BLOODSPORT 1988
39%
Directed by Newt Arnold
Written by Sheldon Lettich, Mel Friedman, Christopher Cosby
Starring Jean-Claude Van Damme, Leah Ayres, Donald Gibb, Bolo Yeung, Forest Whitaker
Synopsis
Frank Dux is in Hong Kong, ditching the US army for a spot to compete in the Kumite, a mysterious and potentially life-ending martial arts tournament. With his superiors in chase and facing increasingly strong fighters, Dux must fight to survive inside and out of the ring.
Why We Love It
The first thing you’ll notice about Bloodsport—besides the generous budget for glistening body oil—is how threadbare the plot is outside the ring. This, according to story/cowriter Sheldon Lettich, is by design. At a thirtieth-anniversary screening in Santa Ana, California, he cited Enter the Dragon among martial-arts films that used plot devices like undercover cop operations or slain loved ones to “justify” the action. Why can’t a movie about punching men just be about men punching, Bloodsport asks. A scientifically proven majority of people don’t join tournaments because they want to bust a drug ring operating inside the dojo or to avenge their murdered adopted Vietnamese little brother. It’s the spirit of competition, where your mental fortitude and physical strength come together to try to demolish the opponent before you.
If Bloodsport is a movie that operates solely on the visual, it succeeds because the multiple martial arts depicted here keep the screen alive—and kicking. Each fighter has their own style, and the fun is in seeing how these bodies connect in sweat and sinew. This low-story, high-impact conceit was popular in the late 1980s and inspired creatives well beyond movies. Think of the revolutionary Street Fighter 2 video game, which feels like a cousin to Bloodsport; thought about in those terms, Jean-Claude Van Damme is Ryu, Donald Gibb is Ken (though he looks like Zangief and acts like Guile), Bolo Yeung is M. Bison, and that one guy who fights on all fours? He’s Blanka. You almost wish you had a joystick to play this movie.
Bloodsport breaks bricks and shatters bones, yet it maintains a curiously easygoing spirit throughout. It’s the kind of B-movie that seeks maximum thrills on minimum budget and effort. The extinction of its type of movie really removed lots of character from the weekly box office, and the death of the companies that produced them—whether through bankruptcy (Cannon, Carolco) or consolidation (New Line)—signaled the end of an era when a studio could be run by weirdos with passion and gut feeling instead of spreadsheets, quadrants, and tracking.
Now, show us the Dim Mak.