(2007, Japan, The Klockworx/Crossmedia/Kuro-Obi Partners)
Dir. Shunichi Nagasaki; Pro. Katsuhiro Ogawa, Nobuhiko Sakoh; Scr. George Iida; Action Dir. Fuyuhiko Nishi; Cast Akihito Yagi, Tatsuya Naka, Yuji Suzuki, Shinya Ohwada, Takayasu Komiya.
92 min.
Set soon after the Japanese invasion of Manchuria, what hints at a political, revisionist war film soon starts to resemble a symbolic study into karate’s ethics and practitioners. As much as this is a martial arts film, it is also a film about martial arts, which makes it fulfilling for quite different reasons. Director Nagasaki adds extra authenticity by casting real karate experts in the lead roles.
The film starts with an opportunistic siege on a dojo by wayward Japanese military police. The police are thwarted on their first attempt by the clinical karate skills of the school’s three prized fighters, but the school succumbs on a second attempt following the death of their sensei.
Following the familiar tradition of yin versus yang, one karate fighter contradicts the advice of his late master and the other follows a purer, peaceful path. This is represented physically via their chosen technique: one is primed to attack; the other trained only to defend. Taikan (played by “Japanese Karate Association instructor” Tatsuya Naka) becomes the sake-guzzling womanising poodle to a power crazed militia utilising his unparalleled martial arts skills to kill off rival fighters, while Giryu (played by Akihito Yagi from the “International Meibukan of Goju Ryu”) is harboured by a peasant family and forced into confrontation – albeit against his will – when the family’s young daughter is kidnapped.
The film’s most poignant subplot involves Taikan’s belief that he is the rightful heir to his former school’s hallowed black belt, which takes on a crucial symbolic significance. Ultimately, the mere possession of the belt is incidental – it is tellingly kept in a box and never worn – and Taikan’s insatiable quest for its possession is balanced by the solemn indifference from his opposing half. Giryu’s final sacrifice at the movie’s end is befitting to both their polarised beliefs and in the true redemptive spirit upon which the ideals of karate are based.
Followers will enjoy Fuyuhiko Nishi’s fresh, free-flowing choreography captured elegantly by Nagasaki’s wide lens. It is so refreshing to see a fight film free from wires and computer generated effects, and the film’s approach to capturing both the merits and the corruption of karate in all its idiosyncratic forms is an endeavour worth applauding. A slight reliance on cliché (Star Wars-esque visions of a dead sensei; villainy which borders on caricature; a slightly twee red balloon metaphor) seems nit-picky for what is ostensibly a competent, erudite and moralistic tale.
AKA: Kuro-obi
Following the huge success of The Young Master, Raymond Chow repackages a young 
Popular B movie which not only established Jean-Claude Van Damme as the hottest action property around, but also brought about the rebirth of the tournament movie (particularly in Hong Kong), an almost killed-off kung fu movie cliché. This is essentially 
Merhi’s vanity project continues, taking the far eastern spiritualism of the first film to confused extremes. Relevant cast and crew reassemble and relocate to San Francisco on the hunt of tiger claw expert Chong (Bolo), who has been sprung from prison as part of an arms deal between his martial brother (played by Ong Soo Han) and some assorted heavies. NY cop Tarek (Merhi) appears to have had a personality lobotomy since the first film, but the spunky Linda (Rothrock) still thinks highly of him, for reasons completely unfathomable. So they buddy up again and enrol in a contrived kung fu tournament held once every century to coincide with some ancient Chinese zodiac thing where the stars align and Chong’s sifu can enter another martial realm, or something. The story’s supernatural tangent is strange, with Merhi’s Canadian studio drenched in dry ice, electric sparks and video game villainy like something out of Big Trouble in Little China. But Merhi’s biggest crime is reducing Rothrock to such a subordinate role, particularly when watching him act is like having some kind of eye surgery.
Canadian jewellery entrepreneur Jalal Merhi surrounds himself with real martial artists for his first feature film, self-financed and designed to showcase his own somewhat dubious talents. Linda (Rothrock) and Tarek (Merhi) are kung fu cops investigating a spate of killings with links to New York’s Chinatown district (even though we are clearly in Canada), where a string of insolent so-called masters are left with bloodied claw-like marks on their face and body. Tarek may be the department’s wild card but he knows the tiger style when he sees it. The trail leads to the pantomime evilness of Bolo Yeung, a psychopathic purist who has taken umbrage at the bastardisation of traditional Chinese kung fu styles. His initial victims are a phoney TV instructor and a histrionic American master who shouts, “Now it’s not about what you do, it’s how you look.” The martial politics is forgotten quite early on in favour of very cheap thrills, but the fact it’s there at all makes for an interesting distraction. The star-crossed leads are good company if a little stilted, like all first dates, and the chemistry works even during the film’s less athletic moments. And chopsocky fans will enjoy the finale, pitching blond fury Rothrock against HK favourite Bolo, who surely deserves some recognition as cinema’s best bastard.
A simple premise – bullied karate enthusiast seeks martial guidance from celebrity stiff – but the result is pleasing enough. McKinney plays Jason, a troubled youth new to Seattle, hassled by the bigger kids, befriended by a disco dancing stereotype and his martial arts training is on the slide. His prayers are answered when Kim Tai-chong appears as the spirit of 
Kung Fu Movie Guide 