Note: This review is based on the 105-minute U.S. version of the film.
The moral of the martial arts movie Fearless is not so different than the prediction of Christ in Matthew 5:5: “Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.” Or at least, becoming merciful or gentle appears to be the whole point of Fearless if you judge the story by the personal evolution of its protagonist Huo Yuanjia (played by Jet Li), who represents two different meanings of the word “fearless”—the first meaning associated with ambition, the second with grace. The transformation of Huo is followed, however, by larger-than-life international conflict, where countries prove their worth by sending their men to win fights. In the ideological dressing of the film’s ending, Huo’s philosophical journey, where he rejects his base desires to walk in the footsteps of his honorable father, is justified not because it makes him spiritually whole, but because it leads him to his legendary status as a symbol of China’s superior cultural strength.
Director Ronny Yu—who, interestingly, was behind the camera for Bride of Chucky (1998) and Jason vs. Freddy (2003)—is straightforward but effective with how he constructs the melodrama of Fearless, largely tying Huo’s development as a character to the concept of “face” in Chinese culture. After Huo as a young boy watches his father, a martial arts master, intentionally lose a fight in front of a large crowd, he wants to prove that his family isn’t worthless, and so he sets out to be the most dominant and ruthless fighter in the nation, a sort of Michael Jordan of early 20th-century China. Huo’s mother tries to tell Huo that his fighting style, wushu, is about self-restraint, but Huo hates losing, as illustrated when he prays at his father’s grave, telling his departed dad that his fist wasn’t fast enough.
Through visual technique and metaphor, Huo’s passion for winning is tied to alcohol and more specifically the notion of being drunk on power. During one moment, Huo seems to experience an auditory hallucination in which a crowd cheers him on, with dizzying camerawork implying drunkenness. In the pivotal scene where Huo childishly picks a fight in his friend’s restaurant, the brawl makes its way into a wine cellar, and the two combatants get bathed in wine as they continue their property-destroying tirade. Afterward Huo celebrates victory with his men, their shadows bustling about like drunkards. Later, when Huo sees the corpses of his mother and daughter—the result of his selfish and aggressive behavior—he’s not far removed from an inebriated driver shocked to find himself near dead bodies.
Fearless then takes a dramatic detour that borders on Christian storytelling, with multiple shots of Huo being in and around water, trumpeting his baptism and moral conversion. With slow motion, Yu especially fetishizes the water that a blind woman (a cliche in stories of redemption) uses to wash Huo’s hair. Huo comes to understand why his father chose to not obliterate his opponent and, instead, allow him to win. The martial artist eventually confesses sin at his daughter’s grave: “I was not a good father.”
It’s after this miraculous change within Huo that Fearless ratchets up a sense of political anxiety rooted in actual Chinese history. The film’s depiction of an imperialistic presence of British, American, Japanese, and other forces in Shanghai points to China’s need for a champion who can defeat anyone in martial combat. The British and American characters here are one-dimensional, which is not surprising or offensive, but their cartoonish qualities are striking considering the movie’s otherwise serious vibe. The caricatures are intentional, in that they help build the narrative that China, even when vulnerable or seemingly down and out, passes the eye test better than other countries.
Huo’s final opponent, Tanaka, is Japanese. Fearless doesn’t stereotype Tanaka but rather reveals an understated connection between Huo and Tanaka, reflecting similarities in communication and values between Asian cultures. The movie is decidedly not pro-Japan, despite this nicety. Though Tanaka isn’t obliterated by Huo’s punches and kicks, he faces a more profound defeat than the Westerners in that he is deeply compelled to announce that Huo is the better man—which, in this case, also makes Huo the better patriot of a better country. After the national heroes are forced to submit to or acknowledge Huo’s greatness, we’re left with the realization that Huo justifies his existence as an extension of China’s pride. The takeaway is this: if Huo hadn’t restored China, his newfound morality wouldn’t have mattered, and Jet Li’s Fearless wouldn’t have been made.
Film Quarantine 