Lung, since his father’s original surname was Fong.

In 1976, Jackie Chan received a telegram from Willie Chan, a film producer in the Hong Kong film industry who had been impressed with Jackie’s stuntwork. Willie Chan offered him an acting role in a film directed by Lo Wei, who planned to model him after Bruce Lee with the film New Fist of Fury. His stage name was changed to Sing Lung (Chinese: 成龍, literally “become the dragon”) to emphasise his similarity to Bruce Lee, whose stage name was Lei Siu Lung (Chinese: 李小龍, meaning “Little Dragon”). The film was unsuccessful because Chan was not accustomed to Lee’s martial arts style. Despite the film’s failure, Lo Wei continued producing films with similar themes, resulting in little improvement at the box office.[10]
Chan’s first major breakthrough was the 1978 film Snake in the Eagle’s Shadow, shot while he was loaned to Seasonal Film Corporation under a two-picture deal. Under director Yuen Woo Ping, Chan was allowed complete freedom over his stunt work. The film established the comedic kung fu genre, and proved to be a breath of fresh air for the Hong Kong audience. Chan then starred in Drunken Master, which finally propelled him to mainstream success.[13]
Upon Chan’s return to Lo Wei’s studio, Lo tried to replicate the comedic approach of Drunken Master, producing Half a Loaf of Kung Fu and Spiritual Kung Fu. He also gave Chan the opportunity to co-direct Fearless Hyena with Kenneth Tsang. When Willie Chan left the company, he advised Jackie to decide for himself whether to or not to stay with Lo Wei. During the shooting of Fearless Hyena Part II, Chan broke his contract and joined Golden Harvest, prompting Lo to blackmail Chan with triads, blaming Willie for his star’s departure. The dispute was resolved with the help of fellow actor and director Jimmy Wang Yu, allowing Chan to stay with Golden Harvest.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jackie_Chan

Chan Kong-sang was born on Victoria Peak in Hong Kong in 1954, the son of two servants to the French ambassador. He spent his toddler years within the confines of the embassy where they lived. Despite the rigid discipline of his father, the young Chan showed a great dislike for academic study, preferring instead his lessons in kung fu and the ingestion of large quantities of food (his father was the cook at the embassy). After only one year at school, it was clear Chan was struggling, and so his parents took the decision to withdraw him from school and look for another solution.
The Academy
The search for a way to educate Chan became more important when his father was offered a job in Australia. Benefits of the move were clear, they would obtain Australian citizenship, and earn more money (enough to save rather than merely survive on). However, Chan and his mother would have to stay behind initially, and without the discipline of his father Chan might slip into delinquency. His father’s friends eventually suggested a course of action which would provide support, education and discipline for the boy.
Chan was sent to Master Yu’s China Drama Academy on Kowloon Island. In return for being taught the skills of dramatic performance (which included music, gymnastics and martial arts) and being given food and housing, Chan would be expected to remain under Master Yu’s tutelage for a period of ten years. At first he found it difficult to fit in with the rigid hierarchy imposed upon himself and his fellow students, but gradually he began to demonstrate competence in every area of study. Chan was frequently in confrontation with the elder students who had disciplinary power over the younger children – an echo of his days back home when he used kung fu against the local bullies, and a glimpse of his future personality.
Once the students of the Academy were sufficiently practised in their given profession they began putting on performances of classic Chinese operas in a theatre at a local amusement park. These provided the money to keep the Academy running, along with providing students as extras in film productions. Chan took leading parts in the Academy productions, receiving praise from audiences and earning the respect of his Master. It was here, in the spotlight, that Chan realised he wanted to be a star.
As time passed and Chan neared the end of his ten year contract, it became clear that working in traditional Chinese opera was becoming an increasingly difficult way to make money. The entertainment business in Hong Kong was now centred around the film studios, where Chan’s elders graduated to after their stay at the Academy. They rose to every conceivable position in the industry, from acting talent to behind-the-scenes production roles. When it was Chan’s turn to leave Master Yu behind, there was only one viable choice for someone with his mix of acting and martial arts skills; he became a stuntman.
Action in the Movies
Chan had performed a few stunt roles during his days as a student, but now he had to find enough work to support himself (his mother had also moved to Australia during his time at the Academy). Luckily for him, cinema production in Hong Kong exploded in the early 1970s, thanks in no small part to the emergence of Bruce Lee as a superstar. Suddenly action and martial arts films were in huge demand in Asia, and that meant no shortage of work for the stuntmen. In this environment, Chan worked quickly at building a reputation for attempting seemingly impossible, and usually very dangerous, stunts. He even worked with Lee on two of his films. Unfortunately, this brief period of success was tragically cut short. When Bruce Lee met his untimely death, it signalled the end of the lucrative years for the studios, and many people lost their jobs, including Chan.
Unable to make money in Hong Kong, Chan travelled to Australia and lived with his parents, working on construction sites to make ends meet. One of his workmates was a fellow named Jack, who took Chan under his wing. The pair were jokingly referred to as Big Jack and Little Jack on site. Over time, Little Jack became Jackie, the name which finally stuck and became known worldwide.
Even through this period, Jackie did not give up on the dream of stardom, and he kept in regular touch with contacts in the film industry back home. One of these contacts was Willie Chan, a manager working for one of the most famous directors in the business, Lo Wei. They were looking for a young actor to mould into a star. When Jackie was offered the job, he hesitated. The money was nowhere near what he had been making previously, but the lure proved too great and he agreed to a ten-year contract with the company.
Initial efforts did poorly at the box office, mainly because of Lo Wei’s refusal to open up to new ideas. Instead, he attempted to recreate the Bruce Lee era, resulting in films completely lacking in originality.
Just as it was looking like Jackie’s dreams were coming to an end, Willie found a temporary solution in a loan deal to a rival studio, Seasonal Films. Infused with more creative freedom than he had ever before experienced, Jackie scored his first big hits – Snake in the Eagle’s Shadow, and Drunken Master. The rise was meteoric, from relative obscurity to household name in three months. But the solution was only temporary, and he did not relish his return to Lo Wei’s studio. Even when Wei relented and let Jackie direct Fearless Hyena, the amount of control he exhibited over wages and creative output became too much. Finally matters came to a head, and Willie announced he had secured a deal for Jackie to join Golden Harvest Productions, without Lo Wei’s consent. Increasingly desperate to remain in the film industry, Lo Wei turned to the Triads to force Jackie to stay with him. Fortunately, negotiations took place before the situation could become more serious (although Jackie was forced into brief exile in America by the experience), and Golden Harvest bought out Lo Wei’s contract.
The switch to Golden Harvest, for whom Chan had worked for years earlier as a simple stuntman, gave him full creative freedom and even directorial duties in some cases. That first benefit gave rise to Jackie’s trademark, ‘the superstunt’, an enormous one-take scene involving large amounts of destruction and danger. An example of this comes from Police Story 2, where Jackie rides along on the top of a double-decker bus, dives off the roof into the air and sails through a second-floor plate glass window. This is the kind of spectacular moment which sells movie tickets, and Jackie has provided over two decades’ worth of them.
The Pacific Divide
Jackie’s star status in Asia has been unquestionable ever since those first films in the late 1970s. Translating that success into global stardom has proved much more difficult. In particular, the American market was very unreceptive, due to a combination of bad marketing and bad casting. His first US feature film, Battle Creek Brawl saw him portraying a vengeful loner, a routine which had already been done before by countless actors and was not suited to Jackie’s comedic talent. His next American film, Cannonball Run, was a hit, but it was an ensemble piece and did not give a good idea of audience reaction to Chan himself.
A further complication was the restriction to Chan’s style of working, enforced mainly by the studios fearful of legal action if their investment were ever to injure himself on set. The lack of actual contact during action scenes removed the intensity which was his hallmark, which added to the frustration.
This initial flirtation with the USA market soured his opinion and he resolved to stay away, reasoning that the Asian market was bigger anyway. However, he did not give up completely on breaking into other markets, and he raised the international appeal of his films by including actors from many other countries.
It was not until 1994 that Jackie finally decided to try the States again, when Rumble in the Bronx was released. When it made almost $10 million on its opening weekend and became the first Hong Kong film to make it to number one at the US box office, he had finally cracked it. Every film Jackie has made since has seen a successful American release, making him a true global phenomenon.
Hazards of the Job
Success for a stuntman comes at a price, perhaps the ultimate price if luck is against him. Jackie has certainly had a severe physical toll exacted on him. Almost every part of his body has suffered some form of injury, whether it be simple cuts and bruises or dislocations and fractures.
The worst incident came during the filming of Armour of God in Yugoslavia. The stunt itself was relatively simple, by Jackie’s standards, a leap from the top of a 15 foot wall into a tree. However, he missed his landing and fell to the ground, hitting his head on a boulder below the tree. The blow resulted in a skull fracture so severe a bone fragment lodged itself in his brain, causing a life-threatening haemorrhage. He survived because the nearest hospital happened to have the country’s best brain surgeon on the staff. The accident left Jackie hard of hearing in one ear and a hole in his skull remains.
To give the audience some idea of just how dangerous the whole process is, Jackie began adding footage of stunts which went wrong to the end credits of his films, interspersed with shots of the setting-up of the superstunts and more comedic out-takes. He was inspired to include this footage after seeing the finished Cannonball Run, and the tradition has continued to this day.
Filmography
The Internet Movie Database gives a full account of Jackie Chan’s screen career.
Recommended Jackie Chan Films
• The Police Story series
• Drunken Master
• The Young Master
• Thunderbolt
• Dragons Forever
• City Hunter
• Project A
• Project A 2
• Snake in the Eagle’s Shadow
• Snake and Crane Arts of Shaolin

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Page 7.

‘The second important point worth making is that the martial arts action films from Hong Kong, China, Japan, Taiwan and South Korea constitute a very important part of the action-movie heritage dating back, as it does to the early 1970’s, with the Hong Kong movies by Lo Wei (The Big Boss, 1970, Fists of Fury, 1972, starring Bruce Lee); followed by Jackie Chan’s Police Story serise (begun 1985) in which Chan also starred; and John Woo’s films of the mid-1980s (A Better Tomorrow, 1986, starring the chinese actor Chow Yun-Fat, and one of Hong Kong’s top-grossing films ever). Interestingly, there has been a similar shift in film aesthetics to the one described above. According to King (2000: 97), whereas earlier films (of the 1970s and 1980s) favoured the single-shot perspective of a fight sequence allowing us to see the ‘real capabilites of the star Bruce Lee’ (see The Big Boss), now these martial arts/action films have come to rely increasingly on a ‘panoply of montage effects’. The integrity of performance shooting (in the dual sence of the word: the wholeness and authenticity of the performance) has been replaces in some instances by the flashing tempo of hyper-violence ( as in Full Contact, Ringo Lam, 1992, or Bankok Dangerous, Pang brothers, 2001). Alternativly the special effects of wire-fu action have maoved martial arts films into a new realm of the fantastic (see Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Ang Lee, 2000, or Hero, Zhang Yimou, 2002). Not all films have succumbed to this speed or fantasy effect. Takeshi Kitano has taken this genre somewhere else in his almost poetic rendition of the action thriller (see Sonatine 1993).

At Golden Harvest (GH), Jackie delivered his first hit for the company with the Young Master. To propel Jackie beyond Asia, GH then sent Jackie to the States to do a Hollywood movie – The Big Brawl – which unfortunately flopped everywhere, be it Asia or America, as Jackie did not have much say in fight choreography and editing. Ego bruised, Jackie returned from the States an angry man. Without careful planning and a complete script, Jackie rushed to shoot a semi sequel to the Young Master – Young Master in Love. More haste makes less speed. Dragon Lord, as it was finally titled, took several months to shoot and chalked up huge production costs, a lot of which were due to careless planning. Dragon Lord subsequently drew lacklustre box-office. Realizing his box-office draw was returning to the ‘good old days’, Jackie told Golden Harvest that he needed their full support for his next ambitious project, a period movie about battling pirates. Golden Harvest greenlighted the project, and Peking Opera buddies Yuen Biao and Sammo Hung were roped in to be the Jackie’s costars. The end movie, titled Project A, not only successfully launched the New Wave action/fighting, but also sported a solid soundtrack, a first for a Jackie Chan movie then. Most importantly, it made tonnes of money at the box-office. The rest of the 80s was regarded as the heyday of Hong Kong fighting movies, with Jackie and Sammo clearly leading the pack. Jackie’s 2nd Hollywood outing in 1985′s The Protector also ended in failure, and Jackie decided to concentrate on the Asian market. HK made hits like Wheels On Meals, Police Story I & II, Armour of God, Project A II and Dragons Forever etc established Jackie’s ‘kungfu superstar’ reputation and made ‘Cheng Long’ (rather than Jackie Chan) a household name in Asia, just as famous and familiar as Bruce’s ‘Li Xiao Long’. A generation of people grew up watching his 70s (even the Lo Wei ones) and 80s hits. To them, ‘Cheng Long’ is already big enough to qualify as an international superstar, Hollywood or no Hollywood, though i suspect that the man himself doesn’t feel otherwise, and understandably so.

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Way of the Dragon (1972) film poster. It was the first Hong Kong film to be shot on location in a Western continent.
No single figure was more responsible for this international profile than Bruce Lee, an American-born, Hong Kong-raised martial artist and actor. Lee completed just four movies before his death at the age of 32: The Big Boss (1971), Fist of Fury and Way of the Dragon (both 1972) and Enter the Dragon (1973). But in this very brief career he became cinema’s first global Chinese superstar. Eastern film historian Patrick Macias ascribes his success to “(bringing) the warrior spirit of old into the present day… developing his own fighting style… and possessing superhuman charisma”.His first three movies broke local box office records and were successful in much of the world. The English-language Enter the Dragon, the first-ever US-Hong Kong co-production, grossed about US$90 million worldwide, making it the most internationally successful film from that region up to then. Furthermore, his decision at the outset to work for young, upstart studio Golden Harvest, rather than accept the Shaws’ notoriously tightfisted standard contract, was a factor in Golden Harvest’s meteoric rise and Shaw’s eventual decline.
Following Lee’s untimely death, a cottage industry of faux Lee movies emerged, featuring either performers who adopted similar screen names (Bruce Li, Bruce Lai, etc.), or outtake footage of Lee, or some combination of both. The fad did little to engender mainstream respect in the West for the relatively new phenomenon of martial arts cinema. But despite such posthumous treatment, Lee continues to cast a long shadow over Hong Kong film.

Jackie Chan and the kung fu comedy
The only Chinese performer who has ever rivalled Bruce Lee’s global fame is Jackie Chan. Like many kung fu performers of the day, Chan came out of training in Peking opera and started in film as a stuntman, notably in some of Lee’s vehicles. He was groomed for a while by The Big Boss and Fist of Fury director Lo Wei as another Lee clone, in several movies including New Fist of Fury (1976), with little success. But in 1978, Chan teamed up with action choreographer Yuen Woo Ping on Yuen’s directorial debut, Snake in the Eagle’s Shadow. The resulting blend of physical comedy and kung fu action provided Chan with his first hit and the rudiments of what would become his signature style. Chan’s follow-up movie with Yuen, Drunken Master (also 1978), and his directorial debut, Fearless Hyena (1979), were also giant hits and cemented his popularity.

Sammo Hung as a wise master in Tsui Hark’s Zu Warriors from the Magic Mountain (1983). The white eyebrows speak of extraordinary power on the part of the character.
Although these films were not the first kung fu comedies, they launched a vogue that helped reinvigorate the waning kung fu genre. Especially notable in this regard were two of Chan’s childhood Peking Opera School classmates, Sammo Hung and Yuen Biao, who also made careers of this specialty, sometimes co-starring with Chan. Hung, noted for the seeming paradox of his overweight physique and physical agility, also made a name for himself as a director and action choreographer from early on, with titles like Enter the Fat Dragon (1978).

Reinventing action cinema
Chan’s clowning may have helped extend the life of the kung fu wave for several years. Nevertheless, he became a star towards the end of the boom, and would soon help move the colony towards a new type of action. In the 1980s, he and many colleagues would forge a slicker, more spectacular Hong Kong pop cinema that would successfully compete with the post-Star Wars summer blockbusters from America.
Jackie Chan and the modern kung fu film
By 1983, Chan branched out into action films which, though they still used martial arts, were less limited in scope, setting and plot. His first film in this vein, Project A, saw the official formation of the Jackie Chan Stunt Team and added elaborate, dangerous stunts to the fights and typical slapstick humor (at one point, Chan falls from the top of a clock tower through a series of fabric canopies). The new formula grossed over HK$19 million.
Chan continued to take the approach – and the budgets – to new heights in hits like Police Story (1986). Here was Chan dangling from a speeding bus, sliding down a pole covered with exploding light bulbs, and destroying large parts of a shopping centre and a hillside shantytown. The 1988 sequel called for explosions on a scale similar to many Hollywood movies and seriously injured leading lady Maggie Cheung – an occupational risk Chan had already grown used to. Thus Jackie Chan created the template for the contemporary urban action-comedy of the 1980s, combining cops, kung fu and all the bodybreaking potential of the modern city with its glass, metal and speeding vehicles.

Hong Kong action cinema
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

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Cinema Studies, key concepts.
Susan Hayward.

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