By Dr. Michelle Ami Reyes
Warning: This review contains spoilers. Please read at your discretion.
F
amily is often an afterthought in the MCU.
In the movies, we are rarely introduced to a superheroes’ parents. From Captain America and Captain Marvel to Ant Man, a vast number of these individuals are disconnected from their parents, siblings, and grandparents. In the case of Tony Stark, Spiderman, Bruce Banner, and Monica Rambeau, their parents are deceased. We discover Hawkeye’s family in Avengers 2, but it is immediate (wife and kids), not generational (parents, grandparents). The list goes on. Throughout the Marvel franchise, we’ve become accustomed to the phenomena of discovered families—lone superheroes who find their people through a shared mission.
The Marvel superhero paradigm has only been challenged twice: first in 2018 with the release of Black Panther and now with Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (2021). Both films challenge the glorification of an all-powerful individual swooping in to save the day; the former through the power of an uncolonized African country, the latter through the strength of the Asian family.
Directed by Destin Daniel Cretton, the 25th movie in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) breaks new ground as it offers us Shang-Chi, an Asian American superhero who fights to save the world with a communal strength. If the heroism of Iron Man, Thor, and Captain America, et. al. is defined by heroic self-sacrifice with a dash of slapstick one-liners, Shang-Chi offers something that is more thoughtful, introspective, and relational.
In Asian culture, the family provides an individual with a sense of identity and a strong network of support. Shang-Chi’s journey to becoming a hero is built upon strengthening his familial relations and understanding his place within his family’s story. When we first see him as an adult, he’s estranged from his family. Shang-Chi (played by Canadian Chinese actor Simu Liu) is working as a hotel valet in the US, and going by the name of Shaun, in an attempt to assimilate and escape his family's powerful legacy. Shang-Chi’s plight is immediately relatable to Asian viewers: caught between two worlds and cultures, he struggles to understand who he is and what he’s supposed to do.
Nevertheless, family remains a central aspect of Shang-Chi’s new life. Visiting the home of his best friend, Katy (Awkwafina), Shang-Chi nonchalantly kicks off his shoes when entering and then sits down with her family to eat breakfast porridge. He seamlessly converses in both English and Mandarin and is respectful to Katy’s Waipo, her grandmother. It’s a powerful scene that redefines what it means for a male superhero to be a “family man.” This breakfast scene sets the foundation for Shang-Chi’s emphasis on communal heroism later in the film. It makes clear that he doesn’t just care about his own kin, but shows love, honor, and value to the presence of other families and elders in his life.
One of the primary messages of Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings is that superheroes need their families. Our individual identity can only take us so far. A true superhero gains his or her strength through a community, and the interests of the family supersede his or her own.
Shang-Chi doesn’t want to live in the shadow of his warlord father, Wenwu (Hong Kong screen icon Tony Leung), but his disconnect from his family is keeping him from living to his full potential. When Shang-Chi, his sister, Xialing (Meng’er Zhang), and Katy enter the mythical Chinese land of Ta-Lo and learn of a pending battle of good versus evil between the leaders of Ta-Lo and the Dweller-in-Darkness and his army of Soul Eaters, Shang-Chi finally learns how much he needs his mother, father, and sister. His aunt, Jiang Nan (Michelle Yeoh), embodies an Asian mother as well, offering profound life lessons to him while inducting him into the world of wuxia training. As she teaches him to change the position of his hands (from closed to open like his mother), she also encourages him to change his perspective. Jiang Nan says to him, “You are a product of all that came before you. The legacy of your family; the good and the bad. Stop hiding who you are.”
The Asian lesson of “stop hiding who you are” in Shang-Chi means learning to embrace your family. A superhero forging his or her own path isn’t enough. Shang-Chi must develop his identity on the shoulders of those who came before him. He needs the training of his mother. He needs to invite his sister in, working with her instead of apart from her. He needs his family, even his father, and they need him. In the final battle against the Dweller-in-Darkness, we see Shang-Chi and Xialing both riding on a dragon (the “Great Protector,” who appears to be the benevolent counterpart to the Dweller-in-Darkness), first separately, and then together. They combine their different skills (Shang-Chi with the rings, Xialing with her a rope dart, a hybrid weapon that can be used as both a dagger and a whip) and only then do they have the strength to fight the demon. The masculine rings only find their full force when in balance with its familial and specifically feminine counterparts. It is family that empowers Shang-Chi to be a collaborative hero, instead of a heartless warrior.
The figure of Shang-Chi is not just a hero by Asians, for Asians. As President of Marvel Studios, Kevin Feige, puts it: “This is not a Chinese movie. This is not an Asian American movie. This is a Marvel movie.” Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings reimagines the identity and character arc of the Marvel superhero. My hope is that legend can turn to legacy, and that we will see more Marvel superheroes who learn to center family and embrace their communal identity as they stand up against injustice in the world.
Photo courtesy of Marvel Studios.
Michelle Ami Reyes, PhD, is the Vice President of the AACC. She is also the author of Becoming All Things: How Small Changes Lead to Lasting Connections Across Cultures.