LO DOWN [226 a 230]

Pag.226

LO DOWN 

“Welcome back, kid!” said Lo, grinning like a bespectacled Buddha. “I knew you had it in you.”

I was standing in Lo’s office, surrounded by the applause of the company’s pat-and full-time personnel. Willie had set a vase of fresh flowers on my desk, Madame Lo kissed me on the cheek as soon as she saw me, and in general, people treated me like a conquering hero. I flinched slightly when even Lo gave me a hearty hug. 

It was all too much. Just three months ago, I’d been loaned out like an old set of clothes, and now that I’d returned, covered in glory, everyone was acting as if they’d known I was destined for greatness all along. Besides Willie and Madame Lo, who had ever treated me nicely here? Who had ever thought I had a chance of succeeding? Certainly not Lo. 

I barely listened as he went on and on about the plans he had in store for me. Finally, claiming to be exhausted, I asked to be excused. Formerly, this kind of impertinence would have sent Lo into a rage: how dare I refuse to listen to his rants!

 

Obviously, things were different now. 

“Whatever you want, Jackie, whatever you want!” he said. “After all, you’re our star!” The emphasis was on the word our, not the word star.

I nodded and smiled weakly, shaking hands with some of the proud and happy staffers who saw my return as a chance for the company to finally make some real money. 

I was halfway down the stairs when I heard a staccato of footsteps behind me. It was Willie, who evidently had made his own excuse for leaving moments after me. 

“Hold up, dear boy,” he said. “I think we need to talk. I’ll buy you lunch. Though I suppose now that you’re such a big star, you should be treating me.”

Over the slurping of noodles, I told my troubles to Willie: my fear that Lo would take away the freedom I’d found with N. G. and Yuen Woo-ping, that he’d put me in projects that didn’t suit my personality and wouldn’t appeal to my fans, that a continued connection with Lo would ruin all hopes I had of building on my Seasonal successes. 

Willie took off his glasses and polished them with a clean handkerchief. 

Pag.227

“It’s a difficult situation, Jackie,” he said. “You are under contract for at least one more picture. And, once that contract is finished, Lo will no doubt want you to sign another one.” 

Replacing his glasses, he rubbed at his mustache and put on an expression of concentration. 

“Okay. You have three main problems that I can see,” he said, counting them off on his fingers. “The first is that you want to make sure Lo won’t interfere with your style. That’s the easy one. We’ll tell him that you want to direct your next film. 

“The second is that you want to make sure that any contract you might sign has an out clause—in case someone gives you a better offer. That’s no problem, either. I’ll make sure the contracts guy puts that into any agreement Lo offers you. 

The last is that you need to find out the market rate for Jackie Chan. And—I shouldn’t be doing this, but I will anyway—I’ll make some phone calls. There’s nothing to worry about, Jackie. The best is yet to come.”

Two bowls of noodles later, the world did look quite a bit better. I was going to get a chance to direct my own film. Lo Wei would stay out of my hair. And if my next movie succeeded like the ones I’d done with Seasonal, I’d be able to demand anything I wanted in my new contract. Willie was right.

The best was yet to come. 

Unfortunately, by the time we got to Korea, where Lo had decided we’d shoot our next picture, it was clear that Willie’s first “no problem” was going to be something of a problem. Lo wasn’t about to give up his chance to direct me now that I was hot, and pass up the opportunity to add another million-dollar movie to his résumé. 

“Who does this kid think he is?” he raged to Willie, as I sat out of sight but not out of earshot. “He gets lucky a couple of times, and all of a sudden he thinks he’s king of Hong Kong. Well, I’m not going to let him screw up a golden opportunity. An experienced hand, someone who knows what plays and what doesn’t play—”

I wandered out of hearing range of the conversation. An experienced hand. 

Experienced at what? At making me look like a fool? 

My heart jumped up into my throat as I felt myself growing furious at Lo’s stubborn pride. I’d rather never make a movie again than walk through another of his stupid attempts to turn me into something I wasn’t. 

Gathering my resolve, I ran back to my hotel room and packed my travel bag. Lo could do whatever he wanted, but he wouldn’t be doing it to Jackie Chan. I didn’t speak much Korean, and I had no idea how I could get back to Hong Kong, or Australia, or anywhere where I had friends or family. I was beyond caring. I’d sleep in the streets if I had to, if it only meant a chance to escape the curse of Lo Wei. 

Pag.228

I clattered down the stairs, slammed open the door, and drew startled glances from bystanders as I bolted into the hotel lobby. Racing through the streets of Seoul, I ran at top speed, as far as I could, out and away. It felt like hours by the time I stopped, alone in a part of the city I'd never seen before. I wandered through buildings that were beginning to shutter, looking for somewhere to stay, and listening for the sounds of a familiar tongue. 

 Finally, I found a small place that looked like an inn or boarding-house, and (using cash, sign language, and the few broken words of Korean that I knew) got a place to sleep for the night. 

No one knew where I was, least of all me.

 

On the one hand, this was exactly what I wanted—to be alone and free. On the other, now that I was away from the source of my frustration, my heart had begun to soften, thinking about the people I'd left behind: Willie, my stuntmen, and of course, Madame. 

Leaving my small room, I gestured to the boardinghouse manager that I wanted to make a call. After I "convinced" her with some more money, she reluctantly led me to her phone, standing suspiciously behind one shoulder as I dialed the number for one of my stuntmen, who demanded to know where I was. I told him, after getting him to promise not to tell anyone else, and asked him for an update on the situation at the set. 

"Bad," he said. "Lo had a fit; he's lying down now, and Madame is worried—about him and about you." 

I felt a twinge of guilt as I told him to let them know that I was all right, but that I wouldn’t be coming back. 

An hour later, as I sat on my lumpy boardinghouse, there was a knock on the door. 

It was Madame. 

She looked heartbroken and sad, and her eyes were red with tears. 

"Jackie, please," she said. "Don't go." 

"It's over," I said. "I'm not going to let him run my life anymore." 

She extended her hand, touched me gently on the arm. "Try and understand. He's been in the business so many years, and he's lost so much. First Bruce left him, and now—now you. If he's squeezing too tightly, it’s because he's afraid to lose you. And I know he's wrong, "she said. "But then, I'm afraid of losing you, too." 

Somehow, in that instant, I saw Lo as she saw him—a faded star, a man whose youth and greatest success were behind him, hoping against hope that the fire of his career could be relit by mine. I didn't like him, but I could pity him. And for the sake of the woman whom I'd come to think of as a surrogate mother, I realized that I'd have to stay; stay and fight for my rights, perhaps, but not run away, not abandon Lo. Not without giving him another chance. 

I hugged Madame Lo, and threw my still-packed bag over one shoulder. Together we walked back to the set.

Pag.229

Willie was waiting for us, smoking a cigarette and wearing a self-satisfied smile. "Welcome back," he said, "director."

 

And so I made my directorial debut, Fearless Hyena. I was working with a smaller budget than in my Seasonal films, but I also had the benefit of knowing more or less what I wanted. As usual, I played a young man who underwent unusual training to learn an obscure martial arts style—in this case, Emotional kung fu. To defeat the villain, played by Yen Shi-kwan, I learned how to get in touch with my feelings, attacking him with joy, anger, and even tears. I still had much to learn about filmmaking, and in a lot of ways Hyena is a more uneven movie than Drunken Master. 

Still, that didn't seem to matter to the audiences, who mobbed the theaters when it came out. Fearless Hyena was my biggest hit to date, not to mention Lo's first blockbuster ever since his Bruce Lee days. More and more, he referred to me as the "son he never had," as his pride and joy. He even bought me a sports car to celebrate Hyena's box office success, though I noticed he still paid me only HK$6000 in salary. 

"Double what you used to make!" he said, proud of his generosity. I guess he felt that, since the contract required him to pay me only HK$3000, anything he gave me on top of that was an act of amazing benevolence. 

And every chance he got, he dropped hints about the future—about the big new contract that he expected to sign with me, tying together Lo Wei Productions and Jackie Chan for decades to come. 

"You were right, and I was wrong," said Lo, letting out a strained belly laugh. "It takes a big man to say that he was wrong, eh, Jackie? I'll say it again: I was wrong. It's obvious that you know what you're doing. Director, actor, stunt coordinator, everything. You can do it all. Let's just make sure you keep on doing it for us." 

We were sitting across from one another, Willie and me on one side of the conference table, Lo and his contracts manager on the other side. The seating arrangement wasn't quite coincidence. Even though, as general manager, Willie should have been sitting next to Lo, he’d already made his feelings clear. If Lo Wei Productions was going to keep Jackie Chan, Lo would have to unbutton his notoriously tight pockets. 

"It's not just fair, it's good business sense," Willie had said. "Lo, I'm not given to bluntness, but I do believe that other studios are interested in Jackie. Seasonal would love to have him, of course. Shaw Brothers would give him the keys to the studio. And I've heard that Golden Harvest—"

Lo thumped his fist on the table. "Don't talk to me about Golden Harvest." 

Willie folded his hands together. "As you wish."

 

The mention of his former employers never failed to put Lo into a bad temper. But the last thing he wanted to do was now fly into one of his patented fits of rage.

Pag.230

Controlling himself with effort, he turned back in my direction. "If it's money you want, money it is. Fifty thousand Hong Kong dollars per movie? No problem." 

Willie snorted. "More like a hundred thousand Hong Kong dollars," he said. 

"Whose side are you on, anyway?" Lo screamed. 

One hundred thousand Hong Kong dollars a movie was already more money than I could imagine. I didn't understand why Willie was taking on Lo the way he was; even if the big boss was not about to fire me, he could probably make life miserable for Willie. 

“And a reasonable cancellation clause," said Willie. "One movie's worth. One hundred thousand dollars."

Lo’s face turned an amazing shade of purple verging on violet. To his left, the contracts manager, an anxious old man who lived in perpetual fear of his employer, was already cringing at the inevitable explosion.

It never came. Reaching deep into some hidden well of self-control, Lo managed to choke off his tantrum before it led to physical violence.

"Okay," he said, breathing hard. "You got it. Just sign on the dotted line, Jackie, and we'll take care of the rest."

The contracts manager pulled out a sheet of lined paper. It was blank."

What's this about?" Said Willie, his lip curled in suspicion. 

Lo ignored him. "Sorry, kid, we just got back from Korea, no time to do up all the legalese for a deal as special as this. So, just sign here, we'll get you a copy of the document as soon as it's done, and everyone's happy, right?" He winked at me. "Unless you just want to sign a standard contract."

Before Willie could say anything sarcastic, I grabbed his arm and shook my head. Willie might have been acting in my interest, but he had a job to keep, too. I knew that Willie had taken the position with Lo out of necessity. After Cathay had gone under, Willie found himself stuck in Hong Kong with an expensive rent, a fast-paced lifestyle, and a pocketful of debt; Lo's company was the only one hiring. Even going back home wasn't an option, since Willie's mother and brother had moved over from Malaysia to join him here.

 I didn't want Willie to fight my battles. And besides, for all of his arrogance, I couldn't imagine Lo would ever do something to hurt me—on purpose, that is. I was a star now, not a slave. I was the one calling the shots.

I took the pen and signed the blank contract.

Lo smiled. Willie glowered. The contracts manager sighed. 

I was just glad that the whole thing was finally over, so I could get on with building my new career. Little did I know, of course, that it was far from over. 

In fact, the battle had yet to begin.