Little Hero on the Run (1995)

Little Hero on the Run (1995)
Chinese Title: 天子驕龍
Translation: Heavenly Dragon

 

Starring: Chin Kar-Lok, Ben Lam, Tso Chung-Sing, Jennifer Chan, Yip Fong
Director: Lee Chiu
Action Director: Danny Chow

 

I’m not sure how the Taiwanese movie industry functioned after the death of the traditional kung fu film in the early 80s. I mean, Taiwanese audiences apparently still enjoyed these movies after Hong Kong stopped caring, since they kept churning them out. At some point, Taiwan jumped onto the Ninja Craze Bandwagon and started producing some of the most insane examples of the sub-genre (that is, until the Japanese decided that ninja movies were the perfect outlets for women who could fire energy weapons from their private parts), thanks to the efforts of Alexander Lo Rei and Robert Tai. What’s really interesting is that around the mid-80s, Taiwanese filmmakers found another niche that defined a huge portion of their action/martial arts output: the martial arts children sub-genre.

While butt-kicking kids had already been showing up here and there in kung fu movies for years, the Taiwanese built their own cottage industry around the little high-kicking tykes, starting with the hugely-popular Kung Fu Kids series. That movie spawned numerous sequels and rip-off’s/cash-in’s, like the 7 Lucky Ninja Kids and whatnot. Then in the 1990s, Taiwan gave us the Shaolin Popey series, which I haven’t seen, although I know that it gave us a kid performing drunken fist boxing after sucking on the breast of a well-endowed woman in a superhero outfit. I have yet to wrap my mind around that one.

At first glance, Little Hero on the Run feels like it will be one those movies. It isn’t quite that, although it features a handful of young kids trained in wushu. It feels more like a transplant of the previous year’s New Legend of Shaolin from the Qing Dynasty to the Republic Period, with a lot of the vulgar humor and over-the-top action sensibilities excised. The new setting, combined with the presence of super-kicker Ben Lam wearing a Western suit, gave me the impression that the spectre of Drunken Master 2 (also made the year before) was also hanging over the proceedings.

I’m no expert on Chinese history, but I know that after Dr. Sun Yat-Sen helped overthrow the Qing Dynasty and install a government based around Western sensibilities, it didn’t take long for the country to descend into chaos, with warlords taking over entire provinces and waging bloody battles against each other in a quest to consolidate their power. It is against this backdrop that LHOTR is set, as the children of some five murdered generals are on the run from a warlord named Yuen, whom I’m guessing is Yuen Shih-Kai. Kung fu fans might recognize as the villain from Sammo Hung’s Blade of Fury. Asian history buffs will know him as the yahoo who proclaimed himself emperor of China during the Republic era and who is largely responsible for the country descending into warlordism in the first place.

Anyway, so there are some loyal supporters to the dead generals trying to protect the kids from Yuen and his hired killers. Caught in the middle is a young martial artist named Fok (Chin Kar-Lok), who’s trying to cross the country in order to carry out his father’s dying wish that he’d collect an old debt and marry the daughter of said debtor. Fok doesn’t really want to help, but he ends up promising the dying brother of a female patriot that he’ll help her and the kids get to safety (there are a lot of dying promises in this film). It turns out that the city the kids are going to is the same city Fok’s bride-to-be lives in and it won’t be long before everybody’s path crosses in the most violent way possible.

That last sentence sums up a huge difference between Chinese and American filmmaking sensibilities: Chinese filmmakers traditionally have never flinched at surrounding little kids with violence in an action film, whether they be the ones dishing out the hurt, witnesses to the fact, or even the ones getting ruthlessly slaughtered. It’s like that crappy Extreme Crisis film: I dare you to make a Hollywood popcorn action flick in which the terrorists gun down a little child in cold blood in front of the camera. In the case of LHOTR, we have a plot revolving around the attempts to protect a group of little kids whom the villains unambiguously want to kill, whom are constantly placed in danger of life and limb and in situations where characters—often the good guys—die violent, bloody deaths. The fact that the kids are often goofy/annoying makes the contrast all the more jarring, especially to anyone who might be new to Hong Kong cinema. I’m not, so it was more or less business as usual.

While I’m practically immune to Hong Kong films mixing brutal violence and goofy kids, I won’t hesitate to take points away from this movie for making the child characters into practical non-entities. I mean, the kids had absolutely no personality at all. While the analogous characters in New Legend of Shaolin were no paragons of three-dimensional characterization, those kids at least at some defining trait: Tse Miu was the righteous butt-kicker who loved his dad, was a loyal friend, and (understandably) wanted his dad to have the privilege of sleeping with Chingmy Yau; Ma’s son was the arrogant troupe leader; Fong was the put-upon fat kid; etc. The kids in LHOTR just whine, eat, and occasionally beat someone up. I wish the writer had done a little more with them.

I’m sure the problem stems from the fact that there are just too many characters for the film to deal with. There are no less than four main villains: Yuen Shih-Kai, his two sons (played by Ben Lam of Police Story II and Tso Chung-Sing, who was assistant director of Van Damme’s Knock Off), and the leader of the assassins; two love interests (Rock n’Roll Cop’s Jennifer Chan and Yip Fong); a greedy father-in-law; five kids; and the main hero, Fok. Other than Fok and Ying (Yip Fong’s character), not enough time is spent with the other characters to really make a difference. Yuen Shih-Kai just shows up a few times to berate his men for failing to kill the kids; you could’ve written him out of the film and it would’ve been better for it. The big misstep the film makes with regards to the characters is spending a good portion of the second act on a broadly comic battle of wits between Fok and his would-be father-in-law (Kwan Bun, who showed up a year later in 3 Kung Fu Kids). It kills the pace of the movie and could have been used to develop the characters and their conflicts more.

LHOTR’s biggest claim to fame is that it is a Chin Kar-Lok film. Chin Kar-Lok is an especially fascinating name in Chinese cinema. During the 1980s, he worked mainly as a stuntman and supporting actor for the Hung Ga Ban—his biggest claim to fame as a stuntman, as I understand it, is that he often doubled for Jackie Chan when it came to performing some of the more showy kicks. Although he had some notable roles in the 1980s, such as Mr. Vampire 4, it was in the 1990s that he really tried to break out and become the next Jet Li. Chin showed up in movies like Martial Arts Master Wong Fei Hung (a poor man’s OUATIC); Shaolin Avengers (a poor man’s Fong Sai Yuk); and The Green Hornet, which seems to be a poor man’s Black Mask. He even showed up in a remake of King Boxer, better known by B-movie lovers as Five Fingers of Death. However, none of those movies were the hits that would transport him to stardom, so in the early aughts, Chin changed his approach. He focused more on action direction (and meaty supporting roles) and has since become one of the critically-acclaimed action directors of recent years. Although he has yet to take home a Best Action Design Award from the Hong Kong Film Awards, he has racked up a more-than-respectable number of nominations for movies like Star Runner; Protégé; Viral Factor; Motorway; One Nite in Mongkok; and others. So bully for him for finding his place, even if he never became the next Jet Li.

Under the direction of former Sing Ga Ban (Jackie Chan Stuntman Association) member Danny Chow, Chin Kar-Lok delivers a fantastic physical performance that ranks up there with his best work. Chin was obviously an excellent kicker, although his style was a lot more fluid and rounded then, say, co-star Ben Lam or Ken Low. His jump kicks don’t reach dizzying heights here, but they are executed with a speed that makes them look practically effortless, which is impressive in itself. The first couple of fights are a little more chaotic and Chin seems to be mainly on the defensive, but he really cuts loose after the hour mark. Ben Lam (best known to me for outfighting Jet Li in High Risk) shows off some powerful kicks, especially in a fight near the end where he lays waste to his own lackeys.

Danny Chow thankfully limits the use of wires in the action, saving them mainly for villain Tso Chung-Sing, who performs some flying kicks and punches that look more at home in a Fong Sai Yuk film. Beyond that, he lets the other actors be their own special effects. There is some weapons work (swords, staffs, etc.) to shake things up, but it’s mainly fisticuffs without any of the wire-enhanced, environment-based fighting that defined that decade.

Little Hero on the Run is ultimately a flawed film, but it certainly doesn’t deserve the MIA status that has followed it throughout the years. Much like King of the Sea, it either never got a DVD release, or got an extremely limited one (the copy my friend sent me suggested that it got a bare-bones DVD release with the theatrical burned-on subtitles intact). It was mainly available on VHS from Tai Seng up until a few years ago. A search on Google turned up no results save its entry on the HKMDB and a short review on the now-defunct Martial Artist’s Guide to Hong Kong Films (I miss that place, the author’s unpopular opinions notwithstanding). If you’re a martial arts fan and can track down a copy (presumably through…*cough*…legal means), it’s worth a watch.