Beyond the flying fists

Malaysia rarely sees typhoons. So when Typhoon Dolphin struck Shanghai recently, a Malaysian couple experienced one for the first time.

Their flight was delayed, then rescheduled. After they finally boarded, the plane returned to the airport. They spent 30 hours stranded before eventually getting seats on a replacement flight to Harbin in Heilongjiang province.

They had traveled thousands of kilometers for one reason: to see their idol, Jackie Chan.

"As the plane was taxiing, I was still very nervous. I was afraid it would be canceled again," says Low Ai Ying. "The moment we left the ground, I grabbed my husband's hand, and tears just fell."

The couple are Chinese Malaysians whose families trace their roots to Fujian province in southeastern China. Growing up, they had access to just one Chinese-language channel, and Jackie Chan's movies seemed to be on constant rotation.

"He was probably the only choice. But we never got tired of watching him. Chinese people really loved Jackie Chan."

To Low, Chan's films were brave and authentic. Whenever he was beaten up on screen, she says, she would wince along with him. More important was his persistence in making films, which gave her strength during difficult periods in her own life.

The couple met through their shared love of Chan's movies. Whenever one of his new films is released in Malaysia, they still make it a point to go to the theater.

This time, they traveled to attend the seventh Jackie Chan International Action Film Week and the inaugural Sun Island Film Week, held in Harbin.

In mid-August, fans from around the world gathered in the "Ice City," where China's first movie theater was established, to celebrate the past and consider the future of Chinese action cinema.

At a meeting with fans, Chan gave an update on his health. He said he had just returned from Azerbaijan, where he was filming a new movie, when a high-pressure jet of water from a fire hose accidentally knocked him into a pillar, fracturing his shoulder blade.

"I'm fine. I can go back to work as normal," he says with a laugh. "If I don't film, it actually hurts more."

It is the kind of attitude that has carried him through much of his career. He jokes about an old saying: "Once you go to the hospital, you'll find out you're sick. If you don't go, you're fine."

At the event, Chan greeted fans from across China and 17 other countries, switching between regional Chinese dialects and foreign languages. This year marks his 42nd year in the film industry.

He recalls his early days as a young stuntman. While filming Water Margin, he played a minor water demon soldier. Because he is not a strong swimmer, he nearly passed out on set.

"Five decades have passed so quickly," he says. He still finds it difficult to believe that he is making movies and that so many people continue to like him.

Among those fans is Ben Lewis, from Britain, who founded a small Jackie Chan fan club in Europe with about 30 members. His favorite Chan film is Armour of God, which he first watched as a child, when Chan was still, in Lewis's words, a "young man".

"Before CGI, before special effects, before Western films were doing this, he was already doing his own stunts," Lewis says.

Even in his 70s, Lewis adds, Chan continues to do what has defined his career.

For Lewis, the appeal of Chan's films lies partly in their lightness. They are comedies as much as they are action films.

When Chan fights, he is rarely trying to hurt someone. He is trying to protect himself. And he gets hurt, too. Viewers can see the pain he experiences and the physical cost of the fight.

That vulnerability is part of what sets Chan apart, says Stanley Tong, who directed Chan in films including the Police Story franchise, Rumble in the Bronx and The Myth. Tong sees it as part of a broader distinction between Chinese and Western action cinema.

More than a fight

"We talk about chivalry and martial ethics," Tong says.

The point is not to use violence simply to win, but to use force to resolve hatred.

"In Western movies, if someone points a gun at another person, they can be portrayed as a hero," Tong says. "Chinese movies are different."

He points to Bruce Lee's films from the early days of martial arts cinema. If an opponent is unarmed, or has been knocked down and can no longer stand, the hero stops fighting.

In the 1970s, Lee's films became a global phenomenon. Tong entered Hong Kong's action-film industry around that time and had the opportunity to meet Lee once.

His earliest impression of action cinema comes through one of Lee's characters: an Asian man, principled and justice-minded, willing to stand up against the powerful despite great personal risk.

Years later, when Tong began directing films such as Rumble in the Bronx, Hollywood's vision of the action hero had become increasingly familiar: the polished hero, the expensive car, and the beautiful woman.

Tong did not think simply importing that formula onto Chinese characters made sense. The more important question, he says, is: "Why are we fighting?"

When Rumble in the Bronx premiered, audiences cheered Chan's stunts. But Tong believes what moved them was not simply seeing Chan leaping through the air. It was his sense of dignity and moral courage.

"Bruce Lee's films use hand-to-hand combat to express a sense of national spirit. Chan adds cars and explosions. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon brings the wuxia genre to global audiences, with warriors flying over rooftops and moving through the air. More recently, films such as Wu Jing's Wolf Warrior incorporate military themes."

The subjects of Chinese action films have continued to evolve, Tong notes, but an emphasis on loyalty, emotion and the moral courage of ordinary people has remained.

As artificial intelligence and other technologies reshape filmmaking, Tong believes they cannot fully reproduce the feeling of watching someone actually fight, jump and put their body at risk.

"When you see an actor really giving something of himself, you naturally feel respect for that person," he says.

The film week also honored action films and filmmakers from China and abroad, presenting 16"Iron Man" awards to performers and industry figures.

The ceremony took place amid heavy wind and rain. Ti Lung, the veteran Hong Kong actor who received a lifetime achievement award, thanked the storm.

"I want to thank the heavy rain," he said, looking at the audience, many of whom remained seated despite being soaked. "I saw so many people sitting there as steady as a mountain."

He invoked a classical Chinese line about righteousness carried on a great wind, then addressed his fellow stunt performers: Do not worry about the future. Face whatever comes, whether fortune or hardship.

Fan Jianxiong, a longtime Jackie Chan fan and admirer of Chinese action cinema, stood in the rain for the entire three-hour awards ceremony.

For years, he says, people have questioned whether Chinese action cinema has a future beyond the generation of Chan, Jet Li and Donnie Yen.

"On the surface, perhaps it looks that way, but Chinese filmmakers have never stopped persevering."

In Harbin, he was struck by the story of Xie Miao, who won the award for Best Action Actor for The Furious. Xie began as a child actor and, at age 9, appeared alongside Jet Li in My Father Is a Hero.

When he returned to the film industry as an adult, opportunities were limited. He worked in television and online films and still keeps going.

His recent performance, Fan says, is a reminder of what has sustained Chinese action cinema: performers willing to put their bodies on the line and people willing to keep going even when the industry offers little certainty.

"Only Chinese people can make action films with distinctly Chinese cultural characteristics," Fan says. "As long as there is a group of actors and filmmakers who keep persevering, Chinese action cinema will not lose its continuity."