|
 Much
is being made of the recent news about a Hollywood studio’s plans to
remake Bruce Lee’s magnum opus, Enter the Dragon. Accordingly, much
booing, hissing, and unbridled laughter has greeted this announcement.
What movie-going audiences don’t realise is that Enter the Dragon
already has been remade by a Hollywood studio, but it’s been
cleverly titled Balls of Fury, so’s not to give away the secret (-
and to get people to not boo, hiss, or unintentionally laugh).
If left to the
wisdom of Yours Truly, the tagline for this movie would’ve been, Balls
of Fury: Not as Stupid as You Think It Is. It’s a pisser. It’s a fun,
benignly outrageous good time with one of the most bizarre premises ever
remade from a 1973 Kung-Fu flick. It begins with an early 80’s
flashback: Ping-Pong prodigy Randy Daytona is on the verge of becoming
the Olympic Champion of table tennis. Randy’s choke against the German
champ ends up with Randy’s father paying the ultimate debt in his bet
with a criminal mastermind and Randy’s humiliating retirement from
professional Ping-Pong. Even his beloved Def Leppard cassettes can’t
lift Randy out of the misery his life is 20 years later, overweight,
burnt out, still rocking the 1984 Long Island metal-do, performing
Ping-Pong tricks for dribbling seniors in Las Vegas supper clubs. When
an FBI agent gives Randy a chance to avenge his father’s murder, you
wonder what Randy’s got to lose. Still, in order to infiltrate the world
of Feng, criminal deviant and table tennis connoisseur, Randy has to
break out the paddles again and become the standout player that he was
as a youth; this is the only way Randy will be invited to Feng’s estate
where he’ll host a tournament for the world’s greatest Ping-Pong
players.
After a
humiliating initial defeat, its obvious Randy needs a trainer and who
better than the blind restauranteur and Ping-Pong guru, Master Wong, who
too, has a bone to pick with Feng. But first Randy must prove himself
worthy to be trained not only by Master Wong, but by Wong’s beautiful
niece, Maggie, formidable with and without a paddle. After winning over
the Wongs and the entire Chinatown table tennis community, Randy is on
his way to face Feng.
Sidebar: There
are some movie stars who I’ll go see in anything. Doesn’t matter what
they’ve made of their careers; feast or famine, fabulous or floundering,
I’m still there. Just a handful off the top of my trunk include Ewan
McGregor, Jackie Chan, Clive Owen, Owen Wilson (- stay strong,
baby!), Tony Leung Chui Wai, Terence Stamp, Bae Doo-na, Godzilla and
Christopher Walken. Chris Walken, whose very presence in a production is
a feather in any director’s cap. More and more simply having Chris
Walken in your film is an event in itself. His devout legion of fans
mined over decades of ubiquitous appearances in varied and unlikely
projects, will turn out because they know they can depend on Christopher
Walken’s special and very imitable presence to make bright the most drab
screenplay (- but, hey, even Chris’s formidable powers couldn’t have
saved The Stepford Wives!). The bright folks behind the TV comedies,
Reno 911 and The State have been canny enough to create a film with
Walken as the centerpiece and selling point. Not that I doubt for a
second that a movie based on the ultra-competitive world of Ping-Pong
wouldn’t have rolled bank at the box office, but it’s always good to
have a back up plan.
If Robert Ben
Garant gave Walken any other direction than to tell him Feng is gay and
wears fabulous outfits, it didn’t take. And really, with Christopher
Walken, that’s all that needs to be said. If the sight of Chris Walken
prancing about in full Liberace-meets-Ming-the-Merciless drag isn’t
enough to pay for your nachos, then there’s no point in your sticking
around for the 2nd half of the movie. Once the action moves
to Feng’s estate, it’s all about Chris. For me, Feng’s endless costume
and wig changes combined with Walken’s leering, customarily unfettered
performance was exactly what put me in my seat. The entire segment Chez
Feng was set up to let Walken do his thing. There’s even an homage to
Walken’s role as Max Zorin in the James Bond film, A View to a Kill; for
the big Ping-Pong showdown between Feng and Daytona, the men are
strapped into electrode-laden armor that increases the voltage and the
pain with every missed ball.
Balls of Fury’s
cast is a great ensemble of new and familiar names; Dan Fogler is the
redeemed loser Randy Daytona. The chubby, long-haired Fogler brings
charm to the role that would have come off strident and obnoxious in the
hands of resident Hollywood overweight funny guy, Jack Black. George
Lopez is the ambitious FBI agent who pushes Daytona to victory for both
their sakes. Robert Patrick has a brief appearance as Daytona’s doomed
father, and I’m always happy to see the T-1000. Jason Scott Lee dusts
off his Bruce Lee accent (- and biceps – yow!) as a rival of
Daytona’s. Aisha Tyler rocks her own fabulous outfits as Feng’s gorgeous
executioner (- has no one considered this Amazon for the Wonder Woman
feature?). The beautiful Maggie Q is a well known star in
Hong Kong films, and her turn as Wong’s spunky, butt-kicking niece will
have US fanboys at her feet – just what she’s always wanted, I’m sure.
The other gifted casting move comes in the form of James Hong as
Ping-Pong Master Wong, a lecherous take on the Karate Kid’s Mr. Miyagi.
TV and film veteran Hong really gets to steal every scene he’s in with a
lot of deserved screen time. All the actors seem to be having a great
time and it shows onscreen.
On the downside,
there were a few moments where a few jokes seemed half-baked or rushed,
as if Garant ran out of time to see a complete thought through; the lack
of payoff between Daytona and his long-standing rival, German champion,
Karl Wolfschtagg (Thomas Lennon) disappointed me. Stunted moments like
that that made you wonder if the production ran out of budget. Clearly,
most of the money here went on Chris Walken’s back, or possibly the nuns
they had to pay for all his hair.
Balls of Fury
isn’t going to be everyone’s cup of tea, but, hey, I dug it. I’m all for
the silly from time to time, and the Balls of Fury team balances their
goofiness with enough clever homages to film genres I adore to keep it
interesting. And hey, they’ve got Walken.
~ Mighty Ganesha
August 29th, 2007
PS: Hang around
for the cast karaoke during the end credits. Life isn’t worth living
until you’ve seen Christopher Walken croon Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar
on Me.
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