One Paragraph Movie Review: Enter the Dragon

One hundred and thirty-second film: Enter The Dragon. Okay, I get it. I get why people think Bruce Lee is hot. I get why people think this is one of the toughest, most manly films ever made, despite almost everyone in it being dressed in their pyjamas. I almost get why kung fu movies are a bit of alright. But mostly I get how insanely enjoyable it can be to watch a film containing every single stereotype and every single movie villain trope ever conceived. Hero and villain fighting in a room full of mirrors! Wiggly-screen flashbacks to clue us in on character back-stories! Villain stroking a white cat with a metal hand! African American sidekick only wanting four or five girls in his room tonight because he’s a bit tired! Chicken’s feet! I mean, the occupational health and safety standards in the drug lab are atrocious, but the fight scenes are AMAZING. This is pure, unadulterated, self-aware garbage with semi-constipated fighting faces and proper 1970s nipples — there’s practically NOTHING not to like about it. Except, obviously, that it’s still a kung fu movie. Four busy banquet sumo wrestlers out of five.