Few works in Chinese literature have been able to reach the global stage like Journey to the West has. Written by Wu Cheng’en during the Ming Dynasty, the story follows the Monkey King, a mischievous deity who causes trouble wherever he goes in search of whatever currently occupies his mind. On account of his mischief, he eventually meets the Buddhist monk Tripitaka, who is on a pilgrimage to retrieve sacred scriptures from India, and becomes one of his disciples. Accompanying Tripitaka on his journey are his three disciples, the Monkey King Sun Wukong, the man-pig Pigsy, and the river monster Sandy. Together, they face 81 calamities as they make their journey, fighting whatever monsters and demons stand in their way. On the surface, this story is one of fantastical adventures, but it also serves as a complex work that makes use of religious allegory and political satire to teach the listener/reader moral lessons of redemption and spiritual enlightenment.

Released in 2008, Rob Minkoff’s The Forbidden Kingdom presents itself as a global reimagining of Journey to the West, one that replaces Tripitaka’s pilgrimage with a westernized take of the monk’s expedition. The film begins not in China, but in modern-day Boston, where Jason Tripitikas (a direct nod to you know who), a shy American teenager obsessed with kung fu movies, stumbles upon a mysterious golden staff in a Chinatown pawnshop. Afterwards, when Jason is attacked by bullies and falls from a rooftop with the staff in hand, he awakens in a fantasy version of ancient China. There, he learns that the staff belongs to the Monkey King, who has been imprisoned by the Jade Warlord. Jason’s task as the “Seeker” then becomes to return the staff to the Monkey King and end the terror of the Jade Warlord. Along his journey, he’s joined by Lu Yan, a drunken master played by Jackie Chan, the Silent Monk, played by Jet Li, and Golden Sparrow, an orphaned warrior, played by Liu Yifei.

While Journey to the West focuses on spiritual enlightenment, The Forbidden Kingdom reframes the story as a coming-of-age tale with action at the forefront. In the original story, Tripitaka’s pilgrimage is meant to test his moral endurance, with his disciples representing aspects of the human condition (rebellion, greed, balance). By contrast, Jason’s journey is more internal and individualistic. He is not a monk striving for enlightenment and the spread of Buddhism, but an ordinary teenager developing his character through kung fu. His transformation from a passive consumer of Chinese culture to an active participant in it shows a contemporary reworking of the pilgrimage theme from the original story.
Sun Wukong’s role also undergoes a subtle transformation. In Journey to the West, Wukong’s rebellion against heaven and his eventual redemption through service to Tripitaka represents the boundless raw freedom of the human mind coming to know restraint. In this film however, Wukong’s journey is simplified into a struggle between imprisonment and liberation. Instead of there being sacred scriptures that Jason has to retrieve, his objective is to free Wukong and return to him his staff. This decision of having Wukong replace the scriptures could have been made to reduce the religious influence that is present throughout Journey to the West, making the movie more digestible for Western audiences.
Speaking of religious influences, the film made an interesting decision when it came to the dialogue in one scene that is worth analyzing. After Lu Yan revealed that he was not an immortal and Jason responded in shock, Lu Yan said this:
“If one does not attach himself to people and desires, never shall his heart be broken. But then, does he ever truly live? I would rather die a mortal who has cared about someone than a man free from his own death.”
At first glance, it seems that Lu Yan is rejecting the Buddhist teaching that attachment leads to suffering and that they actually are what make a life full. However, upon further examination, Lu Yan is not doing that. He accepts the Buddhist principle that with no attachments and desires, your heart will never be broken. Despite this, he believes that a life with suffering is worth more than a life without it, which reflects the Daoist beliefs of the real-life person this character was based on, Lü Dongbin. Buddhism seeks liberation by cutting off attachments, while Daoism accepts attachments as a part of life, which makes this quote from Lu Yan fit his character perfectly.

Perhaps the most intriguing part of The Forbidden Kingdom is how it deals with cultural boundaries. The film itself is a product of globalization: directed by an American, filmed in China, starring two of Hong Kong cinema’s biggest actors, and written for a worldwide audience. Jason’s presence as a Westerner among mythic Chinese figures brings cultural exchange to the big screen, giving Western audiences a look into thousands of years of Chinese folklore. Where the Buddhist parables and Daoist lessons were in Journey to the West, are now familiar pillars of the Western hero narrative: destiny, mentorship, and sacrifice.
One way the film participates in this cultural exchange is by incorporating characters from other stories in Chinese history, not just from Journey to the West. For example, Lu Yan is based on Lü Dongbin, one of the Eight Immortals of Daoist legend, and Ni Chang (one of the antagonists in the film) is based on the White-Haired Witch, an anti-heroine from the popular novel Baifa Monü Zhuan.
In the end, The Forbidden Kingdom is less a retelling of Journey to the West than a reflection of how stories are adapted across cultures. Where Wu Cheng’en imagined a religious pilgrimage for wisdom, the film imagines a cultural pilgrimage where East and West fuse and prove that myths continue to evolve centuries after they were born.