Dubbed by fans, and even his own daughter as the “purest” Bruce Lee film in existence (due to the fact that it’s the only one also written, produced and directed by the man himself), The Way of the Dragon isn’t quite what you’d expect. While still very much a martial arts beat-em-up through-and-through – built around countless extended sequences of Lee flexing his ridiculous form, and hospitalising a large amount of nefarious thugs – it runs a darn sight deeper than a lot of his other work.
For one thing, it’s not so focused on being as “cool” or straight as his other Hong Kong actioners. Set in Rome, with Lee as a hero-for-hire, flown in to save a struggling Chinese restaurant from being hounded by the local mafia, it’s an oddly hefty wait before fist meets face, and Lee spends a lot of that time on bumbling, fish-out-of-water comedy. It might be the only genre film you ever see that opens on an extended skit of its iconic star accidentally ordering (and then eating) too much soup. Before spending the entire first act asking where the nearest bathroom is. It’s easy to see why 1973’s Enter the Dragon – a straight-down-the-line action film that plays like a kung-fu Bond – would ultimately become Lee’s magnum-opus, and not this.
But while the tone does eventually shift into more familiar territory, dropping the dated laughs for one of the most impressive physical performances ever put on film (with nunchucks!), it’s still hard to see The Way of the Dragon in the same light as Lee’s other work. As writer and director, he’s much less interested in pitting himself as some invincible action hero, very often willingly knocking himself down a peg or two. And when he does engage with his violent side, there are definite strings attached.
There’s an inevitability to these movies, after all. Despite having only really starred in five films in his lifetime (two of which were released posthumously), Bruce Lee remains both a person, and an entire sub-genre. All of his plot-lines play out in the same way – he’s a world-renowned master of Chinese martial arts for Christ’s sake, it’s not like he’s going to lose. Where The Way of the Dragon diverts though, is in how it re-frames the tension of the film. It’s less about the stakes of the physical fights, and more about Tang Lung’s battle to hold onto the source of his strength: his moral compass, his very soul.
Suddenly that same dopey outsider who accidentally ordered all the soup, feels very different. He’s not only adrift, far from home, he’s facing an enemy that has little in the way of honour or reason. The ‘why’ of the local mafia’s attempts to extort the restaurant is never actually covered – they’re just bad guys. And never is this clearer than in the film’s show-stopping finale, where said mafia fly in American karate master Chuck Norris specially, just to “deal” with Tang Lung. And of course, Lee has them duke it out in the ruins of the Colosseum.
A Bruce Lee vs. Chuck Norris beat-down is far and away the film’s main selling point for a modern audience; the very fact that it exists is enough. But Lee goes one further, pitching the build-up as an incredibly haunting cat-and-mouse chase, through the decaying labyrinths of the Colosseum; not only a landmark, but a mass gravesite of fallen fellow fighters. A ghostly reminder of the brutality of historical violence, and what Tang Lung is really fighting for: progress.
By the time the two come face to face, we’re at fever pitch. Norris is huge, wordless and scary as hell, but in 2023, we know what’s going to happen. The tension is more driven by the fact that Norris isn’t just there to humiliate his opponent, he’s out for blood. This is a deathmatch, and that’s not something Lee takes lightly. He’ll do what he needs to to win, but a fight to the death – especially with another respected martial artist – is a test of his true moral strength. If he kills Norris, is he any better than the barbaric gladiators and their masters who stood on that same spot before him, all those years ago?
The fight itself is impressively choreographed and performed – a breathtaking, brutal tete-a-tete gorgeously realised in Lee’s direction – but it does understandably leave the film on a sombre note. Lee very deliberately set The Way of the Dragon in Europe, and cast a mixture of ethnicities, as an attempt to bring martial arts out of his Far East bubble and open it to the world. The opening credits even state each performer’s kung-fu credentials, alongside their names. He takes the art form, and the code of conduct that runs alongside it, very, very seriously. It’s not a million miles from the superhero adage of “with great power, comes great responsibility”; one of the most physically powerful men in the world realising that his work should not be about promoting and glorifying deadly violence. And so what starts light here, slowly plays its hand, as something much, much more complicated, and more driven by the very moral heart of Lee’s mission.
It’s at once, a strange, at times unwieldy outlier, whilst also serving as (yes) very much the purest Bruce Lee film there is.
The Way of the Dragon 4K Restoration premiered as part of Forbidden Worlds Film Festival 2023, and will be released by Arrow Video this July.
For more info on Forbidden Worlds Film Festival, including future events, head to forbiddenworldsfilmfestival.co.uk.
