There are films that entertain, films that inspire, and then there are films that feel like legends being written before your eyes. Kung Fu of Dragon (2026) belongs firmly to the latter. With Keanu Reeves, Donnie Yen, and Jackie Chan sharing the screen, this is not just another martial arts epic—it is an event. A film that bridges cultures, generations, and philosophies of combat, telling a story that feels both timeless and thunderously modern.

The premise is steeped in myth. The Dragon Seal, an ancient relic carrying the weight of prophecy, is stolen, setting in motion a chain of events that will determine the fate of nations. This isn’t just about fists and blades—it’s about destiny, about the eternal struggle between chaos and balance. In a world teetering on the edge of darkness, three masters are summoned not by chance, but by fate itself.
Keanu Reeves plays an exiled monk, his presence quiet yet commanding. Haunted by past failures, he embodies a man walking the thin line between redemption and despair. Reeves gives the role gravitas, imbuing his character with a spiritual core that contrasts beautifully with the explosive physicality around him. He is a warrior not searching for victory, but for meaning.

Donnie Yen, as always, is mesmerizing in motion. His master of discipline and precision isn’t just a fighter—he is a living testament to the perfection of martial arts. Every strike, every block, every movement feels like poetry written in muscle and bone. Yen’s fight sequences are among the most breathtaking in the film, particularly a duel on a mist-drenched mountaintop where silence and steel create a ballet of death.
Then there is Jackie Chan, the reluctant guardian. Age has not dulled his spark; rather, it has deepened his artistry. Chan brings humor, pathos, and a lifetime of wisdom to his role. He isn’t simply the film’s comic relief—he is its soul. Watching him wrestle with the burden of holding the final key to the Dragon Seal’s power is to watch a man torn between duty and desire for peace. His mentorship grounds the story, offering balance to the storm raging around him.
The action is nothing short of extraordinary. From neon-lit brawls in rain-soaked alleys to sprawling battles across ancient temples, the choreography is both visceral and lyrical. The camera doesn’t just capture movement—it breathes with it, sweeping, spinning, and lingering in ways that make you feel every impact. Each set piece is distinct, from gritty street fights to mythic showdowns against armies cloaked in fire and shadow.

But what makes Kung Fu of Dragon rise above the standard action spectacle is its emotional depth. Beneath the lightning-fast strikes lies a story about loyalty and sacrifice, about the bonds forged in combat and the scars that never fade. The prophecy may drive the narrative, but it is the human choices—the willingness to risk everything for honor—that give the film its heart.
The prophecy itself serves as both a curse and a guide. “The dragon awakens not in power, but in those who dare to fight for honor.” This refrain echoes throughout the film, becoming a mantra that defines the arc of its heroes. It is not brute strength that determines destiny, but the courage to stand when all else falls.
Visually, the film is a feast. The contrast between ancient landscapes and neon-soaked cities creates a duality that mirrors the clash of East and West. Mist rolls down mountains as blades flash in the moonlight; later, skyscrapers burn with neon fire as fists fly faster than the eye can follow. The cinematography captures not just battles, but moments of stillness—quiet meditations, solemn rituals, the lingering look of warriors who know tomorrow is not promised.

Director Chen Kaige orchestrates this symphony of chaos and calm with masterful control. He understands that martial arts are not simply violence—they are philosophy, expression, and truth. Every fight is a dialogue, every clash an argument between ideals. By the time the final showdown arrives, the audience is not just waiting for a winner, but for a revelation.
With a rating of 4.7/5, Kung Fu of Dragon is more than epic—it is legendary. It honors the past, celebrates the present, and sets a new standard for the future of martial arts cinema. Reeves, Yen, and Chan don’t just fight; they embody the eternal spirit of the dragon, proving that true strength is born not of power, but of purpose. This is not merely a movie—it is a myth brought to life.