We get the movies we deserve. Information has replaced imagination, and worldwide Spiderman receipts guarantee we'll get superhero remakes until the archives have been exhausted. But the upcoming remake of The Green Hornet, due out this December, is a double outrage.  That the original show bored in all but one aspect is forgivable; a recycled superhero script is a better bet than an original script, according to obscene Hollywood calculus. That this remake will trample the legacy of Bruce Lee, and his remarkable achievement as Kato, is not.

Bruce Lee's proverbial gong fu prowess is only the vehicle of that achievement. The Green Hornet show formed yet another uninspired brick in the Great Wall of white bread corporate media. The role of Kato originally reinforced the identity of ‘the Oriental' in popular American culture: handy, inscrutable, and unquestionably other. Not just Bruce Lee's gong fu, but his force-of-nature self expression smashed that crystallized delusion, making him a 1960s cultural warrior in league with Muhammad Ali and Jimi Hendrix.

White children wanted to play Kato, not the Green Hornet. White teenage boys wanted to study kung fu, or karate, or whatever, and learn more about the Far East. White teenage girls wanted to marry Bruce Lee. For those who think the Bruce Lee train only left the station with Enter the Dragon, consider this quote, "I had more fan mail than Van Williams (lamentable ‘star' of The Green Hornet)," Bruce used to boast. "My mail ran as much as 600 letters per week during the peak period. I read almost all of the letters, but never had time to answer them. I let Linda answer them. It was fun reading the letters - especially from the love-sick, young teenage fans." The interview goes on to say, "About sixty percent of the fans are boys, and it's surprising the number of girls who adore this TV idol."

There can be no other explanation for such cultural impact than Bruce Lee's supernatural charisma. The show was deplorable in both concept and execution. Toneless drone Van Williams played the eponymous Green Hornet, a quasi-superhero at best, blessed with no extraordinary powers, and equipped with a souped-up car ("the Black Beauty"- nice consistency), one gun that sprayed nerve gas, and another that delivered electric shocks, with which to fight various watered-down rackets. Although conceived on the cusp of the Age of Aquarius, The Green Hornet was delivered as straight as two aspirins and water, with none of the self-deprecating quirkiness that made Batman such a hit at the time.

Yet Bruce Lee managed to clamber atop this dung heap and crow like a golden rooster, heralding an age in which personal power need not be limited by color, creed, or size, for that matter. His screen test (No proxy? Sorry.) for the show reveals a glimpse, by no means a full gander, of the presence that would transcend culture and stereotype.  Clean-limbed, compact, and boyishly handsome, Bruce Lee exudes a self-possession rare for a 24-year-old, let alone a recent immigrant speaking English as a second language. He does his best to summarize the difference between gong fu and other martial arts, and gives a brief but astounding exhibition of some strikes and kicks.

If his gong fu got him the gig, a heaven-sent $400 a week, $313 take-home, it didn't make his job any easier. Although an early reviewer of the series quipped that, "He strikes with such speed that he makes a rattler look like a study in slow motion," directors continually prevailed on him to slow down his movements so that the camera could capture them. They also wanted him to use his gong fu for slapstick, something Bruce steadfastly refused, no matter the pressure. It wasn't just his admirable integrity, but his showman's instinct which predicted, correctly, that audiences would be more impressed with a sudden, deadly strike, the overwhelming, annihilating effect of gong fu, than with the drawn-out "hiya!" sequences that make most Hong Kong gong gu films so much chop-socky. This section of an interview in the October, 1967 edition of Black Belt reveals not just Bruce's dilemma with kung fu, but also his verifiable pre-Dragon impact, and a remarkably self-deprecating sense of humor.

Bruce Lee appearances are in demand in many parts of the country. He puts on demonstrations at fairs, public parks, and at club meetings, and is paid anywhere from $2000 to $3000 for a single appearance.

His popularity is shown by the reception he receives wherever he goes. The fans are happy just to touch him, even if they don't get his autograph. They want to meet "the Kato" and they want to know how he is able to knock off those bad guys so quickly.

This sometimes becomes a terrifying experience," says Bruce Lee. "After my personal appearance in Madison Square Garden this summer at the karate tournament, I started to make an exit through a side door, escorted by three karate-men. I was practically mobbed outside and I had to leave through another side door." Earlier in a personal appearance in Fresno, he was scratched, kicked and gouged by riotous fans who just wanted a word with him. The kids were out there in full force.

With all his knowledge of gung-fu, he said afterward, "I couldn't protect myself."

People ask me as an actor, ‘how good are you really in gung-fu?' I always kid them about that. If I tell them I'm good, probably they'll say I'm boasting, but if I tell them I'm no good, you know I'm lying." I also tell them, "believe in half of what you see and nothing what you hear - and remember, seven-hundred-million Chinese can't be Wong."

And now, forty-three years later, rather than a well-timed Kato, we will get a rehash of The Green Hornet. Rest assured no one involved in the project will knock himself out revising and updating the Kato role; Chinese men are not one of the privileged minorities only to be stereotyped at the risk of public outcry. Mando-pop sensation Jay Chou will play accomplice to the crime. It's a larger effrontery than putting a lightweight in a legend's shoes; we could laugh along if Miley Cyrus was recast in Gone With the Wind, or Michael Cera took over for Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire. One look at the leaked set photo below, and it should be plain that Chou will only be able to deliver Kato as originally intended, a subordinate cipher. It's a giant leap backwards for Chinese men, Cauc-asian relations, and Bruce Lee's singular paradigm of a truly global hero.