Warrior

(2011, US, Mimran Schur Pictures/Filmtribe/Solaris Entertainment)

Dir. Gavin O’Connor; Pro. Gavin O’Connor, Greg O’Connor; Scr. Gavin O’Connor, Cliff Dorfman, Anthony Tambakis; Action Dir. J.J. Perry; Cast Tom Hardy, Joel Edgerton, Jennifer Morrison, Frank Grillo, Nick Nolte.

140 min.

Supercharged, highly emotive sports movie which makes the logical transition from Darren Aronofsky’s reflective downbeat sucker-punch portrayal of wrestling in The Wrestler (2008), via David O. Russell’s boxing drama The Fighter (2010) to the brutal ground and pound of mixed martial arts. But to cast Warrior as merely a bandwagon jumper does the film an immeasurable disservice. Sure, every sporting cliche is here, from Rocky‘s small town ambition to Raging Bull‘s complicated family ties, before the film reaches a contrived and predictable conclusion. But the film rests on superb performances and a core of convincing characters each battling with a divisive balance of loyalty, pride and responsibility. The MMA tournament which takes up the majority of the final act is utterly compelling, offering both an insight into what motivates the men choosing to engage in extreme full contact cage fighting and the impact their decisions have on those closest to them.

The central drama revolves around a former alcoholic and abusive father, played by Nick Nolte, who cleans up too late to build bridges with his two estranged combative sons. One, played by Joel Edgerton, is a physics teacher and family man who is forced back into the ring due to spiraling debts. The other son is more complex. Played brilliantly by Tom Hardy, he returns to his home town of Pittsburgh after running out on the US Marines, choosing his father to coach him for the upcoming SPARTA tournament – billed as the Superbowl of MMA – but stubbornly refusing to accept his fathers apologies. The two brothers end up in the same competition, so it’s pretty obvious where the film is heading. But it is manipulative enough to get caught up in the emotion, and as an exercise in humanising the brutal sport of mixed martial arts it works very well.

One Down, Two to Go

(1982, US, Camelot Films/Po’ Boy Productions)

Dir. Fred Williamson; Pro. Fred Williamson; Scr. Fred Williamson; Action Dir. Cesar Bujosa; Cast Fred Williamson, Jim Brown, Jim Kelly, Richard Roundtree, Paula Sills, Laura Loftus.

86 min.

Another weary blaxploitation reunion released long after the sub-genre’s heyday, this stars a quartet of overweight and underpaid former action heroes who get to shoot their big guns one last time at a slimy group of honkies who rig a karate tournament. Black Belt Jones is shot in the process, leaving it to Black Gunn and That Man Bolt to investigate with Shaft popping in occasionally for coffee. Jim Kelly’s Bruce Lee chops are criminally underused so it is left to Williamson and Brown to run the show. At least the aging actors appear to be having fun reviving their stereotypes (the trio last assembled eight years previously for Three the Hard Way) which almost excuses a lot of the film’s more questionable elements.

Ong-Bak

(2003, Thailand, Sahamongkol Film Co.)

Dir. Prachya Pinkaew; Pro. Prachya Pinkaew, Sukanya Vongsthapat; Scr. Suphachai Sittiaumponpan; Action Dir. Panna Rittikrai, Tony Jaa; Cast Tony Jaa, Petchtai Wongkamlao, Pumwaree Yodkamol, Suchoa Pongvilai, Wannakit Siriput.

105 min.

The most exciting post-millennial Asian success was, surprisingly, of Thai origin. Not the film as such (it’s a pottering drivel of a story) but rather the movie’s star, Panom Yeerum, or ‘Tony Jaa’ to us Westerners.

Perhaps one of the most remarkable finds in the evolution of martial arts cinema, Jaa resembles Jackie Chan in his stunt work but with enough ferocity to make Steven Seagal look like a ballerina. Ong-Bak is all about full contact Muay Thai kickboxing and Jaa is so remarkable to watch he will literally leave you breathless. A chase scene through a Thai market sees Jaa scaling walls in a single leap, gliding underneath moving trucks and somersaulting his way through bustling traffic with split second accuracy.

If you think that’s something, just wait until he starts beating people up. His knees and elbows break cycle helmets. He can perform wildly acrobatic kicks that defy gravity, even when his legs are on fire. The final brawl sees a succession of stuntmen line up as cannon fodder for an exhilarating exhibition, exploiting the film’s unique selling point to such a degree that it will beat any kind of cynicism clean out of your brain.

The movie’s secret, and Tony Jaa’s, is the impressive lack of wires and gimmicks. A distinct lack of special effects is a rare thing in the modern era of instant kung fu heroes. Ong-Bak reverts the genre to its bare essentials and emphatically embraces talent over trickery.

Jaa also forces us to neglect a rather pitiful story line where he travels into the dark, gambling underworld of Thailand to recover the stolen head of his village’s sacred Buddhist statue. But in a movie this explicitly crowd-pleasing, trivial issues like plot and characterisation are a moot point.

This film kicks ass and should come with a band aid.

AKA: Daredevil; Ong-Bak: The Thai Warrior; Ong-Bak: Muay Thai Warrior; Thai Fist

The Karate Kid

(2010, US/China, Columbia Pictures/China Film Group/Jerry Weintraub Productions/Overbrook Entertainment)

Dir. Harald Zwart; Pro. James Lassiter, Jada Pinkett Smith, Will Smith, Ken Stovitz, Jerry Weintraub; Scr. Christopher Murphey; Cast Jaden Smith, Jackie Chan, Taraji P. Henson, Han Wen-wen, Yu Ronggaung.

140 min.

Adding to Hollywood’s already busy roster of pointless 80s remakes (Nightmare on Elm Street, The A-Team, Knightrider etc.) comes this specially designed if not unwelcome vehicle for Jaden Smith, celebrity spawn of Will and Jada Pinkett Smith who also act as the film’s producers.

At 11 years old his comic timing conjures up slight memories of his father during those fledgling Fresh Prince of Bel-Air days, and any burden to impress as a debutant is substantially lifted given the familiarity with the original film.

Which is why this version stays so true to the source, even down to quotations and narrative structure with additional skits on already well-worn routines. (For instance, when recreating the classic moment when a fly is caught using chopsticks, a fly swat is used instead).

Everything bar the use of karate in the film which, despite the title, is abandoned completely and replaced by kung fu choreography. Despite being stylistically polarised, the shift is more a statement on the way martial arts action has developed since the release of the original film in 1984, which has since seen Hong Kong choreography infiltrate the Hollywood mainstream and bringing its high calibre of performers along with it.

Like Jackie Chan, who accurately takes on the Mr Miyagi role, beard and all. His kung fu clowning makes him a perfect fit for lighter family fare, although this is a much more thorough and unflinchingly violent adaptation. Chan is even offered ample space to flex his more dramatic chops, playing the lonesome, troubled sifu with much greater depth than even the original Miyagi was awarded.

The story follows Smith and his mother who relocate from Detroit to Beijing where he falls foul of the wayward school bullies, and in training scenes reminiscent of Chan’s celebrated Drunken Master past, he learns the necessary kung fu moves needed to enter an upcoming tournament and regain a little self respect.

Director Harald Zwart, with help from the state funded China Film, has just as much fun visualising a contemporary China with all the romanticism of a tourist information video, utilising great location shots from the Forbidden City to an obligatory training sequence on the Great Wall.

But it stumbles slightly when relying too heavily on leading actors who, although incredibly likable, are still a mixture of inexperience and incoherence, and its attempts to broaden the simple scope of the original film make the whole set up seem somewhat less believable.

American Shaolin

(1991, HK/US, Seasonal Films)

Dir. Lucas Lo; Pro. Keith W. Strandberg; Scr. Keith W. Strandberg; Action Dir. Corey Yuen Kwai; Cast Reese Madigan, Trent Bushey, Henry O, Alice Zhang Hung, Daniel Dae Kim.

106 min.

Affable if honkingly predictable Sino-American romp from Seasonal Films who add a lighter tone to the Shaolin temple story.

After humiliation at a kickboxing tournament at the hands of contemptuous headcrunching uber-douche Trevor Gottitall (see what they did there?), American teen slacker Drew Carson (Madigan) boards a quick flight to China to study at a mostly English speaking Shaolin temple.

Shaolin is portrayed as a military boot camp, where new inmates are bossed about by a stern kung fu captain who has them breaking rocks like prisoners. Drew has a Spartacus moment after befriending his fellow monks with the help of American pornography and a song and dance routine where he teaches everyone the words to Eddie Cochran’s Summertime Blues (charmingly altered to Shaolin Temple Blues). But he soon gets into the swing of things, learning discipline, humility and loads of kung fu.

The film enters Raiders of the Lost Ark territory as Drew confronts the fabled wooden dummies guarding the Shaolin exit besieged by a series of falling traps. He conveniently graduates in time to face Trevor in a final battle at a wushu tournament in Shanghai. “The Shaolin monks are pussies!” yells the cretinous Trevor, whose cheap finishing move involves pulling his opponent’s pants down.

Trevor represents a crass symbol of western aggression, obsessed by ego and prestige and the antithesis of the Shaolin way. Drew’s cathartic journey, both physically and spiritually, transcends to such a degree that he almost opts out of the final fight.

He doesn’t, obviously, leaving more screen time for Corey Yuen to showcase his sublime choreography. The film also makes ample time for some authentic location shots and an erstwhile morality. As an accessible introduction to the wisdom and teachings of the Shaolin temple for a younger western audience, the film is perfectly acceptable and rather enjoyable.

AKA: King of the Kickboxers II; No Retreat, No Surrender 5

King Boxer

(1972, HK, Shaw Brothers)

Dir. Jeong Chang-hwa; Pro. Run Run Shaw; Scr. Kong Yeung; Action Dir. Lau Kar-wing, Chan Chuan; Cast Lo Lieh, Tung Lam, James Nam Gung-fan, Fang Mien, Wong Ching-feng, Wong Ping, Tien Feng, Chiu Hung, Chan Shen, Bolo Yeung.

104 min.

One of the most enjoyable martial arts movies ever made, this relentless, unapologetic head kicker completed the Shaw conversion from swashbuckling 1960s hits by directors like King Hu and Chang Cheh to full-bodied, empty hand fight movies. Picked up by Warner Brothers and released in the US in 1973 several months before Enter the Dragon, it was King Boxer (under the superb title Five Fingers of Death) that would become the leading example of Hong Kong kung fu cinema in the west and instrumental in introducing chopsocky to a whole new audience.

With exaggerated zooms, maniacal villains and martial superpowers, this film – more than any other – set the groundwork for what viewers would come to expect from Hong Kong martial arts cinema. The film’s influence can still be felt today. Quentin Tarantino would steal the recognisable Ironside motif for his epic homage Kill Bill, a film dedicated to the memory of late Shaw Brothers icons Chang Cheh and Lo Lieh.

Interesting also is the fact the film is directed by a Korean, Jeong Chang-hwa, still heavily influenced by the supernatural structure of Shaw’s earlier swordplay pictures, but with an added emphasis on delicate, well-paced storytelling. Subsequent chopsockies would ultimately do away with the storytelling altogether, but here we get a rather detailed, character-driven drama about the quest for martial supremacy between two rival schools.

Lo Lieh is sent packing by his father and girlfriend to train under the auspices of Master Suen, who teaches him the Iron Palm technique (in which his hands embody a devilish red glow) in a quest to defeat teacher Meng and his evil class of bastards at an upcoming kung fu tournament. Meng sends his cohorts to kill anyone who stands in his way, teaming up with the Japanese to hire a trio of Samurai assassins to take care of Suen and the boys.

As for the film’s leading man, it was Lo Lieh – not Bruce Lee – who would provide the west with their first kung fu hero. Lo Lieh’s body of work is vast but he was never more iconic than in this trailblazing movie.

AKA: Five Fingers of Death; Invincible Boxer

Best of the Best

(1989, US, The Movie Group Inc.)

Dir. Robert Radler; Pro. Phillip Rhee, Peter E. Strauss; Scr. Paul Levine; Cast Eric Roberts, James Earl Jones, Sally Kirkland, Phillip Rhee, Chris Penn, John Dye, David Agresta, Simon Rhee, Tom Everett.

97 min.

Five top US karate fighters are chosen to compete against the Koreans in an upcoming tournament, but not without their own emotional baggage. Alex Grady (Roberts) is a single father with a shoulder injury who has got something to prove. His team mate Tommy (Rhee) is seeking revenge for a deceased brother killed in combat by Korea’s best brute. There is plenty of sentiment as Radler overloads his movie with spiritual overtones, loads of sweaty fighters crying and nauseating power ballads (who actually listens to this stuff?). But the supporting cast are strong, particularly James Earl Jones who plays the dedicated team coach and Chris Penn as an obnoxious cowboy. When it ends, there won’t be a dry seat in the house.

Ip Man

(2008, HK, Beijing ShengShi HuaRui Film Investment & Management Co./China Film/Mandarin Films/New Film Studio of Beijing Starlight International/Shanghai Film Group)

Dir. Wilson Yip Wai-shun; Pro. Raymond Wong Bak-ming; Scr. Edmond Wong Chi-mun; Action Dir. Sammo Hung Kam-bo, Tony Leung Siu-hung; Cast Donnie Yen Chi-tan, Simon Yam Tat-wah, Fan Siu-wong, Gordon Lam Ka-tung, Xing Yu, Hiroyuki Ikeuchi, Wong You-nam.

106 min.

To describe Wilson Yip’s glossy take on the formative years of Wing Chun master Ip Man as a biopic is being somewhat economical with the truth. The same misnomer could apply to other vaguely biographical sensationalist potboilers like Fighter in the Wind and Fearless. Yip’s passionate and patriotic drama closely resembles a companion piece for the latter, focussing on the second Sino-Japanese war and the subsequent hostilities facing the Chinese living in invaded Foshan. It even champions an outwardly familiar anti-Japanese sentiment, something Chinese filmmakers have been flogging since, well, the war.

The role of Foshan is also symbolic, being the prosperous holy land for China’s most revered martial arts superheroes – the most famous being Wong Fei-hung. Obviously Ip Man’s backstory was nowhere near as colourful as depicted here (he wasn‘t even living in Foshan during the war). Wilson Yip abandons fact in favour of cicumstance to promote the Wing Chun master as China’s next martial messiah. It is perhaps telling that Ip Man’s grandson, Ip Chun, acts as consultant for the film.

In reality, Ip Man is most famous for being Bruce Lee’s martial arts instructor. If you know a bit about your modern day kung fu history, you may also be aware of Ip Man being the first person to teach the general public about the closely guarded secret discipline of wing chun – a quick, close combat kung fu system.

When we first meet Ip Man (played by Donnie Yen in his most comfortable setting), he is living as a peaceful family man, testing his skills with other sifus on Dojo Street but refusing to pass his secrets onto others. When the Japanese invade in 1937, Foshan is thrown into chaos and its residents, including Ip Man, are forced into slums. With depleting rations and insufficient medical care, the locals face the poisonous dilemma of either fighting back, aiding the Japanese war effort or, worse still, fighting among themselves.

In one scene, a hotheaded northern kung fu rebel steals Chinese cotton supplies in an attempt to sell them back to their southern Chinese owners. It is this act which motivates Ip Man to teach his fellow natives the secrets of wing chun in an attempt to free his people from their brutal, slave-like conditions.

The film builds into an unfortunately predictable showdown of nationalistic intent where Ip Man is pitted in a bare knuckle brawl with the head of the Japanese army, a karate expert, who tastefully shows a deep respect for the martial arts and its honourable traditions, far unlike the snarling cartoon villainy of his subordinates.

At the heart of the film is a keen admiration for not just Chinese martial arts but the masters who practice them. Sammo Hung’s faultless choreography steals the screen at every opportunity. For Hung, who has already made films detailing the founding fathers of Wing Chun (Warriors Two, The Prodigal Son), Ip Man is the next logical step in charting the system’s distinguished lineage. And Donnie Yen makes the role his own.

AKA: Yip Man

The King of the Kickboxers

(1991, HK/US, Seasonal Films)

Dir. Lucas Lo; Pro. Keith W. Strandberg, Boonlert Setthamongkol; Scr. Keith W. Strandberg; Action Dir. Tony Leung Siu-hung; Cast Loren Avedon, Billy Blanks, Keith Cooke, Sherry Rose, Jerry Trimble.

92 min.

A skewed retelling of the Kickboxer story, Van Damme‘s seminal hit released two years previously. The irony being it was Seasonal Films that first recognised Van Damme’s high kicking potential in their 1986 film No Retreat, No Surrender. The same team back this spirited if ham-fisted revenge film, offering Loren Avedon a prime spot for his bolshy American routine and great footwork. He plays renegade New York undercover cop Jake who breaks up drug busts with his sharp kickboxing skills and refuses to call for back up. He’s assigned (for completely unfathomable reasons) to a case in Bangkok where big budget snuff movies are luring foreign kickboxers to a sticky end, pulverised by the punishing blows of burly beefcake Kahn (Blanks) who is called upon to lynch and cripple opponents for the final reel. But the preposterous conceit doesn’t end there, because Kahn just happened to kill Jake’s brother 10 years back. His American kickboxing isn’t up to scratch, so Jake descends down the Mekong to meet reclusive master Prang (Cooke) and his pet monkey to undergo a torturous lesson or two in the ways of Muay Thai. The film works despite its ineptness because of some strong fight sequences, particularly the final showdown between Avedon and Blanks in a ceremonial bamboo cage, and some convincing chemistry, mostly in the unorthodox relationship between master and pupil. The slights against violent movies add an acerbic irony to the film, but whether that was actually the intention is anyone’s guess.

AKA: Karate Tiger 4; No Retreat, No Surrender 4

The Kentucky Fried Movie

(1977, US, KFM Films)

Dir. John Landis; Pro. Robert K. Weiss; Scr. Jim Abrahams, David Zucker, Jerry Zucker; Action Dir. Patrick Strong, Russ Dodson; Cast Evan Kim, Bong Soo-han, David Zucker, Jerry Zucker, Bill Bixby, Tony Dow, Boni Enten, George Lazenby, Donald Sutherland, Henry Gibson.

90 min.

The first meeting of minds between the Airplane! and Naked Gun team, this rapid fire spoof is 90 minutes of pure parody with the American media the target. The news becomes a laughing stock, sexploitation is made to look silly and commercials are rioted – one about a charity helpline for the dead, another about the importance of zinc oxide. It’s a sequence of skits, hilarious in places, with a glorious centrepiece: a half-hour spoof of Enter the Dragon, titled ‘A Fistful of Yen’. Obviously a labour of love, the parody is simply glorious. The evil ‘Klhan’ uses his disposable hand as a toothbrush and a hairdryer; Evan Kim bumps into American tourists when investigating Klhan’s lair; the film’s script is comically plundered and rewritten, until the routine somehow ends up in The Wizard of Oz. It’s the best thing in a very funny movie.