Gobsmacking Cinema: THE FIGHTING FISTS OF SHANGHAI JOE (1972)
Since it has been a while, here's a quick refresher. The films I choose to cover here are something special, though not always for the right reasons. They're films that are either so bad, so offensive or so crazy that they can't help but merit the title of gobsmacking cinema. They're the films that just leave you wide-eyed in amazement, unable to believe what you've just witnessed - perhaps they're so bad you can't believe they were ever released on the unsuspecting public; maybe they conform to outmoded stereotypes that our modern politically correct age wouldn't allow; or perhaps they're just so mind-blowingly insane that you can't help but love them, even while you struggle to comprehend what you're watching.
Today I'm returning not just to gobsmacking cinema but also to my beloved spaghetti westerns as I open the vault door and unleash the whacked-out majesty of THE FIGHTING FISTS OF SHANGAI JOE. In many ways, it's a standard spaghetti western - a lone hero wanders into town, falls foul of the bad guys, cleans the place up, the end. However, the hero of this film is a Chinese immigrant played by Chen Lee, an immigrant who happens to be a dab hand at martial arts.
Spaghetti western. Martial arts. This combination alone is enough to afford it a place high in the upper echelons of celluloid brilliance. Two of the coolest genres in the history of cult cinema, in one film. You'd already think it couldn't get any better.
You'd be wrong though, because as much as the combination of spaghetti western and martial arts is a work of genius, it doesn't take into account the superb pseudo-Morricone score by Bruno Nicolai; it doesn't take into account the hilarious stunts involving reversed film and a man jumping through the air screaming a lot; it doesn't take into account the wonder of a typical spaghetti western showdown in a dusty street where the quick-draw gunslingers are replaced with two martial artists.
Nor does it take into account the killer moves, the bloody deaths, the hideous mutilations - or all three, in the case of the mesmerising scene in which Joe performs a flying eyeball-gouging punch.
Or how about the moment where Joe insults a villains sister, only for it to sound unintentionally hilarious as he's dubbed in a well-spoken American accent that makes the phrase "your slut of a sister" sound inappropriate and almost charming.
You know what else would be good? A string of villains played by cult movie favourites like peplum hero Gordon Mitchell or the maddest actor ever, Klaus Kinski, and possibly featuring a cannibal called Pedro. We could maybe throw a killer yo-yo in there too.
Of course we can't forget the dialogue either. It's hard to keep a straight face when you're listening to lines like "You've got seven lives, like a cat" or an exchange such as
"He's one of your race."
"You mean Chinese?"
"I don't know."
This little snippet only hints at the casual racism demonstrated by numerous characters in the film, a racism which is the garnish on a film that was already heading well into the gobsmacking cinema category.
The story has something to do with Mexicans or something, but to be honest it's almost irrelevant.
How about finishing with one last word from our hero before he walks off into the sunset?
"I'd give anything to stay here. If only I could... but my life belongs to the victims of injustice."
What a hero. Joe, I salute you.
Labels: Gobsmacking Cinema, martial arts, spaghetti westerns

