Full Metal Jackie: A Conversation with Jackie Chan

An icon of 20th century popular culture, Jackie Chan is both one of the world’s most recognizable faces – a bridge between the cinema of Asia and Hollywood – as well as the quintessential total filmmaker: director, star, writer, producer, stunt choreographer, and singer. For decades, his ability to connect with audiences has made him a global household name, and he’s also adored by cinephiles for genre-defining masterpieces like Snake in the Eagle's Shadow (1978), Project A (1983), Police Story (1985), Dragons Forever (1988), and Drunken Master II (1994). In Locarno to receive the Pardo alla Carriera, presented by Ascona-Locarno Tourism, Jackie sat down with Pardo to look back at a career like no other.

Since you're receiving the Pardo alla Carriera, I would like to focus more on your career overall in this discussion…
Sometimes when I get an award like this, I’m honestly just so surprised. Then I tell myself that whatever I have now is just because I wanted to make good movies when I was 20 years old. Sometimes one fight scene – like the famous one in Drunken Master – took three months to film. And in the end, it lasts maybe five minutes on screen! Even now people ask me, “Jackie, back in the old days, why did you risk your life like that?” I don’t know. I think… I just really wanted to give the audience something real. I always tried to do my very best with every movie, not just one or two of them. Forty years ago, [the studio] would let me do whatever I wanted. If I couldn’t finish the scene that day, it was OK. Just keep filming. Continue tomorrow. Get it right.

The rules are tighter today.
The rules are tighter, yes. You have only three days to film a huge fight. You must finish on budget, on time. Maybe you have a good director, but you don't have a good stunt coordinator. And so, you don't have good fights. Back then, I would write my own scripts. I would direct myself. I choreographed it myself. I edited myself.

You sang also!
[laughs] I sang, yeah. These days it’s so difficult to make an action movie, especially in America. There's so many rules. When I want to do this, do that, I’m told: “No. There’s insurance, and you need to protect yourself.” In the old days, we didn’t know anything about insurance; we just did it.

But you had a lot of training from your years in the China Drama Academy as a child. When you started making movies, you had discipline – to keep making films, to keep pushing yourself.
Back then, I remember I would get up at 5:30 AM, go running for an hour, hang upside down for another hour, do 5,000 punches, 1,000 kicks. The teachers [at the school] would hit you on your head or across your face with whatever they were holding. All those years I trained and trained, and that meant that I could take the pain [on the film set] later. I broke my ankle in the morning and I kept on working in the afternoon. I broke my hand on the set and the same day I’m shooting again.

Do you remember the first time you had an idea to direct your own films?
When I became an actor, I would watch the director direct. Almost always they just wanted to go fast, fast, fast. Too fast. I would be listening and saying to myself that it doesn't make any sense. Why do you do it that way? But I had no power, no say in anything. I always said, "One day I’m going to direct myself.” And one day, somehow, something happened. I ran away from the set [of a movie I was working on]. I told the director, “I'm not going to film anymore. If you continue to film like this, you are going to ruin my career.” In that moment, I didn’t want to shoot this kind of movie anymore: “Save budget, save the day. Quick, quick, quick, quick.” I ran away from all that. Then I made films that started to break box-office records in Hong Kong: Snake in the Eagle’s Shadow took $1 million, then Drunken Master took $2 million, and then The Fierce Hyena (1979), the first film I directed, took $5 million. Then the second movie I directed, The Young Master (1980)… for that, $11 million! I'm certainly not saying I'm the best director. But every shot I didn’t like, I re-shot. Today you can see the replay [on a take] right away. Not for us – if we wanted to see it, we had to go to the lab and two days later, come back with the reels and we’d watch them. [As director,] I had to keep working at it on the set; I had to reshoot every single shot, make sure every scene had the right rhythm. Make sure that for every shot, I'm satisfied. When I make an action movie, I want to be able to show it to my son. If my son can see it and understand it, I can show it to the world.

That’s the beauty of these films – they touched everybody. Somehow, everybody had these films in their lives.
Yes, I thank myself that when I was 20, I really wanted to make good films! But I’m surprised – even, I come here to Switzerland, and I’m in the street, in a small town like this, and people know me. Sometimes in Africa, in Morocco, in the mountains, after 16 hours driving non-stop in the middle of nowhere... they come out and call to me, “Jackie, Jackie!”

Since we're looking back on your career, I wouldn’t want to neglect to mention your collaborations with Sammo Hung and Yuen Biao – Wheels on Meals (1984). Dragons Forever (1988)… These movies have a special place in my heart.
Oh, thank you! I still dream about some good script coming along that would mean I could work with Sammo again. He’s now almost 80, and I’m asking myself… is there some way we can still make one last movie together? I really wish we could…

You’ve been friends with him for literally your whole life!
My whole life! I treat him almost like an older brother. No matter, when I see him, I always stand to greet him. [he stands and bows] That's traditional Chinese culture. Same with Yuen Biao. He sees me, he will treat me like I treat Sammo. These are very old, traditional ways of respect.

In one of the films showing in Locarno, Project A, there's this famous sequence in the clock tower, which is remembered mostly for your major fall through the awning. But there are also, in that scene, two references to silent cinema: hanging from the clock face like Harold Lloyd and getting caught in the gears like Charlie Chaplin. What did those movies mean to you?
In those days, we never had money to stage a proper fight [in a film], so we’d always go find some mountain to use [as a backdrop]. There are so many of those kinds of movies, fighting in mountains. Punching, kicking… how do you make something new from that? At that point I told myself that I had to find a new location that would help make the fighting and the stunts distinctive. Some Japanese fans told me that I do so many things in my films, just like Charlie Chaplin and like Buster Keaton. I asked them, “Who are they?” Back then, we didn’t really have TV, video, so I had no idea... After, I went and looked at some of the films and… wow. I kept watching and watching and eventually thought, "Maybe I can put a tribute to this one, to this one, to this one in my films,” – also as a way of keeping it fresh. I would take so many ideas from them – only later did I realize that most of the time they were cheating! They didn’t really experience those things. Me, I don't know how to cheat; I would just do the whole stunt and get hurt. Then I’d look at the video [of those films] again and I’d realize, “Oh, they had something at the bottom to break their fall!” Anyway, I'm glad I did it, even if I got hurt. If today you asked me to do it, I couldn’t.

What was always so special about the choreography in your films is that there's always something frustrating the action. You're always putting things between the fighters that they have to contend with, like objects or parts of the scenery. You're fighting with clumsy weapons.
Making action movies for us… we thought punching and kicking was too easy. Movies were just: “Why did you look at me?” Fight for a half hour. Walk around. “Why do you look at me again?” Fight. Another half hour of drama, then fight again. That was the script! We tried to bring more drama [to it]. We wanted to establish the reason why two people were fighting. These days you look at an American film: boom, boom, boom! The characters are like superheroes. I'm tired of looking at this; I’d rather watch some real things moving on screen. Of course, I admire Hollywood, how cleverly those people can use AI, special effects. They can make everybody a superhero…

Sammo Hung said that growing old is a privilege. When you hear something like that, what does it make you think about your life and career?
I'm scared that I'm getting old. But sometimes I think about [those that came before me]. My teachers. They didn’t get old. They died very young. I was lucky. As Sammo says, I'm so happy I'm getting old. I don’t know when I’ll die, so it doesn't matter. Right now, I know I'm getting old, but I do my old man things. Even fighting – I do the old man fighting now. I do my acting.  Work on some scripts, plan the action in the films...

It’s also why it's such a privilege to speak to you. Sometimes there’s someone who just manages to channel the feelings of a lot of people through their very being.
It makes me so happy you’re still watching these movies, and that you know Sammo Hung! I think back to when we made those films, and we had so many problems [on the set]. It would be raining terribly. Something serious not working. On Project A, we got seasick, the [scenes of the] pirates on the sea were so difficult to do… but we kept going and no matter what. We finished the movie. Then when it came out it was a success, and 40 years later people are still watching it. That's what I signed up for. You see so many movies, so many directors – and nobody remembers them today. But then a few movies, 100 years later, are still there. At some point, I said to myself: I want to make this kind of movie, no matter how difficult it will be. When I pass away, I want the next generations to say there’s Bruce Lee, there’s Chaplin, there’s Jackie Chan.

The hard work that went into the films, the fact that everything was so difficult, also makes them endure...
When I’m talking to anyone [in a film school], I say, “Don’t be lazy! You will regret it 20 years later, when you’re looking back.” Do whatever you need to do [to get it done]. Maybe the movie you’re working on is not good. Maybe the director is not good. But if you’re good, people will see it. Take it in pieces: this scene I’ll act well in, this fight I’ll do well. Just whatever you do, don't give up. Don’t get lazy. You’ll regret it your whole life.
When I was 14, 15, 16 years old, doing stunt work on films, every director would say, “I want this guy to come back tomorrow.” Why? Because I fought – pow! I fell down. I remember this guy flipped me and I did a somersault onto a wooden table – six times! No mat. “Come back tomorrow!” The producer comes to me as I’m leaving, “You’ve got a call back tomorrow.” Huh? If you got badly hurt as a stunt man, you’d get fired; you wouldn’t come back. But every movie director likes me because I do the best I can. Every shot, I want to demonstrate how good I am.

You can see that even in the outtakes, for example, at the end of Police Story. You’re doing these insane stunts, falling over, getting kicked and punched, but as soon as the fight is done, you're right back to directing.
Because I was pretty much born on the movie set! This year I will have been in the film industry for 64 years; all my life. Every day on the set. When I’m on the set, I’m happy. I see the crew, it makes me happy. I take care of the crew. I can teach them how to fight in a scene, because I have learned so many things [over the years]. Today, the young director is so lucky. They have a stunt director, editing director, camera director, art director! In the old days, we did everything. There were only two [of us] doing that in Asia.

Two total filmmakers.
Yes: writing, acting, directing, coordinating stunts, editing; everything. The first, Sammo Hung. The second, Jackie Chan.

And you came from the very same school!
Yes, same school. I always say, “Sammo, I’m better than you in one way – at least I can sing!”