Ordinarily, the prospect of seeing a Sammo Hung and Jackie Chan collaboration from their respective peaks in the mid-1980s is an exciting one, but there may be a no more baffling entry in their shared filmography than 1985’s Heart of Dragon. The opening sequence, depicting an elaborate training exercise involving ex-SWAT turned CID officer Tat (Chan), is a promise of sustained high-wire action, but the film quickly shifts gears to become a sentimental character drama involving Tat caring for his mentally disabled brother, unfortunately nicknamed Dodo (Hung). As Tat weighs his affection for his brother against the urge to live his own life, his feelings toward Dodo vacillate between tenderness and resentment.
From the outset, it’s as obvious that Hung and Chan wanted to challenge themselves as actors and filmmakers as it is that they bit off more than they could chew. Throughout, scenes of Tat and Dodo breaking down in tears of mutual recrimination have an awkward stiffness that betrays each actor’s discomfort with expressing emotion of this kind on camera.
The film’s dramatic scenes largely function the same, with Tat trying to care for Dodo before letting slip his frustrations with his brother’s limited faculties. And while Hung never treats Dodo as a laughing matter, with the script going so far as to highlight that the jokes made at his expense are nothing but cruel, Hung nonetheless can’t stop himself from bringing his comic timing as a performer and director to the fore, often structuring scenes meant to evoke pathos as quirkily amusing as Dodo bumbles his way through a social interaction.
And there’s no getting around the datedness with which Heart of Dragon portrays Dodo’s disability, or the homophobic spectacle of Tat telling people on the street that he and Dodo aren’t a gay couple as the brothers hold hands. It’s mordantly fascinating to see the trope of actors tackling mentally disabled characters for easy pathos filtered through the whimsical glibness for which ’80s Hong Kong cinema is known, though the tonal clashes of such moments of awkward comedy only further underscore the misguidedness of the entire project.
The departure that the Heart of Dragon represented for Hung and Chan was so great that some international markets insisted that the film be more action-driven, resulting in a longer Japanese cut with two extraneous, ill-fitting stunt sequences added into the mix. But even the proper Hong Kong version ends with a giant action scene that comes out of nowhere when Dodo is kidnapped by a gang and held in an office tower that’s under construction.
Yet as bizarre and sudden as this finale may be, the stuntwork does bring a sudden jolt of life to Heart of Dragon. For one, Chan deploys his signature fight choreography with all the dramatic verve that his more intimate scenes alongside Hung conspicuously lack. In this moment, Tat doesn’t suggest a Keaton-esque figure making as many pratfall-infused martial arts pratfalls as possible, but a man belligerently tearing through his brother’s kidnappers with unnerving rage.
Elsewhere, Tat turns to his police buddies to save Dodo, and the sequence is one of the best group efforts to feature Chan’s stunt team. Many shots contain multiple planes of figures squared off against each other and intersecting into group brawls with precise timing. The unfinished nature of the building where the action is set leads to some amazing gags where someone inadvertently slips through a hole onto the floor below or leaps up one story to aid a comrade. For a film that wants to break its stars out of their usual action rubric, Heart of Dragon only realizes its potential when fists finally start flying.
Image/Sound
Arrow Video includes both the Hong Kong theatrical version and the extended Japanese cut sourced from a 2K restoration, and the image is consistently pleasing. The pastel blues that crop up frequently have the soft texture of watercolors, while detail is so sharp you can trace the faint scars and pockmarks on the stars’ faces. Both cuts of the film come with the original Cantonese and English overdub tracks (the Hong Kong version also includes a Mandarin dub), and they all sound well-balanced, with the breezy orchestral pop soundtrack and sound effects all boisterous without drowning out the dialogue, which is always situated out in front of all the other sounds.
Extras
Arrow’s disc comes with an audio commentary by Hong Kong film experts Frank Djeng and FJ DeSanto, who extol Heart of Dragon’s personal touches and point to all the ways that the film is a passion project for Hung. Also included are two documentaries that Japanese studio Shochiku commissioned to promote their distribution of the film in Japan. Both videos contain copious behind-the-scenes footage and, in classic Jackie Chan fashion, bloopers—albeit not of botched stunts, but flubbed dramatic moments and even clips of the star stumbling over a few Japanese phrases for a promotional video that he recorded for that market.
Across a series of archival interviews, Hung, Chan, actor/stuntman Rocky Lai, and cinematographer Anthony Wong offer their brief thoughts on their work together on this film and others across. Arrow also includes a booklet with essays by translator/critic Dylan Cheung and critic David West, both of whom place the film within a broader context not only of Hung and Chan’s long-entwined careers, but of other social dramas within the Hong Kong New Wave.
Overall
Sammo Hung’s strange passion project starring frequent collaborator Jackie Chan receives a gorgeous transfer and generous slate of extras from Arrow Video.
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