From Local Hero to Lightning Rod: Why Hong Kong Turned on Jackie Chan

For much of the late twentieth century, Jackie Chan was more than a movie star in Hong Kong.

He was a symbol.

His face was everywhere, his films were shared cultural moments, and his rise from a struggling child performer to an international icon mirrored the city’s own story of grit, speed, and reinvention.

Yet today, in a city that once embraced him as one of its own, Jackie Chan has become a deeply polarizing figure.

To many in Hong Kong, he is no longer a hometown hero, but a reminder of a painful cultural and political divide.

The shift did not happen overnight.

It unfolded slowly, shaped by words spoken, stances taken, and a changing city struggling with its own identity.

For years, Jackie Chan’s popularity in Hong Kong rested on more than entertainment.

He represented local pride, Cantonese humor, and a distinctly Hong Kong style of filmmaking that felt separate from both Hollywood and mainland China.

That sense of shared identity is precisely what many residents feel has been broken.

At the heart of the backlash is Jackie Chan’s increasingly outspoken political alignment.

Over the past decade, he has publicly expressed support for Beijing’s leadership and praised the Chinese Communist Party, statements that resonated positively in mainland China but struck a nerve in Hong Kong.

In a city where many residents value civil liberties, local autonomy, and a separate cultural voice, his comments were seen by critics as dismissive of Hong Kong’s concerns and struggles.

For some, it was not just what Jackie Chan said, but when he said it.

His remarks came during periods of heightened tension, when protests, arrests, and political uncertainty dominated daily life.

To those watching from the streets of Hong Kong, his words felt less like abstract political opinion and more like a betrayal from someone who once embodied their spirit.

The reaction was swift and emotional.

Social media in Hong Kong filled with criticism, memes, and calls to boycott his films.

Younger generations, many of whom grew up during times of political unrest, increasingly viewed him as out of touch or opportunistic.

For them, Jackie Chan’s global success and comfortable distance from the city’s realities made his support for central authority feel especially hollow.

There is also a generational divide at play.

Older fans often remember Jackie Chan as the fearless stuntman who risked his body for entertainment, someone who built Hong Kong cinema into a global force.

Younger residents, however, encounter him first through headlines rather than classic films, associating his name with political controversy rather than cinematic innovation.

In a fast-changing media landscape, first impressions matter, and for many, Jackie Chan’s political image has overshadowed his artistic legacy.

Economic factors have also fueled resentment.

As Hong Kong’s film industry declined and opportunities shifted toward mainland China, Jackie Chan’s career followed the money and influence.

He became increasingly associated with mainland-backed productions, state events, and official campaigns.

To critics, this move symbolized the broader absorption of Hong Kong’s creative industries into mainland systems, a trend many locals resent and fear.

Adding to the unease is Jackie Chan’s role as a cultural ambassador.

When he speaks, he does so not only as an actor, but as one of the most recognizable Chinese figures in the world.

For Hong Kong residents who feel their voices are marginalized on the global stage, seeing one of their most famous exports publicly align with narratives they oppose has felt like losing representation.

Jackie Chan’s defenders argue that the criticism is unfair.

They point out that he has always expressed strong national pride and that expecting entertainers to remain politically neutral is unrealistic.

Supporters also note his philanthropy, his promotion of Chinese culture, and his belief that stability and unity are necessary for prosperity.

From this perspective, Jackie Chan is not betraying Hong Kong, but expressing convictions shaped by his life experience.

Yet public perception rarely rests on intention alone.

In Hong Kong, where symbols carry immense weight, Jackie Chan’s choices have taken on meanings far beyond his personal beliefs.

His silence on certain issues, combined with vocal support for others, has been interpreted as taking sides in a conflict that many residents experience daily and personally.

The result is a fractured legacy.

Jackie Chan remains a legend in film history, and his influence on action cinema is undeniable.

But in Hong Kong, admiration has increasingly been replaced by ambivalence or outright rejection.

Film screenings have reportedly seen lower enthusiasm, merchandise sales have declined locally, and his name no longer commands the automatic respect it once did.

What makes the situation especially painful for longtime fans is the sense that this rift did not have to happen.

Many believe that if Jackie Chan had acknowledged Hong Kong’s complexity or shown empathy toward its struggles, even without changing his views, the reaction might have been different.

Instead, the gap widened, filled by anger, disappointment, and the feeling of being unheard.

Today, Jackie Chan stands as a symbol of a broader transformation — not just of a celebrity, but of Hong Kong itself.

His unpopularity is less about one man’s politics and more about a city grappling with loss, identity, and the fear of being absorbed into something it no longer recognizes as its own.

Whether time will soften these feelings remains uncertain.

Legacies, like cities, evolve.

Jackie Chan’s films will continue to be watched, studied, and celebrated around the world.

But in Hong Kong, the relationship between the star and his birthplace has fundamentally changed.

And for many residents, that change still hurts.