Jackie Chan revealed that during a dangerous action scene early in his career, a colleague deliberately hid the ladder meant to save him, turning professional jealousy into a near-fatal fall that forever changed how he viewed trust, safety, and survival in the film industry.

For decades, Jackie Chan has been celebrated as the man who laughs in the face of danger, a global action icon whose bones were broken in service of cinematic magic.

But in a recent candid appearance promoting his latest projects, the 71-year-old superstar stunned fans by revealing a chilling behind-the-scenes incident that reframed his legendary bravery as something far more unsettling: during the filming of an action sequence early in his career, a colleague deliberately hid a ladder he was supposed to land on, turning a planned stunt into a potentially fatal free fall.

The revelation came during a public interview in Hong Kong in late 2024, when Chan was asked about the most frightening moment of his career.

Instead of recounting his well-documented accidents—like the skull fracture he suffered in Yugoslavia in 1986—Chan paused, sighed, and said quietly, “The scariest moments are not the falls you expect.

They are the ones where someone changes the plan without telling you.

” According to Chan, the incident occurred during a high-risk rooftop fight scene in the late 1970s, at a time when Hong Kong cinema operated on tight budgets, extreme schedules, and unspoken rivalries.

Chan explained that the stunt required him to jump from a height and grab onto a ladder positioned just out of frame, a maneuver rehearsed repeatedly during earlier takes.

But on the day of the final shot, as cameras rolled and there was no chance to stop, the ladder was gone.

“I jumped, and my hands reached for nothing,” he recalled.

“In that moment, you don’t think about acting.

You think, ‘This is how I die.

’” He managed to twist his body mid-air, crashing into a lower platform and narrowly avoiding a fatal plunge.

Crew members rushed in, shocked, while filming was halted.

What made the incident more disturbing, Chan said, was discovering later that the ladder hadn’t fallen or been misplaced—it had been intentionally moved.

While he stopped short of naming the individual responsible, he hinted at professional jealousy and competition common in the industry at the time.

“Everyone wanted to be the next star,” Chan said.

“Some people thought if I disappeared, their chance would come faster.

” The comment sent ripples through fan communities, reigniting long-standing discussions about the ruthless realities of old-school action filmmaking.

At the time, Chan chose not to report the incident or confront the colleague publicly.

He was a young actor, still fighting for recognition after years of rejection and bit parts following the collapse of his early career attempts under Bruce Lee comparisons.

“I needed the work,” he admitted.

“And in those days, if you complained, you were finished.

” Instead, he internalized the lesson, vowing never to put another performer at risk for the sake of ego or spectacle.

That vow would later shape Chan’s leadership style as he rose to power, founding the Jackie Chan Stunt Team and insisting on transparency and trust during action sequences.

Former stunt collaborators have often spoken about his obsessive concern for safety—an irony not lost on fans, given his reputation for reckless stunts.

Chan addressed this contradiction directly, saying, “People think I am crazy because I do dangerous things.

But I do them only when I know exactly what will happen.

The real danger is when someone lies.”

The story also sheds new light on the culture of Hong Kong cinema in the 1970s and 1980s, an era admired for its raw authenticity but criticized for its lack of safety regulations.

Many performers were injured, some permanently, and accidents were often treated as collateral damage rather than warnings.

Chan’s experience, while extreme, was not entirely unique—but few had ever described it as an act of intentional sabotage.

Fans have reacted with a mix of outrage and heartbreak.

Social media flooded with comments praising Chan’s resilience while condemning the unnamed colleague.

Younger actors, meanwhile, saw the story as a grim reminder of how far the industry has come—and how fragile success once was.

Chan himself struck a reflective tone, saying he no longer holds anger.

“If that ladder had been there,” he mused, “maybe I would have trusted people too easily.

Maybe I wouldn’t be here today telling this story.”

Now in the later chapters of his career, Jackie Chan continues to perform action scenes, albeit with more support and technology.

But his confession serves as a stark reminder that behind the laughter, the acrobatics, and the legendary outtakes lies a history of survival not just against gravity—but against betrayal.