Fist of legend

par Drunken Master Mer 28 Juil 2010, 17:24

Hello,

J'ai vu ce film hier, et je n'ai pas manqué de faire le lien entre le combat final avec Jet Li contre le général et celui que décrit Jack Vance dans "la machine à tuer". Alors notamment les similitudes avec les noms : le général que l'on nomme la machine à tuer dans le film également et puis Chen Zhen (Jet Li) dans Fist of Legend et Kirth Gersen dans le livre de Jack Vance. Et surtout la façon dont se déroule le combat, puisque le héros après avoir lancé son poing contre le coup du hetman trouve qu'il a la consistance d'un tronc d'arbre, donc il attaque son seul point faible les yeux et le hetman lui par contre vise les bras et à la fin le héros a les 2 bras cassés, mais il voit le hetman avec un oeil fermé et le deuxième qui commence à se fermer aussi... Le scénario dans le film est vraiment similaire si l'on regarde bien...

Comme le livre de Jack Vance date des années 60 manifestement il ne s'est pas inspiré des films... Alors est ce que les scénarios sont inspirés d'un combat historique ?

par Drunken Master Mer 28 Juil 2010, 17:55

Bon, pour ceux que ça intéresse, j'ai retrouvé l'extrait du livre de Jack Vance sur Internet, par contre c'est en anglais, alors je traduis le début :

Gersen slowly rose to his feet. Alusz Iphigenia, without lifting
her eyes from the fire, said in a soft voice: "To the Tadousko-Oi,
women are a lower species. . -. They keep their women in common,
and the highest ranking warrior sleeps with what is available—

first."

(En gros on explique que le meilleur guerrier peut choisir la femme avec laquelle il peut passer la nuit...)
(...)
Gersen said, "Tell him that I am more highly ranked—that I

am a Space-Admiral, a Ruler, a Lord—anything that he will understand."

(Gersen lui dit de dire qu'il est un grand guerrier, un Amiral, un Seigneur, tout ce que le hetman pourra comprendre)

(...)

[Alors là le hetman lui demande de combattre un jeune guerrier et Gersen le bat en un coup...]

"Tell the hetman," he instructed Alusz Iphigenia, "thatmy differences, in connection to where you shall spend the night,

are solely with him, and it is he with whom I choose to fight."

(Donc Gersen choisit de se battre ensuite contre le hetman)
(...)
The hetman was obviously surprised.
"Does he so choose? Does he not realize I am champion, the master
of all men I have so far faced? Explain to him that I am hetman,

that since he is not of the clan, such a fight must be to the death."

(Le hetman lui explique, qu'il est le champion, le maître, qu'il n'a jamais perdu et que le combat sera forcément un combat à mort...)
Alusz Iphigenia explained; Gersen said, "Inform the hetman
that I have no wish to prove my high rank; that I much prefer
sleeping to fighting, so long as he does not insist on your company."
Alusz Iphigenia spoke; the hetman removed his shirt. Then he
spoke. "We shall settle the question of rank quickly, for there may
not be two leaders to a war party. To avoid a coward's cast, we will
fight with bare hands."
Gersen appraised him: tall he stood, heavy but agile, with dark
flesh that seemed as hard as horn. He glanced down at Alusz Iphigenia
who looked up at him fascinated, then slowly he stepped
forward. Beside the knotted dark body his own seemed pallid and

elastic. To test the hetman Gersen aimed an apparently randomblow toward his head; instantly a hard hand seized his wrist, a foot
lashed out. Gersen disengaged his wrist with a jerk; he could have
seized the foot and flung the hetman over, but instead allowed the
toe barely to graze his hip. And he swung another left-handed blow
that landed, almost as if by accident, on the hetman's neck. It felt

like a tree trunk.
The hetman hopped forward, both feet at a time, in a peculiarly
disconcerting manner, both arms wide. Gersen punched at the outthrust
face. He struck the left eye, but was caught up m an arm
lock, of a sort he had never experienced before, which in seconds
would snap his ulna. Gersen relaxed his knees, then sprang around
in a kind of mad somersault, kicking the hetman in the face and
wrenching his arm free. The hetman was less confident when Gersen
faced him next. He slowly raised both arms; Gersen struck at
the left eye. Again the hetman's foot lashed out, Gersen refrained
from seizing the ankle; again it grazed his hip. The hetman's eye
was swollen. As he sprang back after the kick, Gersen took advantage
of an instant's respite to scrape a hollow into the sand with his
foot. The hetman circled him. Gersen moved away, feinted; his
wrist was seized; a great hand hacked at the back of his neck. Gersen
dived instantly forward, put his shoulder to the hetman's rock-hard
belly; the blow slid off his shoulder. Gersen thrust forward; the
hetman pulled up a knee battering Gersen's chest. Gersen caught
the knee, shifted his position, caught the ankle, twisted; the hetman
was forced to fall to protect his knee; Gersen kicked him in the
right eye, jumped away from the sweep of the massive red arm. He
stood panting and sobbing, his chest aching; but the hetman's right
eye was closing. Gersen bent, carefully enlarged the hollow in the
sand. Glaring like a boar, the hetman watched him, then, apparently
casting caution aside, he rushed forward: Gersen moved aside; on
occasion he had exercised the same feigned recklessness. He Jabbed

at the hetman's left eye, but a dazzling fast blow of the hetman'sleft hand crushed his wrist, causing intense pain and leaving his left
hand limp. This was a serious loss, but the hetman's right eye was
shut and his left eye was swollen. Ignoring the pain, Gersen flapped
his now useless left hand into the red face; again the left hand swung
up to hack; but Gersen caught the left wrist in his right hand, kicked
behind the left knee, butted into the hetman's neck, and the hetman
let himself sag, still perfectly controlled and coordinated. Grunting,

hissing bet-ween his teeth, Gersen hacked into the momentarily ex-posed neck; the hetman, purple in the face, slashed out backhanded;
Gersen, who now was beginning to lose his agility, caught
the blow on his right forearm. It was like the impact of a sledgehammer;
left and right hands both were useless. The two men stood
back, both sweating and gasping. Both of the hetman's eyes were
almost shut; Gersen strove to conceal the futility of his hands; it
would be fatal to display weakness. Summoning his last resources
he crouched, began to stalk the hetman: his arms held as if ready
to strike. The hetman roared out, made his two-footed )ump; Gersen
lurched to meet him, drove his right elbow into the black contusion
of the hetman's neck. The hetman's arms surrounded
Gersen, he began banging the side of his head against Gersen's
temple. Gersen sagged low, butted at the hetman's chin, kicked at

his knees. Both toppled, the hetman trying to swing Gersen under.Gersen acceded to the impulse, augmented it, landed on top,
clenched in the wet maroon arms. He butted at the chin, at the
nose; the hetman tried to counter with snapping teeth, heaving and
lurching to roll to the top, which Gersen prevented with outspread
legs. He butted, the teeth scarred his forehead. He butted at the
nose, it broke. He butted again, battered down at the chin, again
the teeth lacerated his forehead—but the hetman could take no
more. He loosened his grip that he might place a forearm under
Gersen's neck, but Gersen had been waiting. He Jerked himself
free, sat upon the hetman's abdomen, then with his last energy
brought his head down against the bridge of the hetman's nose.
The hetman choked, relaxed, dazed by pain, fatigue, the blows
to neck and head. Gersen staggered to his feet, arms dangling. He
looked down at the great maroon body. Never had he fought so
terrible an antagonist. Was the hetman dead? Lesser blows had
killed lesser men.
Gersen stumbled to where Alusz Iphigenia sat sobbing. In a
slurred voice he said, "Tell the warriors to care for their hetman.

He is a great fighter, and the enemy of my enemy."

Fist of legend

Fist of legend

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