Ultimately, The Tuxedo works best as a historical artifact. It captures a moment when two worlds collided: the gritty, painful poetry of Hong Kong action and the sterile, effects-driven gloss of early 2000s Hollywood. Jackie Chan survived the collision, of course, returning to form in New Police Story and even earning an Oscar. But El Esmoquin stands as a curious cautionary tale. It asks a question the industry has yet to answer: When you give a master fighter a magic suit, have you empowered him—or have you just admitted you don’t trust his art?