I Like to Watch | Shang-Chi and The Legend of the Ten Rings
Hearts and Minds
The United States posited a slew of reasons for invading and occupying Afghanistan. Some were justified, others were falsified. The reason given most often was the amorphous win their hearts and minds nonsense as if any country could be won over by occupation at home and ridicule from across the ocean.
Hearts and minds are not won over with force or material goods. Hearts and minds are won over with ideas and those ideas cannot be sledgehammered in but more subtly presented. Those ideas have to be normalized.
Back in 2008—clearly a big year for LGBT rights—the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation did a survey of more than 2,000 U.S. adults 18 and older and found that two in 10 of them had changed their views of gays and lesbians in the previous five years to a more favorable one.
Their reasons? 34 percent said their views were influenced by seeing gay or lesbian characters on TV, and 29 percent said it was by a gay or lesbian character on film. Hollywood has been streaming LGBT characters into American homes for decades. The arc of inclusion may be long, and it bends towards pop culture.
Characters in comic books have advanced the conversation. Although independent comics lead the way with characters like Maggie and Hopey in Love and Rockets, for years the Comics Code Authority—and cultural attitudes—limited the role of LGBT characters in mainstream superhero titles. Over the last couple of decades, however, LGBT characters like the reimagined Batwoman and Green Lantern Alan Scott have made their way into comics, and both Marvel and DC have featured superhero storylines that featured same-sex marriage.
No question that this is a wonderful thing for those LGBT consumers—seeing someone like you on a big or small screen is important and valid. That, however, is not the most important part of greater and more diverse representation in pop culture. What increased exposure of those most marginalized does, more than anything else, is win the hearts and minds of the majority of Americans.
This is the same for black Americans. In recent years, we see more and more black men and women on our screens, in our Netflix queues, on television and Hulu. For millions of Americans (and not merely white Americans) this slow reminder of the humanity of black Americans de-stigmatizes and expands the reductive monolithing of 14% of our population away from stereotypes and into the homes of people far less likely to encounter blacks in their communities.
Contrary to the concept that America is fundamentally racist, I'd argue we are fundamentally segregated. The flyover states with the majority of Americans unexperienced in the multicultural experiment (Iowa, Kansas, Arizona, Maine, Nebraska, Utah, both Dakotas, Vermont—all of which have less than five percent of the entire state population who are black) are populated with people who watch movies and television.
These folks who have little contact with black Americans on a daily basis have representation in their theaters and homes every weekend and every night. They spend their money (but more crucially, their time) watching The Protege, Candyman, Summer of Soul, Escape Room: Tournament of Champions and All American, Insecure, The Chi, and The Equalizer. This is significant and, while foments often glacial changes in attitudes and mores, grows a deeper understanding and empathy with every viewing.
Which brings us to the MCU. Arguably a juggernaut built upon the successes of white male protagonists as the MCU has gained in worldwide popularity and influence so has Kevin Feige's commitment to expanding those cultural boundaries with increased inclusion. Black Panther is far from the best Marvel movie or even comic book movie in existence but it was a cultural moment that a major studio had never before created.
Sure, whole communities of black people buying out theaters so that black children could celebrate seeing heroes who looked like them was significant but more significant was that millions of white fanboys watched an all-black cast in a movie that included Afro-futurism and incredibly badass black women at its core play out in their backyards.
The Master of Kung Fu
Shang-Chi was created by writer Steve Englehart and artist Jim Starlin, debuting in Special Marvel Edition #15 in 1972. Created as a response to huge television success of Kung Fu, the character was originally known as the son of Fu Manchu and, when the rights to that character were denied, became the son of Xu Wenwu, the Mandarin. At one point, he was a part of Heroes for Hire which featured both Iron Fist and Luke Cage.
It is notable that the genius of Marvel is in connecting the past with the coming Phase 4 whether by intention or retroactively. The Ten Rings army was responsible for kidnapping Tony Stark way back in 2008. Jumping ahead to Iron Man 3 we meet Trevor Slattery, the fake Mandarin and then a Marvel One Shot that shows Slattery kidnapped from prison to meet Xu Wenwu. All in set-up for the latest MCU addition.
More like Thor than the typical origin film, Shang-Chi dumps right in the middle of things. The movie begins with the backstory of Xu Wenwu (Tony Leung)—narrated entirely in Mandarin Chinese by Jiang Li (Fala Chen)—and his possession of the ten rings. In the comic books the rings were on his fingers with each designated with a power. Now, they're more like martial arts practice rings, five on each arm and capable of pretty much anything the special effects team could come up.
Then we meet Shang-Chi (Simu Liu) and his friend, Katy (Awkwafina). The two are a winning combination and, wonderfully, are not romantically involved. Parking cars by day, singing karaoke by night until, on a San Francisco bus, the Ten Rings gang (lead by a giant white dude with a laser sword for a right hand) attack him for a pendant left by his deceased mother.
Shang-Chi doesn't need those magical rings to completely kick ass—he is the Master of Kung Fu without them. The sequence is fun, fast, clean, and ends with Katy contributing to the graces of saving an entire bus load of citizens while Shang beats the shit out of the thugs.
And off we go. A Macau fighting club run by his sister that is like an underground MMA for magical beings. An escape on the side of a building fighting ninjas. Some flashbacks informing the secret city behind the trees where his mom came from and how Shang became the warrior he is at the hands of his father. A water map on the floor. Sir Ben Kingsley and a faceless furry with wings. More backstory. Two dragons. A showdown. An arrow. Two end credit scenes.
It's a fucking Marvel movie, after all.
The lengths the director (Destin Daniel Cretton) goes to find authenticity in everything from language, customs, and dress to be a fully realized Asian American film as well as a superhero ride is laudable. His treatment of Xu Wenwu is one more in a chain of villains who seem less villainess and more driven by sorrow or justifiable rage.
Early MCU baddies were nuts. The Red Skull (power hungry madman), Obadiah Stane (power hungry madman), Malekith (power hungry Dark Elf madman), Ronan (power hungry...you get the picture). More recently, the MCU is moving away from the Good vs. Evil narratives and presenting a more complicated version of opposing forces in the universe.
Thanos, while a genocidal monster, was still persuasive in some way. Not the insane, cackling lunatic one would naturally associate with villainy but a being with a sense of purpose who does not see himself to be the bad guy. Kilmonger from Black Panther is the same—his rage is justified and only his means are nefarious. Xu Wenwu is less an evil warlord and more a grieving widower weary of conquest and unable to connect with his children.
Making even the master criminal relatable while simultaneously rooting for the hero is no small feat. It demonstrates a complexity of thought and perspective one would not expect from superhero movies and represents opportunities for the discussion of who our bad guys are in the non-cinematic world.
Combining that sophistication with an increasing diversity in who are the heroes—black, Asian, Latina—makes everyone relatable.
That's the crux of the foothold pop culture has on change. Make everyone relatable and even the kid in Kansas who has only known the two Korean kids in his class can find purchase of the magnificent multicultural country we continue to forge.
