Closed Fists and Open Palms
How Shang Chi turns mourning into dancing
BY ZACHARY LEE
Warning: Spoilers for Shang-Chi and The Legend of the Ten Rings follow
Shang-Chi and The Legend of the Ten Rings has a lot of firsts going for it. The film tells the story of the titular Shang-Chi (played by Simu Liu) who must stop his father Wenwu, (played by Tony Leung) who is leader of the Ten Rings Organization, from unleashing a supernatural evil into the world. It is the first Marvel superhero film with an Asian lead and predominantly Asian cast (shout out to Wong, Jimmy Woo, Helen Cho and others who held it down in movies prior). Likewise, it is the first film to chronologically take place post-Avengers: Endgame and — to the laughter of millennials everywhere — the first Marvel film to audibly mention Venmo. It is also one of the first superhero films in a long time that borrows from genre conventions rather than being shackled by them; an opening fight sequence taking place on a bus cleverly utilizes jackets, laptops, and bus cords to chaotic and humorous effect in a way that is refreshingly free of the inordinate CGI that usually plagues most superhero films.
However, for all of its groundbreaking and forward-facing firsts, Shang-Chi and The Legend of the Ten Rings is a film concerned with looking back. Thematically and visually, it plays off and pays homage to concepts and ideas that were established in the earliest Marvel Cinematic Universe films, and there are extended sequences that seem to grapple with the sins of Shang Chi’s (many) fathers (and mothers). In one poignant sequence, Wenwu describes how terrorists wanted to instill fear in America, so they appropriated the Ten Rings persona and hired an actor to caricature Wenwu’s gravitas. Diehard viewers will know that Wenwu is referencing the events of 2013’s Iron Man 3, and on the surface this scene can be read as an Easter egg that connects Shang-Chi to the established MCU world. On a deeper level though, this rebuke hearkens to early depictions of Wenwu’s character in Marvel Comics that were steeped in racist caricatures of Asians, right down to his nonsensical name, Fu Manchu. It’s evident that Shang-Chi and The Legend of the Ten Rings isn’t afraid to interrogate the troubled foundations of its central antagonist and to spotlight Marvel’s problematic past.
And yet, Shang-Chi does not stop merely at deconstruction but also speaks to how painful histories and pasts can be the ultimate foundation for one’s healing and growth. Throughout the film, Shang-Chi desperately wants to forget his abusive and harsh past; Wenwu trained him and his sister Xu Xialing (Meng'er Zhang) to be assassins, and when we see him at the start of the film, he has done everything he can to escape the shadow of that life. When his best friend Katy (played by Awkwafina) is threatened and he has to tap into the dark past he wanted so hard to hide (read: his brutal fighting skills), he does so but only out of a sense of begrudging obligation. Visually, Liu does a great job communicating Shang-Chi’s angst while he fights; he gets no enjoyment from unleashing carnage even while the audience finds these fights thrilling. Indeed, Shang-Chi wants to forget his past, but it is also the only thing he knows — to kill without question, fight without mercy, and not just defeat but eradicate his enemies.
Shang-Chi, Katy, and Xu Xialing eventually find their way to Ta Lo, the mystical and magical birthplace of Shang-Chi’s and Xialing’s mother, Ying Li (played by Fala Chen). Shang-Chi attempts to learn the fighting style of the people there but becomes increasingly frustrated at his inability to execute the moves. In a powerful moment, his aunt Ying Nan (played by Michelle Yeoh) opens his hands, which were clenched into tight fists up until that point. The fists symbolize the fighting style of Wenwu and the Ten Rings, and only after Shang-Chi opens his hands is he able to more fully learn the Ta Lo fighting style. Ying Nan shares, “You are a product of all who came before you … you are your mother, and whether you like it or not, you are also your father.” Indeed, it is only when Shang Chi learns to not run from his past but to accept it, painful as it is, that his path to true healing and flourishing can begin. Director Destin Daniel Cretton exemplifies this in the film’s denouement. Shang-Chi has to fight the mystical Dweller of the Darkness that his father unleashed, and he uses both fighting styles: the fisted power of Wenwu’s Ten Rings and Ying Li’s open palm form. It is only through the synergy of these two styles, the combination of intensity and beauty, that Shang-Chi is finally able to defeat the Dweller. Here, Shang-Chi’s willing embrace of both fighting styles shows that while he may have had a painful past, those pains can cease to define him and become a foundation for healing.
Watching this film reminded me much of the story of Joseph in Genesis. Joseph, who was sold into slavery by his brothers, falsely accused of sexual assault and then jailed for said accusation, finds himself at the climax of his journey, face to face with the very brothers who threw him in jail. His brothers are worried (rightfully so) of retaliation given that Joseph is now second to no one but Pharaoh himself. While they brace themselves for punishment and vengeance, Joseph shares, “But as for you, you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, in order to bring it about as it is this day, to save many people alive.”[1] Joseph does not explain away or excuse what his brothers have done; he calls them out and holds them accountable for their selfishness and cruelty. Yet at the same time, he gives praise to God for His Sovereignty, acknowledging that in God’s power and Sovereignty (and in a way perhaps that he fully cannot understand) God can redeem Joseph’s greatest pain and trials into something good. In many ways, Shang-Chi and his tortured relationship with his father mirrors aspects of this story; Shang-Chi most likely thought there was no possible way the hardships he endured could be redeemed. We should not be afraid to call out or name the traumas or things that have wounded us; to do so would be a form of denial that only produces more bitterness. But tragedy and hurt do not have the final say, and God has the power to take one’s mourning [2], and make it a foundation for someone to dance [3] on.
SOURCES
Genesis 50:20 NKJV
Psalm 30:11-12 NIV
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KwX1f2gYKZ4