White Men Can't Karate (the Idiotic Controversy Surrounding Marvel's Iron Fist)

As a longtime fan of the character who never truly expected to see him appear on film or television, I am eagerly awaiting the debut of Marvel's Iron Fist on Netflix.  I will definitely be binge-watching the series this weekend, and I'll share my take once I have seen it.  Personally, I'm cautiously optimistic.  I'm excited because I think this property could be totally gnarly on the screen, and yet I'm a bit worried because it also has the potential to fall flat.  Still, I'm looking to forward to seeing whether or not it can wow me the same way that Daredevil, Jessica Jones, and Luke Cage have.

Having said all that, I must admit that I'm rather bummed by the nonsensical controversy that has led to a lot of bad press for the show prior to it being released.  Namely, a very vocal element of the PC police has apparently decided that white people shouldn't be allowed to practice martial arts or portray martial artists in the cinema.  A great many are deriding Iron Fist's ethnicity as some sort of appropriation, and these critics allege that Marvel should have abandoned the source material and the entire "stranger in a strange land" aspect of the character's origin.  Ever since Finn Jones was cast as Danny Rand in the lead role, there has been a lot of BS about "white saviors" and Asian culture being monetized out there in regards to the show, and there is a lot of genuine anger and outrage being directed at both Marvel and Netflix.

This irks me on a couple of levels.  Please, allow me to elaborate.

1) I'm a lifelong martial arts devotee, and I'm rather white, so of course I find it a bit ridiculous that there are those who believe that white people practicing martial arts is somehow offensive.  This argument is just as insightful as that "baseball is a white man's game" crap I used to hear from time to time in the foothills of rural Virginia.  Furthermore, I would argue that martial arts is a wonderful venture for anyone of any race who wants to experience all the many gifts that it has to offer, with those gifts including discipline, joy, confidence, respect, humility, and wisdom--and so much more.  Fortunately, in all the interactions I've had with other martial artists of various races (in various dojos, practicing various styles), I've never heard anyone express such a thoughtless perspective.

2) As a film buff and a martial arts devotee, I greatly enjoy a wealth of martial arts films (if you follow my blog, you know this already), and I feel that one really has to work at injecting vindictive political agendas and personal grudges into the viewing of such pictures to see them as monetizing any culture.  Additionally, while we Americans do love our karate flicks, it's probably fair to note that if one truly views such movies as some diabolical form of exchanging a precious culture for loot, they might want to go ahead and acknowledge that most of these pictures are . . . (gasp!) Asian.  So maybe we shouldn't burn Netflix or Marvel to the ground after all.  Of course, one so petty as to see the world in such a fashion could make similar arguments about westerns or any number of sub-genres, but it serves no real purpose.  I mean, it's not like we haven't seen people of virtually every race portray a martial artist in the cinema or on television at some point, so I just don't understand why anyone would expect Marvel to abandon the very concept of this character in their efforts to bring him to the screen.

3) The "white savior" bit is a real laugher.  Danny is pretty handy with his fists and his feet, but he's also a goofball who is frequently played for laughs.  Honestly, Negan from The Walking Dead is more apt to be described as a savior than Iron Fist.  Additionally, the mystical city where he got his powers has been around for a long time, and while Danny may have helped to save the day there on occasion, I don't think he's ever done it alone.  K'un Lun existed long before he got there and it should be around long after he's gone.  Besides, if you take Danny's origin out of the equation, it should be noted that he generally hangs out in the inner city.  Bonus points: he would have perished about a million times by now if he wasn't best buds with a certain black dude with unbreakable skin who serves as both the brains and the brawn of their unlikely partnership.  Apparently white saviors aren't all they're crackered up to be.

4) Shang-Chi!  Look, at the rate the Marvel universe is expanding in terms of its presence on the big screen and television, we're probably going to see Shang-Chi at some point--and Shang-Chi is an ultimate badass.  He could probably take Iron Fist down if he had to, and unlike Iron Fist, Shang-Chi doesn't have any mystical powers.  With that in mind, wouldn't Shang-Chi be a bit redundant (if not totally underwhelming) if Marvel did throw out Iron Fist's origin and have him be Asian in an effort to gain capital with a bunch of politically correct zealots?

5) Shang-Chi aside, there are a wealth of quality Asian characters featured prominently in the Iron Fist mythos.  I love Danny and all, but he's maybe half as cool as Lei-Kung the Thunderer.  Hell, Colleen Wing is going to be on the show, and she's a sensational character.  As someone who is extremely familiar with the material, let me assure you that it exists more as a tribute to kung fu cinema than any legitimate culture (the setting is a mystical city that doesn't exist, the characters have special powers, and there are dragons and stuff).  As such, anyone well-versed in the comics will surely note that the idea that Iron Fist exists to demean, diminish, or monetize Asian culture is no more a rational suggestion than aiming the same criticism at a film starring Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, or today's reigning champion of martial arts cinema, Iko Uwais.  Perhaps most importantly, the comic book has always featured a stellar cast of male and female characters representing various races, and it probably features more Asian characters than any other Marvel or DC title that comes to mind, so it seems rather bizarre to aim such small-minded criticism at this particular property.

Honestly, that's about all I have for now.  Again, I'm white, and I practice martial arts (true story: I'm no Chuck Norris, but I've actually thrown a few punches and kicks on screen once upon a when), and I guess that makes me some awful devil who gets his jollies from raping other cultures for personal gain, so take my opinion for what it's worth.  Seriously, though, I'm looking forward to the show and I'll provide an honest review of Iron Fist here once I have watched it from start to finish.

North Dallas Forty by Peter Gent (from 1973)

If you like, you can surf the net a bit and learn more about Gent's days as a player for the Dallas Cowboys.  It is kind of neat to know who the various characters in his novel North Dallas Forty are based on and Gent himself is certainly unique.  Yet that's not where I'm going to direct the focus of this review, for I think it sells the novel itself a bit short.  You see, the real fun doesn't stem from the knowledge that the profane and crafty quarterback of the novel, Seth Maxwell, is based on good old boy Don Meredith.  No, the real fun is enjoying Gent's somewhat autobiographical take on the game that so many of us treasure.  Unfolding during a single week in the life of a player who is reluctant to sell his soul to the league even if he has already given them his health, North Dallas Forty is a comedy blessed with many laughs and a drama sporting a likable lead who is tested beyond his limits.  It is incredibly vulgar and equally insightful, and it is a riveting page-turner of the highest order.  To be frank, North Dallas Forty is one of my favorite books, and while Gent may not have proven capable of delivering a truly worthy follow-up, he absolutely nailed it with this irreverent masterpiece.  In addition to being absurdly funny and wildly compelling, the novel allows the author to ponder friendship, competition, conformity, sex, love, and purpose, among other things.  It's heavy on the drugs, ripe with profanity, downright pornographic at times, and shockingly effective.  In spite of all the crazy things that happen during the book, it never loses focus and the characters and their various relationships (to include coach/player, quarterback/receiver, employer/employee, and most importantly, man/woman) are always at the forefront.  Gent never loses his momentum and the book doesn't bog down at any point despite being overburdened with stupendous accounts of debauchery and a near total lack of characters who aren't disconnected from the consequences of their actions or recklessly adrift in a tumultuous sea of fear and violence.  While it shines an unwelcome light on many practices that were once prevalent in the game (and many that are still presenting problems for the professional athletes who sacrifice themselves to the league in exchange for fame and fortune), North Dallas Forty is a book that fans of the sport should enjoy as much as those who are simply looking for something moving and unruly to read. 

Final Grade: A+

Football player turned author Peter Gent looks like a proud papa as he poses with copies
of North Dallas Forty, one of the best books I have ever been fortunate enough to enjoy.

Django Unchained

Disclaimer: I am an avid fan of Quentin Tarantino.  I think he is the best director working today, and I love the way he approaches and films his material.  That's not all, though, for his soundtracks are incredible and the casts he cobbles together are exceptional.  All gushing aside, I think I can provide an honest assessment of his work.  Why?  Well, I think he is that damn good, and I'm apparently not the only one.  Regardless, I wanted to let you know how much I cherish his work, and you should also know that I am a huge fan of spaghetti westerns.  Yes, noting that I was eager to see Django Unchained would represent an understatement of the highest order, but now that we've gotten the disclaimer stuff out of the way, let's talk about QT's latest.

Last night, I finally got to sit down with Django, and I feel that Quentin has delivered another instant classic.  Despite a lengthy run-time (165 minutes) and a plot that wanders at times--much like its heroes--I'm not sure that our generation's finest director ever missed a beat with this one.  A loving homage to spaghetti westerns fused with an unflinching take on a controversial topic, Django Unchained is like nothing you have ever seen before.  There's warmth, there's deplorable human behavior, there's heroism, and there's lots and lots of bloody vengeance. 

After seeing slavery through Tarantino's eyes, every gruesome act of retribution is a triumph of sorts.  There is a lot bloodshed, and with every drop of innocent blood spilled, we thirst for larger quantities of bad guy blood.  Thankfully, there are lots of bad guys on hand.  Our heroes, a slave and a bounty hunter, are played by Jamie Foxx and Christoph Waltz.  They have their sights set on a vicious plantation owner played by Leonardo DiCaprio, and they must contend with various villains played by the likes of Don Johnson, Walton Goggins, James Remar, Bruce Dern, and Tarantino fave Samuel L. Jackson.  No one fails to deliver the goods, though Waltz and Jackson do their best to steal the show.

Let's talk about Waltz for a moment.  He scored his second Oscar for his role as Dr. King Schultz after earning his first for his work in Tarantino's last release, Inglorious Basterds.  What a find Waltz has proven to be.  In Django Unchanined, he is every bit as likable as he was despicable in the part of Hans Landa.  He owns scene after scene; his timing and his delivery are a joy to behold, and he gives the picture a much-needed dose of wholesome fun.  Every word he says and every move he makes serve to enrich the film, and though Foxx was brilliant as Django, I do feel that Waltz's magnetism  overshadowed Jamie's talent.   

By the same token, though DiCaprio was equally compelling, Samuel L. Jackson threatened his status as the premiere heavy.  Jackson gave us a thunderous performance here, dominating the material with a vigor that only Sam could summon.  There is nothing likable about his character, the devious Stephen, and yet you can't take your eyes off of him.  He snarls, grovels, and schemes, and the role takes Jackson to some dark places that he isn't reluctant to explore.  DiCaprio is equally sinister, and he seems to delight in depicting Calvin Candie as a flashy yet superficial menace, a trashy poser with a lot of money and power paired with an utter lack of morality.

There are smaller performances that bolster the picture, to include James Remar in a pair of roles and a funny cameo by Jonah Hill.  That scene was so horribly wrong and yet so very funny.  Only Tarantino can pull off gags like that.  Every aspect of his film is on par with his ability to write and direct, and the editing, the sets and the costumes, the music, all of the essentials are on point.  The color palette is immersive, the shot selection continues Tarantino's love (and gift) for recycling, and the choreography is at an all-time high.  The action is deft and the booming gunshots and the bright red splashes of blood are epic.  Whenever Django goes on the warpath, gunning down deserving monsters masquerading as men, the brazen style is almost enough to drive the viewer into a state of euphoria. 

Yes, I know there has been some controversy regarding Django Unchained.  Spike Lee is extremely jealous of Tarantino and has maintained an overtly hypocritical grudge against QT for years.  He and many others have blasted the film for its graphic portrayal of slavery and its repeated use of the n-word.  I bring this up because you have heard about it, but I encourage you to shrug it off.  The subject warrants a bold approach, and I applaud the director for his refusal to soften the impact of the picture.  If there's any subject that warrants such disclosure, surely this is it.  Yes, it's bold, but there's a lot of honesty captured in this show, and it would have been wrong to handle the material delicately.  There has also been some scrutiny given recent random acts of violence, but people have to keep art and life separate.  I don't buy into that at all, though I think I should point it out here.  If you feel differently about either of these subjects, you should probably skip this one. 

In closing, I encourage you to spend a little time with Django as he searches for his wife in a hellish vision of the pre-Civil War South.  Thankfully, he has the charming Dr. King Schultz at his side, and their remarkable partnership should provide audiences with a gripping experience for years to come.  I haven't revealed much of the plot for a reason.  If you haven't seen this one yet, you still probably know far too much about the film going in.  This is a journey, and we know where it's going from the very start, but the film takes its time getting there.  I encourage you to enjoy the ride and drink up the scenery.  Django Unchained is a brilliant film that boasts a royal conclusion, but every frame is deserving of your attention.  This is significant art, make no mistake about it, and it will start conservations.  Yet it is also a fine example of just how riveting and entertaining motion pictures can be.  Like Inglorious Basterds, Django Unchained offers more than a typical Tarantino thrill ride.  This is another picture with heart, an emotional vessel that will provoke you when it isn't making you laugh or cheer.  One can only imagine what QT will do next, but he has his work cut out for him if he wants to improve upon this splendid treat.