Enter The Dragon (1973) ****1/2

Enter The Dragon (1973) isn't the greatest martial film ever made because it contains non-stop fights or the best choreography or the most impressive stunts. The movie, which celebrates its 50th anniversary next week, combines James Bond intrigue with blaxploitation style, and, even though it opens with a fight scene, it takes its time setting up characters and easing its way toward the iconic showdown. 

No, ETD is the greatest martial arts film ever made because of Bruce Lee and his influence. He spends the runtime alternately observing, simmering, glaring at his foes, slinking around like a cat, or kicking major ass with his lightning fast moves. Bruce's philosophies, expounded in the picture, and his attitude, fully on display as well, made him as much of an icon as his astounding physical ability. Every kid who has ever watched a Bruce Lee movie has fallen in love with his style, quoted him, imitated him, wished they could be him. The man was a badass but he was also charismatic as hell.

As much as ETD is Bruce's show, it does dedicate a good deal of screen time to its other two leads, John Saxon and Jim Kelly. While Warner Bros. likely did this out of fear that an Asian actor couldn't carry the film on their own, it's still pretty cool for the time for a major studio picture to have a multiracial makeup shared across the trio of leads. Plus, Saxon and Kelly both have a ton of charm of their own and provide much entertainment. 

Besides the unforgettable finale in the hall of mirrors (a trope first used in Orson WellesThe Lady From Shanghai (1947) (review))—as well as a few other equally memorable fight sequences—I'd argue that much of ETD's success relies on Lalo Schifrin's propulsive, mysterious, and groovy score. The prolific composer (who is still alive at 91, as of this writing!)—best known for the Mission: Impossible theme—is also responsible for some of the coolest movie scores in the form of four of the five Dirty Harry films, Bullitt (1968), Cool Hand Luke (1967) (review), and The Amityville Horror (1979) (review), among many others. Credit is due to director Robert Clouse as well for moments where silence is used to maximum effect and where the story beats are given time to breath.

ETD was hugely profitable and made Bruce Lee a mega-star but sadly he never got to experience the response to the film, as he died just one month before it premiered. Its legacy (and the man's) carries on though, in the form of an immensely rewatchable, fun, and thrilling slice of cinema.























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