Director: Lau Ke Lung
Starring: Jackie Chan, Ti Lung, Anita Mui
 
Who’s the hero? Wong Fei-hung, a doctor’s son who is forbidden from drinking and fighting, but who does both excellently.
What’s his style? It’s Jackie Chan, so gleeful, daring and effortlessly athletic, with a couple hearty scoops of “drunken” fighting, in which he staggers around, still kicking ass.
Why’s he fighting? Because oppressive imperialists are trying to steal Chinese artifacts, and if they get away with that, then what’s next?
 
Why's this movie here? In this, Jackie Chan stars as, Wong Fei-hung, the mischievous master of a form of martial arts known as “drunken boxing.” When Jackie gets to fighting, pouring alcohol down his gullet does for him what spinach does to Popeye. A spectacularly gifted physical comedian and perhaps the greatest stuntman of all time, Chan wobbles and swerves while kicking and punching his foes, throwing in nifty stunts like running up walls or jumping feet first through train compartment windows, just for fun. The barebones plot essentially has him fighting imperialists that are looking to steal ancient Chinese artifacts by disguising them inside boxes from a steel foundry. The main point of this is to stage the final, 20-minute, jaw-droppingly intricate fight scene in the foundry where Chan literally gets set on fire and pushed into a bed of coals (as the credits run we see the behind-the-scenes footage of him getting doused with fire extinguishers). He’s dazzlingly quick in action, hilarious physically in a fashion that hasn’t been better since movies added sound and genuinely exuberant in a way that made his international stardom inevitable.