The Grandmaster

Don't tell me how well you fight,

or how great your teacher is,

or brag about your style.

Kungfu -

two words.

Horizontal. Vertical.

Make a mistake - horizontal.

Stay standing and you win.

Isn't that right?

THE GRANDMASTER:

We're from Foshan.

My father ran the family business.

He exported goods to Hong Kong.

The Ips have a long history in Foshan.

They named a street after us.

That's how wealthy we were.

Before I turned 40, life was easy.

I lived off my family money.

I had only one passion.

At seven, I started learning kungfu.

My master was Chan Wah-shun.

Foshan's Wing Chun began with Leung Jan.

I'm the third generation.

When I started, my master was seventy.

The day I became a disciple,

he tied the sash himself.

This sash stands for school and teacher.

It stands for honor.

You are now a martial artist.

You must live your life with honor.

One sash, an unbroken tradition.

I lived through dynastic times,

the early republic, warlords,

Japanese invasion and civil war.

Finally, I came to Hong Kong.

What kept me going

was the martial arts code of honor.

My wife, Zhang Yongcheng,

was the descendant of an Imperial Minister.

She was a woman of few words

because she knew their power.

We understood each other well.

She loved music.

I'd take her to hear opera.

People were so conservative back then.

Nice women didn't visit places like this.

But gossip didn't bother her.

When I went out, she lit a lamp

and left it lit till I came home.

If life has seasons,

my first forty years were spring.

1936. Foshan, Guangdong Province.

In 1936, Foshan

was a prosperous city.

Life was peaceful and good.

Back then, men socialised in brothels.

Such places were popular in the South.

Foshan's finest was Republic House.

Its walls were covered in gold,

so we called it the Gold Pavilion.

It was the first to have an elevator.

Enter a prince, exit a pauper.

You'd spend money like water.

It was like a social club

for martial artists.

Good men can be found among rogues.

And hidden masters too.

People saw it as a pleasure palace.

But to us,

it was a battleground.

I claim three accomplishments in life.

First, I united Xingyi and Bagua styles.

Second, I became the director

of the Northern Martial Arts Union,

bringing together Tongbei, Cannon Fist,

Tai Chi, Yan Qing and other schools.

Third, I took the northern masters south.

In 1929,

the First Southern Martial Arts Academy

was founded under my supervision

after talks here in the Gold Pavilion.

I'm getting old.

It's time for new blood.

I held a retirement ceremony up North.

You invited me to hold a second one here.

It's my farewell to

my southern comrades.

Up North, the one who took part

was my top disciple, Ma San.

He'll be my successor.

Please give him your support.

I'd always wanted

to take the southern styles north.

Sadly, my time's up.

I want to hold a demonstration match

with a southern martial artist.

Someone you all support.

Pick one.

Think you're good enough

to challenge the Old Master?

Let's keep it simple.

I'll take you all on.

Get him!

that at the ceremony up North,

I had the honor.

To worship at the feet of the Buddha

first pass the Guardian of the Gate.

That's me.

How can I represent the South?

The southern schools

are Hung, Lau, Choy, Lee, and Mok.

In rank,

you are all my seniors.

You're the leaders and masters.

I have no standing.

The reputation of the South is at stake.

We Southerners

may be petty,

but we don't run away from a fight.

We're not afraid of these Northerners!

This is a challenge.

We will rise to it.

Isn't that right?

Absolutely!

It must be you.

I'll take the kids to my mother's.

Less for you to worry about.

When a man reaches forty,

he needs to be sure of things.

When it's all over,

come pick us up.

Do you know

why a knife must have a sheath?

Its power lies not in sharpness,

but in concealment.

You're too sharp a blade.

You have to stay put.

My sheath

is you, Master.

With you around,

I'm under control.

I can no longer control you.

You're too anxious to make your mark.

For now, leave Foshan.

Miss that train,

and I'll break your legs.

Central News:

Southern armies

marched north

claiming for autonomy.

The Central Army blocked their advance.

The situation is explosive.

Halt!

Let us pass.

Sorry. This street is closed off.

No one bearing arms can enter.

Do you know who's in that rickshaw?

Call out the Gong Family disciples!

Miss Gong, it's good you're here.

Win or lose, it's a disgrace.

My father has never lost.

There's no question of losing.

And so what if he wins?

They'll say he beat a nobody.

Ip Man's not at his level.

Where's my father?

Brother.

It's me, Baosen.

Isn't the Northeast big enough for you?

You had to come to Foshan? Get up.

I'm taking you home.

Home?

How's that possible?

The Japanese control the Northeast.

The Japanese flag

won't wave over me.

The time's not ripe.

Making soup like this

is a lot of work.

It's not soup.

It's snake stew.

Isn't that a winter dish?

It's a dish from a long time ago.

Yes, decades.

was a Snake Year.

You left the Northeast that year.

The fire has to be right for stew.

Too low -

it'll lack taste.

Too high -

it'll scald.

There's a lesson in that.

Go.

Wait till the fire can take this wood.

I'll go then.

The South may secede.

It's no time for diplomacy.

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