My Favourite Martial Arts Movie Ever
Monday is about movies and TV. Today, my favourite Martial Arts Film Always!
When it comes to martial arts films, you are supposed to say that you love The 36th Chamber of Shaolin — or even Shaolin Soccer. You can totally say Kung Fu Hustle, but a better answer, naturally, is Enter The Dragon — or Fists of Fury, or anything that’s not The Karate Kid or Kill Bill Vol. 1 or Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, or — now — Everything Everywhere All At Once. You can say those, but some nerd will say they don’t count. (They do count, and anyway, who cares about counting).
You can say The Raid or Ip Man or Ong Bak and you’re doing well. But the deeper cuts are The One Armed Swordsman or Drunken Master II or The Invincible Armour.
I’ll be clear here — I’ve seen every film I’ve mentioned there, except that one Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. No real reason I haven’t seen it — I just never got to it. One day I will. And I pretty much love every film I mentioned there, apart from Everything Everywhere All At Once. Just did not see the fuss. At all. Thought it quite ridiculous that Jamie Lee Curtis won an Oscar too. Love her to bits. But felt that was token. Like the handing out of a FairPlay award. Less bothered by the other awards the film won, but just didn’t have a good time watching it — it felt like the movie people had decided they better think was clever, and better like because of that.
Anyway, I like my martial arts films on the stupid side of things, if anything. I grew up with Born To Defence, and a dozen Chuck Norris films, a half-dozen Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee movies, and of course anything — and then everything — featuring Jean-Claude Van Damme. There’s another essay coming at another time, filled with my admiration for JCVD. But for now he’ll have to settle with a thank you in the Acknowledgements of my new book of poems!
Oh, I’m not joking. He’s in there. Thanked. And he will never know that. But it was important to me.
You see, Bloodsport is the single most important martial arts film in my life. And if there’s a second most important, it’s absolutely The Karate Kid. No shame there. I’ll take the Pepsi Challenge on martial arts flicks. I’ve seen Shaw Brothers galore, I’ve watched bad dubbing, subtitles, bad quality, across VHS and now the sneaky transfers you find on YouTube. I’ve collected up some DVDs, and through my teens and 20s I was addicted to watching kung-fu, karate, kickboxing, and whatever variation or combination I could find. From the big dumb action (and weird messaging) of American Ninja to the deep-cut, established classics. To even some actual tournaments for real, and loads of documentaries. People have regrets about not learning a language or musical instrument when they were younger. I still wish I had signed up for Karate; had learned a martial art.
I’ve watched Enter The Dragon so many times, I’ve forgotten how many times it could be — but once, memorably, I watched it with a live audience at a gig where the soundtrack was being recreated by the Indian-American music Karsh Kale, in tribute to the original score by the legend, Lalo Schifrin (an Argentinian pianist and composer behind at least a dozen important film and TV scores, probably two dozen or more).
I even interviewed Karsh Kale ahead of that gig, and much as I like his music, my focus was on talking to him about Enter The Dragon. It’s fair to say that the original score for Dragon is one of the reasons I became a soundtrack-collector:
And my love for the Enter The Dragon soundtrack was surpassed by my enthusiasm for the music to Bloodsport (and Kickboxer — both by the same little-known composer). Not many people write poems about little-known soundtrack composers. But I do!
I’ve written specifically about the Bloodsport score here too:
What A Good Score! – #21: Bloodsport by Paul Hertzog
More than once, actually:
The Magical Movie Music of Paul Hertzog
The music for Kickboxer, and particularly for Bloodsport is a crucial element of those films. But Bloodsport is also one of the Signpost Movies of my childhood. In a way, as important as Star Wars or E.T. And a much bigger deal than seeing any of the other allegedly “important” martial arts films. Because of the time I saw it, the age/era, but the stage — particularly. It was a film to see with friends. And then to show to new friends, to test them on the blood of the title, and the impact of the key bone-breaking scene, in the way you’d later show off key horror films, or favourite moments from music concerts.
If The Karate Kid was some sort of romantic first kiss, then Bloodsport was the heavy petting. It was so very much The Next Level anyway. When I first saw it, I woke up early to rewatch it the next morning, and partly just to get the jump on my friends that were there, sleeping. So I could say I’d seen it more than they had. That kind of stuff sticks with you. Anyway, I’ll have shared some of this before, but a poem specifically about Bloodsport, and the first watching of it, is part of my new upcoming book - The Richard Poems.
And because I’m right in the thick of the shameless Taylor Swift-like “era” of shameless self-promotion I’m tagging a book plug to a newsletter about movies.
Anyway, I’ll conclude this with the text of the poem that is in the book. My tribute to Bloodsport. My reason for acknowledging Jean-Claude Van Damme in the pages of that same book.
In a collection of stories and poems about friendship, you remember those key markers: A Dire Straits concert, a particular night out drinking where it all went too far, the silly stories you were each making up to outdo the other, the good times going to movies, and to the beach, buying cassette tapes, making lists to share of your favourite musicians, songs, films, the works. Getting scared by Stephen King and Wes Craven, not getting scared by John Farnham or Pink Floyd. And staying up all night to watch Bloodsport, then waking up again to watch it as quickly as possible for a second time. Those are the stories of connection to friendship, even if it’s a friendship that’s now gone. There’s some darkness there, some sadness too. But also some humour, and most hopefully some heart. Huge heart I would hope. That was most definitely the intention.
I can still remember everything about the time I first saw the movie Bloodsport. It was at a 13th birthday party for my really good mate. There was a bunch of us, we went to the arcade and played the wrestling game, we went ten-pin bowling after, then back to the orchard to throw rotten fruit at each other, ripping down the aisles of trees on quad bikes as rival gangs. When it got cold, we were forced inside but there were a few breakaways to the trampoline while we waited for the computer games to load. And then after the cake, and the big bottles of coke, we lined up the videotapes to watch.
It was Bloodsport that was the highlight. But also, Hellraiser. To get to them we had to first watch the Teenage Vampire movie, which was pretty cool too. There were tired eyes and some of the soldiers dropped pretty quickly, even though there was still a huge bag of Burger Rings, and we had one whole room in that big farmhouse to ourselves. Sleeping bags everywhere. The next morning, I woke early – I had never felt so tired – but I did it because I had to get the jump: wanted to watch Bloodsport again, or at least as much as I could before getting picked up. I was the only one up to begin with, but the friends started joining in as the action was building. We were cheering by midway, and when the bone in the leg snaps, we all winced. The Karate Kid was just Play-Doh, this was a monument, tall building, a work of art.
I’d missed my father’s 40th birthday to attend this 13th. It made more sense to me, then and now. And Bloodsport still fills me with a visceral thrill I could never be capable of acting on, have never felt I need to justify nor compartmentalise – it’s just simply one of the greatest films I know. But there’s a sadness that lingers when thinking about it also. Some of the friends you have and just fall out of touch with. Where do they go? Why does it happen? So you hold onto the memory of their 13th birthday, like a film you keep renting, and pay all the overdues.
