Shanghai Knights (PG-13) ★★½

Those mismatched, Wild West cowboys Jackie Chan and Owen Wilson are back for more fun, this time heading to merry old London to kick some booty.

Story

Shanghai Knights is really just a thinly veiled plot device to a) show more of Jackie Chan's amazing abilities; b) show the chemistry between Chan and Owen Wilson and c) show Chan in yet another fish-out-of-water situation. As a sequel with all the ''right stuff'' already in place, Knights apparently doesn't need an intriguing story. Starting where Shanghai Noon left off, Chon Wang (Chan) is living large in 1800s American Wild West. Yet, when Chon learns his estranged father, the Keeper of the Imperial Seal, has been murdered in China's Forbidden City and the seal stolen, he immediately vows revenge. To get to the killers, who have escaped to London, Chon reluctantly reteams with his old partner, the incompetent Roy O'Bannon (Wilson). Once in England, they run into Chon's sister Lin (Fann Wong), who has had the same vengeful idea as her brother (and has the same skills). Much to Chon's chagrin, Roy is quickly smitten with the beautiful Lin, who has uncovered a plot to kill Queen Victoria and the royal family but has trouble convincing the authorities, since the instigator of the evil plan is Lord Rathbone (Aidan Gillen), seventh in line to the throne (hence why he wants them killed off). Not good. With the help of a kindly Scotland Yard Inspector and a 10-year-old street urchin, Chon kicks Britain in the pants as he attempts to avenge his father's death--and keep the romance-minded Roy away from his sister.

Acting

The Chan/Wilson comic duo works well once again. Chan's easygoing, unassuming style matches well with Wilson's smarminess. Wilson seems to have become one of those actors-for-hire, saying yes to just about anything offered to him (why else would he have done I Spy?) ; still, we know he has the goods when he turns in hysterical performances in quirk-fests such as The Royal Tenenbaums. There definitely is something special to his pairing with Chan, who fits into Hollywood's mainstream like a glove. The only way to aptly describe his abilities is to compare him to Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly, who could dance with anything from a woman to a hat rack and make it look so smooth. Granted, Chan is getting a little long in the tooth (rumor has it he didn't perform all the stunts) but the combination of martial arts and Chinese acrobatics he displays is stupefying. Wong handles herself very well, getting in a few swift, mean kicks of her own. As well, baddies Gillen and real-life martial arts master Donnie Yen, who plays a Chinese rebel aligning himself with Rathbone, snarl with the best of them. It is intriguing to see Yen and Chan go at it in their very different yet mesmerizing styles.

Direction

Doing a sequel to Shanghai Noon was a very smart move. Why not pair up these two likable heroes again, throw them in a different adventure and watch the sparks fly? It's the kind of repeat performance that doesn't require much attention to detail and director David Dobkin (Clay Pigeons) shouldn't feel the need to top Knights' predecessor. Each action sequence is spectacular and the interim goofiness sustains the time when Chan can do his stuff again. Still, it would be nice to have at least some semblance of glue to hold the movie together. It's all over the place, trying to pack in as much fighting as possible together with funny, awkward moments with Chon and Roy, as well as playing with the history of London in the 1800s. For example, the kindly Scotland Yard detective who helps them is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle before he starts writing his Sherlock Holmes series (Roy comes up with the pseudonym) and the street urchin, so impressed with Chon's moves, is a young Charlie Chaplin. Ah, very clever. At least Lin gets to kick Jack the Ripper's butt. Oh, who are we kidding? The film's fun, and it's going to make big bucks. Who cares about a story?

Bottom Line

No matter how ridiculous and inconsistent Shanghai Knights gets, marveling at Chan's acrobatics and laughing at Wilson's sardonic one-liners is still worth the price of admission.