I’m sure you are aware of this thing called ‘The System’. The term gets lobbed around often enough. Whatever you reckon it is, there’s no doubt we are all stuck in it, and apart from becoming a hermit or a corpse, there seems to be no escape. So, what the fuck is IT? And while we’re on the subject who is “The Man”? Those shadowy characters who seem to be running the show.
Well, that’s the purpose of this exercise. Laying down 50 odd years’ worth of “what the fuck is going on?” and hoping to find at least a tiny thread linking things. Just a shred of causation, purpose, reason. Not the pre-packaged stuff we are fed. If not a glimpse behind the curtain, I will settle for just seeing the curtain. Piece of cake!
I totally understand that this is a fool’s errand, but I am really looking forward to the quest.
What is this game? There certainly appears to be winners and losers. Is it all just a lottery based on the womb you happen to emerge from? Is it rigged? Is it an illusion? Is it even worth playing? And if not is there any alternative?
Do ‘the powers that be’ even exist? I mean as a coherent organisation. Or is this all the result of random wannabe despots?
Is anybody actually driving this fucken train???
Whether it is a brilliantly orchestrated conspiracy or simply the inevitable result of such an overblown society, we’re all immersed in it and escape seems impossible barring the terminal one.
Without a doubt the most recognizable Kaiju (strange beast) in history. Godzilla was the embodiment of man’s destructive tendencies. A monstrous creature born out of hydrogen bomb testing, it is a devastating representation of the apocalyptic potential of nuclear weapons.
I may write about this awe-inspiring film at a later date, but in the interests of brevity I will stick to my point. The noble sacrifice has been a cinema (or should I say story?) staple since way back when. The heroic self-sacrifice as a final act of altruism from a courageous hero, a brave act of redemption for a coward or villain, or just an out-and-out ‘fuck you’ final act of defiance. It has many faces and is a very useful tool in a writer’s bag. Maybe another essay here too; but I digress.
In Godzilla the authorities eventually discover that they have no way of stopping this mammoth monstrosity’s ruinous rampage. Kind of how it must have felt to have atomic bombs dropped on you (that’s the other essay). Their entire arsenal is powerless against this far superior threat. They are on the losing side of the current arms race.
Herein lies the awful paradox of man’s relentless quest for the next best weapon. Once it is created, the only option for the ‘enemy’, is to match the threat ASAP; and then the urgent pursuit of a greater weapon kicks off – repeat the cycle until Armageddon is achieved.
In the era of this film the biggest and baddest weapon around is the nuclear bomb and even that can’t stop Godzilla. The Japanese literally throw everything at the beast, but it just keeps on coming.
Miraculously, there is one scientist who has created a weapon that just might take the monster out. He has kept this creation a secret because it was never his intention to create a weapon. Like a lot of scientists who contributed to the making of the big bomb, he was wrapped up in pure research, trying to answer a mystery. The devastating power of the end result was not his goal. Up to now Dr Serizawa has staunchly guarded his research hoping to eventually find a ‘good’, or maybe ‘creative’ use for his findings.
The mayhem and slaughter being unleashed by Godzilla forces Dr Serizawa to use his invention in the name of saving the country. This is an excruciatingly painful decision for him to make because he knows what the consequences will be. After the threat is neutralized a new and more terrible threat will exist – the weapon!
Dr Serizawa knows that as soon as the potential of the weapon is recognized the governments of the world will be clamouring for it – all in the name of ‘protecting themselves’. No sooner will the celebration of being saved from Godzilla be winding down, will the warmongers (sorry protectors) of the world be banging on his door.
He destroys all his notes but is well aware that the information still exists in his mind – and the next top weapon will not be given up lightly. National security demands it! He cannot be certain that he won’t somehow be forced to surrender the ruinous information.
So, Dr Serizawa insists on being the one to deliver the package and send Godzilla to the great beyond. After doing the deed and saving Japan the Dr cuts his own air supply and joins the beast, thus saving the human race from a new way of massacring each other – in the name of safety of course.
On another visit to the National park, daytime this time, we were rowing a boat around the river. You often found ropes tied to trees all along these rivers. It was great fun to climb up to them and swing into the water.
We found one such rope, so we tied our boat to a tree. We climbed up the rock to get access to the rope. The way this rope was tied it was beneficial to climb a tree and launch from a greater height to get a better swing and some extra speed as a bonus. Doing this meant that you swung out into the river in a kind of C like curve. You could let go whenever you wanted, but it was best to let the swing get right out on the river before letting go, and this is what we all did.
I am not sure how many turns we had each had before someone spotted it… Holy fuck!
There was a fallen tree in the river with branches sitting just beneath the water waiting to impale anyone who let go of the rope to early. It was by sheer coincidence that we had all agreed that hanging on until getting out as far as possible was the best option. Had anyone let go that little bit early, or slipped, they were heading straight for the underwater impaling monster tree.
We all just stood and stared shaking our heads. How lucky can you be? We all admitted that none of us had seen this potential killer. We all agreed that we were a very lucky bunch of swingers and hopped back in our boat to move on. I can still envision that tree lurking under the water like a giant claw waiting for a victim.
Always check for potential dangers before diving into unknown waters. That is a common message, but this story demonstrates how easy it is to forget such a warning; and just how dangerous things that look like a bit of fun can be.
I am glad I can tell this story without having a friend or myself impaled on a tree branch.
The later film was made 40 years ago from today what’s more! That film was called “Santa Clause: The Movie” (1985). It begins with an origin story, but the drama takes place in the present – or that present – the present time the movie was released – 1985! The other film was titled “Miracle on 34th Street” (1947) and was a hypothetical story about Santa getting caught up in modern New York Christmas antics – modern as in…1947!
Two rather different tales involving Santa Clause with one very similar theme: the commercialisation of Christmas. The next time someone complains about it like it is a present-day problem, remind them that is has been a ‘modern’ phenomenon for a very long time. This similarity is to be expected when a story places the altruistic Kris Kringle (or one of his elves) amongst the materialistic world of toy sales at Christmas time. The intriguing parallel of the two movies is the way the ‘capitalist’ characters see how they can turn this selflessness into a profitable endeavour.
The first film (made nearly 80 years ago) is a little more cryptic. There is no overt magic, and we are never shown outright that this bloke is really St. Nick. The magic derives from the ‘spirit of Christmas’ and the kindness and wonder it inspires. The corruption of Christmas is best demonstrated in the scene where Kris is preparing for his first day as the store Santa at Macys.
The manager instructs Kris that if any kids are unsure of what they want he should persuade them to ask for any of the products the store is overstocked with – cunning huh. Not only does he not follow the directions he lets any kid (or their parents) know where they can find toy that Macys may not have, even if it is in a competitor’s store – the audacity!
Naturally management is horrified by this, but before they fire Kris, they discover a strange side-effect of this incredible generosity – people are proclaiming their newfound loyalty to Macys as a result of such goodwill. By showing that the wishes of the children come before profit Macys (by default) have shown that they are the store with real heart.
The top brass is quick to pounce on this marketing marvel, and this is best summed up by this monologue:
“Never in my entire career have I seen such a tremendous and immediate response to a merchandising policy and I’m positive Frank if we expand our policy, we’ll expand our results as well. Therefore, from now on not only will our Santa Clause continue in this manner, but I want every salesperson in this store to do precisely the same thing. If we haven’t got exactly what the customer wants we’ll send him where he can get it. No high pressuring and forcing a customer to take something he doesn’t really want. We’ll be known as the helpful store, the friendly store, the store with a heart, the store that places public service ahead of profits and consequently we’ll make more profits than ever before.”
And there it is. The insincere hijacking of altruism. The absurdity escalates as competitors frantically try to cash in on the phony selflessness scheme. Such a brilliant and funny way to display such an ugly symptom of capitalism. The film is considered a classic for a reason.
Fast forward to 1985 and Ronald Reagan’s America. Only two years before Gordon Gekko would make his quintessential 80s “Greed is Good” speech in “Wall Street”. The 80s was famous for decadence and the next film came out smack bang in the middle of it. “Santa Clause: The Movie” was released in 1985 and our greedy industrialist is named B.Z. (played by John Lithgow). We first meet him at a senate enquiry where the ludicrous hazards to children posed by the toys he manufactures is on full display. B.Z. is forced to recall all his deathtraps and is obviously upset about the loss of profits.
Santa is of course the main character, but his relationship with an inventive Elf called Patch (Dudley Moore) is a key one. Upon feeling he has let Santa down Patch heads for the big city determined to create an amazing toy that will bring joy to all the children for Christmas and thus make Santa proud of him again.
Unfortunately, this big-hearted innovator stumbles on none other than B.Z. and being innocent decides to give his latest and greatest creation to this toy manufacturer. Their first meeting encapsulates the contrast between the ‘spirit of Christmas’ and the exploitation of it.
Patch tells B.Z. about his plans to create a wonderful Christmas gift for all the boys and girls. B.Z. listens to the pitch with indifference. The first time we see him react is when Patch informs him that the doesn’t know much about money – B.Z. is most pleased with this. After B.Z. explains advertising to Patch we get to the part of the scene that captures our theme perfectly once more:
B.Z.: How many workers does this…uh product require?
Patch: Just me
B.Z: What no payroll?
Patch: Well, my needs are simple, a bowl of stew heavy on the dill. A cold place to sleep.
B.Z: Wh wh what would it cost?
Patch: Cost? Cost who?
B.Z: The people who, who buy the toy?
Patch: Well, nothing we’re gunna give them away free.
(B.Z recoils in stupefied horror at the sound of this – gagging and gasping for air.)
Patch: Oh, oh that’s fantastic! How do you turn your face so red so fast?
B.Z: FOR FREEEEE?!?!?!
Patch: Well, that’s how we do it at the North Pole
B.Z: Well that’s not how we do it here in a free enterprise system!
It is at this moment that B.Z. makes the marketing of altruism connection. The difference this time is even more scummy than the Macys ploy. B.Z. plans to use this inconceivable gesture to improve his ‘public image’ and even says “it’s not a bad investment”. The profit and loss calculations never leave his head. Yes, it is possible for B.Z., and all those like him, to be generous and take a loss. So long as there is some kind of future gain to be had – in this case it’s public relations.
Altruism is a fundamental part of Santa and the Elves’ nature. For B.Z is a great PR tool and for the department store heads at Macys it was a ‘merchandising policy’. Either way it has a genuine ability to spread joy. For some that joy is the point, for others it is a way to make a buck.
Naturally Santa succeeds in the end and kindness conquers greed. B.Z is punished and Patch is joyfully reunited with the man in red. “Miracle on 34th Street” doesn’t go after the heartless retail moguls, but one spiteful underling does get fired. The victory in this film goes to the ‘spirit of Christmas itself’. Both movies celebrate the defeat of not just a villain, rather the triumph of goodwill over cynicism – we can dream can’t we?
Walking down to Tempe reserve to participate in another night of underage drinking beer and sharing stories with our mates; Wayne and I had just withdrawn our share of the beer money from the service station on the Princes Highway. We were standing on the median waiting for a part in the traffic. Our timing was terrible because as we stepped off to cross the next lanes of traffic a car came very close to hitting us and had to screech his tyres to avoid a collision.
We made it to the other side and were laughing about the near miss. As we began walking down Station Street a car came racing down and drove up on the gutter blocking our way. A very solid Maori man leaped out of the car and was running towards us; it was clear he wasn’t planning on hugging us with joy.
“Don’t! Don’t!” was all that could be heard from the female passenger.
“Don’t what?” we both thought.
The car was up on the gutter so that we could not go back up the street. Our only escape was down the street, but the Maori dude was heading to cut that route off too. A boat was parked and the tip of its trailer formed a kind of low barricade.
Wayne was faster than me and he leapt the trailer and bolted down the street. The man jumped out in front of me and had his arms outstretched. He looked absolutely furious.
I remember thinking why is this guy so angry? If he is upset that he nearly hit us it seems odd that he would now want to tear me limb from limb; but unfortunately that was what I was facing.
Between his outstretched arm and the boat trailer there was precious little room for me to escape. Have you ever heard the stories about how adrenaline can help people do amazing things? Well this must have been one of those times.
Do you believe in miracles?
Somehow I managed to do some kind of hurdle and duck combo which propelled me just high enough to clear the boat trailer, while still keeping me low enough to avoid my potential assailant’s outstretched arm. I was through and still on my feet. I ran as fast as my skinny legs could carry me. I caught Wayne pretty fast (this all happened in a matter of seconds) and we both bolted down the road until we came to a friend’s house.
We slipped inside and crouched behind the fence. Thankfully our pursuer had given up and gone away. Thank God!
It was only later in the evening after downing a few beers that I found out why that guy was so angry. After our near miss, the driver had honked his horn at us and Wayne, in his infinite wisdom, thought it was a good idea to give him the finger.
“You dickhead” was all I could say. “No wonder he was fired up”
We were only about 16 at the time and this was a grown ass man, built like a brick shithouse, pumped up on adrenaline and fury. I shudder to think the damage he may have done had he gotten a hold of one of us.
Now we enter the infancy of the monstrosity we live in today. Enjoy as we watch the ancient ancestors of the elites take their baby steps. There was no textbook available on ‘how to fuck-over your peers by creating an air of superiority’. These OGs were literally beating a new path from scratch. Running on nothing but greed, vanity and cunning. They didn’t invent greed, nor were they the first to tell lies. What they did was (this fits too perfectly!) they created synergy.
A brand-new recipe with innumerable variations: conceit, deception, double-dealing, conniving etc. All in the name of “I deserve this!”. It didn’t happen everywhere at the same time, but it certainly was popular judging by the way we turned out.
Was it an inevitable outcome of my surplus theory?
Was it that at least one opportunist in every tribe was bound to figure it out eventually?
Did it catch on by observation? One tribe member notices the behaviour in a neighbouring tribe and has a lightbulb moment. “Yeah, I’m special like those few. I am entitled to more than the others.”
The remaining egalitarian groups somehow never had any self-serving trendsetters and were isolated enough to not witness the highs and lows of inequality – which as it turns out is usually directly proportional to where you stand in the haves and have-nots’ stakes. Whatever the reason, these precious specimens are all but extinct now.
Their numbers never bloated, and they remained inconspicuous within the grand scheme of things. Unfortunately, the ever-expanding majority relentlessly encroached on and, either absorbed or eliminated these relics. It’s miraculous that there is any left at all today!
I’m not saying they were utopian paradises and I’m certainly not saying they were always kind to outsiders (might be a reason for their longevity). My theory is simply that without the wicked visionaries there may have existed a time where humans, as flawed and brutal as they can be, didn’t need to be relentlessly growing in numbers and expanding their territory. A time when enough was actually enough.
Tragically it seems to have been an all or nothing contest. As soon as one group started thriving and multiplying it was only a matter of time before they began impinging on their neighbours. The neighbouring mob had three main choices:
Flourish themselves and prepare to fight – either be wiped out or…
Join the ever-expanding tribe.
Flee and find a new residence.
Like I mentioned earlier some of the strong-willed groups who knew they couldn’t win a war managed to escape and depending on how secluded the destination, were able to avoid the insatiable appetite of improvement and growth. I imagine it was a plausible strategy for millennia, but the ‘modernisers’ were always lurking on the heels of the ‘savages’. Shit! People went as far as the fucken Arctic for a bit of peace and freedom. Nomadic groups wandering through deserts just trying to be left the fuck alone! At one stage the most intrepid tribes were fortunate enough to have entire oceans between themselves and the ‘conquerors’. Not just islands too, entire continents remained hidden for ages.
The way I understand it, Oz and NZ were the last hold outs. Pure geography I suppose. The ravenous horde were always coming. It was just so far away! What a horrible story this is. Even without delving into the atrocities and treachery the rot of humanity is startling. Colonisation is another ugly thread I plan to follow, but for now let us get back to long before then.
Long before the dreadful rape and pillaging of the ‘uncivilized’, it was just a few self-indulgent entrepreneurial fiends who would plant the seeds for all the vile misdeeds to come. At this fledgling stage the best they could do was manoeuvre themselves into leadership positions and skim a little cream. That would change as the stockpile and populations grew.
Again, I feel obliged to say that I did not set out expecting such a miserable path, but I must follow the chain of thought. I hope you read on.
This one is another story from the same National Park visit I wrote about earlier; apparently we hadn’t been dare-devil enough and needed to put our lives into further jeopardy.
Pitch black; and Corey, Jonno and I head off on a bushwalk to God only knows where. We found a path and we just followed it with our torches. What better thing to do when one is drunk and stoned in unfamiliar surroundings.
I do not know how far we had walked, but we arrived at a small cliff face. Our options were simple: follow the path around and probably up to the top or climb the estimated one-story precipice. No prizes for guessing which one our shattered brains decided.
Drunk and stoned we choose to accept the challenge of climbing this straight up cliff.
We made it! I do not know how, but we did and it was a happy time. Looking down it was clear that we had taken a very real risk climbing up. It would have been dangerous sober in the light of day! Corey and I decided not to press our luck again and decided to follow the winding path back down to where we had begun; however, Jonno was not having a bar of it. He wanted to climb back down. Who were we to argue?
By the time Corey and I reached the bottom Jonno was there looking very proud of himself. He had pushed his inebriated luck twice and succeeded. We nicknamed him “Cliff-hanger” after the Stallone film. I need here to remind the reader just how wasted we all were. It was after midnight, and we had been drinking and smoking pot for many hours prior to this adventure. Jonno had pushed his luck twice and survived!
So having put our plastered selves in harm’s way and prevailing it was time to get back to the tents…
After a few minutes of walking it became clear we were lost. How do three sloshed idiots figure their way out of such a predicament? They take wild guesses and walk on as if everything will be fine. It was surprising that nobody panicked (alcohol can have that effect). We just kept walking and when each split in the path arrived, we randomly chose and walked on.
Do you believe in miracles?
After not very long we saw the first tent of one of our camping neighbours. We were back at the campsite, and I danced and screamed with delight. Fate had one final attempt at having me seriously injured when a giant bloke came storming out of his tent ready to rip me in half for carrying on in such a manner at 2am in the morning. For some reason he did not appreciate my exuberance at surviving such a harrowing ordeal (it felt like that at the time) and seemed keen to demonstrate his dissatisfaction courtesy of his hands around my neck.
Fortunately, my mates managed to placate my would-be assailant and we quietly walked back to our tents to partake in more marijuana and beer; and to inform our fellow campers of our exciting adventures.
I don’t know what got a bigger laugh: Jonno’s ‘Cliff-hanger’ antics, or my near severe beating, but a good time was had by all.
Carl Jung called it our shadow. George Lucas called it the Darkside. We all have it, whether we choose to accept it or not. Anger, hatred, greed, fear…the lot. Side by side with love, kindness, courage and compassion. Those selfish scammers are one side of the same coin, or maybe one of those dice with multiple sides is a better description (polyhedral?). The cooperators, the leaders, the followers, the swindlers, the adventurers, cowards, fighters, thinkers, morons etc. we are descendants of all of them.
Survival of the fittest is a ruthless determiner of whether the next generation makes it or not. If the competition is improving, you better be sure your offspring does the same. The successful species were the ones that adapted most effectively to the environment. Evolution is a lot more complicated than it first appears, so I will keep my foray brief. The idea that species genetically altered in the name of maximum efficiency in terms of survival and reproduction resulted in the venom, fangs, claws, poison, camouflage. However, it also shaped a species behaviour. A single lion would instinctively reject any notion of attacking a full-grown elephant. A pack would need to be extremely desperate to make the attempt – King of the Jungle title be damned! Pick your battles wisely and get to pass on your strong + smart genes.
Regardless of the genetic evolution theory, my informal egghead theory continues; learn – improve – pass it on. Most species, humans included, concluded that working in packs was a good idea. So ‘survival of the fittest’ was not just a matter of who could genetically mutate more effectively. It was also heavily determined by how you optimized the gifts you were given and a ‘pack’ of wolves is much more formidable than a lone one.
“If you want to go fast, go alone.
If you want to go far, go together”
African proverb
Now comes the ugly all too human twist, self-interest. Shitting on your own pack for your own personal gain is a distinctly human trait. Our self-awareness and superior intellect have a distinct flaw – knowledge of our mortality and an ego that sees itself as separate from the whole.
Scar from “The Lion King” is the perfect embodiment of this self-serving bastardry (animals- yes not even hyenas- don’t engage in this type of treachery). The pride holds power over the domain and is confident of the continuation of this situation. At this fledgling stage most of the pride is still in survival mode and remain steadfast to the group. A few probably grasped the soundness of their circumstances but understand that the solidarity of the group is crucial to its strength. A little bit of pilfering for themselves and their closest (you get we’re talking about humans now, right?) and dearest but risking the unity of the group for higher standing was a dumb idea.
Scheming and disloyalty erode trust and will ultimately weaken the tribe from within. The self-serving nature of those extremely unique individuals was so focused on gain that the potential risks were negligible.
Those initial successful tribes spawned the original blueprint for what would eventually be persons diagnosed as psychopathic, sociopathic or narcissistic. The difference being that those ancient avaricious assholes were taking a much bigger gamble for a much smaller prize – but of course, the game was only just beginning.
The dawn of survival of the fittest within the tribe (a distinctly human flaw) was now a go. – these villains were willing to fuck the whole operation for some extra status in a tribe that was under constant threat. They too have multiplied and evolved; and walk among us today. Those genes have filtered through to us because like it or not a lot of those pricks were successful.
I have been trying to understand why I find Bloodsport enjoyable after uncountable rewatches, yet I have only watched Kickboxer again a few times; and that was only because someone else wanted to watch it. After watching it in the cinema I remember feeling somewhat underwhelmed and it never made the go-to list like Bloodsport.
As an amateur screenwriter I am aware of certain rules that should be abided by if you want to drag your audience into your story and hold them there until the end. Two rules come directly to mind when thinking about the difference between these films:
1: The more formidable your antagonist (bad guy) the better your protagonist (hero) will appear.
2: The stakes need to be raised as the story progresses.
Both films tick both of these boxes, and it might even be noted that Kickboxer ups the ante further than Bloodsport. I agree with this description but herein lies what I believe to be the flaw in the Kickboxer story strategy: yes, the stakes are raised, but they are all over the bloody shop!
Bloodsport achieves this ratcheting up in an uncomplicated linear way:
Frank Dux (Van Damme) wants to win the Kumite to honour his shidoshi (Tanaka) – clear goal.
It is a no rules fighting tournament where people have been seriously injured or killed – dangerous? yeah!
The reigning champion (Chong Li) is a fearsome fighter who ruthlessly killed a man in the last tournament – getting scary!
On the 2nd day of the tournament Chong Li hospitalises Jackson and Frank vows to avenge him – anticipation rising.
On the final day Chong Li kills his semifinal opponent – shit just got real!
Going into the final fight we see Chong Li conceal a pill in his waistband as he mounts the stage – an extra dash of treachery to spice thing up.
Great fight and Frank overcomes Chong Li’s ferocity and dirty tricks – a glorious victory!!!
Kickboxer follows a similar path, but goes apeshit with the increasing of the peril:
Eric Sloane, a heavyweight kickboxing champion from the US fights Thailand’s undefeated champion (Tong “The Tiger” Po). Kurt (Van Damme) is Eric’s brother and cornerman.
Tong Po utterly destroys Eric. When Kurt throws in the towel Tog Po kicks it away and continues his vicious beating. Kurt winds up paralysed from the waist down – motherfucker!
So, we are watching a revenge flick, great. Kurt is skilled at karate, but he needs Muay Thai Mr Miyagi to get him up to Tong Po’s level by the 3rd act of the movie – no problem, we’ll go with it. I’m still in at this point.
Kurt is planning to avenge his brother by fighting a devastating smashing machine – Yeah, that’s scary!
As Kurt wins his way to a shot at Tong Po things start to get a little complicated.
Tong Po’s manager (Freddy Li) arranges to have the fight fixed and Kurt is the designated loser – Tong Po just lost a little of his menacing mojo for me.
Tong Po beats and rapes Mylee (Kurt’s sweetheart) – Mega-motherfucker!!!
Freddy Li’s goons kidnap Eric in order to blackmail Kurt into losing the match – things are getting a little convoluted.
Kurt is instructed to go the distance with Tong Po and then lose if he wants to save his brother – this is gunna suck.
Did I mention they will be fighting the “ancient way”, meaning both fighters wrap their hands in rope, coat them in resin and dip them in broken glass. Sounds brutal!!! – bit of pity poor old Kurt can’t fight back.
Now instead of watching Kurt pit his new skills against the awesome Tong Po, we must squirm through a relentless session of a cat toying with a mouse (torturing more like it) – okay we hate Tong Po, we get it.
The shattered glass knuckles was a clever raising of the stakes, but with Kurt being just a punching (or is it mushing) bag I think it misses the mark.
Tong Po’s destructive power was demonstrated before his fight with Eric. He was kicking a concrete pillar with his shins, and the concrete was losing – Terrifying!
So instead of seeing if Kurt can overcome such overwhelming kick-assery, we are left watching how much punishment he can take – Is this some kind of sado-masochistic fetish shit?
Oh, and 1 more bit of foreshadowing. Just after Eric got obliterated by Tong Po, he and Kurt were lucky enough to be rescued by a US special forces dude (Winston Taylor). Who knew that would come in handy later on? – are you still with me?
While Kurt is being turned into mince meat, Winston and Kurt’s Trainer (Xian Chow) find and rescue Eric – call me simple, but I just came here to watch Van Damme struggle and then kick the bad guy’s ass.
When Kurt finally sees that his brother is safe, he unleashes some “how dare you cripple my brother, rape my girl, kidnap my brother, blackmail me to passively get pulverised by your concrete breaking shins, shattered glass knuckles, Muay Thai hardened elbows, knees and forehead” revenge! – I will admit if felt good at the time.
After being absolutely pummelled for what seemed like an eternity, Kurt shows us that Mr Miyagi – sorry Xian Chow is the greatest teacher ever! Kurt issues a flogging of epic proportions and even continues the beating as Tong Po opts for cheating and using weapons. It truly was a comeuppance to behold – I’m pretty sure we all walked out feeling triumphant.
But it faded fast, and I had no idea why for a long time. Now…Just look at the length of the two breakdowns!
Frank had to use his skill, wit and tenacity to overcome an extremely dangerous and malevolent opponent.
Kurt was headed down the same path and things got really fierce when the shattered glass knuckle portion was added! The Mylee assault added to our hatred of the bad guy. Suddenly the fight was taken out of his hands. Kurt is essentially powerless. All his training, hard work and desire for retribution come to nought. The Muay Thai version of Rocky v Drago is turned into a circus of corruption and pseudo-military hijinks.
In the quest to add a twist to a proven formula Kickboxer got lost somewhere. The stakes were raised; they were also moved to the left a little, then raised again, dropped slightly, touch your toes, spin around…. Hey, the good guys won!
Tong Po was just as frightening as Chong Li, but the contest was ultimately taken out of his and Kurt’s hands until the last minute. What a waste.
Kevin’s bucks night; plenty of alcohol and pot had been consumed. At some point in proceedings it was decided that Kevin would be tied to the clothes line and spray painted. After this he was tied to the headboard of a flatbed truck and taken for a joyride.
The rest of us jumped on the truck and held on where we could; everyone except for me that is. For some insane reason I believed that gravity would be sufficient to keep me attached to the flatbed of this truck driving down the street. I was rolling across the bed and heading straight for the side when Shane grabbed a hold of my leg and held on for dear life.
I am glad he did because I can somehow still recall my total lack of concern at that moment. The grog and pot had numbed my brain to such a degree that I seriously could not fathom the danger I was in.
I do not know how long the drive lasted for, but I think we were pulled over by the cops. I have no idea how someone wasn’t charged, but we were back at the house soon enough returning to our brain cell destructive festivities.
I still cringe when I remember myself just rolling across the back of that truck; so carefree. Everyone was as plastered as I was and it was a miracle that Shane somehow had enough presence of mind to grab me and save me from serious injury or possible death. I was so stupid! I had totally lost the part of a person’s brain that identifies danger and kicks in to save the self from harm. I can still recall that total lack of fear or even awareness of danger. I may as well have been rolling on the grass in a park.
Lucky for me Shane knew better and had the strength to hold on to my wasted dumb ass.
MINDLESS MUSINGS 