Unfortunately, Luo’s relationship with Bao only softens him in fits and starts. They share a tender moment watching old clips from Chan’s films. “Daddy, you were awesome,” she says. Then they cry together, which is less awesome.
Chan’s presence and well-honed clowning make Luo at least partway endearing, as does a camera-ready horse (or horses, probably). But Luo is more convincing as a cranky outlet for old man Jackie Chan’s discontents, like when Luo drunkenly boasts about his professional accomplishments to Mickey’s bougie parents, Donald and Daisy.
Chan also makes time to dismiss other filmmakers who, in their eternal quest to stay on budget and schedule, don’t have time to coddle a below-the-line has-been. Filmmaking was different back in Chan’s day. Now he seems to understand that the past wasn’t so great for everyone, as we see in a couple of unconvincing but pivotal flashbacks involving a younger Bao and a wig-clad Jackie, I mean Luo.
When I interviewed Chan, he spoke with humor and some nostalgia about his work back in the day, when, if you wanted a crane shot, you had to climb a ladder on the edge of a cliff. I don’t see as much warmth in “Ride On," but Luo’s three fight scenes with Dami are satisfying. The closest that Luo comes to an emotional breakthrough—an overwrought life-flashing-before-his-eyes moment during a big stunt—suggests an emotional connection to Red Hare that the rest of the movie never develops. Bao is also credited with this canned revelation, which adds to the dramatic strain.
Still, if Luo were played by anybody but Jackie Chan, you might not have come that close to crying. Uncle Jackie reveals nothing new about himself here, but he occasionally plays the hits. For some, that might be enough.
Now playing in theaters.
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