Confucian Orientalism and Western Outlook in Martial Arts Film

J. Chin. Film Stud. 2021; 1(1): 65–82

Stephen Teo*
Confucian Orientalism and Western Outlook
in Martial Arts Film
https://doi.org/10.1515/jcfs-2021-0006
Published online March 11, 2021

Abstract: This paper discusses the martial arts genre with reference to the films of
the Japanese master Kurosawa Akira and the Chinese director Zhang Yimou, dis-
cussing how both directors converge in their themes and styles through the
concept of “Eastern Orientalism.” Such Orientalism is based on Confucian precepts
of zhengming (rectification of names), chaos theory, and the defense of the people
undertaken by militaristic but heroic individual protagonists (samurai or xia). In
raising the issue of Orientalism, the paper probes into the Western perceptions of
the genre and the imperative of directors like Kurosawa and Zhang in pandering to
Western tastes. However, these same directors seem equally preoccupied with
fostering a sense of self and nationalistic expression in their response to and
treatment of Orientalized content. The paper concludes with a discussion on The
Great Wall (2016) as a comparative review of the Western and Eastern viewpoints at
play in the US-China co-production. Here the analysis revolves around the issue of
sameness, dramatized as a main theme in the film.

Keywords: orientalism, martial arts film, Confucian precepts

1 Introduction
The martial arts film is the most popular form in which a global audience often
recognizes Chinese cinema. This paper draws attention to the anomalies or com-
plexities of Eastern and Western perceptions of films in this genre, mostly on the
conceptual ways in which comprehension of the genre is undertaken. To begin
with, there are the names “Kung Fu” and “Wuxia” with which we recognize the
martial arts genre. Are the names interchangeable with each other? Do they mean
the same thing? No surveys have been done as to which term is more often used but
I would hazard a guess that “Kung Fu” is likely much more used by Westerners and

*Corresponding author: Stephen Teo, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore, Singapore,
E-mail: steo@ntu.edu.sg

66         S. Teo

“Wuxia” by Chinese critics. Does “Kung Fu” or “Wuxia” separately and alone
represent the whole spectrum of the Chinese martial arts genre? Can they explain
the characteristics and philosophy behind the genre? The denotation of martial
arts films either as kung fu or wuxia represents the complexity of Chinese cinema
and its representation. This inconsistency of names points to a field of different
perceptions of the genre.
     From the Chinese perspective, the martial arts genre is reflexive of national
characteristics. Martial arts films can also be allegories of modern national politics.
There is a layer of nationalism in the genre which is often misunderstood and is
sometimes used against the genre by detractors. In fact, the whole genre and its
popular reception have historically been quite negative and even today it con-
tinues to face derision. They have been criticized for purveying superstition and
supernaturalism, for violence and shallow sensationalism, as well as for shallow
nationalism, of course. Detractors may dismiss the genre and see no merit in it, but
they ignore both the aesthetic and ideological complexity of the genre. My topic of
discussion in this paper lies in the very nature of the genre’s complexity. I will put
more emphasis on its ideological content revolving around the cinematic repre-
sentation of Chinese national characteristics and its cultural-philosophical values
as well as aesthetic merits. The idea that the genre is often regarded as “nation-
alist” is effectively a reflection of both its philosophical and aesthetic features. I
will touch on both Eastern and Western perceptions and perspectives in under-
standing and interpreting the martial arts film. For this purpose, I raise the
question of Orientalism as one of the theoretical anchors of our discussion of
Eastern and Western perceptions. Orientalism is conducive to the genre itself
because of the exotic spectacular and historical qualities that are invoked almost
automatically, such that the genre itself cannot be understood if it is not inherently
Orientalist.

2 Confucian Orientalism
The historicism of the genre, a feature common to the wuxia tradition, almost
automatically exerts an Orientalist sensibility, apparent in the filmmakers’ fasci-
nation with historical period details, costumes, sets, props, and so on. In terms of
the display of actual martial arts, there are the details of fighting styles and
whether one uses swords, fists, or even guns. From the Eastern viewpoint, one
might see Orientalism as a kind of methodology to present and assert Eastern
culture and philosophy as underlying factors behind the genre. The Eastern
expression of Orientalism may be regarded as a means of self-expression, which I

Outlook in Martial Arts Film     67

will expand on in more detail later. However, such a brand of Orientalism is
undertaken mainly to cater to Western tastes and expectations. In this paper, I will
focus on the Confucian brand of Orientalism implicit in martial arts films which I
therefore call “Confucian Orientalism.” The paper emphasizes the Confucian point
of view in martial arts films while at the same time suggesting the juxtaposition
of Eastern and Western viewpoints and the effect of different perceptions.
Undoubtedly, the difference in perceptions may result in misrepresentations but
the impact on East-West epistemology may also be beneficial. I owe the concept of
Confucian Orientalism to Arif Dirlik’s 1996 essay “Chinese History and the Ques-
tion of Orientalism.” Dirlik points out that “orientalism has been used almost
exclusively to describe the attitudes of Europeans towards Asian societies” but he
also considers that the term should “be extended to Asian views of Asia, to account
for tendencies of self-orientalization which would become an integral part of the
history of orientalism” (Dirlik 1996, 104). However, Dirlik does not refer to a
“Confucian Orientalism.” He refers to the Confucian revival in China which he
considers “a newfound sense of power that has accompanied the economic
success of East Asian societies who now reassert themselves against an earlier
Euro-American domination [and] in this sense, the Confucian revival (and other
cultural nationalisms) may be viewed as an articulation of native culture (and an
indigenous subjectivity)” (Dirlik 1996, 113).
     I thus put the martial arts genre within this context of Confucian Orientalism.
The critical engagement of the martial arts genre by Western interlocutors is seen to
take place within a “contact zone,” where both Easterners and Westerners operate
together to stimulate nonhomogenizing perceptions of the East. The term “contact
zone” is taken from Mary Louise Pratt; and it refers to “social spaces where cultures
meet, clash, and grapple with each other” (Pratt 1991, 34). In the space of the
contact zone, Confucian Orientalism may function as an alternative vision to
Western intellectual Orientalist stereotyping or established Western views
regarding how the East can or should incorporate Western values and standards.
In any case, Confucian Orientalism works as a vision or representation of the East
from the vantage point of the Eastern intellectual or artist concerned.
     There is quite a long tradition of self-Orientalism in the Asian cinema. Since
our topic is the martial arts genre, we may refer to the beginnings of the genre in the
late 1920s in the Chinese film industry then centered in Shanghai as the start of the
Eastern Orientalist tradition in Chinese cinema. This is exemplified by The Burning
of the Red Lotus Temple, a film serial that ran from 1928 to 1931 and captured the
imaginations of the public of that time. The name of Wuxia was popularized in that
period. At the time, the name was preceded by the term shenguai, meaning strange
and peculiar, the mysterious and exotic. Shenguai therefore referred to the
fantastic qualities of the genre, featuring heroes with supernatural powers, heroes

68         S. Teo

who could fly and run along walls and roofs of buildings and project forces of
energy from the palms of their hands. Heroes could fight with legendary beasts and
strange creatures and subdue them with their powers. Thus, the name of the genre
“Shenguai Wuxia” already carried strong elements of Orientalist mystery and
fantasy. Orientalist splendor and exoticism were further evident in the historical
settings, costumes, the manner of combat, and in matters of culture, religion, and
philosophy. This whole tradition was implicit in history and in literature as well as
in the ancient performing arts. However, the shenguai aspects of the genre were
much criticized by Chinese critics and intellectuals who saw in them the remnants
of feudalism and superstition. Such aspects militated against the project of science
and the modernization of China and due to their opposition of the genre, the
government banned it in 1931. Hence the Orientalism of the genre did not fit into the
vision of Chinese modernizers, and it was repressed and negated only to be revived
in the early 1980s. In the 21st century, we can see it expressed in full splendor in the
wuxia films of Zhang Yimou: Hero (2002), House of Flying Daggers (2004), Curse of
the Golden Flower (2006), The Great Wall (2016), Shadow (2018).
     In terms of our discussion of Western discovery and perceptions of this his-
torical tradition, I wish to refer to a more historical stage of the genre’s develop-
ment in the East Asian cinema—in the 1950s. This is the discovery by the West of
the works of Kurosawa Akira in the Japanese cinema, and I will refer to his work as
examples of Eastern Confucian Orientalism which have exerted a great influence
on Chinese cinema in their remodeling of Orientalism. This is particularly true in
respect to Kurosawa’s martial arts films, or jidaigeki, to use the Japanese vocab-
ulary. These jidaigeki works are highly representative of the effort to delineate an
Eastern or a more culturally Japanese perspective in his films. They contain,
invariably, Confucian overtones, as I will show. While Kurosawa has been
described as the most Western of Japanese directors, his jidaigeki films are evi-
dence of an urge to reframe and re-understand the historical, cultural, aesthetic,
and philosophical implications of Japan. In other words, they are inherently
nationalistic in content. Such implications are etched into the Orientalist struc-
tures of his narratives. However, his influence on Chinese directors lies in his
contribution towards re-modeling Orientalism in a wider Eastern (or East Asian)
context.

3 The Activation of Eastern Orientalism
In general, the philosophical and aesthetic norms and characteristics of martial
arts films in East Asian cinemas are an underexplored part of the genre’s con-
ventions even while there is a growing interest to formulate a more analytical

Outlook in Martial Arts Film     69

practice of appreciating and interpreting the genre. Through such analytical
practices, one may indeed communicate national characteristics and features of
Asian cinemas, but the topic of philosophy remains largely obscure in the existing
literature. I will go on to deliver brief analytical discussions of some philosophical
foundations in Chinese martial arts films, to suggest how interpretations may differ
from Western and Eastern viewpoints. I will refer to a cluster of films, including
both classics and recent releases, drawing on their philosophical foundations and
perspectives regarding martial arts and motivic principles for action. Firstly, the
Western viewpoint, or Western reception of the genre, is an important factor in the
genre’s development. This is due to the historic influence of Western cinemas
(primarily, of course, Hollywood) and the modern desire for Chinese filmmakers to
penetrate the Western markets beginning from the 1980s onwards following the
implementation of Deng Xiaoping’s “Open Door” policy.
     Martial arts films have found a niche in the markets of the West since the 1970s,
primarily through the efforts of the Hong Kong film industry, and therefore have
long attracted much critical attention from Western scholars and critics as a
popular form in the Chinese language cinemas. Due to this Western attention,
some films, particularly those made by directors with established reputations in
the West (e.g., Zhang Yimou, Chen Kaige, John Woo, Tsui Hark), are made to
pander to Western tastes. This is, I think, generally recognized even by Chinese
commentators, and the directors concerned have exploited the phenomenon of
pandering to Western tastes, essentially meaning Orientalism, to build upon their
careers particularly in the field of the genre. Indeed, one can say that it is an
aesthetic imperative. Due to this imperative, certain conventions in the genre are
perceived to fall into a “Western” pattern (or structural development) of under-
standing and appreciating the genre. Thus, martial arts films are often compared to
the American Western genre, for example. Its conventions are roughly the same as
those of American or European Westerns. Both the “Easterns” (referring to samurai
films or Wuxia films) and the “Westerns” deal with heroic action based on prin-
ciples of justice, righteousness, and equality; and the heroes are marked by
courage, loyalty, and chivalry. The practice of comparing the martial arts film with
the Western has become rather standard in the literature and it would benefit us to
briefly look back at the history of this process. It goes back to the 1950s, and here,
we must refer to the case of the Japanese cinema and its rise in international
prominence with the recognition of Kurosawa Akira’s Rashomon (1950) at the 1951
Venice International Film Festival. Thereafter, it was Kurosawa who paved the way
for the Western observation and critical evaluation of Asian films, particularly the
exotic historical costume films combined with action, with which Kurosawa
excelled. An example which is highly relevant to our discussion is Seven Samurai

70        S. Teo

(1954), and I will dwell at some length on this film and on Kurosawa’s approach to
the genre, which is the application of Confucian Orientalism.
     As is well known, Seven Samurai is the classic film that revived the jidaigeki
genre in Japanese cinema after the Second World War. Apart from the parallels
with the Western, the jidaigeki genre is also the Japanese cinema’s equivalent of
the wuxia genre. They are approximate in terms of their focus on history and on
violence undertaken by a special group of men (the samurai in the Japanese
cinema, and xia in the Chinese cinema). These heroic protagonists and their
respective foundational principles or philosophies of action make up the core
precepts of the two martial arts genres in different national traditions. I will deal
with these core principles later. Seven Samurai was a successful international
release for the Japanese cinema in the latter half of the 1950s and it secured
Kurosawa’s reputation among Western critics. In fact, Kurosawa became an early
model of the Eastern director who was compelled to cater to Western tastes in his
films—and the accessibility of his films to the Western mind was crucial in the
critical understanding of his jidaigeki output. A film like Seven Samurai was
immediately perceived to be an equivalent of a Western, and it was said, mostly by
American critics, that Kurosawa was much influenced by the American genre. It
was remade by Hollywood as a Western re-titled The Magnificent Seven, released in
1960, directed by John Sturges. Subsequently there have been many sequels made
and a remake of the remake (Antoine Fuqua’s The Magnificent Seven, released in
2016). Though comparisons between the two have generally not favored the
original Western remake (see Anderson 1962), there is an alternative opinion that
suggests that the film examines its own Western mythology, and, in this vein, it
contains a “great deal of meaningful discussion” (Nolley 1976, 233). While the
inspiration may come from Seven Samurai the Western remake by John Sturges is
driven by its own American history and myth (Nolley 1976, 232). I have offered my
own revisionist opinion of Sturges’ The Magnificent Seven as an “Eastern Western,”
one that could be appreciated and understood better from the vantage point of
Eastern philosophy (Teo 2017). The Magnificent Seven is then significant for
establishing an East-West equivalence in the cinema, one that seems based, if we
follow Nolley, on the virtues of agrarian societies—and The Magnificent Seven
celebrates this “settled life of an agrarian society” by showing it through Mexican
peasants (Nolley 1976, 238). This principle of equivalence is marked by Orien-
talism, a tendency usually applied to Western understanding of the East. It is
obvious to me that the Orientalist presence in The Magnificent Seven is personified
essentially by Mexican peasants, but also by its star, Yul Brynner, whose career
was built on “tapping into the Hollywood trope of eroticized and orientalized
exotic male otherness” (Paasonen 2019, 246). Orientalism, however, has also
influenced the correlation between the Japanese cinema and other Asian cinemas.

Outlook in Martial Arts Film     71

Seven Samurai is the key model of such influence. There are also many versions of
Seven Samurai produced by the Chinese cinema. Tsui Hark’s Seven Swords (2005),
in particular, is one of the more interesting international remakes of Seven Samurai
and I will have more to say about this film later. Kurosawa’s influence in both
Eastern and Western cinematic spheres is therefore extensive, but I would like
firstly to address the general perception among Western critics that he is the most
“Western” of Japanese directors.
     The Western perception and recognition of Kurosawa’s works essentially
touches on the critical factor of Orientalism. Rashomon is perhaps the most
blatantly Orientalist of his works, and it turned out to be the film that won him
instant recognition from Western circles. Thereafter, Kurosawa’s films seemed to
pander to Western tastes, and this notion that Kurosawa is pandering to Western
tastes is basically an exercise in self-Orientalism. This factor has been raised
subsequently in the works of other Asian directors who appeal to the West (through
the arena of international film festivals), and within the purview of Chinese cinema
we can mention some of the early films of Zhang Yimou that have been well
received in the West but have also been mostly associated with this practice of self-
Orientalism (Red Sorghum, Ju Dou, Raise the Red Lantern). Crucially, what is not
often realized is that the concept of self-Orientalism works on both pandering to
Western tastes as well as to Eastern tastes. In his book, Japanese Cinema Goes
Global, Yoshiharu Tezuka points out that the Orientalism evident in Rashomon was
“directed towards the West as well as a Japanese Oriental Orientalism directed
towards Asia” (Tezuka 2012, 28). Tezuka’s words, “Japanese Oriental Orientalism,”
point to a self-Orientalism which is deliberately invoked and crafted to appeal to
domestic audiences and to audiences within the Asian continent. No doubt, this is
another kind of aesthetic imperative that works on the same level as the one that
appeals to international audiences. However, it transcends the Western reception
of Orientalism. It denotes a strong tradition within Asia, and the need to emphasize
its own qualities, histories, and cultures. For the purposes of this paper, I call this
“Confucian Orientalism” to signify an East Asian brand of self-Orientalism, a kind
of Orientalism shifting the Western viewpoint to an Eastern one, dealing more with
Confucian ethical matters in terms of their application to history and the martial
arts. Such Orientalism is usually deployed by Eastern or Asian filmmakers to
propagate an Eastern brand of genre with all its attendant cultural and philo-
sophical norms, targeting domestic as well as other Asian audiences. Thus, the
brand names of wuxia and kung fu are representative of this type of Orientalism.
     When Orientalism is deployed by Eastern Asians it is referred to as self-
Orientalism, implying that the Western intellectual attitude and influence remains
or persists as an integral part of the remodeling by the Eastern subject. In the case
of the Chinese, a self-Orientalizing movement developed only in the twentieth

72        S. Teo

century under the aegis of “Euro-American orientalist perceptions and methods”
according to Arif Dirlik. Western Orientalism was therefore “a visible component in
the formulation of the Chinese self-image, and Chinese perceptions of the past”
(Dirlik 1996, 106). Dirlik points out that Chinese self-Orientalism was driven by
nationalism, thus, it suggests a layer of cultural identity that is consciously or
unconsciously reacting against the Western formulation of content in Orientalism,
not just a self-dabbling of Orientalist features and attributes. Eastern Orientalism is
employed in many Asian cinemas. We have noted that Kurosawa was an early
practitioner, and we can refer to his films as instructive models, particularly the
jidaigeki works. Judging from the universal appreciation of his films, Kurosawa
was not just appealing to Western audiences but also to his own base, Japanese
and other Eastern audiences. Kurosawa’s samurai films, such as Seven Samurai,
Throne of Blood, The Hidden Fortress, Yojimbo, and Sanjuro, all belong to the
Eastern tradition of historicist martial arts dramas. They are Japanese sword
fighting dramas that revolve around the tradition and principles of Bushido,
expounded in ancient historical texts such as Miyamoto Musashi’s manual of
martial arts Go Rin No Sho (The Book of Five Rings), Daidoji Yuzan’s Budo Shosh-
inshu (The Primer of Bushido), and Yamamoto Tsunetomo’s Hagakure (In The
Shadow of Leaves). Essentially, all these texts comprise a series of injunctions for
‘the Way of the Warrior’ (the translation of Bushido). However, I will not follow
these texts to comment on Kurosawa’s films but to focus on the Confucian aspects
of the Bushido tradition which are intrinsic to the films, since it is the “Confucian”
Orientalism that is the primary subject of this paper. I will look at these films from
the lens of the Chinese principle of xiayi, meaning heroic righteousness, which is
the essence of wuxia films. In fact, I might go so far as to say that these films by
Kurosawa continue the essence of xiayi in the Asian cinema at a time when the idea
was not all that strong in the Chinese cinemas, during the mid-1950s to the early
1960s. It should be remembered that in China, the wuxia genre was banned, and in
Hong Kong, the xiayi idea found expression fundamentally in a marginal way in
the Cantonese-language Huang Feihong films. The Cantonese films were thought
of as “kung fu” films, the focus being more on the technical aspects of “kung fu”
rather than on the ethics of xiayi, and a tendency came about (which I well
remember from my own childhood) for “kung fu” to be thought of as a Cantonese
tradition. It was not until the mid-1960s that xiayi as a concept took center stage
due to the rise of the “new school” wuxia in the Mandarin cinema in the Hong Kong
industry (and wuxia, subsequently, was thought of exclusively as a Mandarin
tradition). According to some Chinese commentators, such as the historian Yi
Zhongtian (see Yi 2006), the Chinese historically have a xiayi meng (the dream of
xiayi), an important psychological concept with which Chinese imagine their
purpose in life, whether in politics or social involvement.

Outlook in Martial Arts Film    73

     In the Chinese cinema of the same period when Kurosawa was making his
samurai films (a genre in which he excelled, and which made him famous), the
xiayi meng was largely absent on Chinese screens. Kurosawa’s samurai films
continued the xiayi meng in a broader Asian context in a period when Chinese
cinema did not feature the same dream as prominently, and Chinese can be
reminded of it when they watch Kurosawa’s films. This could be put down to the
self-Orientalism of Kurosawa, his depiction and variation, in the Japanese style,
of the xiayi meng. One should not forget that the Japanese also have their own
followings for classic Chinese novels like Romance of the Three Kingdoms and The
Water Margin, both of which have been enjoyed through the years as classic
expressions of xiayi meng. However, Kurosawa was very likely conscious of
catering more to Western tastes at the same time since Western recognition was
considered more important and prestigious. The practice of Orientalism, after all,
even from the Eastern viewpoint, is to convey a general acceptance by the West of
the East. The Western perspective remains a dominant force determining the
critical outlook of the genre. The West, in a sense, determines the “look” of the
genre, and perhaps even some of its values and principles.

4 Confucian Precepts in Eastern Orientalism
Kurosawa’s modeling of Orientalism in his jidaigeki films affords us an opportunity
to think more about the Confucian content of his films given the influence of
Confucian philosophy in Japanese culture. Sybil Thornton has referred to “the
function of Chinese historiography” in Kurosawa’s jidaigeki (Thornton 2008, 88).
We may understand this to mean the close correspondence between Japanese
history as Kurosawa saw it and the Chinese historiographical views of historical
development. Kurosawa has operated on the fundamental thesis of division and
chaos in his historical dramas. These themes correspond with the Confucian
outlook of history. Keiko McDonald defines the director’s universal outlook as “the
premise that the world is fragmented” (McDonald 2006, 33)—and such a theme is
evident in Rashomon, which is best seen as Kurosawa’s introduction to his jidaigeki
universe. “The dilapidated Rashomon gate in twelfth-century Kyoto speaks for a
morally and politically chaotic world” (McDonald 2006, 33). Rashomon is a text-
book of chaos theory based on the Confucian doctrine of zhengming, the rectifica-
tion of names. To Confucius, truth is associated with names (ming) and if names are
not correct, one’s language will not accord with the truth of things. All the pro-
tagonists at the Rashomon gate (the woodcutter, the monk, and the stranger)
grapple with what is true and righteous. All are entangled in a process of zhengming.
The film suggests the chaos resulting from the failure of zhengming—the chaos that

74         S. Teo

resides in the human heart which may yet manifest into the physical world and the
diachronic progression of history. Once manifested, chaos brings down the whole
apparatus of the state. Chaos is that thing, according to Prince, which prompts the
“frightening teleological process” of Kurosawa’s historical films (Prince 1991, 214).
Rashomon was obviously influential on Zhang Yimou in his first wuxia film Hero. In
the film Zhang utilized the so-called “Rashomon Effect” to reset the Confucian
Orientalist paradigm in the Chinese cinema through the wuxia genre, effectively the
first time in the Chinese cinema in which mainland filmmakers could give full-
fledged expression to wuxia. The Rashomon Effect is applied to the xiayi principle of
heroic action so that the action itself is interpreted in various ways. What is the right
heroic action? (Is it the killing of the Emperor Qin, or is it the sparing of his life by the
assassin?) Who is right? (Is it the assassin who spares the life of the Emperor, or is it
the Emperor who must unify China and orders that the assassin be killed?) Who is
the hero? (Is it the Emperor or the assassin?) This is the process of zhengming
underlining the Confucian Orientalism in Hero, clearly the result of Kurosawa’s
influence.
     Kurosawa’s evocation of Confucian philosophy extends to his characteriza-
tions of samurai, the equivalent of the xia in Chinese cinema. The most distinctive
of his characters is that of the yojimbo character, played by Mifune Toshiro in two
films, Yojimbo and Sanjuro. The character exudes the Confucian ideal of a warrior if
we examine him through the impact of Chinese historiography. Confucius says
that he would not rely on a warrior who would attack a tiger barehanded, cross a
river without a boat, and die without regret (暴虎冯河,死而无悔者, baohu pinghe,
si er wuhui zhe), and he should also think before he acts and achieves victory
through stratagem (好谋而成者, haomou er cheng zhe) (Analects 7). The Mifune
character in the two films shows that he acts on these principles as best he can. He
is reliable as a warrior because he thinks things through, acts strategically, and
does not go into battle to die willingly without regret. The influence of Kurosawa’s
Confucian Orientalism therefore lies in his creation of a cinematic prototype that
evokes the Confucian principles of xia. This prototype can be seen in the xia-
assassin Nameless, played by Jet Li, in Hero, whose whole characterization in the
film is based on the principle of a hero who is never reckless but one who acts
according to a well thought out plan and dies for a principle (although the prin-
ciple may well be controversial and changes one’s expectations of the hero). The
essential use of stratagem in battle is finely portrayed in John Woo’s Red Cliff
through the main characters of Cao Cao, Zhou Yu, and Zhuge Liang. Kurosawa’s
influence for Chinese filmmakers may lie in his recourse to a shared cultural and
philosophical outlook with the Confucian heritage and for his evocation of the
wuxia genre in the Japanese tradition, but this kind of influence has generally been

Outlook in Martial Arts Film          75

overlooked with the consequence that there has been little acknowledgement in
the literature on the shared Confucian heritage between the two traditions.
     From the time of Kurosawa’s recognition by the West, starting with Rashomon,
his jidaigeki output has been largely appreciated from the Western perspective and
they all appear to have universal application only because Westerners can readily
comprehend them from their own perspective. Alan Barr, for example, has sug-
gested that there are Christian parallels to the story and hero of Yojimbo (Barr 1975).
The notion of Confucian Orientalism, however, suggests that there is another level
of comprehension that goes deeper than that of the Western outlook, with their
immediate allusions to Christian parallels. The Westerner sees the jidaigeki films
as having incorporated ideological viewpoints of Western thinking. Inger Brodey
has examined Kurosawa’s depictions of ronin (masterless samurai who are the
major protagonists of the director’s major films in the genre) as a way of under-
standing Kurosawa’s work to include notions of democracy and other Western
ideals, such as individualism. She writes:

    Kurosawa takes the accepted jidaigeki and attempts to make it fit for democratic ideals (and the
    democratic censors). In contrast to the 47 Ronin or Chushingura theme that had been prevalent
    in wartime ‘monumental’ cinema, Kurosawa favored the single hero. He also consistently
    preferred to focus on times of shifting class distinctions, corresponding to an increasingly
    democratic age. Postwar Japan, then, taking Kurosawa as an indicator for a moment, struggled
    to redefine the jidaigeki and samurai film to accord with Western individualism and the
    postimperial world (Brodey 2014, 291–292).

Brodey’s viewpoint raises some new questions about Kurosawa’s “Western” pro-
clivities. The statement that Kurosawa “struggled to redefine the jidaigeki and the
samurai film to accord with Western individualism and the postimperial world”
implies that Kurosawa understood that Eastern (or Japanese) values must be
readapted to the new world order, one that is largely created and led by the U.S.
Kurosawa may have been the most successful Japanese director of his generation
to have carried out this readaptation. His international reputation suggests that he
was also very influential. We may also question whether Kurosawa’s jidaigeki
films carry American ideals of democracy and individualism into other Asian
period films as the director’s influence exerts its impact on Asian cinemas, not least
on Chinese cinema itself. Despite these doubts, we can nevertheless assert that
these values may apply to Chinese wuxia films. The xiayi meng expresses indi-
vidualism and democracy as a historical desire among the Chinese people. We can
see this theme manifested in several films, such as Zhang Yimou’s Hero, Tsui
Hark’s Seven Swords and Flying Swords of Dragon Gate, for example.
     The democratic principle combined with the idea of heroic individualism and
martial arts action is in fact a very Confucian idea that was given its most classic

76        S. Teo

expression in Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai. The plot and the overall structure of the
film is propped up by the Confucian saying, from Analects (13): “On the matter of
not teaching the people to fight, one should call it abandoning them” (以不教民战,
是谓弃之, English translation my own). Kurosawa essentially develops his film as
a discourse on this Confucian saying, depicting how seven warrior individuals
(samurai) are employed by peasants to defend their community against an army of
bandits. The peasants are trained to fight by the samurai, and after a hard-fought
battle at the end, they are victorious. The next day, while watching the peasants
joyfully go back to work on the rice field, the samurai leader says, “It is the
peasants who have won, we have lost”. The meaning of these words may be
interpreted from the Western perspective as a loss for individualism, but this
would be a misinterpretation from the Eastern perspective. The end of Seven
Samurai looks forward to the obsolescence of the samurai class, which is signaled
by the leader’s statement. From the Eastern perspective, it may acquire quite a
different meaning if we follow the Confucian principle that I have quoted. It means
that the samurai have fulfilled their duties to teach the people to fight. They have
not abandoned the people. However, this message is tinged with some regret in
Kurosawa’s ending, a kind of regret that might emanate from the fact that four of
the seven are dead. It may also stem from the Japanese aesthetic of mono no aware
(wu ai: the pathos of things). Philosophically, “we have lost” may finally be an
expression of the samurai leader’s understanding that the individual is positioned
within a wider and greater world of material things (wu) and nature. Here the
democratic principle is underlain by a philosophical and aesthetic principle. If we
say that Kurosawa was influenced by the Western precepts of democracy and
individualism, his contribution to the genre is to inject such precepts with an
Eastern essence.
     In Tsui Hark’s Seven Swords, which is a variation of Seven Samurai, following
the Confucian principle in a Chinese historical setting (the Qing Dynasty), the
ending is much more optimistic. All the seven swordfighters survive, and they ride
into the horizon to continue the fight. In other words, they continue the dream of
xiayi, the eternal desire for justice and righteousness that can only be achieved
through action by the individual (those who are professional warriors) and the
collective (the people who are taught to fight). The ending celebrates the
continuing relevance of martial arts and martial artists as precious human and
material resources that must underpin the development of history. The premise of
the film is that the heroes believe the martial arts are a valuable folk resource.
Experts should use the martial arts to defend the people and to teach them to fight.
This accords with the Confucian principle. This doctrine is considered so subver-
sive that the government of the Qing Empire has passed an imperial edict to ban all
martial arts. The film then builds on this premise to show how the martial arts can

Outlook in Martial Arts Film     77

be used to defend the people against tyranny. This is the democratic principle
inherent in the genre. Tsui Hark also adds the xiayi dream as an extra element of
hope for the future—an unbounded faith in martial arts action to realize justice and
righteousness for the people. The film ends with the singing of Wen Tianxiang’s
“The Ballad of Righteousness” (正气歌).

5 The Heroic Principle
One might argue that Seven Swords is much more positive about history than is
Seven Samurai and that this is the difference between the Japanese and Chinese
worldviews in the martial arts genre. Kurosawa was well known for his pessimism
or his tragic outlook of history, and his latter historical films like Kagemusha (1980)
and Ran (1985) presented apocalyptic visions of chaos and turbulence. History is
integral to the wuxia genre as well as to the jidaigeki, and there are quite different
perspectives of history from the Chinese and Japanese points of view, which does
not concern us in this paper. Our concern is more with Western and Eastern
viewpoints, and from this vantage point, we see more similarities in the Chinese and
Japanese use of Confucian Orientalism. From the Western Orientalist point of view,
history offers a pure spectacle. Pauline Kael refers to this tendency in her review of
Kagemusha. She writes that the film’s style “is ceremonial rather than dramatic; it’s
not battle that Kurosawa is interested in here but formations in battle regalia” (Kael
1982, 299). Ceremony rather than drama, formations in battle regalia are part of the
historical spectacle and pageantry obviously present in Zhang Yimou’s Hero and
John Woo’s Red Cliff. Both films may have been strongly influenced by Kurosawa’s
Kagemusha and Ran (which are really companion pieces) and though Kurosawa is
apocalyptic in contrast to the Chinese directors who are much more sanguine, they
all present a theme of drawing a lesson from history. The lesson is that chaos and
catastrophe will repeat itself if one does not learn from the past. This Confucianist
didacticism is implicit in the title of Kurosawa’s Ran, which is a word derived from
the Chinese word luan, meaning chaos. We can call this the chaos principle of
history, a Confucianist view of history which functions as a didactic element in
Chinese martial arts historical fiction, as exemplified by the opening words of the
novel Romance of the Three Kingdoms: “The world under heaven, after a long period
of division, tends to unite; after a long period of union, tends to divide. This has
been so since antiquity” (translation by C. H. Brewitt-Taylor).
     Operating at the same time as the chaos principle is the dream of xiayi, which is
an ongoing dream that progresses through history. This is the driving force of
warrior individuals to fight against a tyrannical emperor, as in the case of the
attempted assassinations of the Emperor Qin in Hero, or to get rid of corrupt

78        S. Teo

officials and repressive institutions of the state, as in Flying Swords of Dragon Gate
which features the secretive organs of the state (the Eastern Agency and the
Western Agency), both repressive organizations of internal power led by ruthless
Eunuchs during the Ming Dynasty. Resistance to oppression entailing the skillful
use of martial arts (kung fu) is a vital force of xiayi. Thus, we say that most wuxia
films have a preoccupation with history as a crucial driving force of action in the
genre, which stands quite apart from the Orientalist aspect of spectacle and
pageantry. Chinese historiography has recorded the deeds and acts of xia, as in the
Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji), written by Sima Qian in the first century BCE,
recording the acts of violence by xia against one’s lord, or the tyrant. The classic
tales of xia-assassins in Chinese historical fiction have become a tradition that is
followed in wuxia films such as Hero and Hou Hsiao-hsien’s The Assassin (2016),
although both films present twists in the plots marking a departure from the
tradition.
     The xiayi meng exemplifies the heroic principle of action and this is perhaps the
one principle that crisscrosses East and West. There may be different interpretations
of history from the Eastern and the Western viewpoints, but the heroic principle
binds both viewpoints. Heroes in both the cinemas of the East and the West are
compelled to act, to defend themselves and to resort to violence, due to crises, or
perhaps due to heroic opportunities that present themselves in moments of crises.
Here, I would like to refer to Zhang Yimou’s The Great Wall (2016) in dissembling the
topic of Eastern and Western outlooks in the genre. This is a US-China coproduction
which combines wuxia with the Hollywood-style monster picture—effectively, this
combination looks back to the early tradition of shenguai wuxia and is therefore
redolent of the early movement of Orientalism in Chinese cinema. Because the film
is a coproduction between China and Hollywood, it presents a convergence of
Eastern and Western outlooks and interests around the theme of sameness. This
theme is founded on the heroic opportunities that present themselves in moments
of chaos or crisis. In a time of crisis and danger, the heroic opportunity makes us all
the same, so the theme goes, compelling us to act together for the good of every-
body. Matt Damon plays William, a Western mercenary who goes to China in search
of the “black powder.” In his travels, he ends up at the Great Wall and there, he is
forced to surrender to the Chinese army, which is besieged by hordes of demon
creatures known as taotie. He becomes the instrumental hero in the struggle against
the taotie by eliminating the Queen at the climax. Once the Queen is destroyed, all
the creatures terminate themselves in mechanical fashion.
     Well before the climax, William has a conversation with the female com-
mander Lin (played by Jing Tian). There is a hint of a budding romance in their
relationship. He tells her that “we are the same,” because they are both soldiers
who began fighting at an early age; but when he explains that he fights for food and

Outlook in Martial Arts Film     79

money under the flags of countries which employ him, Lin says, “We are not the
same.” She fights for her own country, based on the principle of xinren: trust or
faith in one’s fellow soldiers. The rest of the narrative describes how William
eventually overcomes his creed of personal gain and survival to accept xinren, and
thereafter to say “We are the same” to Commander Lin. Hence, East and West
converge and become “the same.” This message may ultimately be too simplistic
and naive, and it may be the reason why the film failed at the box-office. The failure
of The Great Wall suggests that there are different perceptions of heroism, or that
there are different Eastern and Western principles guiding heroism. However, to
give the film its due, it honorably presents the ideal of East-West sameness. It may
be interesting to note that the principle of sameness is expressed first by William,
the Westerner. He then admits that he is not the same as the Chinese, but at the end
of the film, he realizes that with a readjustment of his principles and the acceptance
of a new principle, xinren, he can be the same as the Chinese. Xinren is very much a
Confucian belief. It is derived from the word xin, meaning trustworthiness, one of
the four important topics in Confucian pedagogy, the others being letters (wen),
ethics (xing), and loyalty (zhong) (see Analects 7). Trust or faith is also fundamental
in Confucian democracy, as attested by the saying that if the people have no faith in
their rulers, the state will not stand (民无信不立) (Analects 12). Xin also infuses the
martial arts genre, in the famous saying yan bi xin, xing bi guo (言必信,行必果),
which means that one’s word should be trustworthy and one’s action should
achieve the desired results. This Confucian code is stated in the Youxia liezhuan
(‘Biographies of Wandering Knights’) in Sima Qian’s Records of the Grand Historian
(Shi ji) and its inclusion in the historical annals is therefore evidence of a long
historical tradition. This tradition is the basis of a warrior’s code in the wuxia
genre. Trust is incorporated into the xiayi meng, the ongoing dream of justice and
righteousness because the world is full of venality and corruption, and the human
propensity towards greed, deceit and lies—untrustworthiness, in one word. We see
this inverse theme of untrustworthiness in The Great Wall played out through the
plot of the Western mercenaries (William and his Spanish companion, played by
Pedro Pascal, and the character of Sir Ballard, played by Willem Dafoe) conspiring
to escape from their base in the Great Wall with a hoard of black powder. As well as
being untrustworthy, these characters also represent greed and disloyalty. This
unflattering portrait of the Westerners is a side effect of the Confucian theme of
xinren, which sets in opposition Eastern values against Western ways.
     There are obviously two competing viewpoints of martial values represented
by the Chinese and the Westerners in the film. The martial values are manifest not
just in philosophical principles but also in the styles and features of fighting and
combat. Notably, there is the use of women as frontline soldiers and the way they
fight is quite extraordinary. One of the best scenes in the film is their unique

80        S. Teo

bungee-jumping style of fighting. The women walk up to a giant scull extending
from the edge of the Great Wall and stand on a huge blade at the end of the scull
from which they jump down to kill the attacking monsters and then are sprung
back up by the bungee cord. Those who are sacrificed (that is, are eaten by the
monsters) are noted by their waistbands which rebound back to the soldiers at the
wall. This incredible style of the action, and the monsters themselves, can only be
attributed to the intrinsically fantastic qualities of shenguai wuxia. Clearly, in the
film, the Western mercenaries observing the battle can hardly believe what they
are seeing. Hence, the dominant impression is that of Confucian Orientalism and
the Western characters’ total immersion into this whole environment, which is the
intended effect.
     This sense of immersion returns us to the issue of sameness, which raises the
question of perspective. There is an internal tension between Eastern and Western
perceptions in The Great Wall, a tension that is ultimately resolved through
cooperation and William’s eventual capitulation to Commander Lin’s view of why
she fights. The Confucian Orientalism of the film hinges on the militaristic values of
both sides, and the military strength of the East seems to prevail (the historical
context of the Song Dynasty is interesting since it raises a curious point about
Chinese military strength because historically, the dynasty was defeated in 1127 by
the northern Jurchens who went on to establish the Jin Dynasty in the north and
northeastern parts of China; the taotie is an allegory of the Jurchens, and their
defeat in the film is effectively a fantasy of Chinese military strength). Arif Dirlik
reminds us of the “relationship between orientalism and power” (Dirlik 1996, 101),
and the film’s relation with this adage is that it shows the Orientalism of the East to
be a source of power. The film exists as evidence of this power as it illustrates the
Western immersion into Confucian Orientalism. Such an immersion is more a sign
of the growing strength and power of Chinese cinema in the international market.
As the Chinese film market becomes the world’s largest, the film industries of the
West (Europe and America) will invariably seek to immerse themselves into this
market. Consequently, the characteristics, features, and values in Confucian
Orientalism will be increasingly ascendant.
     The exponential growth of Chinese cinema in the last 10 years or so point to a
convergence of commercial interests between East and West although the rise of
unilateralism and protectionism in the United States may gradually derail this
convergence. However, from the cultural point of view, the case of Confucian
Orientalism in the cinema suggests a more balanced form of global immersion—
and this is perhaps the true test of globalization. The international failure of
The Great Wall, which was the most expensive movie ever made in China at the
time (reputed to have cost US$150 million; it is certainly the most expensive
co-production anywhere), may point to a flawed but nevertheless emblematic

Outlook in Martial Arts Film        81

effort towards globalization from the Chinese perspective. But its failure is unlikely
to discourage future efforts at co-productions, at least from the standpoint of
Confucian Orientalism. In terms of its historical movement in association with the
rise of Asian Cinema, Confucian Orientalism is compelled to present its own point
of view alongside or against the prevailing tides of Western Orientalism. So long as
the Chinese market maintains its allure to the West, the movement towards
Confucian Orientalism and towards a balanced view of East-West understanding
and cooperation will persist.

6 Conclusion
My discussion above has reviewed the notion of Confucian Orientalism as a
movement manifested through the martial arts genre. I have put forward certain
motivational and conceptual elements that distinguish the genre as a form,
offering different styles and perceptions from how Western Orientalism might view
it. Confucian Orientalism has grown as a response to the international reception
and expectations of Asian films, deploying features and characteristics of exoti-
cism and mystery-fantasy to win over Western audiences. The martial arts genre,
with its historical setting and exotic styles of action, is intrinsically conducive to
the cinematic self-Orientalizing movement undertaken by Asian filmmakers. It
began as a process that first won international recognition through the jidaigeki of
the Japanese director Kurosawa Akira and spurred on many other Asian film-
makers to engage with the process, using Kurosawa’s films as models. The epic
grandeur of Confucian Orientalism in the Chinese cinema as represented in the
films of Zhang Yimou is an offshoot of Kurosawa’s exemplary remodeling of
Orientalism in his own jidaigeki opus. The nature of Confucian Orientalism is self-
motivation and while it is directed towards external fields of recognition, there may
be reason to think of it as an independent movement of thought and aesthetics in
Asian cinemas. That is to say that where Western recognition may not be fully
satisfied or realized, the rationale and motivation of Confucian Orientalism can
stand alone.

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Bionote
Stephen Teo
Nanyang Technological University, Singapore, Singapore
steo@ntu.edu.sg

Stephen Teo is an associate professor at the Wee Kim Wee School of Communication and
Information, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore. He is the author of many books on
Asian cinema and Chinese martial arts films, including Hong Kong Cinema: The Extra Dimensions
(London: British Film Institute, 1997), King Hu’s A Touch of Zen (Hong Kong University Press, 2005),
Wong Kar-wai (British Film Institute, 2005), Chinese Martial Arts Cinema: The Wuxia Tradition
(Edinburgh University Press, 2007). His newest book is Chinese Martial Arts Film and the
Philosophy of Action, to be published by Routledge.