8-6-09 : THE MAN WHO WOULD BE CAINE

Memories of David Carradine

"(Death is) an end, perhaps, as waking is an end to sleep"  Carradine, as Caine, in the Kung Fu episode 'Superstition' .

The Korean comedian Margaret Cho once observed, in Rolling Stone magazine, that the TV series 'Kung Fu' should have been called "That Guy's Not Chinese..."

To me, that was the whole point. As a kid growing up in rural England, I became fascinated with kung fu and Chinese culture and Shaolin Temple and just about all the things that remain my passions today, just because that guy wasn't, in fact, Chinese. We all worshipped Bruce Lee, and some of us even worshipped Angela Mao and Wang Yu, but I knew I could never become them, because I was, irrefutably, 'Not Chinese'. Just like Kwai Chang Caine, the (supposedly) half-Chinese Shaolin monk played by the late, great David Carradine...

There's an old saying that you should never meet your heroes. Certainly, in the case of David Carradine, there seemed to be, judging from press reports, a serious discrepancy between the beatific Buddhist beatnik who walked the Old West, and the shambling, oft-inebriated Hollywoodite that protrayed him. His was a 'crazy dharma' indeed, but, God, I loved the man...

I first met David through the kind offices of British talk show host Jonathon Ross, with whom I'd cooperated on some previous venture. Ross had featured Carradine as a guest on his show, and his assistant obligingly gave me the name of David's hotel. I called up the room, told David I wanted to interview him for my magazine (true, as it happened!) and he just asked me to come over. (And I didn't even have to take the pebble out of his hand...)

At the time, Carradine was married to Gail Jensen, and we three ended up in a restaurant in London's Chinatown until closing time. David liked to drink and he liked to talk, two attributes that would remain relatively constant for most of his life. He complained, in jest, that all I wanted to talk about was kung fu and 'Kung Fu', but that didn't stop him talking Shaolin all night long.

The waiters were putting the chairs on the tables when 'Grasshopper Boy' (as he was known in Chinese) got up to leave. Outside, I hailed a cab for them. Gail got in first, David turned and, in a gesture of farewell, punched me in the chest. I remember he was wearing, appropriately enough, a ying and yang ring. The taxi pulled away and I stood there, breathing the night air of Chinatown, thinking 'Christ, I just took a punch from Kwai Chang Caine...'.

Years passed, I had relocated to Hong Kong, and, after suitable misadventures, had the great pleasure of working with Jackie Chan on a documentary, 'Jackie Chan: My Stunts'. Word came from on high that our set was to be graced by none other than David Carradine, who was to interview Chan for a documentary about Shaolin. (Jackie confessed that he had never actually been there...!)

David manifested himself on the stage in a suede coat, with a flute across his shoulders. He and Chan sat and rapped for the cameras. When the appointed hour was done, David, who, quite rightly, did not recognise me in the slightest, started pitching Jackie on a project for them to do together. "Talk to Bey," suggested JC, pointing to me. "He reads all my English scripts..." (which, at the time, was true.)

So it came to pass that I found myself in a hotel coffee shop with DC and his fourth wife, Marina Anderson, imbibing lethal amounts of capuccino (David was going through a rare dry spell...) as he drank (coffee) and talked. I also got him to sign my collection of 'Kung Fu' memorabila, including my copy of his splended autobiography, Endless Highway. Once again, Chinese waiters put chairs on tables, once again, it was time to go.

This time, we stayed in touch. He sent me tapes of his music, and ideas for films. I did actually get him a gig on what was meant to be a Jackie Chan film, Sword Searchers. (He got paid, but the film was never made!) My sister Kate ran into David at the Celebrity Centre in LA.

I met Carradine at Cannes the next year, and we had a wonderful lunch. Afterwards, much to the outraged chagrin of my Media Asia colleagues, I lent him the patio of our office so that he could smoke while the BBC interviewed him. (Hey, this is Kwai Chang Caine we're talking about, who, even if he was 'Not Chinese', could take the pebble out of your hand, and probably crush your nuts at the same time...)

We met again in LA and Hong Kong and in between, called on occasion, email became the thing and we wrote back and forth, I conveyed my delight that he had been cast as the villain in 'Kill Bill', and he retorted that there were no villains in Tarantino movies... I thought David's fantastic performance in the title role would have led to more of a late life renaissance, but it was not to be. Carradine returned, cheerfully enough, to the B movie and tele-feature treadmill.

So it came to pass that I ran into him, for the final time, at Hengdian Studios, an event that I record in detail in an earlier blog. It was my pleasure to introduce him, for a second time, to Jackie Chan, and from there we repaired to the bar. Guess what? He dranked and talked, and I drank and listened, and I talked a bit, too.

Like a star in the east you could set your ship by, he seemed eternal, not old but ageless, as someone once said of Paul Newman, the years had purified, not eroded, his features.

In a sense, to reference the final episode of 'Kung Fu', the circle was complete. As a child, David, unknowingly, had started me down the path my life took. As a man, I got to share tales from the road with him in that Chinese bar. That's how I'll remember my idol and friend; wreathed in smoke and memories.

Too many stories to set down here, buy me a drink and I'll tell you the rest; from what I know of the man who would be Caine, he'd like it that way...

Bill : How do I look?

Bride : You look ready.

Finale, Quentin Tarantino's 'Kill Bill'