Viking Night: Bloodsport
By Bruce Hall
January 13, 2015
BoxOfficeProphets.com

That looks shockingly comfortable.

They say you’re nobody until Jean-Claude Van Damme has played you in a movie - “they”, of course, being Jean-Claude Van Damme. So assuming this is true (it’s not), that makes Frank Dux the most important entertainment figure of the 1980s. For those not in the know. Dux (it’s pronounced “Dukes”) is a Canadian martial arts enthusiast who is best known for supposedly winning the Kumite competition 500 times in a row, never losing a fight ever, and being able to catch bullets in his teeth and make it rain just by shaking his fist at the sky. I say “supposedly” because you’ll notice that most of these claims sound like total crap.

But whether his exploits are true or not, someone made a movie about him, and not about me, so I’m willing to let him have the benefit of the doubt.

Moving on, the “Kumite” is an illegal martial arts championship allegedly held every five years in a secretive location, where competitors from all over the world allegedly beat the living hell out of each other until one man is allegedly left standing. Nothing is illegal, and it is said that brutal, neck snapping deaths are not uncommon. I say “allegedly” because there is no proof the Kumite exists, other than Frank Dux saying it does. So basically, Dux is like that kid in high school who said he had a girlfriend in Canada, and you had no choice but to believe him because Canada is really far away and the Internet has not been invented yet.

Still, it makes a good story, and if nothing else, Bloodsport starts the way every good story should. With a montage of mysterious Asian men in flowing robes gleefully decorate a secluded arena like cheerleaders getting ready for a pep rally, interspersed with shots of manly men breaking blocks of ice the size of teenagers with their elbows, leaping through solid bricks of wood as thick as phone books, and karate chopping coconuts in half. Behind it chugs an ‘80s synth pop soundtrack informing us the Kumite is coming and will totally break your face.

Meanwhile, rebellious army Captain Frank Dux (Van Damme) is so anxious to attend this event that he goes AWOL. Needless to say, this slightly irritates his commanding officer, who dispatches agents Helmer and Rawlins (Norman Burton, Forest Whitaker) the world’s worst CID officers, to bring him back. It’s never explained why Dux is so important that the Army needs to send two guys halfway across the globe on an unlimited budget to find him. It is also never explained why two guys as stupid as Helmer and Rawlins are worthy of such a responsibility. But it’s mildly amusing to see them try, and you seriously wouldn’t believe how huge tasers were back in 1988.

Frank’s interest in the Kumite stems from his time as a child, when he apparently hung with some bad seeds. On one occasion, they break into a Japanese family’s home to steal all the cool swords and stuff, but lose their nerve and bug out. Frank stays behind to tidy up (because he’s not like the other kids, you see) and is apprehended by the kindly Mr. Tanaka (Roy Chiao). Tanaka agrees not to press charges if Frank will agree to years of brutal martial arts training alongside Tanaka’s son, who hopes one day to compete in the Kumite. The agreement is made, but when Tanaka’s son suddenly dies (probably from being beaten to death), Frank decides to honor his new foster family by aspiring to take the boy’s place (as any normal teen would do.

With this bothersome backstory is out of the way, Bloodsport more or less sticks to brutality for the rest of the film, which is as it should be. Tanaka agrees to prepare Frank for Kumite, leading to the most uncomfortably homoerotic training montage since Rocky and Apollo hugged it out in short shorts on the beach. Eventually, Frank is able to snatch fish out of the water bare-handed, serve tea blindfolded without getting punched in the windpipe and stretch himself apart like a porn star. Only then is he deemed ready for Mortal Kombat.

Frank lands in Hong Kong a naive, wide eyed rube (an aspect of the role in which Van Damme admittedly excels). Because every hero on a righteous quest needs sidekicks, Frank immediately befriends Jackson (Donald Gibb, also known as “Ogre” from Revenge of the Nerds), a mentally deranged biker who has no idea how to fight but is fueled by rage and indignation. They are joined by Victor (Ken Siu), who is the wacky comic relief guy who joins the gang because every adventure story needs wacky comic relief. The team is rounded out by Janice (Leah Ayres), who is ostensibly a nosy reporter desperate to cover the Kumite. But mostly she plays the role of Frank’s perfunctory love interest.

The last thing you need in a movie like this is a Mortal Enemy, and this role is amply filled by Chong Li (Bolo Yeung), who is the reigning Kumite champion, and the man responsible for most of the neck snapping. Naturally, Chong Li immediately singles out Frank and resolves to destroy him no matter what the cost, because of course he does. Needless to say, Bloodsport lays its cards on the table pretty early. If you can’t figure out what’s going to happen and who it’s going to happen to by the 20 minute mark, I have to assume you’ve never seen a movie before. So, despite some obvious shortcomings (acting, for instance), Bloodsport does exactly what it should do, exactly when it should, exactly the WAY it should.

Story wise, Bloodsport follows your standard Sports Movie template: Hero with a heart of gold fights against all the odds with the help of a crusty old mentor, a merry band of plucky sidekicks and a pretty girl who loves him even though he’s kind of a whiny bitch. Van Damme is not here because he can act (believe me, he can’t). He’s here because he’s handsome, shredded, and twice as limber as the entire Soviet gymnastics squad put together. Donald Gibb is here because he was Ogre. Leah Ayres is here because she has blonde hair with amazing body. Bolo Yeung is here because he’s the size of an SUV and really CAN break blocks of ice the size of teenagers with his hands.

But here’s the cool thing about Bloodsport. Say what you will about Van Damme being a lousy actor with wooden delivery and an innate inability to emote - when he’s in the ring fighting, he’s a natural. There’s a scene during the climactic fight where...something happens...and Frank is required to react with shock, fear, disillusionment and then anger. And then of course, kick his opponent in the chest so hard his grandchildren are born spitting blood. This is Van Damme’s strength - doing the splits, spinning around in the air, and making you believe he can murder a man twice his size with his feet (he can’t).

Put that together with some brilliantly choreographed fights, some amusingly effective casting choices, and a highly clichéd but surprisingly well-constructed screenplay - bad acting be Van Damned – and it’s hard not to kind of get into Bloodsport. If nothing else, it’s a great way to kill a rainy Sunday with a bowl of popcorn and a beer - or two. Or three. And even if Frank Dux is lying about his record, all I can say is that it’s a hell of a lie, and it made for a damned entertaining movie. And, it made Jean-Claude Van Damme a star! So if you stop and think about it, without Frank Dux, we’d never have had Timecop and Universal Soldier. Feel free to email him with your thanks.