The Final Game of Death (2023) Movie Script

1
On July 20th, 1973,
in the middle of a hot
Hong Kong summer,
the actor, writer, martial artist
and filmmaker, Bruce Lee,
died unexpectedly at the age of only 32.
On the cusp of a global stardom
he had spent years striving towards,
his death sent shockwaves
around the world.
The legacy he left behind
in his short but eventful life
included a young family,
legions of dedicated fans and students,
and a revolutionary approach
to martial arts
that transformed the world's relationship
with Chinese culture.
Half a century after his death,
he remains as much an inspiration
to millions as ever before.
His status largely rests on the success
of just four feature films
he completed in the two years
leading up to his death:
The Big Boss, Fist of Fury,
The Way of the Dragon,
which he also wrote and directed,
and Enter the Dragon.
Only four films,
and yet there was nearly a fifth.
Less than a year before he died,
Lee started work on his second film
as writer and director,
one that would deliver
on the filmmaking promise
he had shown with
The Way of the Dragon,
and be the ultimate expression
of his unique martial arts philosophy.
Two hours of raw, unedited footage
was filmed
before the project
was temporarily shelved,
only to be left in permanent limbo
once its creator was no longer alive
to finish it.
Its working title,
ominous and fateful in hindsight,
was The Game of Death.
Though Lee never lived to complete
or even refine his own vision
for the project,
his plans for The Game of Death
are as scrutinised and interrogated today
as the circumstances surrounding
his untimely death.
The mysteries around its creation
have become a vessel
for endless heated debate,
a space in which truth and legend
have become practically indistinguishable.
Was it a lost masterpiece
by a young artist
working at the height of his talents?
Or was it a cursed film,
inextricably bound
to its creator's own doomed fate?
Now, with access to all 11 reels
of footage shot for the film in 1972,
we can finally search for answers
to the many mysteries
contained within The Game of Death.
It is July of 1972,
only one year before Bruce Lee's death.
He is the biggest star in Hong Kong,
now unable to walk around in public
without being mobbed.
It was only a year prior,
in the summer of 1971,
that after years of hitting
a racial glass ceiling in Hollywood,
he tired of American executives'
nervousness
over casting a Chinese star
in a lead role,
and looked homeward to Hong Kong,
where domestically produced
martial arts films
are starting to rule
the local box office.
Signing a two-picture deal
with upstart company Golden Harvest,
Bruce agreed to star in two films,
both directed by Lo Wei:
The Big Boss and Fist of Fury.
By the end of the year, he is
the most famous face on the continent.
Audiences are instantly captivated
by his charismatic energy
and high-kicking dynamism,
deliberately captured
in long, unbroken takes,
unlike the choppy editing
seen in most films.
His own customised style of kung fu,
which he has dubbed Jeet Kune Do,
or the Way of the Intercepting Fist,
is unlike anything
audiences have seen before.
Both films shatter
local box office records,
each taking well over
three million dollars.
Overnight, Bruce is a superstar.
A big fish in a small pond
compared to his earlier
Hollywood ambitions perhaps,
but with just two films,
he has the respect,
clout and financial security
to continue the next phase of his career.
Keen to retain
their box office superstar,
Golden Harvest executive
Raymond Chow
offers Bruce the opportunity to write,
direct and star in his next film,
as well as co-producing under his own
newly formed production company,
Concord Productions.
Given complete creative freedom,
Bruce makes a film much more personal
and aligned with his own ethos.
Its name: The Way of the Dragon.
Whereas the previous two films
were formulaic revenge sagas
primarily designed
to appeal to local audiences,
Bruce looks outward
for his first time behind the camera.
He sets the film in Rome, and even films
on location there for three weeks.
Unhappy with Lo Wei's insistence
on cartoonish Japanese
and Russian villains in Fist of Fury,
the final confrontation in Bruce's
screenplay for The Way of the Dragon
is a more ambivalent one.
Bruce choreographs
a climactic ten-minute fight
between him and American
karate champion, Chuck Norris.
Set amongst the ruins
of the Roman Colosseum
and filmed in wide shots that
accentuate both men's athletic prowess,
when his character
ultimately defeats Norris,
he does so reluctantly, and covers
his body as a gesture of respect.
The gladiators here are not avatars
for nationalistic or racial pride,
but global representatives
of martial arts excellence,
forced against one another
by circumstance,
and no less honourable for it.
The Way of the Dragon is
a crudely made film in many aspects,
both technically and in the
freewheeling nature of its creation.
But Bruce's sheer ambition and energy
burst off the screen,
showing a determination
to try as many ideas as he can,
and a burning promise to be harnessed
and refined in future work.
It will be the only film
he ever completes as a director.
It is the summer of 1972.
The Way of the Dragon
has only just finished filming,
but ever restless and ambitious,
Bruce is keen to seize the momentum
and channel it
into a second film as director.
He doesn't have much yet.
A rough sketch of an idea, if that.
Emboldened by his experience
filming The Way of the Dragon,
Bruce's ambitions for his next film
increase further.
A film that would use symbolism
to add a philosophical dimension
to the action genre.
"The film to end all films,"
he says at one point.
For nearly a decade, he has spoken
about making what he calls
a multi-level film.
As he puts it,
"The kind of movies where you can
just watch the surface story if you like,
or you can look deeper into it."
The next co-production
between Concord and Golden Harvest
will be Bruce's purest
cinematic expression yet
of Jeet Kune Do in action,
demonstrating the necessity
of adapting to one's circumstances.
In a 1972 interview,
he describes an idea for a prologue,
ultimately never filmed.
A key inspiration for this new idea
happened during a trip to India in 1970,
scouting locations for an abandoned
project called The Silent Flute.
Bruce was struck
by the ancient pagodas he saw there,
and began to devise a scenario
where his vision of a multi-level film
became literal:
one fighter ascending the temple,
higher and higher,
taking on ever greater challenges
on his way to the top.
What little is known about Bruce's plans
for the story of The Game of Death
largely stems from a collection
of handwritten notes
uncovered in a Seattle warehouse
belonging to the Lee estate
in the mid-1990s.
As with The Way of the Dragon
before it,
a full script is never written
for The Game of Death,
and indeed, Bruce continues
to change his mind about the plot
devising new characters
and whole subplots
right up to the day he dies.
Though this stands in stark contrast
to western film production
where everything is usually written
and planned well in advance,
it is the norm in Hong Kong filmmaking
where cast and crew members
might come and go
depending on the vagaries of scheduling
and dialogue is sometimes agreed upon
only minutes before cameras
begin rolling.
What these semi-improvised,
low-budget films
lack in polish and narrative finesse,
they often compensated for
in spontaneous energy and invention.
Over the coming months, Bruce slowly
fleshes out the story for his next film.
On one level, it is an action film
showcasing an array
of fighting techniques.
On the other, it is Bruce's philosophy
for Jeet Kune Do
literalised in cinematic form.
No way as way.
No limitation as limitation.
Whereas The Way of the Dragon
and Lee's prior films
were rooted in the real world
and even inspired in some cases
by real-life figures,
his aim for The Game of Death
was something altogether different,
something stranger,
perhaps even metaphysical.
Bruce will play the central character
of Hai Tien,
a retired champion fighter who,
as the film begins,
is on a flight to Korea
with his sister and younger brother.
When they land at the airport,
the trio are kidnapped by the henchmen
of a local crime boss.
The gangster holds
Hai Tien's family hostage,
unless he volunteers to fly out
to a secluded compound
in the Korean wilderness,
in the middle of which
is an ancient pagoda, five floors high.
The boss wants something
from the top of the pagoda,
and Hai Tien will have to battle his way
through various opponents to get it,
one level at a time.
Each opponent is a representative
of a different fighting style,
with Hai Tien having to assess
each fighter's abilities
and adapt his own techniques
in order to climb the tower
and win his siblings' freedom.
Hai Tien is joined on his mission by
a handful of the crime boss's underlings,
each motivated by greed and ambition
in their quest to make it to the top.
When they reach the compound,
Hai Tien and the others
are confronted by dozens
of nameless karate fighters
guarding the outside of the pagoda.
Upon dispatching the fighters,
a locksmith breaks them
inside the temple.
The opponent they face on the
ground floor is a master of hapkido
especially skilled at kicking.
After defeating him,
they ascend to the second level,
guarded by an expert
in Praying Mantis kung fu.
Sadly, though Bruce wrote dialogue
for many of the aforementioned
sequences,
he would not live long enough
to actually film them,
nor would he ever write
the story's grand conclusion.
Instead, the only scenes
that saw the light of a camera,
barely coherent out of context,
show Hai Tien's ascent up
the remaining three floors of the pagoda.
The Hall of the Tiger,
in which he and two other fighters
battle an expert
in Filipino eskrima techniques,
not least mastery
of the deadly nunchaku.
The Hall of the Dragon, where Hai Tien
fights another hapkido grandmaster,
this time one adept at grappling
and hand-to-hand combat.
And finally, the Hall of the Unknown,
where Hai Tien,
now the last survivor of the mission,
finds his adaptability tested
against a mysterious foe
whose fighting style is as formless
and unpredictable as his own.
As post-production on The Way
of the Dragon approaches its end
in August of 1972,
Bruce begins to assemble his co-stars
for The Game of Death.
For the henchmen
accompanying Hai Tien,
Lee jots down the names of four actors:
James Tien, his co-star
in The Big Boss and Fist of Fury,
Chieh Yuan, a former stuntman
for Shaw Brothers,
Carter Wong, whom Bruce has met
on the set
of the Golden Harvest film Hapkido,
and Tony Liu, who also co-starred
in Lee's three previous films.
As the latter two characters
were slated to be killed off
before reaching the Hall of the Tiger,
Wong and Liu never film any scenes
for The Game of Death,
and in Liu's case, his name is
ultimately crossed out altogether,
rumoured to be replaced
with a white American fighter.
As with his previous film,
Bruce shows a preference
to cast not trained actors
with some martial arts skills,
but rather expert martial artists
with little to no previous experience
on camera.
Among them are two
of his favourite former students
and closest friends from America:
Dan Inosanto, with whom he founded
his Jeet Kune Do school in Los Angeles,
and rising NBA basketball star,
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.
Neither of them has ever appeared
in a motion picture before.
As Bruce continues
to flesh out the story
and a single set is built
at Golden Harvest Studios
that will stand for each floor
of the pagoda,
he plans to start filming
at the end of September.
But fate threatens to intervene
when he calls Abdul-Jabbar
and offers him the role
of the final guardian.
Though the basketball star
is currently on three weeks' leave,
he is due to start at NBA training camp
in the middle of the month,
making his participation
in the film impossible.
Determined to get his vision onscreen,
Bruce tells him to board a plane
to Hong Kong as soon as he can.
They will simply film all of his scenes
ahead of schedule
in plenty of time for him
to return to the USA for training.
Thankfully, Abdul-Jabbar agrees,
and so filming
of The Game of Death begins,
perhaps fittingly, at the story's end.
With a handwritten shot list
and choreography notes in place,
Lee assembles much of the crew
from The Way of the Dragon
to join him for filming his battle
against Abdul-Jabbar.
Among them are assistant director
Ricky Chik,
and 50-year-old Japanese
cinematographer Tadashi Nishimoto.
In addition to Abdul-Jabbar,
James Tien, Bruce's co-star
from The Big Boss and Fist of Fury,
joins the first round of filming.
Bruce, Tien and Abdul-Jabbar
participate in a promotional photo shoot
as filming commences.
In the years that follow,
it is these images,
taken by freelance photographer
Chang Yuk,
published far and wide by the media
in the wake of Lee's death,
that propel the incomplete
Game of Death project
to almost a mythic status.
Filming begins on September 7th
on the top-secret project
with Bruce remaining
behind the camera,
directing the fight
between James and Kareem.
The title written on the slate seen
between setups is simply "Audition".
The title "The Game of Death"
will not be confirmed for some weeks,
with the project referred to in a trade
announcement under the working title,
"Yellow-Faced Tiger".
Born in Guangdong, China in 1942,
James Tien moved with his family
to Hong Kong in 1958,
and after a stint at the Fu Sheng
Drama School in Taiwan
began acting as a contract player
for Shaw Brothers in 1969.
He decamped to Golden Harvest
along with director Lo Wei
in the following the year,
and climbed the ladder
to leading-man status
in films such as The Invincible Eight,
The Blade Spares None
and The Chase.
James Tien's character,
referred to in Lee's notes as Tien Da,
is one of the other fighters
sent by the crime boss.
Primarily cast as noble heroes
at this stage in his career,
Bruce cast Tien against type
as a duplicitous schemer
who tricks his way up
to the final floor of the pagoda,
only to get his just deserts
as he is hopelessly outmatched
by the foe awaiting him at the top.
Though this is the third time
James Tien and Bruce Lee
have worked with one another,
their collaboration got off
to a shaky start.
In the first half of The Big Boss,
the apparent star of the film is
arguably not Bruce, but James Tien,
who confidently leads
the film's early fight scenes.
Even when filming started,
it wasn't clear whether Lee or Tien's
character would lead the film,
as Raymond Chow seemed to hedge
his bets against his latest signing.
But as Lee continued to impress
on location in Thailand,
the die was cast.
Tien's character would suddenly
be killed off halfway through,
with Bruce's character
avenging his death,
as well as that of his other friends
and family in the second half.
But following his alleged displacement
from the lead role in The Big Boss,
Tien's stint as a headline name
was short-lived,
and The Game of Death
was the first of several roles
playing heels and villains,
as Tien gradually settled into life
as a busy, dependable character actor.
Born Ferdinand Lewis Alcindor Jr.
in 1947, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar,
his Muslim name,
meaning "noble one, servant of Allah,"
met Bruce Lee in 1968
when he was looking for a martial arts
tutor after graduating from UCLA.
Lee and the well-read,
intellectually curious Abdul-Jabbar,
who had just converted to Islam,
became fast friends.
While tutoring the future NBA star
in Jeet Kune Do
and still dreaming of the prosperous
filmmaking career yet to come,
Lee often considered
the cinematic possibilities
of an onscreen duel between the two,
with Lee standing at 5'7",
and Abdul-Jabbar at 7'2".
The introduction
of Abdul-Jabbar's character
remains one of The Game of Death's
most enduring images.
One could argue that the design
of the Guardian of the Unknown
was an influence
on Arnold Schwarzenegger's
portrayal of the Terminator
over a decade later:
a tall, mute, seemingly inhuman foe
with superhuman strength,
his impassive features largely hidden
behind a pair of impenetrable
black sunglasses.
In a moment,
there is a break in the action
to be filled with shots
of Bruce's character
still fighting another opponent
on the floor below
that won't be filmed
for another six weeks.
When the scene resumes,
Tien's character is
already fighting for his life.
He makes one futile, final dash
for the top of the pagoda,
but the Guardian of the Unknown
effortless plucks him down
in a move that will doubtless
look familiar to basketball fans.
It is Kareem Abdul-Jabbar's
trademark skyhook,
where he leaps in the air while holding
the ball as high as he can in one hand,
well out of the reach of the other team.
His triumphant trademark
is creatively repurposed by Bruce
into something otherworldly,
unlike anything seen
on Hong Kong cinema screens before.
Not long after James Tien
subtly sticks his neck out enough
for Abdul-Jabbar to reach
and pull him down,
the guardian's superhuman strength
is further demonstrated
in the next few shots,
as he begins to choke
and squeeze Tien's throat
while suspending him in mid-air,
before flinging him across the room
like a ragdoll.
As filming continues, on September 8th,
Tien stands on a box
during the over-the-shoulder shots,
while the wide shots are accomplished
using a wire harness
attached to his back.
Though wirework became ubiquitous
in later Hong Kong action films,
in particular those choreographed
by Yuen Woo-ping,
it was still in its infancy here,
and had only made one prior
appearance in a Bruce Lee film,
in a stunt performed by a young
Jackie Chan at the end of Fist of Fury.
For the second half of the stunt,
in which his character is flung across
to the other side of the room,
Tien achieves the desired height
by jumping off a strategically
placed mattress,
similar to the trampolining effect
already well established
in the wuxia pian swordplay films
still popular in Hong Kong,
whose characters frequently clashed
in gravity-defying duels.
The beginning of the jump isn't intended
to be included in the final film,
but winds up featuring in some later
assemblies of the footage nonetheless.
Ironically filming his character's
final scenes in the film
on only the second day of filming,
the defeated and terrified Tien
attempts to scream for help
from Bruce's character, Hai Tien,
still fighting another foe
on the floor below.
As he reaches for his throat,
Tien can hardly make a sound,
his vocal chords crushed
by the Guardian of the Unknown.
In Bruce Lee's first scene
of the film to be shot,
Hai Tien ascends
to the Hall of the Unknown,
narrowly avoiding a collision
with Tien Da's lifeless body.
Though it is the start of shooting,
Bruce's face is already bruised
from the battles fought thus far,
some yet to be filmed,
others never to be filmed at all.
It is Bruce's first day in front
of the camera on The Game of Death
and his first in costume.
If the introduction
of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar's character
is one of The Game of Death's
most enduring images,
not least the subtle moment
when he mimics the slack-jawed wonder
with which Lee first looks upon him,
then undoubtedly the top spot on the list
must be reserved for Hai Tien's outfit,
a full-length yellow jumpsuit
with black stripes running down
its left and right-hand side.
Designed and commissioned
by Lee himself,
the motivation behind
the jumpsuit's design is simple.
While other characters in the film
select a stark, traditional wardrobe
in keeping with their particular
fighting disciplines,
Hai Tien, who in Lee's script notes
was nicknamed "The Yellow-Faced Tiger"
in his professional fighting days,
embraces a style both colourful
and emphatically non-traditional,
comfortable, bold and fluid,
an embodiment of the pragmatism
and free-form iconoclasm
of the Jeet Kune Do approach.
The jumpsuit's bold colours
are complemented
with a matching set of sneakers
on his feet,
one of three different sets Bruce
will wear during the course of filming,
including the Onitsuka Tiger
Mexico 66 shoes
in the Tai-Chi yellow and black range
originally launched in Japan.
As for where Lee got the idea
for the suit,
several origin stories have been offered,
none of them verified.
One story says he got the idea from
an outfit lent to him by Roman Polanski
during a skiing trip
in Gstaad, Switzerland.
Another says that the suit
was originally designed
to be black with yellow stripes,
only to be inverted when it became clear
that yellow would read better on camera
during the dimly lit fight
with Abdul-Jabbar.
Regardless, the yellow and black
jumpsuit remains
arguably the piece of visual iconography
most associated
with Bruce Lee to this day.
Director of photography
Tadashi Nishimoto,
often credited under the Chinese alias
Ho Lan-shan, had previously shot films
such as King Hu's wuxia landmark
Come Drink with Me
for Shaw Brothers,
and was responsible for bringing over
the TohoScope widescreen lenses
that would form the basis of the studio's
iconic Shawscope system.
His skill at capturing action
in striking, moody compositions,
often shot at low angles
with very wide lenses,
was honed in his native Japan when
filming the chanbara swordplay films
that influenced numerous Hong Kong
filmmakers, not least Bruce Lee.
As if freed from the shackles
of formal convention
by the more heightened,
fantastical elements of the story,
Lee and Nishimoto's camerawork
becomes more playful and expressive,
such as this angle shot from the point
of view of Abdul-Jabbar's character
while sitting in a rocking chair.
While invention was being
encouraged behind the camera,
in many other respects
filming on The Game of Death
adheres to standard operating practices
for Hong Kong filmmaking.
Most infamously,
no sound is recorded on set.
Among other things,
the lack of hindrance
caused by having to accommodate
live sync-sound recording
allows film crews to shoot
up to twice as much material
as they would do otherwise,
a blessing for anyone working
on a densely choreographed fight scene
on a low budget,
often with a multilingual cast and crew.
At a time when filmmakers in the West
were still typically breaking scenes
into a conventional list
of camera angles or setups,
a master, or a wide shot,
that captures most or all
of the action in a single take,
complemented by close-ups
and insert shots
to accentuate certain elements
within a scene,
Hong Kong filmmakers, working
at the height of the kung fu boom,
favoured a style that academic
David Bordwell has referred to
as "segment shooting,"
wherein the scene is broken up
into several short pieces
which are dually filmed one at a time,
even if it involves moving the camera
back and forth multiple times.
While a Western crew might accuse its
Hong Kong counterparts of inefficiency,
in fact, the result was
just the opposite,
with directors choosing
to edit in-camera,
often resulting in a shooting ratio,
meaning the amount of raw film shot
compared to what is actually used
in the completed film,
usually somewhere
between 2:1 and 3:1,
compared to a Hollywood average
of 10:1, or often much higher.
And while a Hollywood director
like Stanley Kubrick
might enjoy the luxury of shooting
as many takes as he likes,
even a big star like Bruce Lee
accepts that in Hong Kong,
if you get it right on the first take,
you move on to the next angle.
The economic rationale
is self-explanatory.
35mm film and studio time
aren't cheap.
But an expected artistic advantage
is a restless, dynamic energy
that puts the action scenes in many
of its Western counterparts to shame.
In spite of the ruthless economy
that came with the segment shooting
production style,
Lee holds firm when it comes
to pursuing perfection
during the combat scenes.
The third day of filming begins
with a wide angle,
showing Lee toppling Abdul-Jabbar
with a leglock.
The following back-and-forth
between Lee and Abdul-Jabbar
ends up taking no less
than seven takes to shoot,
with the timing needing to be
absolutely on point.
You'll notice a pattern emerge in longer
setups that require multiple takes.
Lee and his scene partner may
initially come across as stiff
on the first couple of tries,
as if attempting to remember
the choreography while moving,
but by the final takes
looking far more fluid and spontaneous.
Lee has a keen eye
for how not only his moves
but those of his scene partners'
will read on camera,
and is aided in judging takes
on more dynamic scenes
by his trusted cinematographer,
Tadashi Nishimoto.
As Hai Tien attempts in vain
to best the Guardian of the Unknown,
who smiles eerily
as his long-limbed strength
helps him regain the upper hand
...or should that be the upper leg?
A dramatic dolly shot accompanies
Hai Tien's retreat
as he stands back to consider
his next move.
The guardian sits calmly.
With almost clairvoyant precision,
the guardian thrusts out his hands,
halting Hai Tien's attack
dead in its tracks.
In his handwritten note
for this part of the fight,
Bruce writes in Chinese
a voiceover for his character,
giving the audience an insight
to his inner monologue.
The voiceover says,
referring to the guardian,
"His big advantage is that
he gives no thought to life or death,
and with no distracting thoughts,
he is therefore free to concentrate
on fighting against the attack
from outside."
As the guardian stands,
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar speaks
some of the first dialogue
Bruce has written for the film.
In English, he says,
"Little one, you must have
given up hope of living."
Lee has Abdul-Jabbar film
three takes of the dialogue,
his face more still and inscrutable
with each turn.
The camera reverses for Bruce's reply.
"On the contrary,
I do not let the word 'death' bother me."
The guardian replies,
"Same here, baby."
To which Hai Tien says,
"Then, what are you waiting for?"
For some, Lee's dialogue may risk
sounding inelegant and stilted.
But the stylised nature of the words
are in keeping
with the heightened unreality
of the tale being told.
It is in this dialogue
where the motivation behind the title
The Game of Death becomes clear.
It refers not only to the mortal stakes
of the pagoda heist itself,
but Hai Tien's transcendence
of his own limitations.
In understanding and matching
the guardian's advantage over him
and how his true strength lies
not in his physical abilities
but his transcendent mastery over
and acceptance of
the fear of death itself,
Hai Tien begins to tip the scales back
in his favour, if only for a short while.
The arc of Lee and Abdul-Jabbar's fight
demonstrates the core theme
of Lee's thesis for the film
and Jeet Kune Do in general.
This final fight would be the culmination
of everything demonstrated
throughout the preceding battles
on the lower floors of the pagoda.
Unlike those earlier fights, however,
Hai Tien has two significant
disadvantages:
the Guardian of the Unknown's
physical size and strength,
in particular the long reach
of his arms and legs,
but also his own unpredictable lack
of a specific fighting discipline.
Like the small willow tree
that withstands the snowstorm
while larger oaks around it fall,
his character will ultimately triumph
against the colossus in front of him
not through the mastery
of one specific fighting regimen,
but learning his opponent's strengths
and weaknesses in combat
and adapting his strategy accordingly,
fighting smarter, not harder.
Having already been knocked down
once at the start of the fight,
he starts allowing the guardian
to make the first move,
continually learning as he responds
to each move in turn.
In one of the violent highlights
of the scene,
Hai Tien nearly meets his end
when the guardian attempts
to push his face
onto the sharp end of a broken vase
until he bends his body in such a way
to be able to kick the guardian
in the head, escaping his grasp.
In spite of a debilitating
back injury in 1970
that had been one
of the contributing factors
behind his hiatus from Hollywood acting,
Bruce maintains intense core strength,
allowing him to perform
this difficult stunt single-handedly
without the use of doubles
or wire assistance,
aided only by the counterbalance offered
as Kareem holds the back of his head.
However, the lack of a camera angle
explicitly detailing how Hai Tien
is able to flip himself over
in such a way
where he lands on his feet
means this scene
is cut together awkwardly
in any assembly of the footage.
In a project so deliberately
and ambitiously choreographed,
it stands out as the one move
one could reasonably call a cheat.
We can speculate
that Lee might have planned
for a pick-up shot at a later date,
perhaps being doubled by Yuen Wah,
the acrobatic stuntman
that would later perform backflips
for Bruce on Enter the Dragon.
However, no notes or footage exist
to corroborate this,
and though Yuen Wah will appear
in The Game of Death footage later on,
it is not to double Bruce.
September 10th,
the fourth day of filming.
One interesting flourish that
Lee gives Abdul-Jabbar to perform
is the guardian adjusting his sunglasses
as the fight increases intensity,
showing both his rattled realisation
that Hai Tien may not be the pushover
he originally assumed,
but also cluing the audience in
on his one major weakness
that will be exploited
later in the fight.
As Hai Tien begins to gain
the upper hand against the guardian,
he makes things really personal
with an uppercut punch to the groin.
Once again, Bruce's choreography notes
for the scene
include a line of internal monologue,
potentially to be recorded in voiceover.
Here, Hai Tien assesses the advantage
he now has over the guardian.
"With his great size,
he's going to find it difficult to keep
getting up each time I knock him down."
As Hai Tien senses
the guardian's growing exhaustion,
Bruce writes another piece
of internal monologue
referring to his next plan of attack:
"Look at him.
Give him the fatigue bombing."
One criticism levelled at Lee
on and off through the years
was that he allowed himself
to look too invincible
in many of the fights
he choreographed himself,
always having the upper hand
against whoever he was sparring with,
in contrast to the conventional wisdom
that a fight scene should set
its protagonist against a foe
of equal or greater ability
to heighten the tension,
to put the audience
on the edge of their seat
about whether the hero will survive.
Setting aside Lee's motivations
for not doing so for now,
the arc of this battle with Abdul-Jabbar,
like the fight with Chuck Norris
in The Way of the Dragon,
follows the more common structure
of the vulnerable hero
looking increasingly exhausted,
almost succumbing
to his adversary's strength
two thirds of the way through.
Whereas Lee's character
in his previous film
won the fight against Norris
through the surgical use of Jeet Kune Do,
Hai Tien regains his advantage
against the Guardian of the Unknown
through a lucky discovery,
as Hai Tien accidentally
breaks the paper
covering the square windows
of the pagoda,
causing daylight to flood
the darkened Hall of the Unknown.
The fourth day of filming the scene
ends with a happy occasion,
assistant director Ricky Chik's wedding,
with Bruce, Raymond Chow
and others in attendance.
But before Ricky can head off
on his honeymoon,
there's one more day of filming
left to go.
September 11th, 1972.
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar's
last day of filming.
The guardian recoils,
revealing his Achilles' heel.
The sunglasses aren't just to look cool.
He has a crippling sensitivity
to daylight.
Hai Tien seizes the advantage
and lays into the guardian,
sending him to the floor.
Three takes are filmed from
Abdul-Jabbar's character's point of view.
The first maintains a constant focus
from start to finish,
with the next two toying
with a shifting focus,
implying that he's losing concentration
and may even be concussed.
The effect, achieved in-camera
by Tadashi Nishimoto,
is repeated from a similar moment
with Chuck Norris
in The Way of the Dragon.
The guardian's allergy to sunlight
is never explained
in Lee's notes for the film,
nor is it known
whether he ever discussed it
with Abdul-Jabbar or anyone else.
Though Lee's characteristically
grounded, authentic choreography
tempers any notion the film will venture
into the realm of outright fantasy,
unlike many of the wuxia films
inspired by Chinese myth and legend
that preceded it,
or even the wire-fu films that followed,
a vein of magical realism runs
through The Game of Death,
subtle and often unremarked upon.
What we see instead
in The Game of Death,
albeit in controlled, nascent bursts,
is Bruce Lee's imagination
given free rein.
At the story's core,
the far-fetched notion of the remote
ancient temple guarded by expert fighters,
whose lives solely revolve
around mastering their craft in solitude
while fending off
the occasional intruder,
is one steeped in a mythic,
almost dream-like illogic.
Would Lee have clarified
the practicalities
of such an unlikely arrangement
in a finished script had he lived?
Unlikely.
Some have even compared
The Game of Death
to Lee's script for The Silent Flute
from 1970,
a tale much more driven
by esoteric philosophical ideas
and 1960s psychedelia
than anything he would
subsequently film in Hong Kong.
Whether due to the low budgets
offered by Golden Harvest
or simply changing tastes on his part,
Bruce only teases at the otherworldly
potential of his storyline.
Any philosophical breakthroughs
in the script are purely subtextual
and left to the audience's imagination.
However, one brief series of setups
during the filming of this scene
offer two tantalising glimpses
of the fantastical nature
of the Guardian of the Unknown,
unremarked upon in the script
or anywhere in Lee's notes.
The first occurs after Hai Tien
has kicked the guardian's sunglasses
from his face, leaving him blinded
and cowering in the safety of the dark.
Lee and Nishimoto shoot three takes
of a point-of-view shot
filmed from the guardian's perspective.
The initial take is filmed
with a red filter,
almost as if the guardian's eyes
are being flooded with ultraviolet light.
On the second and third takes,
the filter is removed.
Whether this means the red filter was
an experiment that was swiftly abandoned
or if Lee was simply covering his bases
by filming the scene both ways,
we will never know.
However, Bruce attempts
another experiment
as he films a close-up
of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar's eyes.
Abdul-Jabbar poses static
for the camera in the single take.
Then, in probably the most mysterious
piece of footage
filmed for The Game of Death,
a still image of Abdul-Jabbar's face
is filmed with serpentine, mutant eyes
painted on top of his own.
How Lee would have incorporated
this twist, what it means,
and whether it would have
even been used at all,
is, again, unknown.
The shot is reminiscent
of the reveal of the father's eyes
in the dream scene
from Rosemary's Baby,
directed by Lee's friend,
Roman Polanski,
and a supernatural, perhaps even
vampiric element seems inevitable,
given the character's super strength
and aversion to light.
But with little else to contextualise it,
the shot of the eyes
has often been omitted
from assemblies
of the footage altogether.
As the confrontation hurtles
towards its final act,
Lee writes more dialogue
for him and Abdul-Jabbar,
including a call-back
to their earlier exchange,
as he pleads for common sense
from the guardian:
"Why continue? Just let me pass."
Abdul-Jabbar's tired response,
delivered through halting breaths,
confirms his character's acceptance
of his impending fate:
"You have forgotten that I, too,
am not bothered by the word 'death'."
And so begins their final battle,
the last of three ground-game fights
peppered throughout the scene.
The first, early on, signalled
Hai Tien's awareness
that he would have
to drastically change his strategy
in order to continue the fight
following a failed attempt at a leglock.
The second, midway through,
comes as another attempt
to defeat the guardian at floor level
almost leads to Hai Tien's defeat,
before he accidentally knocks out
one of the windows.
Finally, with the guardian subdued,
Hai Tien is able to topple the giant
to his level,
and with extreme effort
finally chokes him out.
After five days of exhausting filming
on a hot, sweaty soundstage,
the fight in the Hall of the Unknown
wraps filming.
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar flies
back to the United States
in anticipation of another
record-breaking season
playing for the Milwaukee Bucks.
The following summer, he is en route
to Hong Kong to see his friend again,
when, flying through Singapore,
he receives the terrible news
that Bruce is gone.
Though he did not continue training
in martial arts after Bruce's death,
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar appeared
in a variety of cameo appearances
in films such as Airplane!
and Fletch,
all while maintaining
a record-breaking NBA basketball career
until his retirement in 1989.
Now aged 75,
he remains today a prolific author
and a passionate, outspoken advocate
of social and racial justice,
and in 2016 was awarded
the Presidential Medal of Freedom
by President Barack Obama.
Two weeks later,
Bruce and his crew returned
to the same soundstage,
now re-dressed into the third floor
of the pagoda, the Hall of the Tiger.
The first two days of filming
are largely dedicated
to a fight scene never seen before
and long presumed lost
until now.
As cameras roll on September 25th,
we see James Tien,
his scheming character alive and well,
little knowing his doom
is still two floors ahead.
The actor joining him,
carrying the large pole,
is stuntman turned actor, Chieh Yuan.
The actor waiting for them,
sitting in a chair, is Dan Inosanto.
Though there are no script notes
to indicate this,
we can infer from his late arrival
that Bruce's character, Hai Tien,
is busy fighting the guardian
of the second floor of the pagoda,
an expert in Praying Mantis Kung Fu.
Born in 1945 to a Chinese family
living in Malaysia,
Chieh Yuan had already firmly
established himself for five years
as an in-demand stuntman
at Shaw Brothers
since first appearing
in their record-breaking hit,
The One-Armed Swordsman.
His role in The Game of Death,
originally intended
for then up-and-coming Golden Harvest
fight choreographer Sammo Hung,
is of another one of the fighters
sent by the Korean mobster
to raid the pagoda.
His character, unnamed except
for "Chieh" in Bruce's notes,
is immediately contrasted
with James Tien's.
Dressed in traditional
black karate gi clothing,
Chieh's headstrong
and less sophisticated character
is cannily manipulated
by the stylish James Tien,
who continually goads him
to run into the path of danger first.
The log fight,
as it has become known to legions
of Bruce Lee fans over the years,
has never been incorporated
into any edited assembly
of The Game of Death footage before.
As Chieh wields the large pole,
picked up, allegedly,
from a display of weapons held
on the second floor of the pagoda,
Dan's character is unfazed
as he picks up the two much smaller sticks
known in the Philippines
as kali, or arnis.
Dan begins to tap an insistent,
nagging melody using the kali,
taunting Tien and Yuan
by repeating it over and over.
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap, tap-tap.
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap, tap-tap.
The origin of this melody dates back
to Bruce and Dan's early friendship.
It was the secret knock they devised
for entrance
to the Jun Fan Gung Fu Institute
the pair opened in the Chinatown area
of Los Angeles in 1967.
Having only appeared
on camera once before
as a fight double in an episode
of The Green Hornet opposite Bruce,
Dan's character in The Game of Death is
the guardian of the pagoda's third floor.
Expert in the art of eskrima
stick fighting from the Philippines.
The third-floor guardian's red headband
and open-chested black shirt
indicate he is a Moro,
one of the Muslim communities
native to the southern Philippines.
As Chieh turns to James Tien,
intimidated by Dan's display of force,
James Tien snorts derisively,
provoking Chieh to continue.
Born to Filipino parents
in Stockton, California in 1936,
Dan Inosanto began learning karate
at the age of 11,
and by the time he met Bruce Lee
at Long Beach in 1964
was already proficient in a range
of different fighting techniques,
learning from an eclectic mix
of masters and teachers.
His deftness at combining different
methods greatly influenced Bruce
as he developed Jeet Kune Do,
and soon Dan became one
of only three Jeet Kune Do instructors
personally appointed by Bruce.
Chieh turns to Tien for guidance.
Tien goads him to proceed,
telling him:
"Don't let him psyche you out."
As with the fight
with Kareem Abdul-Jabbar,
the message is that
it's not the size of the fighter
or their chosen weapon that counts,
but rather the skill and strategy
with which they attack.
This fight philosophy unfolds
through numerous stages,
and with the log fight footage
found again,
we get a much clearer view
of what Lee strived for.
In many ways, the Hall of the Tiger
sequence expands on the Colosseum fight
from The Way of the Dragon.
That classic confrontation
between Lee and Chuck Norris
progressed in two phases.
The first had Lee attempting to match
Norris's hard style of traditional karate
but coming up short.
But on the second phase,
Lee overcomes his mammoth opponent
through Jeet Kune Do's ethos
of adaptability and flexibility,
visually signified by the Ali shuffle
in his footwork
and an overall unpredictability
of movement
that doesn't fit with any
traditional martial system.
In the Hall of the Tiger sequence,
this philosophy is expressed
through four phases.
Each one has its own sub-phases
that unveil a more nuanced expression
of Lee's martial ethos,
while never losing sight
of entertaining his audience.
In particular, Lee had
a keen sense of storytelling
and understood that for action
to not be monotonous,
danger and escalation were key
to gripping the viewer's attention.
Phase one is entirely dedicated
to Chieh Yuan,
as he attempts to bypass
the third-floor guardian.
He strikes at Inosanto with a large log,
and does so with appropriate gusto,
desperate to prove his worth.
But Chieh's chosen weapon
proves too unwieldy
for the dexterity and speed
of the guardian's duo eskrima sticks.
Chieh Yuan switches gears
and resorts to empty-hand combat.
Inosanto discards his own weapons
and employs kenpo karate
to take down his foolhardy opponent.
The first day's filming ends,
and after a one-day break
from shooting for reasons unknown,
the second day,
Wednesday 27th September,
begins with one more take
of the same shot.
This entire first phase
perfectly establishes
Dan Inosanto's
formidable martial prowess
in both armed
and then unarmed combat.
But these two skillsets are presented
in isolation from each other,
separated by the third-level
guardian's pride in his own abilities.
With this information brought to light,
Lee as a choreographer and director
also smartly foreshadows
Inosanto's limitation.
Phase two,
and it is James Tien's turn.
He pulls out his own stick, wanting
to fight Inosanto at his own game.
Unlike the brash Chieh,
Tien is more cautious
and takes a more defensive approach.
But as soon as he uses
any offensive manoeuvre,
he falters.
Though it is only onscreen
for a fraction of a second,
the slate seen at the beginning
of the next take
shows an important milestone.
For the very first time,
the title written at the top,
as opposed to "Audition"
or "Yellow-Faced Tiger",
is "The Game of Death".
Many martial arts
that specialise in weapons
lay the claim that any object held
should be an extension of one's body.
If this is the case,
the Tien versus Inosanto bout
has them wield only a single arm each.
It is only when Inosanto
gains a second stick
that the tides turn in his favour.
As in phase one,
a nuance is at play here.
Are these sticks extensions
of the third guardian's body?
Or are they simply chains
that restrict it?
These questions will later be answered
once Inosanto faces our main hero.
Day three of filming, and Bruce Lee
finally makes his appearance,
marking the beginning of phase three.
Our hero presents
his own extended limb,
a wiry, emerald-hue bamboo stick.
After reacting to James Tien,
who is still nursing
his wounded pride on the floor,
Bruce turns to Dan Inosanto
and speaks his first line of dialogue
in the scene:
"Do you speak any English?"
Like the scenes opposite
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar,
Bruce films all of his dialogue
with Dan Inosanto in English
even as other actors in the film,
like James Tien,
speak Cantonese on set,
and in one later instance, Korean.
Dan Inosanto responds:
"Of course I speak English."
Bruce looks down at the wounded Chieh
as he says to Dan:
"I hope you don't mind us
moving our man,
so that the two of us
will have more room to groove."
Dan accepts, with one condition:
"But have your men stay as far away
from that stairway as possible."
The idea that the three of them could
ambush the third-floor guardian,
or, indeed, any of the adversaries
in the pagoda
is seemingly out of the question.
Like the Colosseum
in The Way of the Dragon,
the rules of combat apply,
and to break them,
even during a heist, is to lose face.
Though films made
in Hong Kong in 1972
were overwhelmingly
distributed in Mandarin,
in contrast to the Cantonese language
more commonly spoken
by Hong Kongers
that had yet to reassert itself
in the cultural mainstream,
it was not unknown for films made
in Hong Kong to feature English as well,
especially as the country was still
under British colonial rule.
Bruce himself had
even dubbed the voices
of English-speaking characters
in the original Mandarin dub tracks
for Fist of Fury
and The Way of the Dragon.
But whether the English dialogue
in The Game of Death
would have been maintained
for its original release in Hong Kong
if it had ever been finished,
we will never know.
Inosanto attempts to intimidate our hero
by swinging both sticks in flashy and
perfectly coordinated figures of eight,
a physical declaration of war,
if you will.
But, unlike James Tien,
Lee has no intention of matching
Inosanto's fighting repertoire,
or, as he dubs it later,
a rehearsed routine.
Before battle commences,
Bruce allows himself
one more lengthy line of dialogue
that serves partly
as a warning to Inosanto,
but also as a summation of the film's
themes and Jeet Kune Do in general:
"You know, baby."
"This bamboo is longer,
more flexible and very much alive."
"And when your flashy routine
cannot keep up with the speed
and elusiveness of this thing here,
all I can is that
you're gonna be in deep trouble."
The third-floor guardian
does not heed his warning.
He taps his teasing beat
once more, and says:
"That we will have to find out."
Lee's dialogue stresses the importance
of the speed and elusiveness
of his chosen weapon.
He simply holds the bamboo stick
over his head in a striking pose,
not a fighting stance
from any traditional martial art,
but a personal stamp to the physical
dynamism burning to be released.
And as these two warriors collide,
we see this dynamism in a single strike.
Efficient and non-complex,
Lee strikes his bamboo stick
akin to the snap of his famous backfist.
Suddenly, Inosanto's flashy routine
unveils its restrictive nature.
Two hefty sticks simply can't keep up
with the fast whipping motion
of one thin and more elusive stick.
In addition, the defensive stance
of crossing two sticks
proves to also be futile.
Hai Tien, using the bamboo stick
like a whip,
strikes the third-floor guardian
on the forehead,
branding him with the first of two scars.
He taunts him further
with another line of dialogue expressing
his and Bruce's martial philosophy:
"I'm telling you, it's difficult to have
a rehearsed routine to fit in with...
broken rhythm."
Already, one of our questions
from phase two is answered.
The swinging duo sticks are indeed
extensions of Inosanto's body,
and we can see the years
of drilling these patterns
have concocted a powerful formula,
but only to a point.
Once Inosanto becomes reliant
on that formula,
he corners himself
from expressing these objects
in any other way.
The sticks are no longer extensions
of his body, but chains.
Or, as Bruce taunts him further:
"You see? A rehearsed routine
lacks the flexibility to adapt."
As Bruce effortlessly steals
one of the guardian's kali sticks
and bobs and weaves,
Bruce adds another line of dialogue
not found in his original script notes.
Reading his lips, he appears to say:
"It's a challenge, isn't it?"
"When bamboo strikes, it's a sword."
Others have interpreted the line
differently,
and on the second take,
it could be argued that he says:
"When bamboo strikes, it's hard."
It is at this point the fight switches
gear, and a fourth phase commences.
To counter such an elusive
and unpredictable opponent,
Inosanto employs the nunchaku,
a weapon derived from Okinawa
where two sticks are joined
by a chain or cord.
He swings and waves it
with a dextrous, flashy blur,
even more so than his eskrima sticks,
perhaps to demonstrate that he can be
just as flexible and unpredictable.
Hai Tien gives his two companions
a signal to approach
and give him something
he'd passed to James Tien earlier on:
a black leather sleeve,
perhaps picked up from the floor below,
containing his own set of nunchaku.
Of course, Lee is undeterred,
and as if to meet his opponent halfway,
he demonstrates his own mastery
of the nunchaku.
Day four of filming the scene
begins with the guardian's
stunned response to Hai Tien's skills,
to which Bruce cheekily responds:
"Surprised?"
Both warriors give
further demonstrations,
circling each other
in a sort of pre-battle ritual.
But this nunchaku
versus nunchaku section
was not just a novel way
to escalate the conflict.
It was another chance for Lee
to hammer home his martial ethos.
Seemingly similar in the way
they wield their weapons,
on closer inspection, both warriors
carry over their physical ticks and traits
from the previous phase.
Inosanto swings his nunchakus
around his body
much in the same way
as his eskrima sticks,
showing he's unable to break away
from the codified system
he trained his body so well in.
Lee, on the other hand,
employs the freestyle movements
from his bamboo stick
swings and strikes,
even carrying over his cheeky taunts.
The nunchaku used during
the making of The Game of Death
are custom-made by Bruce's friends,
Taky Kimura and George Lee.
For scenes in which Dan and Bruce
merely pose with the weapons,
allowing the audience a close look,
authentic lacquered wood versions
are used for maximum realism.
For shots such as this,
where there is a risk of injury,
a backup set likely made
of foam rubber is used,
allowing for multiple takes to be filmed
even if the sticks make contact
with someone's face.
Bruce had already popularised
the use of nunchaku onscreen
in Fist of Fury
and The Way of the Dragon,
and had been introduced to them
in 1964 by Dan Inosanto.
According to Dan,
Bruce thought the chain sticks
were a worthless piece of junk
when they were first handed to him,
but within three months,
he was, in Dan's words,
"swinging them like he'd been doing it
for a lifetime."
His pose after licking the tip
of one of the nunchaku sticks
is even reminiscent
of the beginning of the fight
where he held the bamboo
over his head.
Again, not an indicator of being
trapped in a rigid system,
but showing one's personal stamp
within another system of combat.
The other noticeable difference is
that Lee is working with his entire body.
He isn't just swinging
the nunchakus in isolation.
He bounces and pops as he moves
from one spot to the other.
It is as if something within him
is about to burst,
showing his unpredictability
as a fighter,
but also that individualistic
screen charisma that Bruce Lee oozed.
But it is also here that the other nuance
from an earlier phase comes into play.
As mentioned in phase one,
Inosanto's character is shown
to be proficient
in both armed and unarmed combat.
Both categories are
demonstrated in isolation.
However, up till this point,
we truly see that he is unable
to merge these two together.
A skilful man indeed,
but unable to mix things up
and truly be present in the moment
and react according to spontaneity.
In comparison, Lee employed
numerous bursts of hook and spin kicks
in conjunction with his nunchaku strikes,
thus showing his character's
adaptability and versatility in combat.
Lee is broken rhythm personified,
unique and truly present.
Because to possess broken rhythm
is to be present in the moment,
reacting fast and well enough
to whatever life throws at him.
While a weapons versus weapons fight
was nothing new for a Bruce Lee film,
whether it was the nunchaku
versus sword battle in Fist of Fury,
the nunchaku versus switchblade fight
in The Way of the Dragon
or even just the knife fights
in The Big Boss,
it perhaps seems inevitable
that he would choreograph a fight
where both opponents wield the weapon
that was swiftly becoming his trademark.
Granted, a majority of the fight
becomes a matter
of defence over offence
because of this,
but it gives a more unique spin
on a Bruce Lee fight in the long run.
It's well documented that Inosanto
was Lee's teacher of the weapon,
so, of course, by Lee casting Inosanto
in the nunchaku fight,
it becomes a direct case
of the student becoming the master.
But, as emphasised by Lee's
strong eye for the camera,
his approach to certain
nunchaku manoeuvres,
such as stance-shifting,
is shown to have more
of a flourish to them than Inosanto's.
Inosanto, or rather
the third-floor guardian,
tends to stay hand-locked when shifting
from shoulder to shoulder,
guarded and stiff,
while Lee as Hai Tien goes
for the over-the-shoulder swings,
more casual and exhibitionist.
At last, the guardian's nunchaku
connects with Hai Tien's face.
And he allows himself a brief moment
of self-congratulation, as he says:
"How do you like that--"
But he hasn't even finished
his sentence
before Bruce strikes him
square in the nose
and mimics his words back to him,
retaining the upper hand.
If there was ever any doubt about who
was truly in control of this situation,
we now know for sure.
And as the formerly
unflappable guardian
looks increasingly angry and frustrated,
we sense his doom approaches.
The last day of filming
the Hall of the Tiger
begins as Bruce Lee reprises
his Ali shuffle,
Hai Tien toying with his foe.
As filming on the Hall of the Tiger
approaches its end,
one of the final displays
of nunchaku mastery from Lee
takes no less than ten takes
to get right.
While he already showed
earlier signs of perfectionism
in the filming of this scene
and the Hall of the Unknown,
some may read this fastidiousness
as a sign
as to how much harder Bruce was going
to be on himself in the months to come
to make sure he got everything down
to no less than perfect.
Having played the guardian at his own
game of death for long enough,
Hai Tien knocks him to the floor with
another one of Bruce Lee's trademarks,
the triple spin kick, as demonstrated
in his three previous films,
not least the scene in Fist of Fury
where he takes on a dojo
of Japanese karate fighters,
also armed with a nunchaku,
using one of their own weapons
against them.
In the end,
Lee takes his opponent's life,
albeit more willingly than he did
Chuck Norris in The Way of the Dragon,
though we do see the briefest pause
as his character soaks in his deed.
Is it regret?
Perhaps a growing weariness?
It's vague, yet no less compelling,
and just another example of Lee's
unique screen presence at play.
As behind the scenes
Lee tries to assemble a cast
for the next round of filming,
sending Taky Kimura a plane ticket
so he can fly from Seattle to Hong Kong
in a couple of weeks to play
the second-floor guardian,
the Hall of the Tiger shoot ends
as Lee, Chieh Yuan and James Tien
all ascend the fake stairway to nowhere.
In a letter,
in which he also tells Kimura
to bring his "old and blue
classical gung fu uniform," Lee says:
"If something comes up,
I will call you personally."
"If not, I will see you upon
your arrival on or around October 8th."
But Kimura is forced to cancel
his trip to Hong Kong,
and filming on The Game of Death
will not resume
for almost another month.
During shooting,
the set for The Game of Death
regularly receives a number
of friendly visitors,
among them King Hu,
former collaborator of Tadashi Nishimoto,
and, of course, Bruce's wife Linda,
often with their children
Brandon and Shannon in tow.
But it is during the filming
of the Hall of the Tiger sequence
that Bruce receives a visit
from Fred Weintraub,
an old friend from the States
and an up-and-coming executive
at Warner Bros.
Fred comes with stunning news.
Warner are offering Bruce
the lead role in a new feature film.
It will be filmed in Hong Kong,
but is unmistakably
a Hollywood production
with the budget, resources
and wide distribution
only a major studio can afford.
The script goes through
several names in preproduction,
before settling on Bruce's
own preferred title:
Enter the Dragon.
It is the biggest opportunity
of Bruce's career,
the one he's been chasing for years.
And it is the catalyst that seals
the fate of not just The Game of Death,
but perhaps Bruce himself.
In October, 1972,
early negotiations take place between
Warner Bros. and Concord Productions
for the film that will eventually
become Enter the Dragon.
Its production not yet
an assured outcome,
Bruce continues work
on The Game of Death,
drawing upon the Golden Harvest
talent pool
to cast Hai Tien's next opponent,
the Guardian of the Hall of the Dragon,
the fourth floor of the pagoda.
Ji Han-jae was born in 1936
in Andong, South Korea.
Already an eighth-dan black belt
by his early twenties,
in 1957 he combined
all of his knowledge into a hybrid form
he called hapkido.
Though some dispute whether
Ji actually invented hapkido,
it cannot be argued that he was foremost
in promoting and teaching it
far and wide,
eventually founding
the Korea Hapkido Association in 1965.
Bruce Lee first met Ji Han-jae in 1969,
when the latter was in the United States
to teach hapkido to members
of the Secret Service
and other branches
of the US government,
including President Richard Nixon's
security detail.
While staying
at Andrews Air Force Base,
a mutual friend,
taekwondo grandmaster Jhoon Rhee,
introduced the pair, and Lee asked Ji
to teach him some moves.
In 1972, Golden Harvest director
Huang Feng
recruits Ji, along with
his right-hand man Hwang In-shik,
to train the cast
of his upcoming film, Hapkido.
Ji and Hwang also play roles in the film,
and it is on the set
at Golden Harvest Studios
where Ji once again makes
the acquaintance of Bruce Lee,
who is filming The Way of the Dragon
at the same time.
Bruce enlists Hwang In-shik's services
as an actor on The Way of the Dragon,
playing a Japanese fighter
near the end of the film,
and soon enough, he has offered
both Hwang and Ji acting roles
in The Game of Death.
Hwang's role is the guardian
of the first floor of the pagoda,
but other than some exterior footage
we'll discuss later,
his scenes never make it
before a camera.
Ji Han-jae, on the other hand,
plays the guardian of the fourth floor,
and as it happens,
his is the last of the major fight scenes
for The Game of Death
that Bruce Lee ever lives to film.
Filming resumes on October 22nd,
exactly where we left off
nearly a month prior,
with Bruce Lee,
James Tien and Chieh Yuan
ascending the stairs and arriving
at the Hall of the Dragon,
a level in which the action demonstrates
some Lee's most inventive
and imaginative choreography.
To begin our breakdown
with Lee's choreographic approach,
we must look at one aspect
often overlooked:
the space.
For the second time, the soundstage
is re-dressed to differentiate it
from the previous two levels
already shot,
and it is for this level Lee opted
for a more visually off-kilter look.
As mentioned previously,
the somewhat illogical and dreamlike
setting of The Game of Death
has often been compared
to a previously scrapped project of Lee's,
The Silent Flute.
In that film, Lee would mix
his esoteric philosophical ideas
with 1960s psychedelia.
This creative impulse is most
pronounced in this fourth level,
where the overall art direction leans
towards more otherworldly sensibilities.
We immediately see this as Ji Han-jae
emerges behind a ghostly, white veil
his gi seamed with gold lapels
and, wrapped around his waist,
an equally blinding gold belt.
They constantly glimmer in the light,
almost as if to distort the senses
of anyone who lays eyes
on this guardian.
Even Ji's choice to drench the room
with a harsh red light
evokes a mildly psychedelic sensation.
The red light is explained
in the fourth-floor guardian's
only major line of dialogue,
written by Bruce as follows:
"As you gentlemen know,
red spells danger."
"Therefore, I advise you people
not to step into this warning arena."
"If you want to go on living,
stop here and go back downstairs."
"Life is precious."
In a moment,
you'll see a break in the action
when Chieh Yuan charges at Ji.
The ensuing fight in which Ji easily
beats both Chieh and James Tien
is not filmed until three days later,
on October 25th.
Was the fight filmed on the 22nd
and deemed insufficient,
having to be reshot later?
No footage survives
to corroborate this theory.
Instead, we return to a similar angle,
where Chieh and Tien rub their wounds
as Lee approaches Ji
for his turn at combat.
The Hall of the Dragon marks
a significant departure for Lee,
as the choreography
would involve heavy amounts
of locks, throws and grapples.
As a screen fighter,
Lee was primarily a striker,
given his roots in Wing Chun
and his later employment
of more boxing fundamentals
in his Jeet Kune Do.
Employing Ji Han-jae's
specific hapkido skills
shows Lee's ongoing impetus to widen
his cinematic martial vocabulary.
It was clearly a challenge,
as, unlike Inosanto and Abdul-Jabbar,
Ji Han-jae was not someone
Lee had trained extensively with.
As such, there was a lack of familiarity
with how they would move
with one another.
Of course, Lee was no less tenacious
in wanting to create a spectacular duel
while also keeping true
to his philosophy,
and it shows with take after take,
experimentation after experimentation,
all to best capture this clash
of martial bodies.
Lee is most renowned for his martial arts
ability on and off the screen,
and rightfully so.
But this iconic status,
coupled with the often critical dismissal
of kung fu cinema
often belied his skills
as a cinematic storyteller.
Many forget that Lee was an actor first,
and appreciated the craftsmanship
of American and Japanese filmmakers.
In fact, he believed
the Hong Kong film industry
should employ
the same standard of artistry
if it were to compete
with the worldwide circuit.
We can see this incentive at work
as Lee gained more creative control,
and it's particularly true
in this penultimate duel.
The first day's filming concludes
with Bruce's first blow against Ji,
shot at a number of speeds
over multiple takes.
When Lee first approaches Ji,
he raises one hand to his opponent.
The pose is a peculiar amalgamation
of a fighting stance
and a gesture to beckon
his opponent to attack.
It becomes obvious that
Lee must make the first move.
With the most deliberate pace,
Lee retracts his hand and eventually
reaches a crescendo,
that being a dynamic roundhouse kick.
To quote his choreography notes,
he "relaxes, smiles,
and puts his hand back,
and while keeping his smile,
initiates a lightning
right finger-jab feint,
follows instantaneously
with a low-high hook kick
with fluid speed, intense grace
and powerful one, two, three."
Each gesture and movement
are simple by design,
but when utilised with the correct
intent and rhythm, as Lee does,
it effectively establishes
the narrative conflict
and adds a level of anticipation
and suspense.
Through these rushes,
we not only see the breakdown
of Lee's choreographic decisions,
but also his directorial decisions
and his approach to storytelling.
It must be stressed that
these are rushes, after all,
far away from being
a completed and refined product.
But as with the previous two levels
involving Inosanto and Abdul-Jabbar,
there is enough evidence here
to show Lee wanting to elevate
what would be another
one-on-one martial arts duel.
Structurally, the Hall of the Dragon
is no different to the Hall of the Tiger
and the Hall of the Unknown,
but they all possess
their own key characteristic
that influences the action
unfolding at their centres.
That characteristic could be obtrusive,
like the darkness
in the Abdul-Jabbar fight,
or insidious like the harsh red light
in this one.
But given the planned order
of these three levels,
we do get a sense that
the higher we climb the pagoda,
the more otherworldly
the surroundings become.
All this is further evidence
that, for Lee,
the choreography isn't just about
the interaction between two individuals,
it is also the interaction
with the space,
and how the action escalates
when said space changes.
The second day's filming
begins with the second angle,
only this time shot at regular speed.
Two takes of an additional angle
will also be filmed as part
of the pickup filming three days later.
If this feint is intended to demonstrate
Hai Tien's canniness
and unpredictability,
then the next shot shows that
he will have his work cut out for him,
as Ji lands gracefully
and regains his fighting stance,
seemingly unfazed.
Another aspect of Lee's choreography
is the camerawork.
Many fans and critics championed
his naturalistic approach
to capturing fight scenes,
specifically the use
of a wide-angle lens,
which represents the audience's
objective standpoint,
a clear window that authenticates
the physical abilities being exhibited.
This is certainly true,
but also an oversimplification
of Lee's creative stamp.
Much credit goes to the film's
cinematographer, Tadashi Nishimoto,
for injecting such visual dynamism
in each of these wide shots.
But it's when the camera moves,
even slightly,
that it becomes a third participant
in Lee's choreography.
A good example would be the shaky
point-of-view shot of Ji Han-jae
as he kicks Bruce back to the floor,
an impressionistic design choice
showing what it would be like to be
on the receiving end of such a blow.
And it's no accident that we are
seeing this through the hero's eyes.
For this reason, we, as an audience,
are both Bruce Lee's observer
and his advocate.
Further evidence of this would be
when Lee circles around his opponent.
He extends out one arm
to keep his distance,
all the while searching for a way in
for his next strike.
Here, the camera moves
in tandem with Lee,
capturing not only his movement,
but also his screen energy,
and we, as an audience,
are pulled in by this energy,
which ultimately helps us identify
with Lee's character.
With these creative choices highlighted,
it becomes apparent that
the camerawork has two functions.
It is objective in capturing
the authenticity
of highly skilled bodies in motion,
but it's also subjective
in capturing the unfolding story
and the emotional content of our hero.
At this point in the narrative,
we've become well acquainted
with James Tien's scheming ways.
But this isn't an exercise in repetition.
Tien's underhand method
to reach the top level
becomes a recurring character trait
that we, as an audience, take notice of.
This links directly
with two narrative plants
that also occur
in this fourth-level bout.
We see a break in between the action
where James Tien
convinces Chieh Yuan
to clear his way to the top level.
In the dialogue in Lee's script notes,
Tien says:
"You are my brother."
"I will let you do
this first deed of merit."
"You go ahead. I wish you success."
Lee fails to stop Chieh
from ascending the stairway,
and as Ji Han-jae runs forward,
presumably in his own attempt
to stop Chieh,
Hai Tien unleashes a multitude
of snapping side kicks towards him.
The violence is interrupted once again,
when Chieh is thrown back down
to the fourth level
by an unknown assailant.
It is here the audience
will gasp and question
what powerful individual could be
guarding the fifth and final level.
We obviously know that the assailant
is Kareem Abdul-Jabbar,
but in this unfolding story,
this moment of dark humour interrupts
the danger happening onscreen
by foreshadowing
a larger danger ahead.
Some fans have speculated
that Chieh Yuan did not in fact
perform the jump,
in spite of his considerable
experience as a stuntman,
largely due to on-set photographs
showing Hwang In-shik dressed
in Chieh's character's clothing.
In fact, we can clearly see Chieh's face
in the flashes between takes,
proving he did indeed
make the fall himself.
However, he is doubled by Hwang In-shik
elsewhere in this scene,
and his lifeless corpse, seen later on,
is in fact doubled by Bruce's long-time
friend and housekeeper, Wu Ngan.
Regardless of Chieh's fate
and the ease with which his dead body
has been thrown back down
to the floor below,
James Tien's ruthless ambition to reach
the top floor has not dimmed one iota.
And as we already know,
that ambition will soon prove
to be his downfall.
In the following sequence, we see Tien
trying to sneak over to the stairway.
However, he is quickly stopped
and knocked down by Ji.
What follows this is another
silent, humorous exchange,
as Lee gestures Tien to stand aside,
almost like a parent figure
ordering a mischievous child
to stand in the corner.
Bruce Lee had many misgivings
about Hong Kong's filmmaking practices,
in particular the overabundance
of classical shapes
and the dance-like choreography
in the contemporary crop
of martial arts pictures.
The visual rhythm was
overly rehearsed and tiresome,
the same old tune
played over and over.
His own brand of choreography
was a direct reaction to this.
Based on the ethos
of his Jeet Kune Do,
Lee wanted to present
the spontaneity of real-life combat,
the practicality
and improvisation involved
when using the body as a weapon,
and the emotional volcano that erupts
whenever that weapon is swung.
He strived for a visual rhythm
that didn't follow a set pattern,
rather something that constantly
breaks and resets that pattern.
We have seen this already
when after reacting
to Chieh Yuan's fall from the top floor,
Lee attempts to strike Ji Han-jae,
but the current of Ji's hapkido throws
proves too overwhelming.
After a brief respite,
Lee manages to adapt
and overcome Ji's throws,
riding his opponent's current
before landing two clean strikes,
one in the rib
and the other in the groin,
just like the willow tree
riding with the wind
in the film's planned opening.
As mentioned, Lee disliked the dance-like
martial spectacles of the time.
But that doesn't mean his own kung fu
spectacles weren't musically inclined.
Any type of choreography is still
a composition of moments,
a through line where one's emotional
content is being expressed.
It's a whimsical,
even overly romantic cliche
that martial arts are
often compared to music.
But just like music,
martial arts screen fighting employs
a rhythm and song-like structure
to captivate its audience.
In these rushes, we get a real sense
of Lee's distinctive rhythm
and its role in advancing
the characters and story.
The actual movements themselves
are indeed an impressive collage
of Lee's cinematic violence.
However, these are just the high
and powerful notes of a chorus,
and a chorus is never continuous.
There needs to be build-up,
quiet melodies in between the violence
that allow the emotional content
to unfold,
or, in musical terms,
the verse that unfolds
a song's story and theme.
It is in these quiet moments
we latch to Lee's point of view,
his emotional disposition
in the stillness,
as he re-evaluates
the circumstances around him.
These will be the vital springboards
to the next barrage
of punches and kicks.
In many ways,
these have more to do with Lee's
acting ability than his martial ability,
and it's largely the reason
why his would-be imitators
fail to recapture his uniqueness.
As we return to the advancing stage
of the bout,
we see James Tien's second attempt
to reach the top level.
This time, he succeeds.
However, as we are already privy to,
the Guardian of the Unknown
proves far too formidable.
Tien's actions in the fourth level
provide story context
to the fifth-level material already shot.
So when he finally faces
the Guardian of the Unknown,
it is actually a character payoff,
that being the comeuppance
for his scheming ways.
The events as noted will directly impact
the actions in the fourth level,
as we get another break in between
the Lee versus Ji bout.
Dust falls on Hai Tien's head,
and in a point-of-view shot,
we see the ceiling shake.
Again, a narrative plant
is signposted for the audience.
This time, the falling dust
is a visual foreshadowing
of the enormous ability and power
the fifth-level guardian has.
The amount of narrative
and philosophical cogs at work here
makes Bruce Lee's choreography
all the more impressive,
and a strong indication
that he was thinking far beyond
wanting to flex fancy shapes.
Punches and kicks weren't
just random movements to Lee.
They were choices of how to display
his fighting philosophy effectively.
Likewise, there was no dead space
in between the violence,
as they would provide
the characters' emotional content
in forward momentum to the story.
This is arguably the key component
in Lee's philosophy,
as it allows the audience
to emotionally connect
with these spectacular fighting bodies.
In an interview with Pierre Burton,
Lee commented:
"It is easy for me to put on a show
and be cocky."
"I can show you
some really fancy movements."
"But to express oneself honestly
is very hard to do."
Applying this quote too literally
would be missing the point,
especially on such an exaggerated
premise as The Game of Death's.
But the honest expression
doesn't come from the premise,
nor the character Lee's playing.
After all, it's all make-believe.
But make-believe is not his voice,
but a vessel for his voice
to reach his audience.
As such, to honestly express oneself
is to resonate with some form
of truthful human connection.
Even within the exaggerated backdrop,
we see Lee as always trying
to find these moments
to truly connect with us, the audience.
And if an emotion stirs within us,
then, in that sense, his expression
is most certainly truthful and honest.
As we see Hai Tien reacting
to the sound of James Tien
screaming for help
from the floor above,
the final stage of his bout
with Ji Han-jae commences.
Both men trade a series of kicks,
before Lee's attempt to subdue Ji
results in getting kicked in the face.
As both men lie on the floor, exhausted,
Hai Tien backs off
and considers his next move.
Over the years, rumours have swirled
that Bruce Lee was unhappy
with the Hall of the Dragon footage,
whether it was dissatisfaction
with his own choreography
or Ji Han-jae's performance.
Nothing, however, that can be
corroborated through interviews,
Lee's notes or anything we see
in the footage itself.
Indeed, we frequently see Lee smiling
and in a positive mood
in the flashes between takes
as well as the photographs
taken on set by Chan Yuk.
It's not out of the question
that the Hall of the Dragon shoot
may have been more challenging
than the filming of the other two levels,
if only because in comparison
to Dan Inosanto and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar,
close friends with whom
Bruce had trained for years,
Ji was a relative stranger
who spoke little to no English,
making the process
of getting a performance from him
more difficult by comparison.
Furthermore, while Ji's hapkido skills
are beyond reproach,
and he is obviously capable
of matching Bruce blow for blow,
there's inarguably something
lacking in the Hall of the Dragon
compared to the other two levels,
a real sense of menace
or palpable threat.
Regardless,
despite persistent rumours
that Bruce wanted to reshoot
the scene entirely,
some say with another actor playing
the role of the fourth-floor guardian,
the fact remains that there is
no evidence to corroborate this.
And in any event,
what we see now is all there is,
and all there will ever be.
As the scene nears its end,
both men are covered with sweat
and running on fumes.
But, of course,
Bruce emerges triumphant,
as he hoists Ji up and brings him
crashing down on his knee,
breaking his back.
Unlike the third-floor guardian,
Hai Tien leaves Ji alive
but crippled beyond repair.
He stumbles to the stairway
and barely has time to catch his breath,
before he reacts
to a sound from upstairs,
most likely James Tien's character
being pummelled by whoever
is waiting for Hai Tien above.
The third day of filming ends
as Bruce Lee ascends,
his epic battle with
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar awaiting him.
But the Hall of the Dragon shoot
isn't over yet,
with one more day
of pickup filming left to go,
filling the gaps left three days earlier.
The headstrong Chieh Yuan launches
himself into battle against Ji Han-jae,
and is quickly and thoroughly beaten.
And it is in the wide shots of Ji
repeatedly flipping Chieh
over on his back,
where Chieh's face is pointedly
kept out of view,
where Yuan is being doubled
by Hwang In-shik,
who is well practised
at demonstrating flips
alongside his hapkido grandmaster.
One could even theorise
that perhaps the reason
this part of the scene was left until last
was simply Hwang's availability,
or lack thereof.
Bruce and James Tien
watch at the sidelines,
as Tien once again
encourages Chieh to continue.
These quiet moments crop up frequently,
showing the ebb and flow
of this physical interaction.
One other quality these moments reveal
is Lee's keen sense of humour.
Lee had worked with comedy before,
most notably in
The Way of the Dragon.
In The Game of Death, we see
his use of humour grow in sophistication,
as the humour injects
the action with personality,
while never losing sight
of advancing the narrative.
The interplay between Lee and James Tien
perfectly demonstrates this.
In one shot, we see the two debate
about who should next battle
the fourth-floor guardian.
It's a wordless exchange,
communicated only
through movements and gestures,
each one carefully timed
to hit its intended mark.
If The Game of Death
was completed as intended,
this moment would most likely act
as a payoff
to the character interplay
between Lee and Tien,
that being our hero finally
one-upping Tien's duplicitous schemer.
As well as being the last day
of filming The Game of Death
at Golden Harvest Studios,
October 25th is also
the last day of filming
for James Tien and Chieh Yuan.
Though Chieh appears in several
more films over the next five years,
including 1976's box office
record breaker The Private Eyes,
he arguably never quite gets
an opportunity to shine
like he did in The Game of Death.
Similarly, James Tien's career as a star
never quite regained the momentum
of his earliest days at Golden Harvest,
and as a character actor,
he became a mainstay
of Hong Kong action cinema
for many more years, playing villains
for directors like John Woo,
Sammo Hung and Jackie Chan.
He retired from acting in 1997 and
vanished from the public eye entirely,
his current whereabouts unknown.
And so the filming of the pagoda scenes
on The Game of Death concludes.
There's still a bit more shooting
left to go outside,
but these two additional angles
of Bruce's feint and jump kick against Ji
are the last studio sequences
ever shot for the film.
The sets are dismantled and
the project is officially put on pause.
Ten months later,
Bruce Lee's dream has come true.
He is the star of the number one film
in the United States.
But he has not lived long enough
to see that dream manifested.
According to Golden Harvest
producer Andre Morgan,
every delay and gap in filming
on The Game of Death
was welcomed by Bruce
as an opportunity to solve the puzzle
that most eluded him:
what exactly would be the treasure
on the top floor of the pagoda,
the MacGuffin that sets
the whole plot in motion?
In his scene-by-scene breakdown
of the story,
Bruce only offers three sentences
for the latter part of the film.
"The big fight", referring to the scenes
in the pagoda.
"The arrest", possibly referring
to the defeat of the Korean crime boss.
And "the airport", where one assumes
Hai Tien and his family
would return home as the film ends.
When it comes to deciding
the treasure on the top floor,
Bruce changes his mind
on an almost daily basis.
Rumours of how
the ending might play out
and what would have awaited
Hai Tien on the top floor
have been shared
among fans for years.
A floor of bountiful treasures?
Another fighter?
The most common theory is that
Bruce may have recycled an idea
from his treatment
for The Silent Flute,
with Hai Tien finding a sacred book
filled with nothing
but mirrors on each page,
perhaps indicating
that knowledge of the self
was the treasure
he was seeking all along.
How much relevance this may have had
in the overall context of the pagoda heist
is a moot point.
Beyond some second-hand accounts,
there is nothing concrete to verify
Bruce considering this as an option.
Instead, all we have to go on
is what was filmed in 1972.
Having repeatedly asked
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar
to let him pass up to the top floor,
upon defeating him,
Bruce does not give the stairway
to the treasure a second look.
Instead, he walks to the window
and shouts down below to the locksmith
and whoever else is waiting outside,
giving them the all-clear.
Rather than take the treasure
down with him, however,
Bruce leaves it behind
and starts the long walk downstairs.
Two months later,
once the rest of the Hall of the Dragon
scene has concluded filming,
Bruce films three takes of him
passing through this floor.
He briefly stops as he descends,
and reacts to something.
Exhaustion at what he has undergone
and at knowing how many steps down
are left to go?
Or sounds from outside,
indicating that another fight awaits him
as he exits the pagoda,
perhaps from the criminals
double-crossing him
now he has served his purpose?
We will never know for sure.
Without these missing pieces
to clarify his intent,
the conclusion
to The Game of Death as filmed
becomes something more ambiguous,
with Hai Tien on a haunting death march
towards an uncertain fate.
Does he sense the game is rigged,
but doesn't intend to go out
without a fight?
Regardless of what
Bruce might have planned,
the last scene he films,
in terms of plot chronology,
is on the Hall of the Tiger set
in September,
likely on the heels of receiving
the Enter the Dragon offer
from Fred Weintraub.
Does he already know
that The Game of Death
is going to go on the back burner,
perhaps never to be revived?
We don't know.
Instead, what we have is this.
Hai Tien walks to the window,
punches out the panels,
and shouts something unknown
to the people outside.
Perhaps a cry for help.
Perhaps someone's name.
His expression changes.
He descends.
He is gone.
The end.
Over two separate days
three weeks apart,
Bruce leads a small crew
to the hills of the New Territories,
the countryside on the border
of Hong Kong's bustling metropolis.
There they will film some of the most
hotly debated footage in the film
in which three of the pagoda's
guardians, Dan Inosanto,
Ji Han-jae,
and Hwang In-shik, Bruce's top choice
to play the first-floor guardian
are shown fighting
a handful of subordinates
dressed in white karate outfits.
Is it training footage meant to establish
some of the key villains
at the start of the film?
Or just a camera test never intended
to make it to the final film?
Bruce left no indication
in his notes or script pages,
which means we will never
really know for sure.
On the 4th of October,
days after filming his scenes
in the Hall of the Tiger,
Dan Inosanto returns,
once again demonstrating his
eskrima prowess opposite Wu Ngan,
Bruce's childhood friend
and present-day butler,
playing one of the karateka.
The pair have already
extensively rehearsed the sequence
in the backyard of Bruce's home
on Cumberland Road,
but shoot numerous takes
filmed at various speeds.
Though Inosanto is one of a few actors
to film all of his scenes
for The Game of Death
and the only one to reprise his role
when called to do so five years later,
he did not pursue a career
in film acting full-time.
Today, aged 87,
he continues to teach
Jeet Kune Do, eskrima
and many other fighting techniques
at the Inosanto Academy of Martial Arts
in Marina del Rey, California.
On the 26th of October,
the day after filming
on the Hall of the Dragon concludes,
Ji Han-jae also films his last scenes
for The Game of Death
at the New Territories,
fighting off fellow hapkido master
Hwang In-shik
and a handful of Bruce's
regular stunt team
playing more members of the karateka
that guard the outside of the pagoda.
The stuntmen are Billy Chan,
Lam Ching-ying and Yuen Wah.
After the release of the film Hapkido,
Ji Han-jae only acted
in two more films in Hong Kong
before moving to
the United States in 1984
where, aged 86,
he lives and teaches to this day.
Hwang In-shik, born
in Sunchon, Korea in 1949
was a key figure in
the Korea Hapkido Association
alongside Ji Han-jae,
and followed him to Hong Kong
when the pair were recruited
by Golden Harvest
to instruct and star alongside the cast
of Huang Feng's film Hapkido.
It was on the set of that film
earlier in 1972,
where Bruce Lee cast him in
a memorable role as a Japanese fighter
in The Way of the Dragon.
He was especially noted
for his kicking abilities,
which would have been foregrounded
in his role as the first-floor guardian.
Sadly, these few takes
opposite stuntmen Wu Ngan,
Billy Chan and Lam Ching-ying
are the only footage he ever filmed
for The Game of Death.
His film roles, though limited
in number following Lee's death,
helped popularise
Korean fighting methods
in martial arts cinema,
and at the age of 82, he continues
to train students at his school
in Toronto, Canada.
Rumours have persisted that Bruce
shot footage of himself fighting here
thanks largely to
behind-the-scenes photos
of him fighting with the karateka,
but outside of split-second flashes
between takes,
no footage apparently exists
to corroborate this.
In any event, the material
filmed on October 26th
will end up being the last footage
Bruce will ever film
for The Game of Death.
The rest of 1972
is taken up with contract negotiations
and rehearsals for Enter the Dragon,
until, finally, shooting begins
on January 25th, 1973,
a week before the Chinese New Year.
The production of Enter the Dragon
takes a heavy toll on Bruce.
He fights with American director
Robert Clouse
and executives from Warner Bros.
almost every day,
attempting to improve
the action choreography,
writing and filming new scenes,
even changing the title.
He has gone from being a man
in charge of his own destiny
to his fate being back in the hands
of white Hollywood.
And while he wins many battles
behind the camera as well as in front,
it is not without a cost.
Even after the film wraps,
he pushes his body to its utmost limits,
and rumours of a heavy,
all-hours lifestyle persist.
He takes harder drugs
in greater quantities.
His behaviour becomes more volatile,
unpredictable and paranoid.
During a dubbing session in May, 1973,
Bruce collapses,
losing consciousness until doctors
revive him at Queen Elizabeth Hospital,
diagnosing it as a cerebral edema,
a swelling of the brain.
In the maelstrom of momentum
ahead of Enter the Dragon's completion,
Bruce himself is the first to dismiss it
as an isolated incident.
He flies to Los Angeles
and receives a clean bill of health,
claiming to have been told
he has the body of an 18-year-old.
Instead, he ploughs onwards,
completing post-production
on Enter the Dragon,
and looking back to the project
he abandoned the previous autumn.
What Bruce may have done
with The Game of Death
after Enter the Dragon
is debated to this day.
Would he have discarded much
of which he had already filmed
and retooled the concept
with a new plotline?
Would he have dropped it altogether,
once Enter the Dragon hit big
at the box office?
We know that in the months
prior to his death
he goes back to work
on developing The Game of Death,
and plans to resume filming
at the end of the summer.
He calls Tadashi Nishimoto
and tells him that they will soon
be filming the exterior scenes
at Songnisan National Park
in South Korea,
where the five-storey
Palsangjeon Temple
will double for the outside
of the pagoda.
While filming Enter the Dragon,
Bruce films a camera test
with his former Wing Chun mentor,
Wong Shun-leung,
sparring with Wu Ngan,
body double Joey Chen
and stuntman Peter Chan.
He's auditioning Wong for the role
of the second-floor guardian.
Bruce has already offered the role
of the second-floor guardian
to a close friend and former student
of his from Seattle, Taky Kimura,
who had been forced to cancel
the previous October.
Eventually, Kimura relents,
and Bruce even buys him
another plane ticket
and tells him to get
to Hong Kong for filming,
but fate will soon intervene.
On the morning of July 20th,
he meets former James Bond star
George Lazenby
and promises him a part in the film,
allegedly as one of the initial partners
to raid the pagoda.
Less than 12 hours later,
Bruce is gone.
The events of that day
are still a matter of debate,
but the commonly held version is this.
That evening,
Bruce and Raymond Chow
visit the apartment of Betty Ting Pei,
an actress with whom Bruce has been
romantically linked in the press,
ostensibly to discuss offering her
a role in The Game of Death.
Bruce has complained all day
of a migraine,
and Betty offers him a painkiller
so he can take a nap.
Raymond Chow goes ahead
to the restaurant to meet Lazenby,
but when he gets there, he receives
a panicked phone call from Betty.
Bruce will not wake up.
And by the time
the paramedics arrive, he is dead.
The coroner diagnoses
the official cause of death
as a cerebral edema,
like the one he had in May,
the likely cause of which is determined
to be an allergic reaction
to the Equagesic painkiller.
But such a prosaic explanation
will not suffice for many people.
Fuelled by a tabloid press
hungry to spill ink
regardless of the collateral damage,
increasingly outlandish
conspiracy theories
begin to spread like wildfire,
implicating everyone from the Triads
to ancient curses
and even Raymond Chow
as culpable in Bruce's death.
Some even refuse to believe
Bruce has died at all,
and suggest he has faked his death,
perhaps as a publicity stunt
for Enter the Dragon.
Perhaps the main drive behind
these theories was simply denial,
a widespread inability
to accept the loss of a man
who had recently been
immortalised in freeze-frame
as he leapt towards a firing squad
at the end of Fist of Fury.
How could someone
so iconic and beloved
who would come
to be revered by many
as the greatest warrior
the silver screen had ever seen
be felled by something so intangible,
so unexpected
and perhaps even self-inflicted?
Regardless,
two certain truths remained:
Bruce Lee was gone forever,
and if production on The Game of Death
were ever to continue,
it would be without him.
His open-casket funeral, held in
Hong Kong only five days after his death,
is a media circus.
Cameras film every mourner
from every possible angle,
and footage of his dead body
lying in state
is rushed onto cinema and television
screens across the country.
In the wake of every public tragedy
is a long line of opportunists
out to make a quick buck out of it,
and before Bruce Lee's body is even
in the ground, the vultures sweep in.
Right away, eager to satiate
an audience hungry for more films
by a man no longer alive to make them,
the film industry spawns
a whole new subgenre,
one that has come to be known
in later years as "Brucesploitation",
a unique phenomenon only possible
in a country like Hong Kong
where trademark laws and likeness rights
have never even been heard of.
Hundreds of counterfeit
Bruce Lee films are made,
designed to entice audiences either too
naive to realise they're being sold a fake
or too desperate for more to care.
Bruce is back in his first action film
at the age of 18.
We repeat this dramatic development,
a film no one believed existed,
a film held in China and
never before seen is finally here.
Unauthorised biopics
professed to tell the true story
of Bruce's life and death,
but often dramatised the wild scenarios
invented by the tabloid press.
The martial arts
community was shocked
by his sudden death.
Kung fu people especially mourned
the loss of their most popular hero.
The early reports of his death
were unclear and confusing.
Man, look at his face.
Doesn't even seem like the same person.
It's the life story,
the true story,
it's The Bruce Lee Story!
It reveals secrets of his personal life
you've never seen before,
a life more violent
than his movie roles.
Betty Ting Pei even stars
in one such film for Shaw Brothers.
The film
that separates truth from fiction.
See Bruce Lee: His Last Days,
as told by the one person who was
with him during his final hours.
Another film even depicts
the widely held fantasy
that Bruce has faked his own death,
planning to re-emerge in 1983
on the tenth anniversary
of his exodus from public life.
You must announce
that you are dead.
Your wife, your children,
your friend and, above all, your work.
That's gone.
You will live as a recluse
for ten years.
Inevitably, with the public
eager to see The Game of Death,
Brucesploitation producers
step in to fill the void,
cannily spinning their own storylines
from the few scraps of information
publicly known about Lee's script.
Now, through
the miracle of motion pictures,
we bring you the story and the film
that superstar Bruce Lee
wanted you to see.
Goodbye, Bruce Lee:
His Last Game of Death.
Few would ever mistake
these for the real thing,
but the success of these films
only demonstrated
that in the absence
of the genuine article,
fans would happily take
whatever they could get.
Then, in 1976, the Lee family sells
all of its shares in Concord
to Raymond Chow and Golden Harvest.
Knowing that money
is being left on the table
and that a unique opportunity
presents itself
to make one last Bruce Lee film,
the studio immediately gets to work
on reviving The Game of Death.
A documentary that merely presents
the footage as Bruce has shot it
is deemed commercially unviable,
and the notion of presenting outtakes
through the medium of home video
is still several years away.
Only a new, feature-length narrative film
will satiate demand
and recoup the investment
Golden Harvest have already
sunk into the project.
A promotional film is quickly distributed
that shows Golden Harvest
auditioning lookalike actors
to replace Bruce in the lead,
working with Hollywood companies
to develop a new storyline,
and even states that James Coburn,
Steve McQueen,
Muhammad Ali and Pel
are lined up to star in the new footage.
Enter, once again, Robert Clouse.
Following the runaway success
of Enter the Dragon,
none of his subsequent films
has enjoyed the acclaim or box office
of his fleeting collaboration
with Bruce Lee,
and when Raymond Chow
offers him the opportunity
to finish The Game of Death,
Clouse accepts.
He views the two hours of raw footage,
entirely without sound and not even
a completed script or plot outline
to help contextualise the events
taking place onscreen.
Nonetheless, he eventually completes
a script of his own
and begins filming in Hong Kong
towards the end of 1977.
When Clouse's film, Game of Death,
is finally unveiled to the public
in the summer of 1978,
the answer as to how the filmmaker
has been able to incorporate
Bruce Lee's incomplete vision
into a finished feature film
quickly becomes apparent.
He has ignored it altogether.
Instead of Lee's tale of Hai Tien
using his nimble adeptness in combat
to take down every foe
on each level of the pagoda
in order to win his family's freedom,
and in doing so depicting
the importance of adaptability
to Lee's Jeet Kune Do philosophy,
Clouse's script tells
a completely different story,
one almost certainly inspired
by some of the more inane rumours
that circulated around Lee in
the tabloid press following his death.
He is an international superstar.
They call him a living legend.
But the woman he loves
belongs to the mob.
And now they're out to own him.
Don't be a slow learner, Billy.
Billy!
If they can't buy him,
they'll have to kill him.
Billy!
You don't have too many choices.
A final warning.
And so begins the Game of Death.
In Clouse's film,
Lee's character is Billy Lo,
a famous action film star
who is pressured
by a vicious American syndicate
that subsequently attempt
to assassinate him
when he doesn't give in
to their demands.
Billy Lo survives, but fakes his death,
at which point Clouse
tastelessly reprises
the actual footage
of Lee's open-casket funeral
filmed by Golden Harvest,
complete with a jaw-dropping scene
in which his character's plot is exposed
when one of the mobsters
mutilates the face
of a wax facsimile of Lee's corpse.
And if that kind of bad taste
sounds like something you'd see
in a Brucesploitation film,
that's because it is.
Someone important died?
Oh, it's Bruce Lee,
kung fu star, at age 34.
His death is still the headlines here.
Today, the funeral ceremony
for Bruce Lee, kung fu superstar.
Tens of thousands of people turn out
to pay homage to this brilliant young man
whose untimely death will be mourned
by a great many people.
In the funeral procession were
leading names in the movie business
and, of course, thousands
of Bruce Lee's loyal fans.
The mourners, many
who kept the long vigil through the night,
now file in to pay their final tribute.
Family, friends and admirers,
some from distant lands,
Rome, Tokyo, London,
all shocked by this sudden tragedy.
Bruce Lee's love for the martial arts
was perhaps only surpassed
by his love of friends.
As the "Dragon", it was said
he was feared by many
but loved by all.
Out of the two hours of footage,
Clouse has been able to edit together
barely 11 minutes of material
featuring Bruce Lee,
which, even then, is liberally intercut
with newly filmed inserts
featuring lookalikes
as well as recycled footage
from his other films.
The fights with Dan Inosanto,
Ji Han-jae and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar
all feature in the film,
but only fleetingly,
the setting changed
from a Korean pagoda
to a Chinese restaurant.
Of Lee's original cast, only Dan Inosanto
returns to film new scenes,
the other actors either unable
or unwilling to participate,
replaced by body doubles
or their characters cut out altogether.
To be generous to Clouse for a moment,
he had an impossible task in front of him,
and it is difficult to imagine anyone
who could have acquitted themselves
with the task of fashioning
a coherent feature film
out of the disparate odds and ends
that were available.
Indeed, Bruce Lee himself
had yet to decide the specifics
of much of the connecting tissue that
would have held these strands together
even up to the day he died.
But it is difficult to imagine
a more thorough vandalism
of Bruce's original intent,
or a more committed misunderstanding
of the philosophical underpinnings
he imbued his work with
than that which Clouse
achieved in 1978.
In the years that followed,
rumours of a curse surrounding
the production grew in prominence,
with superstitious Chinese tabloids
blaming, among other things,
the title of the project itself,
blaming Lee's careless use
of the word "death"
for all the ills that befell him and it.
Like all films purported to be cursed,
The Game of Death is, of course,
only the victim of tragic coincidences,
but those coincidences
did not stop with Lee's death,
and indeed became more troubling
as time passed.
On November 16th, 1977,
Chieh Yuan suddenly died.
Just like Bruce,
the coroner diagnosed his cause
of death as a cerebral edema.
He died just 32 years and eight months,
the same age as Bruce when he died.
While filming Robert Clouse's
Game of Death the same year,
Academy Award-winning actor
Gig Young
fell in love with the film's
young script supervisor, Kim Schmidt.
A year later, in September, 1978,
they married in Manhattan,
and only three weeks later,
Young shot and killed Schmidt
in their apartment
before turning the gun on himself.
Game of Death was his last film.
Fifteen years later,
Bruce's son Brandon was tragically
killed on the set of The Crow
in an accident involving
improperly loaded blank rounds.
Some were quick to note
the eerie similarity
to a scene in Clouse's Game of Death,
where Bruce Lee's character is shot
on the set of his latest film.
Regardless of what anyone believed,
there was no denying The Game of Death
was already a film shrouded in notoriety,
unfinished, unlucky, unseen.
For whatever sins we can accuse
Robert Clouse's Game of Death of,
its success was pivotal in keeping the
spectre of Lee's original project alive,
and one could argue that
the most enduring image of Bruce
to audiences today is him
in the yellow and black jumpsuit.
Filmmakers who have paid tribute
to Game of Death over the years
range from Stephen Chow
to Quentin Tarantino,
and its influence was keenly felt
on the next generation
of kung fu superstars as well,
some of whom directly
paid homage to it in their films.
It's often been argued
that The Game of Death
had the greatest impact not on cinema,
but on video games.
Lee's original multi-level concept
and escalating series of antagonists
evoked in many early
eight-bit electronic favourites.
One can't help but wonder, though,
what impact Lee's Game of Death
might have had
if it had ever been finished.
As a new millennium approached,
there were finally signs of hope.
After gathering dust in the vaults
following the sale
of Golden Harvest's assets
to Media Asia in 1993,
nine of the eleven reels of footage
are uncovered in 1998.
Almost simultaneously,
Lee's original notes for the project,
including dialogue and a shot list for
almost all of the footage shot in 1972,
are discovered by biographer John Little
in a storage unit in Seattle
belonging to Bruce's family.
At last, not only is most
of the footage rediscovered,
but a written guide exists
on how to make some sense of it.
In the year 2000,
two documentaries are released,
each containing different attempts
at reassembling and reclaiming
Lee's original vision
for The Game of Death.
Now, two decades later,
the other two reels have been found,
including the fight between
Chieh Yuan and Dan Inosanto
thought lost for 50 years,
and with it a new opportunity
to assemble the footage
into something resembling
its creators intentions.
It would be dishonest to call
any presentation of this footage
an accurate representation
of Lee's wishes for The Game of Death.
We can never know what shape the project
would have taken had he not died,
or even how much of the film's material
he would have used at all.
Too many pieces of the puzzle
are forever missing.
However, we now have the raw materials
to present something else,
a short film, finished in the style
of Lee's other films,
presented as if he had completed it
sometime in the hiatus
between The Way of the Dragon
and Enter the Dragon.
Using music and sound effects
from the Golden Harvest archives
and a newly recorded voice track,
sound exists where
there was none before.
The illusion of a freshly
uncovered film from 1972
is completed with the help
of newly animated opening credits
in the style of other films
from the period,
as well as some newly filmed material
incorporated into a prologue
intended to clarify the plot.
What you are about to see is not
Bruce Lee's The Game of Death.
That film is lost forever.
Instead, it is an attempt
at harnessing the creativity
that fuelled him in the fall of 1972
into a completed form,
something that might stand alongside
the four films that made him a legend.
Other pieces of the puzzle may reveal
themselves in the years to come.
But for now,
this is the final Game of Death.
Welcome to Korea, Hai Tien.
Now, listen up.
You may not be
a champion fighter anymore,
but I don't care
if you put that behind you.
As long as we have your family,
you're playing my game
and following my rules.
You win the game,
you, your sister and your brother go free.
You lose, you die.
So, listen carefully.
Tomorrow morning,
you drive out to a hidden compound
surrounded by 50 miles of forest
in every direction.
And in the middle of this compound
is an ancient pagoda,
five floors high.
On the top floor of this temple
is something I want very badly.
And you're going to get it for me.
You don't need to know what it is.
Just know that if you don't get it,
you lose the game.
Sound easy enough so far?
Think again.
Getting into the compound is one thing.
Getting into the pagoda is another.
I've sent ten men in there before,
and none of them ever made it out alive.
We don't know much,
but here's what our spies have told us.
Once you get to the pagoda,
you'll have to fight your way
through the deadliest karate fighters
this part of the world has ever produced.
Most guys never get inside.
But I think you'll make
short work of them.
Once you're inside the temple,
that's where this game really gets going.
Each floor is guarded by a fighter
trained in the deadliest skills
known to man.
And when they're not in training,
their sole purpose in life is to guard
whatever's at the top of that temple,
even if it means fighting to the death.
The fighter on the first floor is said
to be the world's greatest kickboxer.
His feet are mightier
and faster than your fists,
so watch out.
Once you get past him,
you reach the Hall of the Tiger.
The man who guards that floor
is an eskrima grandmaster
from the Philippines.
He won't need to kick you.
His sticks will do the job for him.
If, by some miracle,
you survive him,
you'll reach the Hall of the Dragon,
where you'll face
the greatest hapkido master
this country's ever seen.
Should you succeed in making it
to the floor above that...
Well, they don't call it
the Hall of the Unknown for nothing.
No one knows who,
or what, is waiting for you up there.
Like any good gambler,
I like to hedge my bets,
so you won't be on your own.
Four of my men
will be heading out with you.
Two to wait outside
and guard the pagoda,
the other two to finish the job
if it turns out you're not
the champion they all say you are.
Now, I've got a good feeling
you'll do what it takes to win this
and keep your family safe.
But I have to incentivise my people, too.
Which is why I've already told them
that whoever gets to the top first
wins fifty grand in cash
and a seat at the table for life.
They win, you lose.
Just in case you thought
about sitting this one out
or trying to escape.
Those are the rules of the game.
You play to win, or you die.
Your choice.
Begin!
Huh?
Huh?
Those red sticks look pretty cute.
But still, size always wins out.
Show him.
Huh?
Two little sticks. Ha!
Don't let him psyche you out.
Do you speak English?
Of course I speak English.
I hope you don't mind us
moving our man,
so that the two of us
have more room to groove.
But have your men stay as far away
from that stairway as possible.
Hey, wake up.
You know, baby.
This bamboo is longer,
more flexible and very much alive.
And when your flashy routine
cannot keep up with the speed
and elusiveness of this thing here,
all I can say is that
you'll be in deep trouble.
That we will have to find out.
I'm telling you,
it's difficult to have
a rehearsed routine to fit in with...
broken rhythm.
You see?
A rehearsed routine lacks
the flexibility to adapt.
It's a challenge, isn't it?
When bamboo strikes, it's hard.
Hmm?
Surprised?
How do you like that--
How do you like that?
Uh-uh.
Hmm.
In this red light, the floor before you
becomes an arena of war.
If you value your lives,
go down those stairs
and leave this place.
If you step forward,
you must leave your weapons
and take your lives into your own hands.
Hmm.
Hmm?
Again.
My friend,
now's our chance to get up those stairs
while they're still distracted.
- Oh...
- You go first.
Right. Thank you.
Wait, stop!
Watch me!
Huh?
Hai Tien...
Hai Tien...
Hai Tien!
His big advantage is that
he gives no thought to life or death,
and with no distracted thoughts,
he is therefore free to concentrate
on fighting against the attack
from the outside.
Little one, you must have given up
on hope of living.
On the contrary,
I do not let the word "death" bother me.
Same here, baby.
Then what are you waiting for?
With his great size,
he is going to find it difficult to keep
getting up each time I knock him down.
Look at him.
Give him the fatigue bombing.
I'm so tired.
No. No, Hai Tien.
He must be much more tired than you.
Calm down your soul.
This tough son of a gun
is wearing me out.
Why continue?
Just let me pass.
You have forgotten
that I too am not bothered
by the word "death".
Come on!
Who is that up there?
Hai Tien!
Hai Tien?
Well, get down here right now!
Help me!
So much of the conversation
around The Game of Death
revolves around what it was supposed
to be, or what it could have been.
So let's take a step back and
ask a simpler question: what is it now?
What are we left with?
Stripping away any interpretations
or feelings the project may inspire,
the inescapable truth is that all we have
is a series of disparate pieces,
fragments of a vision forever unrealised,
too many puzzle pieces missing.
We have two hours
of filmed material with no sound
and no indication
of how much, if any of it,
might have made it
into the finished film.
Instead, there is a void
where additional scenes,
editing and sound design should go,
a void that allows
each individual to project
the Game of Death that they want,
the Bruce Lee that they want,
onto what is left.
Is it his lost masterpiece?
The pinnacle of his achievements
thus far?
One could argue
that it cannot qualify.
Masterpieces have to be finished first.
Whatever lofty ambitions
Bruce may have had for the project,
and whatever virtues are evident
in the material available to us,
ultimately we will always be left
with more questions than answers.
So, allowing for that void,
the unknowable truth
of how Bruce Lee might have completed
The Game of Death,
there is still so much to celebrate.
It is an incomplete project, yes,
but even in its rawest form
arguably shows more ambition
and offers more excitement
than many finished films.
It remains Lee's most straightforward
and earnest cinematic expression
of his personal ethos,
his next and sadly last
confident stride forward as a filmmaker.
Some may argue
that Enter the Dragon,
as his last completed film,
shows Bruce Lee
at the peak of his powers,
the pinnacle of his physical form
and fighting ability.
But if you believe the journey
is as important as the destination,
then, as evidenced
by the photos taken on set
and the glimpses seen between takes,
what survives of The Game of Death
may show something greater,
a man who has achieved great success
and is still reaching outward,
still hopeful for the future,
still expounding the boundaries of what
a man in his position might achieve.
To watch The Game of Death
is to see Bruce Lee
at his most assured, his most fulfilled
and, arguably, his most happy.