#42 — Bloodsport
This is another entry in the countdown of my 49 1/2 most ESSENTIAL action movies. Last week I talked about an action bully in Out For Justice.
It’s about time we did some Van Dammage to this countdown. I’m talkin’ about the ultimate game. America’s pastime. Not baseball, not even close. Not Mortal Kombat, but getting warmer. I’m talking about Bloodsport, baby! I’m talking about the cinematic equivalent of discovering a dusty arcade cabinet in the back of an old bowling alley still smelling of Hot Fries and cigarette smoke, where the memory of being young faintly echos like the clang of pins being scattered in the back of your brain. I hope I’ve crystallized this for you. It’s a very specific feeling that not a lot of movies can give me. Not nostalgia, it’s more powerful than that. More elemental, more pure.
Quick aside: For the sake of order, I’m trying to keep martial arts films off this countdown (I think they deserve their own category) — but I’m bending the rules for this one. It carries a lot of attributes that I consider extremely valuable to the action genre, and I want to talk about them. I will be selecting this film as an ambassador for all the other tournament movies that couldn’t make the journey to the Kumite.
The first and most important thing about Bloodsport is that it stars Jean-Claude Van Damme. I love this guy, real heart of a lion in this one. For a very long time his specialty was quite the opposite of a Seagal in that he likes to get beat up in front of a cheering crowd, before channeling his energy into a comeback victory. Then a flagging career and personal problems knocked him down in real life, until he achieved a level of self-awareness and humility strong enough to mirror his cinematic come-from-behind victories. I guess you could say Jean-Claude Van Damme won the most important tournament of them all — the battle……..*dramatic pause* for his soul. How can you not root for him?
I spent a lot of Saturday afternoons watching his signature splits and helicopter kicks on tv. He is nicknamed “the muscles from Brussels”. More action stars should have catchy nicknames, but you gotta earn it, and JCVD certainly does. He’s a passionate guy that wears his heart on his sleeve, and I think that shows through in his performances. This is also his first big hit, highlighting all the classic Van Damme-isms of his filmography. There are rules that Frank Dux will abide by, and his opponent will assuredly ignore. He will get knocked down countless times, and just when it looks like he’s about to break, his fighting spirit will guide him to victory. It’s JCVD 101, but done perfectly. To honor you, Shidoshi!
The other important face in this feature is Bolo Yeung, and what a face! When I’m talking about movies and I say “OH, WHAT A FACE!” please know that I’m being complimentary. This isn’t a Frankenstein’s monster situation, just a memorable mug that I love seeing in movies. He’s a big-bodied bruiser previously seen breakin’ backs in Enter The Dragon. His character’s name there is also Bolo, but here he is Chong Li, the ultimate bully. He’s the perfect counter to Van Damme’s boy scout persona. Always taunting, always flexing, always performing the fatality after every match, no matter how much the audience gets sick of it. He relishes being evil, and he’ll do stuff like wear your best bud’s bloodied bandana around his leg as a trophy, or throw pocket sand in your face. Just a total jerk.
So this movie has memorable names and faces of the genre — but another, perhaps understated quality — is the visual presentation. It adorns itself in sports drama aesthetics and reconfigures them into action movie tropes, similar to some of the Rocky sequels. Training sequences between these genres contain a lot of overlap, and it’s fun to watch them and feel like overcoming a Chong Li or Ivan Drago is a matter of chasing chickens, climbing mountains, or in this case — serving tea while blindfolded. The action takes place in front of cheering crowds, under spotlights and cameras.
One thing I’d forgotten about is how good the location shooting is. A foot chase takes us through Hong Kong street markets, Van Damme does the splits over a city skyline (the actual height of cinema), and the tournament itself is sequestered inside the famous Walled City of Kowloon. Locations like this have inspired many dystopian works of fiction in visual media, with its densely populated housing complex creating a hidden world within walls. It was demolished a mere five years after Bloodsport’s release, reminding me that film isn’t just about telling stories, but preserving historical and cultural artifacts — all while stirring the imagination of what has been and what will be.
That kind of gets to the core of what makes this movie so appealing to me. It’s got that time capsule quality that every media format has been trying to ape for the past 10 years. Synthwave music is back, but it can’t touch the score of Bloodsport. Far Cry: Blood Dragon was a hoot, but it couldn’t conjure the sincerity of Frank’s promise to honor his teacher. Kung Fury was nonstop spectacle, but without a single image as amazingly real as Bolo Yeung’s killer facial expressions or Van Damme being pulled like a Stretch Armstrong doll as part of his training.
It’s strange because Bloodsport (and most Van Damme films for that matter) doesn’t really have dynamic fight scenes or stunt work compared to most heavy hitters of the genre. Its currency is mostly static shots, sometimes in slow motion, of glistening muscular bodies and grimacing faces — often overacting to my delight. And I dig it. Every shot looks like it could be featured on the poster. Almost every scene gives an authentic taste of what modern remixes of pop culture are clumsily trying to deliver — the good, the bad, and the silly of it. There are more spectacular tournaments (shoutouts to Undisputed III), more iconic examples of martial arts mastery, and maybe better acted scenes than a young Frank Dux making deals. This still hits all the right notes for me. The master-apprentice relationship. The training montage. The super secret tournament that Forrest Whitaker can’t get tickets for. The big bully looming over self-doubt. The Dim Mak!
The ultimate game, and my forty-second most essential action film.
