Did you ever see the American TV show, Kung Fu? It ran for only three seasons in the early 1970s but has been astonishingly influential. So influential, in fact, that when its star hanged himself here in Bangkok — where this column is being written — newspapers all over the world made many references to the importance of Kung Fu. But we are getting ahead of ourselves.
The Kung Fu TV show had its origins in a now-largely forgotten 60’s TV series called the Green Hornet. This was based on an old comic book and was essentially, a racist, classist re-tread of Batman. The Green Hornet was a millionaire who wore a mask and fought crime in his spare time. But unlike Batman, he did not have a little catamite called Robin. His assistant was his chauffeur, who, because he was Chinese, not only knew his place but also knew martial arts. The sole importance of the Green Hornet so many decades later lie in the identity of the chauffeur. He was played by an unknown Chinese actor called Bruce Lee. Lee had an idea for another TV show. Fresh from the success of the Green Hornet he persuaded US networks that the Japanese martial arts that were popular during that era (judo, karate, etc.) were on their way out and that the future lay in the then relatively-obscure Chinese martial art of kung fu.
Lee wanted to make a show about a Chinese Buddhist monk who comes to America in the late 19th century (or the beginning of the 20th) to work on the railroads. The monk faces racial prejudice and copes with the violence of the American West by spouting peaceful Buddhist philosophy for much of the show. In the last ten minutes, however, philosophy fails and the monk starts kicking everyone and beating them senseless.
It was a good idea and the networks bought it but the show took so long to make that Lee began to lose heart. Eventually, the networks decided that American audiences were not ready for a Chinese hero. Oh yes, the monk would remain a Chinaman. But he would be played by an American in yellow paint.
A disgusted Lee went back to Hong Kong, where he starred in several kung fu movies, which, much to his surprise became global hits and took Chinese martial arts to new audiences. It turned out that Lee had been right after all. Judo was on its way out. And the world was ready for kung fu.
Lee died suddenly at a young age, at the height of his success while making love to his Chinese mistress (his wife was American). To this day, we don’t know what killed him. One version has it that he was killed by a Chinese triad over a business deal gone wrong. Another is that he took too many of the wrong kind of Chinese aphrodisiacs. The official version, however, is that he had a heart attack. Meanwhile, the Kung Fu TV series went on air with David Carradine, an American actor, playing the Chinese monk. Not only did Carradine have no Chinese blood, he also had no interest in martial arts. Professionals did all the stunts.
But this mattered less than one might have thought. Carradine was part of a Hollywood dynasty (his father, John, was a famous character actor and his brother, Keith, went on to become a star). But he was also a sort of hippie who identified with America’s weariness with violence in the final days of the Vietnam War. Carradine took drugs, wore his hair long and when Rolling Stone magazine interviewed him for a cover story, posed for the photographer watering the plants with his own fluids. In a sense, he captured the mood of America. Kung fu became a hit, not so much because of the martial arts but mainly because of the philosophy. Carradine’s post-Kung Fu career was less impressive. He made a few good movies, but acted in a lot of crap till Quentin Tarantino gave him a big break playing Bill in the second Kill Bill movie.
Even so, he had a complicated life marrying five times and embarking on a famous relationship with the slightly flaky actress, Barbara Hershey, who changed her name to Barbara Seagull when they were together, either because she got tired of being mistaken for a chocolate bar or because Seagull struck her as being a cooler name.
The day before I arrived in Bangkok, Carradine was found dead in his room at the Nai Lert Park Hotel (the old Bangkok Hilton). His body was discovered hanging from the ceiling and the Thai Police thought he had killed himself. Further investigations revealed that this was unlikely to have been the case.
From all accounts, Carradine had been cheerful and far from suicidal, entertaining guests at the hotel by playing the piano in the lobby. Moreover, it wasn’t just his neck that was in a noose. His penis was similarly encumbered. The reluctant conclusion of the Thai Police was that he had been attempting some auto-erotic sex game that went wrong.
You will remember the death of Michael Hutchence, the INXS front man, was accompanied by the same kind of speculation. If this is true then David Carradine will probably go down in history as the only man who came to Bangkok and died of masturbation — hardly a great advertisement for a city that is popularly regarded as the sex capital of Southeast Asia.
But I couldn’t help thinking of the parallels. Bruce Lee conceptualised the Kung Fu TV show and died in the throes of sex. His successor, Carradine, died in similarly sordid circumstances. I suppose sex and death are the great equalisers.