Autonomy
- (of a country or region) The right or condition of self-government, especially in a particular sphere.
- Freedom from external control or influence.
- (in Kantian moral philosophy) the capacity of an agent to act in accordance with objective morality rather than under the influence of desires
Aesthetic
- Concerned with beauty or the appreciation of beauty
- A set of principles underlying and guiding the work of a particular artist or artistic movement
The above terms are familiar to most of us, but in reading Kato I’ve found it useful to revisit the definitions. Doing so gave me a renewed perspective. For instance, Autonomy is the lens through which Enter the Dragon is critically reexamined (p114). Think of the Greek origins of Autonomy, then consider the background of Enter the Dragon:
Autos (self)
Nomos (law)
Kayto describes how the Hong Kong crew was treated subserviently during the making of Enter the Dragon, and the allegory for colonial antagonism antagonism toward the transnational power that was the Hollywood production crew. “Self-law” would have been the last term used by the Hong Kong crew to describe their treatment.
One form of subversion used by the Hong Kong crew was the fact most could understand English, but kept this fact from the Hollywood producers– who couldn’t speak any Chinese– and relied on an interpreter who refused to tip the hand of the Hong Kong workers.
It has been many years since I’ve seen the film “Enter the Dragon.” In fact I just learned that it was not even included in my 5-Disc Masters Collectors Edition (?!). Now, after watching Enter the Dragon, There were many things that caught my attention in the context of Kato’s writing, but none as much as the aesthetics of the film.
The first thing is how much it feels like a James Bond film. Everything from the music, to the storyline and even the props– all feel like they just finished filming 007, and Enter the Dragon was next on the set.
Take the plot line for example; if this was a typical kung fu movie Bruce Lee would be setting off to Han’s island to avenge the death of his sister– a revenge film. In this Western adaptation however, a British official sends Lee to Han’s island because he knows that Han is up to no good– he just can’t prove it– that’s Lee’s job. Lee doesn’t learn of his sister’s death until after he’s accepted the mission for Britain. So is he on an undercover secret mission for Britain, or is he seeking revenge for the death of his sister? Granted, this confusion is somewhat reconciled when Lee confronts Han just before the climatic battle and he says, “You have offended my family and you have offended the Shaolin Temple.” Kato would probably say this is an example of the transnational colonization of the kung fu culture. The only thing that keeps the movie together is Lee’s performance. Just like he instructs his student at the beginning of the film, Lee puts all of his “emotional content” into the film. I can hear Kato saying that’s Bruce Lee liberating the genre from the colonization of Western globalization.
The aesthetics of the film are therefore both obvious, and hidden. The obvious of course is in the kung fu battles, the outdoor setting and actors. The less obvious is Bruce Lee’s performance adhering to the second definition of aesthetics; “A set of principles underlying and guiding the work of a particular artist or artistic movement.”
In the end, it was an entertaining film and the book provided more information about it than I could fully appreciate in one reading. A situation that could benefit from Lee’s advice to his student; “Do not concentrate on the finger or you will miss all of the heavenly glory!