KUNG FU PANDA and My Autistic Experience

Ska-doosh! DreamWorks’ Kung Fu Panda came out over 12 years ago, and a real standout amongst their library of over 30 animated features. The Mark Osborne/John Stevenson film marked something of a departure in the realm of computer animated DreamWorks films, in that it wove fun humor and slapstick into a martial arts adventure epic with legitimate stakes and a beating heart. This film eschewed the route of previous DreamWorks films like Shrek, Shark Tale, and Bee Movie. Tonally, it veered more towards a more classical approach, tying great gags and wit with a palpable sense of danger and effective action. Stevenson, in the film’s audio commentary, says that a Walt Disney-esque mixture of these two styles was the intention. I feel that their film sees that through, and does not spare anything in the process. Taking over the series was Jennifer Yuh Nelson, who kept the same principles from the first film and enhanced them in Kung Fu Panda 2 (perhaps a candidate for the best film to ever come out of that studio), and also hit a home run with co-director Alessandro Carloni in the form of Kung Fu Panda 3. The pictures make for a rare great animated movie trilogy, and a rare great trilogy, period. I mean that.

I argue that the first installment in this animal-starring martial arts trilogy is a bona fide classic, well over a decade after its release. Given what I said above, yes, my favorite film in the whole trilogy is actually Kung Fu Panda 2. I’ll be very cliche, and say that Kung Fu Panda 2 is indeed an Empire Strikes Back-level continuation of its predecessor, in that it grows Po as a character and indulges in some genuinely harsh storytelling for a family-friendly adventure. It is, through and through, one of DreamWorks’ best efforts and an animated winner from nearly top to bottom. Kung Fu Panda 3 is a very strong finish to this saga.

I want to talk about the first film specifically… I feel that the first film really touches on something that is really important to me. I’m going to posit that Kung Fu Panda is quite an autistic animated movie, perhaps the whole trilogy is quite autistic… And protagonist Po? I quite relate to him… To start off, I’m not going to make a case that Po is actually autistic, I won’t “headcanon” Po as autistic. I don’t think writers Glenn Aibel and Jonathan Berger intended for the character to be autistic, nor do I presume the rest of the team behind the movie… but I see a lot of myself and my condition in him and, specifically, his journey.

Who is Po? He is a kung fu fanatic who lives with a surrogate father, a kindly old goose (named Mr. Ping) who runs a noodle bar, and he is a big eater as well. He admires the Furious Five, the unparalleled masters of Kung Fu on this Earth populated by only anthropomorphic animals. Right down to owning action figures of them, as an adult. Perhaps this is, in our autistic terminology, his special interest? The opening sequence’s beautifully-rendered dream more than emphasizes that. However, he has to help Mr. Ping run his restaurant, despite his dreams of learning kung fu and fighting alongside his heroes. Mr. Ping firmly believes that everyone has a place in the world, while Po goes against this traditional conformity, in – for many autistics – true fashion. In Act I, he wants the chance to see his heroes in action, as they display their strengths in a ceremony that will culminate in one of the Furious Five receiving the Dragon Scroll, thus becoming the Dragon Warrior… This is put together because the elderly master, a gentle tortoise named Oogway, has a vision… Of a great evil returning, and that a warrior must be picked in order to stop said evil. In all of his attempts to see what’s going on from outside the palace gates, Po ends up landing smack-dab in the middle of it all… And is picked by Master Oogway as the one to receive the Dragon Scroll.

This must be some mistake, then! Some big clumsy panda who has never been trained, and has never met the Furious Five or their immediate master, a red panda named Shifu… Who just happened to drop into the ceremony and land in front of Oogway’s pointing finger by accident, is ostensibly the Dragon Warrior? Naturally, Master Shifu and the Furious Five are shook by this. Master Oogway claims “there are no accidents”, but everyone has a hard time believing that. Especially the fiercest of the Furious Five, Tigress, who ostensibly was the one that Oogway really picked. Po proves to be a very unlikely candidate for not only the Dragon Warrior status, but just base-level kung fu training in general. He is incredibly awkward – both socially and even physically – in this scene, though he is nonetheless quite entrenched in the history and fun facts of this universe’s version of kung fu. Again, his special interest. Talking to himself as he admires the historic items scattered about the palace, noting every detail… Even in battle he’ll point out something and its fun facts. Definitely quite autie in my book! Shifu’s training expectedly knocks him about, but he does manage to get along with most of the Furious Five over time with his other qualities.

The problem is, there is little time for training. A former protege of Master Shifu is on the loose, a vicious snow leopard named Tai Lung. The stakes are duly raised… This silly, oafish panda has to not only prove himself worthy of kung fu itself, and the esteemed Dragon Warrior status, but… He also might have to take on this big threat that Master Shifu inadvertently created years and years ago…

By the middle of the film, all has gone wrong. Master Oogway becomes one with the universe, leaving the living for the spiritual realm. The Furious Five set out themselves to face a distant Tai Lung, in an attempt to prevent him from reaching the scroll. It seems like Po just won’t be able to do it, despite his passion for kung fu and despite his pleasant, well-meaning demeanor. Shifu’s final moments with Oogway convince him to fully commit to making Po into the Dragon Warrior… It doesn’t click for the master until the next morning… He sees that Po has used some serious skills in getting out-of-reach snacks in a storage room, almost unknowingly. Unlike the training, Po exhibits that he can indeed do kung fu, but he achieves this much differently than one would expect. Shifu then uses food to motivate Po, and Po pulls off moves and feats that he had no idea he could ever achieve.

“There are no accidents…”

During the climax, Po uses everything he has learned, just like that… And defeats the fearsome Tai Lung, no problem! Something the Furious Five themselves, focused as they were during that still-amazing bridge fight set-piece, couldn’t even do.

Think about it for a second or two… The Furious Five, and Tai Lung, were all trained using the traditional methods. The methods that Shifu, and presumably Oogway and other kung fu masters before Shifu, saw as fit. The right way and possibly only way to do it. Shifu breaks ground by teaching Po in a much different way, unlocking the seemingly-unwieldy panda’s strengths, and bypassing his apparent laziness. Po became the Dragon Warrior, not through grueling training and being whacked about by hazardous devices, but rather by another thing that he loves and turns to when he’s upset: Food. His passion for kung fu and his love of food went hand in hand when all was said and done… There was no way Po could become the Dragon Warrior *and* defeat Tai Lung if Shifu had done it any other way. Of course, we could also wax about how Po’s training is character development for Master Shifu. Riddled with guilt over how he essentially created the threat that is Tai Lung, someone whom he raised as his own son, Shifu sees Po as his ticket for not making the same mistake… And the very being to undo his past mistakes and perhaps bring the master the inner peace he is looking find. Kung Fu Panda essentially is about two pandas, here… But I want to focus on the main one, though.

Kung Fu Panda is about how to teach someone properly… How to TEACH your Panda, perhaps? Definitely not “ratatwang” your panda!

Master Oogway put it best before his passing halfway through the film, using a peach tree as his basis… “Look at this tree, Shifu. I cannot make it blossom when it suits me, nor make it bare fruit before its time.” Many an autistic “late bloomer” certainly know that one all too well… Late bloomer is code for a person who doesn’t quite master everything at the age everyone else does. It is okay if it takes more time…

In this pivotal sequence, Oogway elaborates. “You may wish for an apple, or an orange, but you will get a peach…” “But a peach can’t defeat Tai Lung,” a still-confused and frightened Shifu retorts. “Maybe it can, if you are willing to guide it, to nurture it, to believe in it…”

Not everyone in the world learns the same. I write this as an American, and someone who will specifically be working off of my experiences as someone who went through the American education system. When I was around five years old, in roughly 1997, I was diagnosed as an Asperger syndrome child. Nowadays, many autistics – including myself – are moving away from the Asperger label for a multitude of reasons. Not too long ago, the designation has been left out of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders; known as DSM-5 for short. I have moved on from such a labelling for many personal reasons, routed in facts, which I won’t really get into right now. In short, I have identified as “autistic” since mid-2018. I don’t identify as an Asperger individual, or as a “high-functioning” autistic. I don’t believe in functioning labels, and Hans Asperger was a Nazi who had done several cruel things to several non-“normal” children during World War II. So, “aspie” no more!

As I get older, I find myself at odds with my schooling history. I attended, like every typical child in the US, an elementary school, a junior high school, and a high school. All public. As an adult, I attended two colleges. First community, then state… and got a degree in Studio Art.

How did I fare from age 6 to age 17?

Elementary school, I believe I fared very well in elementary school. I had most of my accommodations that I needed. I had special education aids who genuinely tried to help me work my way through assignments and tasks, and they even took me to the school gym to have “sessions”. I even got additional playtime, while other students did not… and while not all of it was perfect, I regularly felt welcome in elementary school. I felt I could succeed at what was given to me, and I was able to get along with almost everybody. My class, from the section of town that I lived in, just seemed like a welcoming group. Even after a quarrel or a spat of drama, we still stuck together. It was an environment that pushed me to succeed, while not sacrificing my own traits…

Me at age 12. No, I’m on the left!

Middle school was almost the exact opposite, as was high school. Granted, they had special education programs, but I didn’t feel like I had the tools that I needed to truly succeed. Looking back on it, it seemed like middle school was mostly about two things to me: Get good grades, and be socially acceptable. I’ve come to somewhat resent the idea of smarts being based on good grades, because of the methods employed to get students of all stripes to get good grades. Doing tasks, studying, sacrificing your free time at home to do homework, lather, rinse, repeat. Lather, rinse, repeat. It is certainly not the way I like to learn, or have went about learning as a college student and young adult. Some would agree, but it felt simply like obligation, not enrichment. I was often met with middling progress reports in 6th grade, at one point in 7th grade, my grades in some classes just weren’t very good. I may have inadvertently made an enemy with a teacher or two. I was expected to “learn” the way everyone else was learning. Do the sheet of paper, do the project, do the this, do the that. There were some enriching days, it wasn’t all dour. For example, I loved my history class, because I felt my teacher made the subject matter palatable to all of us. The projects we engaged in were like my elementary school days, it allowed me to get creative. Some of the other classes, had that too… but I feel like I had spent all of middle school, and *most* of high school not at all unlocking my full potential. Especially as an artist, and a good chunk of that was my own doing, too.

To me, school had become this: Go to a building in a town, spend six hours in that building doing all these tasks, get good grades, be good at everything being thrown at you, AND be socially acceptable the whole time. I am autistic. My existence doesn’t call for “be socially acceptable”. That is just not sustainable, and I can tell you that as 28-year-old autistic adult. No, my autism didn’t go away at 18, or 14, or 8. Autistic people don’t outgrow it, nor are they former auties. My problems in not faring well socially, back then, of course hindered my motivation to commit to tasks and my own personal work outside of school. I had actually dropped out of an art class during sophomore year of high school, due to a combination of many unpleasant and mentally-affecting things. I had problems socially. I was afraid that people would be out to get me, or that the “acceptable” facade I was projecting would shatter at any minute and I’d have a new enemy. I’d overreact because of that to certain situations. I had my own anxieties taking over my brain and morphing my outlook into a depressive, cynical nightmare; I was convinced that I was bad at art (it didn’t help that I took one random peer’s comments to heart), heck I was convinced I was just bad. Period. All of my motivation to succeed was hampered, and throughout sophomore year I only merely got by. No Fs, mind you, but the grades often weren’t very good… I did the chore everyday, show up to school and do whatever it was they needed me to do.

It isn’t that my teachers failed me, far from it. I respect and continue to respect all of my teachers that I had in high school, they were all genuinely great people and I got along with them well. I think they really wanted to see me and the others succeed. I don’t blame a systemic problem on the individual teachers, or even that school’s administration. I also got along with the principal, for starters. It’s just the way things are assigned, combined with having to deal with social pressures and other commitments. I didn’t have a job back then, that would’ve possibly complicated matters much further. It all just wasn’t for me… I often think to myself… What if I had gone to another high school? A magnet school? A school meant for someone like me? Someone who learns and must be motivated in a more unique way that isn’t quite supported by the traditional schooling system? I feel that the overall structure of my learning and having to keep my head above the water socially and not ruin my reputation in some way or another, hindered me greatly. Sure, there were also problems outside of school… But what if, at another school, I was really mentored to succeed? To do well despite whatever could’ve dragged me down like a chain and weight? Imagine if I learned, one on one, with someone who taught me in a way that agreed with the way my mind works? No ludicrous deadlines, no “you can only take this once” tests, no memory games. How about, how do I harness my better aspects? How do I block out negative feelings about myself and focus on what truly matters? How do I integrate my own special interests into learning? Actual experiences and storing of information that helps me function in the world around me. Who knows where I would’ve gotten by the end of the aughts, and where I would be now…

I love the quote “… if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” Although it’s often credited to him, Albert Einstein never said such a thing, and the origin of such a quote is unknown. I feel like, even with special education programs, the public school “system” and ways just weren’t for me. Throughout college, I often looked back on high school me with little regard. I was “stupid”, “winging it”, “not committing to it”, “half-assing”. If you’re in a similar boat, I encourage you to unlearn this… Because, you need to consider you for once. Where were you, mentally, when you were in high school? What kind of learning best suits you, the way your mind works?

Similarly, the traditional ways of teaching kung fu just weren’t for Po. They were designed against an overweight, “clumsy” animal like him. Even though Master Shifu tries not to train his students the way he trained Tai Lung out of fear of creating another monster, it still wasn’t for Po. Too rigid of a system for someone like him. Shifu’s arc takes an interesting turn in the second half, in that he’s re-experiencing the joys of teaching and mentoring. In the flashback detailing Tai Lung’s turn to evil, we see Shifu bitterly address a very young Tigress during training, further illustrating that he taught her and the Furious Five very sternly and without any love, enthusiasm, or some kind of affection. Earlier, Viper and Mantis make cracks about how Shifu “used to smile” according to legend. He has that enthusiasm, and maybe love, again with Po, but without the hubris. By bucking traditional teaching and seeing potential in the unlikely, Shifu helps Po become what he could be, and Shifu re-unlocks something he had repressed for ages. All the while, the Dragon Scroll meant for the most worthy ostensibly means nothing, which leads to an expected “believe in yourself” kind of message, but it works nonetheless.

We see Po fully in control of combat by the start of Kung Fu Panda 2, showing that with this unorthodox way of learning, he was able to live up to the Dragon Warrior moniker and be what no one expected him to be. Now, he can pull off moves like it’s nothing. He mastered it, but just not in the way he could’ve imagined. Or anyone else in the valley, for that matter.

Kung Fu Panda 2 mostly focuses on a purely emotional arc for Po, one where he must master inner-peace after his mastering of combat, a personal journey that puts him face to face with his unfortunate past. Much in the same way Kung Fu Panda pits Shifu against the monster he created, Kung Fu Panda 2 deals with the monster that may have inadvertently made Po’s life go the way it went… Here, we see a story about addressing one’s beginnings while finding strength through vulnerability. Kung Fu Panda 2 is a sequel I don’t just praise for its rougher storyline and Empire Strikes Back-like ambitions, it is an action-adventure that stops to show us that even a mighty warrior can and should reflect and have empathy, even for those who cause him harm. Showing that, in classic fashion, true strength isn’t because of brute force. A firm dismissal of toxic masculinity for sure, as evidenced in the heinous, genocidal villain Lord Shen, who would rather use cannons to blast through everything to get his way. Po has a direct confrontation with him after the near-balletic final battle on the water, a showcase of how he truly mastered inner peace through reconciliation and empathy… but the peacock instead fully reveals just how far gone he is and ultimately brings his own demise in the process. It makes sense that a character like Po, whom I can see a lot of myself in, would be more sensitive and understanding, being an overlooked individual himself. Some of us autistics (not all, because you can’t generalize about these things) are inherently sensitive, more so than most… either innately or because of what we’ve been through socially and even physically. A lot of us, to quote someone whose name escapes me, feel things “very intensely.” Po wasn’t the most desirable character in his town, and was rejected out of hand upon his interference with the Furious Five. His passions were met with disapproval. He was able to heal from his past, why couldn’t this murderous bird do the same? Po didn’t use his past suffering to exert revenge on the very animal who got many of Po’s kind – including Po’s own mother – killed, quite a strength…

Where does Kung Fu Panda 3 go from there? Po must now be a teacher, and fill Master Shifu’s shoes, but it appears that we’ve gone full circle, for that is easier said than done. First, combat, that was pretty difficult. Second, inner peace, also difficult. Teaching? Po thinks he couldn’t, and his failures ram home his old insecurities and his fear of failing. He even finds comfort in taking a little bucket bath with his action figures, acting out his frustrations. Once again, he can’t learn to do this the traditional way, he has to find another avenue, and master something different while still remaining himself. But Shifu won’t be there to help him find it, nor the majority of his friends, for a menace from the spiritual realm with a centuries-old beef with Master Oogway has returned to Earth. This intimidating force, a yak named Kai, misuses qi to get his way. Master Shifu is decent enough with qi, so he probably couldn’t teach Po in a desirable way, but perhaps the abrupt return of Po’s father could help? The pandas were strong with the forc- err, qi. It was their harnessing of it that motivated Kai to try and use it, but for all the wrong reasons. Halfway through Kung Fu Panda 3, Po learns that his kind actually lost their way years and years ago… But through being with other beings like himself, Po is able to embrace a lot of qualities that he had repressed living in the valley.

His full self.

See, when Kung Fu Panda 3 came out back in January 2016, my perspective on both these kinds of movies and life in general was much different. I went into Kung Fu Panda 3 hoping for something that was not only tonally similar to the previous entry, but I was also mislead by interviews and information revealed when the movie was still in development. I remember grousing that there was too much comedy in the movie (in some scenes, the comic relief can be a little intrusive and even a bit misguided) and that the villain wasn’t frightening enough, but upon this rewatch, it clicks more and more… As I have clicked more myself between the film’s release and where I am at now, in these demoralizing hell times.

I had autistic friends growing up, but we never seemed to dig into that. We just noted that we were autistic, and that was kind of that. We became friends over our ways of communication and interests and whatnot. There was still a lot about me that I did not realize, it wouldn’t be until I began following more autistic folks on social media. From there, I had learned more about myself… Why did I feel this way about certain things in life? Why was I more sensitive? Why would I fixate on various things? Why do I function the way I function? Why do I learn differently? Was I stupid? Is… Is it all wrong? Or was it never wrong? Was it that the system and society weren’t built for me? As such, I thought about Kung Fu Panda more, specifically the first one and how it isn’t just a funny and adventurous take on the martial arts film genre… That first movie is about alternative ways of teaching, and the joys in doing so. Kung Fu Panda 2 now becomes a stronger story about healing and empathy, and a rejection of the commonplace dangers that a lot of us auties usually reject. Again, toxic masculinity and such, and forging a greater path despite your past trauma. Being true to one self, and all. A lot of family-friendly animated movies tend to teach this message, but the Kung Fu Panda trilogy does it in a special way.

Kung Fu Panda 3 now becomes a tale of the warrior realizing that he can teach an entire group by helping them learn their way. Again, rejecting a traditional or systemic way of doing it. It takes a little “my two dads” drama to get to the point (I mean, you maybe would have a 60-minute runtime without it), but Po finally gets it… In order to teach, he must help his panda brethren use their respective ways of life and their passions to fight off the oncoming threat of Kai and his jade zombie-soldiers (corrupted, jade stone versions of all the kung fu masters in China, including four of the Furious Five and Master Shifu himself)… Again, full circle. Helping those who seemed unlikely unlock their true potential, and they in turn help save the day. It makes for a pretty exciting and kinetic climax too, that later turns the dial up to eleven when Po makes a sacrifice, by using the wuxi finger-hold on himself to transport Kai back to the spirit realm… and truly become the Dragon Warrior… He literally controls a neon dragon in this scene, you can’t get any cooler than that! He does this, all the while retaining his sense of humor and self.

Great trilogies are often hard to come by, and in the world of animated movies, they’re rare because usually a successful third entry leads to a fourth entry. Even Toy Story couldn’t resist the big “4” and the juicy prospect of a $1 billion worldwide gross, which it ended up getting, to no one’s surprise. Ice Age went past “3” and seemingly has stopped at “5”. Even in live-action land, Star Wars didn’t stop at Return of the Jedi, The Matrix will see its belated fourth installment in about a year or so. DreamWorks, for all the ribbing they get for making too many sequels, strangely know when to stop. Sure, Shrek went past “3”, but How To Train Your Dragon‘s third entry deliberately and firmly said “it’s over”, and who knows if a fourth Madagascar will ever happen. Kung Fu Panda, at one point, was supposed to be a six-film franchise, but it was decided that movie number three would be the end. Regardless of how much money it was going to make at the worldwide box office, no less. Theoretically, a fourth one could happen and cash in on nostalgia for the original trilogy (in, what, approximately 2028?), but this seems to be the end… And it probably should be.

For many, the Kung Fu Panda trilogy simply boasts great themes, memorable characters, fantastic action sequences, and gorgeous visuals. For me, as great as that all is… Kung Fu Panda is a little more than that… It’s pretty damn autistic.