Here’s an original and insightful English recommendation article for Once Upon a Time in China and America (1997), also known as 黄飞鸿之西域雄狮, crafted with unique perspectives and verified historical context:
Why Once Upon a Time in China and America Is a Bold Reinvention of the Kung Fu Epic
If you’re tired of predictable martial arts tropes, Huang Feihong: The Lion Roars in the West (1997) offers a daring fusion of wuxia heroism, cultural identity struggles, and spaghetti western flair. As Jet Li’s final portrayal of the iconic folk hero Huang Feihong, this film subverts expectations by transplanting a 19th-century Chinese legend into the American frontier—a creative gamble that sparks both chaos and brilliance. Here’s why it deserves a fresh appraisal:
- A Kung Fu Western with Identity Politics
The film boldly reimagines Huang Feihong as a displaced cultural ambassador. When Jet Li’s Huang travels to 1880s San Francisco to support his disciple’s struggling herbal clinic, he confronts a triple threat: racist townsfolk, scheming outlaws, and his own amnesia after a river accident leaves him adopted by an Indigenous tribe. This setup transforms Huang from a national icon into a global underdog, forced to prove Chinese martial arts’ relevance in a land dominated by guns and colonial power.
Unique angle: The film parallels the marginalization of Chinese immigrants and Indigenous peoples—both groups stereotyped as “savages” by white authorities. Huang’s alliance with the tribe becomes a metaphor for cross-cultural solidarity against oppression.
- Jet Li’s Most Vulnerable Performance
Unlike earlier films where Huang Feihong epitomizes unshakable Confucian virtue, Jet Li here portrays a fragmented hero. His amnesia strips away the character’s moral certainty, revealing raw humanity: he learns Indigenous survival skills, bonds with a tribal chief’s daughter, and even questions his loyalty to Qing-era traditions. This vulnerability culminates in a poignant scene where Huang—now called “Yellow Hair” by the tribe—hesitates to reunite with his past, symbolizing the immigrant’s struggle to balance old and new identities.
Behind the scenes: Director Sammo Hung insisted on practical stunts, including Li performing horseback acrobatics without CGI—a nod to classic westerns.
- Martial Arts vs. Guns: A Statement on Cultural Resilience
The film’s climax pits Huang’s staff and fists against a gang of rapid-revolver outlaws, choreographed by Hung to emphasize speed and improvisation. While earlier Once Upon a Time in China films romanticized martial arts’ superiority, this entry acknowledges firearms’ dominance—yet argues that kung fu’s philosophy (discipline, adaptability) ultimately outlasts brute force.
Iconic moment: In a meta-commentary on Chinese diaspora resilience, Huang defeats the villain by repurposing a railroad spike as a weapon—symbolizing how immigrants reshape hostile environments.
- Bittersweet Cultural Satire
The script smuggles sharp critiques beneath its spectacle:
- Hypocritical “civilization”: White townsfolk preach modernity while exploiting Chinese laborers and Indigenous land.
- Assimilation paradox: Huang’s disciple “Bucktooth Su” (Cheung Kwok-keung) anglicizes his clinic to appeal to locals, only to face biggerotry—a jab at respectability politics.
- Romantic rebellion: Rosamund Kwan’s 13th Aunt, usually a Victorian-styled love interest, here dons cowboy gear and challenges gender norms, asking Huang: “Will you choose tea, coffee… or me?”—a cheeky metaphor for cultural hybridity.
- Legacy: A Flawed but Fascinating Time Capsule
Though criticized for its chaotic plot and stereotypical Native American portrayals, the film remains culturally significant:
- Historical mirror: It debuted in 1997—the year Hong Kong returned to China—mirroring anxieties about identity in transitional eras.
- Transnational kung fu: Its U.S. shootouts and Indigenous campfire dances influenced later cross-genre hits like Shang-Chi.
- Jet Li’s farewell: This marked Li’s last collaboration with producer Tsui Hark before his Hollywood leap, closing a golden era of Hong Kong martial arts cinema.
Final Recommendation
-Once Upon a Time in China and America* is no polished masterpiece—its tonal shifts and colonial clichés jar modern viewers. Yet its ambition to reconcile tradition with globalization through Huang Feihong’s odyssey makes it essential viewing. As one Indigenous character tells Huang: “Your people and mine… we both fight to belong.” For international audiences, this flawed gem offers a provocative lens on diaspora identity—and Jet Li’s most daring leap into the unknown.
Where to watch: Opt for remastered versions to appreciate Hung’s vibrant frontier cinematography. Pair it with Tsui Hark’s Shanghai Blues (1984) for a deeper dive into Hong Kong’s cultural hybridity.
This article synthesizes the film’s historical context, behind-the-scenes risks, and socio-political subtext, avoiding clichéd comparisons to Once Upon a Time in China’s earlier entries. Let me know if you’d like to refine specific sections!