Punk-ass bitch Jackie Chan, unlike the previous review/future movie for Drunken Master II, is only 24 years old here. And getting himself into all kinds of hi-jinx. Known to us now, but this is film that gave him distinction from the other martial artists post Bruce Lee bringing a level of comedy, stunts and eye for choreography that was pretty unique for the time. There is a prop-fu element here that really seems to be an establishing trademark for many of his films going forward. Was it there before? Maybe. Good luck finding the VHS tape of those, though.
Shady character with a pron ‘stache opens the film, doing a little bounty-huntin job. Cash seems right, adjusted for inflation and all, and of course converted from to dollars from duck-eggs or whatever the fuck currency they talkin. Job...done. Cut to a Local dojo or whatever it is, training the young guys. Owner of the dojo just happens to be the father of the young punk Jackie Chan aka “Naughty Panther” (haha yikes) in class, who don’t like the rules. Cuz he’s a punk. He crosses lines. He crosses more lines. Punishmentses are not enough. Sent to train with a highly disreputable uncle, is basically banished. Drunken Hobo So or whatever his name is straightens him out though. If that means getting your student all drunk and training him in ass-kickery, sure. Scenarios happen. But who burns a man’s trousers? That’s fkn cold shit right there, mang. Disgraced son journey. No surprises, just a lot of choreography that’s like ballet with fists, kicks and headbutts to the face/head/shoulders/arms/hands/chest/back/stomach/groin/ass/legs/feet. Think I got that covered but I may have missed a few.
While maybe a few too many years passed before the release of Drunken Master II in ‘94 for this to be a believable sequel to the first, well, fuckin A if they can make another turd of an Indiana Jones movie, this is well within that constraint. And it’s pretty decent. While it may not have quite the polish of Legend, it covers all the bases with the basic 3-act play of a story while the Punk figures shit out and does a few training montage-like scenes. Karate Kid got nothing on this, I’d wax off a car any day compared to this insanity. I really need to work on my cardio, though. And strength. And endurance. Damn you, Jackie Chan. My 12 ounce curls seem less-than-adequate regimen for pure kung-fu supremacy on display here.
