SpottieOttieDopalicious Reflections on Cinema
BERRY GORDY’S THE
LAST DRAGON
A
portion of Trey Ellis’ seminal essay, “The New Black Aesthetic,” elucidates on
how 80’s films like Hollywood Shuffle and I’m Gonna Git You Sucka challenge the
image of the hypermasculine/ultracool black male not only by satirizing the
blaxploitation flicks of the 70’s but by offering an alternative to that
image. One crucial film—released a few
years prior to the aforementioned movies—that is not referenced is Berry
Gordy’s The Last Dragon. Last
Dragon is arguably the first 80’s film that pays homage to and critiques
the black cultural icons that were worshipped during Nixon’s reign. The villian, Sho-Nuff, the self-proclaimed
Shogun of Harlem, is frontloaded with Richard Roundtree’s sexual flair and
toughness and the campiness of Jim Kelly’s jive-talk. He’s the ultimate alpha male figure flanked by an unrighteous
posse of b-boys and b-girls who look like they’ve “come right out of a comic
book”. Like I’m Gonna Git You Sucka, Last
Dragon’s gives us a vastly different version of a black protagonist that is
rarely captured in 70’s action cinema: one who does not misconstrue sexuality
with stature, or tough-guy posturing with confidence.
“Bruce” Leroy Green’s character is so clueless about sex that his
precocious brother, Richie, couches him by spinning a parable about “the art of
making love”. He concludes his
discourse with the belief that if the opportunity presented itself Leroy would
not even be equipped with a paintbrush. Richie even transcends into Dr. Ruth mode by dropping science on the
efficacy of stroking: “Leroy, it can really hurt if you don’t know what you’re
doing.”
In
terms of confidence, Leroy deems himself unworthy of being both the boyfriend
and bodyguard of Laura Charles—a stunning veejay played by Prince protégé
Denise Richards (aka Vanity). Leroy
acquires sexual experience and confidence by living vicariously through Bruce
Lee’s screen characters. He uses these
films as schemas on how to navigate through his budding relationship with Laura
and through the obstacle of locating the Master. In one of the best scenes, Laura invites Leroy to her network’s
studio to show clips of Lee in action: both Jeet Kune Do and kissing wise. A very awkward moment happens during the
latter. Taking his cue from the clip,
Leroy develops the courage to make out with Laura. The ensuing clip of Lee infiltrating the enemy’s crib in disguise
gives Leroy the courage to approach the fortune cookie employees as to the
whereabouts of the Master. His abrupt departure
leaves Laura hot and bothered and perplexed.
Because I’m still in love with Last
Dragon twenty-two years after its release does not mean that I can’t
extract its major flaw. It’s difficult
for me to believe that Leroy never got any play until Laura Charles stepped
onto the scene. He’s extremely
handsome. Hence, his coyish disposition
and preference for silk Mandarin kung fu suits could not have made him lose a
ridiculous amount of cool points with the ladies. His younger brother does not share my sentiments. During the first act, Richie stresses mad
concern about Leroy questioning the nature of his sexual orientation to his
father over breakfast: “He’s weird. Wears funny clothes. Don’t mess with no babes. People talk you know.” Leroy Green, Sr.
played by Jim Moody (no relation to me) immediately comes to his eldest son’s
defense in this statement: “Richie, when I came to this neighborhood people
thought I was weird—a black man with a pizza shop. Now, there ain’t a hungry soul in Harlem that don’t know my
slogan: ‘Jus’ directa yo feetsa to Daddy Green’s pizza’”.
Leroy Sr.’s testimony addresses what Last
Dragon is all about: Who cares if you get blasted for defying the norm? Be
yourself. Eventually people will accept
you. Throughout much of the film, though, the theme of both identity and
acceptance is a running joke that sits above Leroy, Jr.’s freshly sheened
curls—he doesn’t realize that the Master is closer to him than he thinks, and
he deems there’s nothing amiss about eating popcorn with chopsticks. Imagine the hardship of Leroy Green, Sr.
being called a “sellout” for making pizzas instead of cornbread. Imagine the hardship of a young Bruce Lee
receiving criticism for giving martial arts lessons to Americans during a time when
traditional Chinese practitioners insisted on keeping these teachings
hermetically sealed within their own culture. Like his father and his martial arts demi-god, Leroy must brush the dirt
of haters off his shoulders.
The question of identity is brilliantly captured in one scene where
Leroy tries regaining access into Sum Dum Goy, the fortune cookie company where
he is told the Master resides. The
obstacles in his way are three Asian employees who just know they’ve got
Soul. In one of the strangest yet most
insightful critiques on racial stereotypes, Leroy gains access into Sum Dom Goy
by donning a disguise: that of an ultracool pizza delivery man.
This is a place he was denied entranced earlier for not looking and
sounding enough like the Superfly/Shaft prototypes (Leroy was clad in his
signature Mandarin kung fu outfit and bamboo hat). In an effort to make Leroy leave, one of the employees throws out
a racial epithet reserved for Asians and cuts him down to size: “You just a
jive coolie. The Master don’t see
nobody who don’t know how to get down, Baby. Dig: you too square, Man!” Sensing that Leroy is not hip/black enough to
understand slang and in response to Leroy’s attire, another employee knows he
can break it down in a language that Leroy can comprehend. He intervenes by volunteering his services
as a translator by imitating the whacky English-dubbed voiceover of a Shaw
Brothers film: “You go now. Chop, chop,
Holy Ass out of this place!”
Asians with Soul Power and a Black protagonist who has no qualms about
eating popcorn with chopsticks: what a fresh take on martial arts cinema and
blaxploitation flicks; what a fabulous reversal on cultural stereotypes as
well. The beauty behind the reversal
and behind Leroy gaining access into Sum Dom Goy as one bad mother (shut yo
mouth! But I’m talkin’ bout Leroy) is that it shows us why stereotypes are so
ridiculous in the first place. Not all
Asians can whoop ass and speak broken English. Not all blacks are smooth operators and versed in slang. The latter stereotype is duly noted as Leroy
approaches the warehouse for a second time. Before he knocks on the door, Leroy rehearses his greeting and stumbles
to nail down the cadence and pitch of: “Hey man, what it look like?” The first
time he strives for a baritone. And the
second time he imitates the inflection of a pimp who’s breathed in too much
helium. When the Asian Soul Brothers
answer, Leroy encounters some resistance because none of them ordered a pizza
with bean sprouts. But they eventually
invite him in to sip wine, shoot craps, and smoke a little herb.
As
much as Last Dragon parodies 70’s
cinema, it also depicts 80’s culture’s obsession with music videos at a time
when MTV began to crystallize in the same way that Wild Style captures the genesis of hip-hop emerging in South Bronx,
which is what I respect most about the film. Not to mention that it’s campy as
hell.
A
couple of weeks ago a good friend and I looked around the DVD/VHS section of
the main Carnegie Library. I heard a
sister say, “Oooh, look! They’ve got Bruce Leroy.” I smiled and remembered the
same excitement I felt as a six-year-old standing in a video rental store in
Frankfurt, Germany, seeing that the only Beta cassette copy of Last Dragon that the manager carried was
finally available after four months.
Jonathan Moody
is a poet/cosmic funkateer who grew up in Ft. Walton Beach, FL. He received his
Bachelor’s in psychology from Xavier University of Louisiana and completed his
MFA at the University of Pittsburgh. Jonathan currently lives in Houston, TX.
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