SpottieOttieDopalicious Reflections on Cinema

BERRY GORDY’S THE LAST DRAGON

     A portion of Trey Ellis’ seminal essay, “The New Black Aesthetic,” elucidates on how 80’s films like Hollywood Shuffle and I’m Gonna Git You Sucka challenge the image of the hypermasculine/ultracool black male not only by satirizing the blaxploitation flicks of the 70’s but by offering an alternative to that image.  One crucial film—released a few years prior to the aforementioned movies—that is not referenced is Berry Gordy’s The Last Dragon.  Last Dragon is arguably the first 80’s film that pays homage to and critiques the black cultural icons that were worshipped during Nixon’s reign.  The villian, Sho-Nuff, the self-proclaimed Shogun of Harlem, is frontloaded with Richard Roundtree’s sexual flair and toughness and the campiness of Jim Kelly’s jive-talk.  He’s the ultimate alpha male figure flanked by an unrighteous posse of b-boys and b-girls who look like they’ve “come right out of a comic book”.  Like I’m Gonna Git You Sucka, Last Dragon’s gives us a vastly different version of a black protagonist that is rarely captured in 70’s action cinema: one who does not misconstrue sexuality with stature, or tough-guy posturing with confidence.

      “Bruce” Leroy Green’s character is so clueless about sex that his precocious brother, Richie, couches him by spinning a parable about “the art of making love”.  He concludes his discourse with the belief that if the opportunity presented itself Leroy would not even be equipped with a paintbrush.  Richie even transcends into Dr. Ruth mode by dropping science on the efficacy of stroking: “Leroy, it can really hurt if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

     In terms of confidence, Leroy deems himself unworthy of being both the boyfriend and bodyguard of Laura Charles—a stunning veejay played by Prince protégé Denise Richards (aka Vanity).  Leroy acquires sexual experience and confidence by living vicariously through Bruce Lee’s screen characters.  He uses these films as schemas on how to navigate through his budding relationship with Laura and through the obstacle of locating the Master.  In one of the best scenes, Laura invites Leroy to her network’s studio to show clips of Lee in action: both Jeet Kune Do and kissing wise.  A very awkward moment happens during the latter.  Taking his cue from the clip, Leroy develops the courage to make out with Laura.  The ensuing clip of Lee infiltrating the enemy’s crib in disguise gives Leroy the courage to approach the fortune cookie employees as to the whereabouts of the Master.  His abrupt departure leaves Laura hot and bothered and perplexed.  

      Because I’m still in love with Last Dragon twenty-two years after its release does not mean that I can’t extract its major flaw.  It’s difficult for me to believe that Leroy never got any play until Laura Charles stepped onto the scene.  He’s extremely handsome.  Hence, his coyish disposition and preference for silk Mandarin kung fu suits could not have made him lose a ridiculous amount of cool points with the ladies.  His younger brother does not share my sentiments.  During the first act, Richie stresses mad concern about Leroy questioning the nature of his sexual orientation to his father over breakfast: “He’s weird. Wears funny clothes.  Don’t mess with no babes.  People talk you know.” Leroy Green, Sr. played by Jim Moody (no relation to me) immediately comes to his eldest son’s defense in this statement: “Richie, when I came to this neighborhood people thought I was weird—a black man with a pizza shop.  Now, there ain’t a hungry soul in Harlem that don’t know my slogan: ‘Jus’ directa yo feetsa to Daddy Green’s pizza’”.

     Leroy Sr.’s testimony addresses what Last Dragon is all about: Who cares if you get blasted for defying the norm? Be yourself.  Eventually people will accept you. Throughout much of the film, though, the theme of both identity and acceptance is a running joke that sits above Leroy, Jr.’s freshly sheened curls—he doesn’t realize that the Master is closer to him than he thinks, and he deems there’s nothing amiss about eating popcorn with chopsticks.  Imagine the hardship of Leroy Green, Sr. being called a “sellout” for making pizzas instead of cornbread.  Imagine the hardship of a young Bruce Lee receiving criticism for giving martial arts lessons to Americans during a time when traditional Chinese practitioners insisted on keeping these teachings hermetically sealed within their own culture.  Like his father and his martial arts demi-god, Leroy must brush the dirt of haters off his shoulders. 

     The question of identity is brilliantly captured in one scene where Leroy tries regaining access into Sum Dum Goy, the fortune cookie company where he is told the Master resides.  The obstacles in his way are three Asian employees who just know they’ve got Soul.  In one of the strangest yet most insightful critiques on racial stereotypes, Leroy gains access into Sum Dom Goy by donning a disguise: that of an ultracool pizza delivery man. 

     This is a place he was denied entranced earlier for not looking and sounding enough like the Superfly/Shaft prototypes (Leroy was clad in his signature Mandarin kung fu outfit and bamboo hat).  In an effort to make Leroy leave, one of the employees throws out a racial epithet reserved for Asians and cuts him down to size: “You just a jive coolie.  The Master don’t see nobody who don’t know how to get down, Baby.  Dig: you too square, Man!” Sensing that Leroy is not hip/black enough to understand slang and in response to Leroy’s attire, another employee knows he can break it down in a language that Leroy can comprehend.  He intervenes by volunteering his services as a translator by imitating the whacky English-dubbed voiceover of a Shaw Brothers film: “You go now.  Chop, chop, Holy Ass out of this place!” 

     Asians with Soul Power and a Black protagonist who has no qualms about eating popcorn with chopsticks: what a fresh take on martial arts cinema and blaxploitation flicks; what a fabulous reversal on cultural stereotypes as well.  The beauty behind the reversal and behind Leroy gaining access into Sum Dom Goy as one bad mother (shut yo mouth! But I’m talkin’ bout Leroy) is that it shows us why stereotypes are so ridiculous in the first place.  Not all Asians can whoop ass and speak broken English.  Not all blacks are smooth operators and versed in slang.  The latter stereotype is duly noted as Leroy approaches the warehouse for a second time.  Before he knocks on the door, Leroy rehearses his greeting and stumbles to nail down the cadence and pitch of: “Hey man, what it look like?” The first time he strives for a baritone.  And the second time he imitates the inflection of a pimp who’s breathed in too much helium.  When the Asian Soul Brothers answer, Leroy encounters some resistance because none of them ordered a pizza with bean sprouts.  But they eventually invite him in to sip wine, shoot craps, and smoke a little herb.  

     As much as Last Dragon parodies 70’s cinema, it also depicts 80’s culture’s obsession with music videos at a time when MTV began to crystallize in the same way that Wild Style captures the genesis of hip-hop emerging in South Bronx, which is what I respect most about the film. Not to mention that it’s campy as hell. 

     A couple of weeks ago a good friend and I looked around the DVD/VHS section of the main Carnegie Library.  I heard a sister say, “Oooh, look! They’ve got Bruce Leroy.” I smiled and remembered the same excitement I felt as a six-year-old standing in a video rental store in Frankfurt, Germany, seeing that the only Beta cassette copy of Last Dragon that the manager carried was finally available after four months.     

Jonathan Moody is a poet/cosmic funkateer who grew up in Ft. Walton Beach, FL. He received his Bachelor’s in psychology from Xavier University of Louisiana and completed his MFA at the University of Pittsburgh. Jonathan currently lives in Houston, TX.