Pag.279
HE AIN’T HEAVY…
“I’ve been meaning to call
you,” said Samo, shifting uncomfortably in his upholstered chair. It had been a
little while since we’d actually had a chance to talk, what with my long stay
in Taiwan and my subsequent disappearance from the face of the earth.
“Me too,” I said. We were
sitting in Samo’s office at Golden Harvest; while he hadn’t achieved my level
of success as an actor, he’d become one of the studio’s most trusted directors and
producers, with a number of solid successes under his substantial belt. “It’s
been a while since we’ve gotten together,” I said. “Been longer since we’ve
worked together.”
Samo nodded. There was a
certain awkwardness in the situation. The last time we’d really worked
together closely, he’d been on top and I’d been his assistant; now, despite my
recent flop, I was a big star, and he was best known for his work behind the
camera. “You haven’t had the time, huh, Little Brother,” he said. It was as
much an accusation as a question.
I nodded, slowly. “I have
time now,” I said. “And I’m sorry.”
He began to say something
harsh, but stopped himself before speaking. A smile spread across his wide
face—a genuine one. “Every time you get knocked down, you always come back
to Big Brother, huh, Jackie?” he said.
He meant it as a joke, and
I took it as one, laughing along. “Guess so,” I said.
“Well, if you really
want to work together…”
“If you think it’s
something you want to do ...”
And he told me an idea that
he’d been kicking around with Leonard, one that would hopefully bump Golden
Harvest back to the top of the box office charts. Rather than showcasing a
single star, why not take a hint from the American successes of films like Cannonball
Run—bringing together a group of well-known names in one movie? If one star
was good, a whole galaxy should be even better.
The idea turned into Winners
and Sinners, a fast-paced action comedy that featured Samo, journeyman
comedians Richard Ng, John Shum, and Stanley Fong, and veteran hunk Charlie
Chin (whose wedding I’d worked at, years before). The five of them played
crooks trying to go straight, and failing when they get mixed up in a Triad
war.
Pag.280
Sibelle Hu was the ingenue, the
love (and lust) interest of the whole motley crew; I was a childhood pal
of the five ex-cons and had grown up to become a cop. To complete our set,
Samo even brought in Yuen Biao for a cameo; the last time I’d worked with
him was in Young Master—I’d given him his first acting part, a small
supporting role, and then he’d gone on to be the lead in a couple of films that
Samo had directed, Knockabout and The Prodigal Son.
It was the first time all three of us had worked together since we were
stuntmen.
It was the first time we’d acted together since our days in the
opera.
The magic was still there. It was the most fun I’d had working on a
movie since I’d left Lo Wei. And the film was a tremendous success, blowing
away all the competition, and producing a bunch of sequels, which were dubbed
the Lucky Stars series.
As for me, I was lucky both to have such friends—and to feel like a star
once more. Any doubt I’d had in myself was erased by the experience of working
again with my closest, oldest friends in the whole wide world.
Lucky stars
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