by Brendan Foley
Cinapse Pick of the Week
Exactly what it sounds like, the Pick of the Week column is written up by the Cinapse team on rotation, focusing on films that are past the marketing cycle of either their theatrical release or their home video release. So maybe the pick of the week will be only a couple of years old. Or maybe it’ll be a silent film, cult classic, or forgotten gem. Cinapse is all about thoughtfully advocating film, new and old, and celebrating what we love no matter how marketable that may be. So join us as we share about what we’re discovering, and hopefully you’ll find some new films for your watch list, or some new validation that others out there love what you love too! Engage with us in the comments or on Twitter or Facebook! And now, our Cinapse Pick Of The Week…
So a few weeks back I was feeling pretty low. No specific reason, no tragedy or inciting incident or anything like that. Just a general sort of malaise, the kind that floats around and touches down every so often. When that happens, there are certain comfort films that I can turn to that incite an almost chemical response. Big Trouble in Little China is one of those films, and it ended up being the film I turned to on this occasion.
The most remarkable thing about Big Trouble in Little China is how completely and utterly wrong the film is. Looking at the individual elements on paper, this is a film formed from mish-mashed tones and plot threads, mixed in with troubling racial stereotypes and a story that brings new meaning to the word ‘nonsensical.’ If I was a studio exec and this script landed on my desk, that thing would be put up on the blocks for a reworking, if not junked outright.
But that’s the thing about movies: they are perhaps the closest we will ever get to true alchemy. You can throw the most talented group of artists at the most bulletproof concept imaginable and wind up with something flat and soulless. Or, you can take a big heaping mess, throw a bunch of gonzo personalities at it, and come out the other side with a classic. Film is a collaborative art form in which the finalized process can never be a sure thing until the picture is locked down and on the road to theaters.
(And even that surety is being lost in an era in which all films are constantly being tweaked and twisted to fit whatever creative urge strikes the director. Thanks, George Lucas.)
In the case of Big Trouble in Little China, what could and maybe should have been another movie about the white guy wading into a foreign culture’s mysticism so he can kick its ass and reclaim the pretty white lady, instead fell into the hands of John Carpenter. Carpenter infused the film with his love of screwball pacing (which made the giant chunks of expository dialogue much more palatable) and with his penchant for wicked satire. Helped by an utterly fearless leading performance by Kurt Goddamn Russell, Carpenter shredded the movie at the same time as he was making it. Quite the feat, and one that no one has been able to replicate, even as you can see Big Trouble in Little China’s DNA in innumerable films, comics, and video games made since.
There’s so much that’s great here. That thumping keyboard getting you pumped over the opening credits. “It’s all in the reflexes.” The crazy ’80s styling of the punks. The unapologetic Shaw Bros.’ styling of the Storms. Kim Cattrall machine-gunning verbiage like she’s stepped out of His Girl Friday. Dennis Dun making a strong case for movie stardom. James Hong expertly toggling back and forth from regal serenity to twitchy madness, depending on which Lo Pan is in question. The different hells. The monsters. The fights. The jokes. “You never could beat me Egg Shen.” Neon skulls. “It’s all in the reflexes.”
So there’s the film, and the film’s great. Scientists did a study on it and confirmed that its greatness exists on a molecular level. And these are scientists we’re talking about. They have, you know, lab coats and test tubes and stuff.
But then there’s an added layer of resonance that comes from where a film fits for you personally. No film exists in a vacuum, instead taking on meaning because of who you were when you saw it, and who you have become in the time since. One of these days I’ll tell you why Stand By Me has become a film that I’m almost terrified to revisit.
Big Trouble, though, Big Trouble is special because it is one of the films I shared with my younger brother back when he was around eight or nine, back when he was just starting to develop his own tastes and we were discovering that they were well-matched to mine. It can be hard sometimes, in this world, to find people who understand you, who love what you love. Some of the happiest moments in my life have come from the simple pleasure of sitting with my brother and talking through our shared interests, minutes evaporating from the clock without either of us caring.
And so Big Trouble in Little China has become a sort of time machine. I can throw on the movie and go back to those days almost a decade ago when I would sit my brother down and share something beautiful with him, and know, know in my gut, that he would love it just as I did. I can remember him howling with laughter at every bit of slapstick, every malapropism. I can remember the look on his face when some new monster came bursting through a wall, or when some truly outrageous bit of action hit.
I can remember having to pause the movie after the wheelchair/well gag because we were laughing so hard together. And I remember him saying of Jack Burton, big smile on his face, “Brendan, I like him a lot, but he takes himself very seriously.”
Those days are gone now. We’re older. There’s less time for awe. But the memory is still there. The memory will last for a long, long time.
Movies are dreams. They’re fictions that feel as real to us as any waking moment. Movies make you believe the impossible, make you love people who have never existed and care about events that never happen. They are lies which tell us extraordinary truths about ourselves and the world.
And there are days, Christ there are days, when the truth about ourselves and about the world can seem to be too much. Way too much. And on those days I thank God for movies like Big Trouble in Little China, for every ridiculous second of it. It’s a comfort to know that Jack Burton and his Pork Chop Express will forever be cruising down some lost highway in the American backroads, ready to start the adventure over. Sometimes you need that sure thing.
