If you haven’t seen Kung Fu Hustle, you’re not only missing out a martial arts movie that makes wicked fun of the genre even as it tells a solid genre tale, you’re also missing out on seeing some positive portrayals of queerness.
First there’s the landlady’s husband. Yes, he’s a lush and he delightfully pats any fanny that moves , flirting with men as well as women, but bear in mind that in their introductory scene Landlady and Husband are presented, if not in full chibi mode, as clear caricatures. Personally, I adored how he flirted with Tailor.
Tailor. Ah yes, Tailor. What a wonderful queer portrayal. Sure, the landlady berates him as a fairy and he prances under her admonishments, but who says martial arts can’t have a campy moment? Besides, he soon reveals himself to be a martial arts master, one of a noble trio who die trying to protect their home that’s Pig Sty Alley. (Yes, die. And you know what? My kids thought it was cool that heros died. What a concept, they told me; it heightened their awareness of honor and sealed their viewer loyalities to Pig Sty Alley and why don’t more movies do that, they asked?)
Finally, there’s the sexually ambiguous unnamed character I chose to call Butt Boy. Easy to spot, he’s the one who wanders around in pajama bottoms that hang halfway off his ass. Look for him in the “evening comes to Pig Sty Alley” establishing shot. He’s the one sitting stooped, pants down, waiting for casual sodomy. (Bet that automatically got Kung Fu Hustle its R-rating.) Look for him at movie’s end where he’s flirting with a girl on the street, just outside the candy shop.
In days where Microsoft flips back to gay rights support on the blue side of Washington state, Spokane’s mayor is hauled kicking and screaming from his closet from the red side of the state (with claims of possible pedophilia worsening already established hypocrisy), and John Kerry sells out to make nice with the south, maybe everyone should stop and think about these character portrayals mean.
Which leads me to say yet again: Thank you, Stephen Chow.
