Reviewnalysis: Ring of Fire (1991)

*SPOILERS
AHEAD*

When I initially began exploring the martial arts film stars of the western
hemisphere, one of the first ones I investigated was Don “The Dragon” Wilson.
Though I knew that few performers approached fight flicks with the level of
credibility that Wilson did, I admit that I wasn’t very appreciative of
what he brought to the table and let my dislike of his fight scenes cloud many
earlier reviews. Nevertheless, there was something about the guy that kept me
buying his movies even though I’d end up trashing them online. Now, with
approximately eight years of reviewing behind me, I realize that I’ve been
harsh. I believe I’ve learned a significant lesson about the importance
of personality in B-movies and the significance of Wilson’s film
career. This won’t be a retrospective of everything he’s done, but in this
review, I’ll highlight some of the features that have contributed to his
status as one of the more unique stars of the low-budget realm.

TRIVIA: Wilson made his name in the
martial arts world as an international kickboxer. Over a 20-year career, Wilson
won 11 world championships – as well as three championships in state, national,
and continental divisions – and amassed a record of 72 wins, five losses, and
two draws.

Ring of Fire is Don Wilson’s third
starring vehicle and his first movie that premiered on video. It was
produced by the PM Entertainment Group, a studio specializing in action films which contributed greatly to the golden era of home video. PM had a knack for
producing screenplays that paid more attention to drama than typical
direct-to-video schlock, and Ring of Fire
is a good example of this. It’s essentially a Los Angeles-set retelling of Romeo and Juliet with a martial arts
backdrop, and explores themes of racism, interracial relationships, and machismo.

The film begins in a small arena where two gangs
cheer on their representatives in a no-holds-barred match. The foundation of the story is the conflict between these groups – the Asian
Gang and the Surfer Gang – and it’s worth pointing out what a unique conflict
it is. The Asians and the Surfers take no part in typical gang-related crime,
and seemingly exist only to do battle with each other. They’re not inspired by
money or territory, but solely by racial tension. The Surfers are led
by the increasingly unstable Brad (Dale Jacoby), whose hatred of his Chinese
neighbors seems to stem from his father’s death in Vietnam. The opposing gang
is headed by Terry Woo (Steven Vincent Leigh), the son of an immigrant
restauranteur, who is so tired of prejudice that he’s decided to fight fire
with fire. There’s no shortage of animosity between the two groups, but both seem
to agree that the best means of expressing their hatred is not through
drive-byes but hand-to-hand combat.

Martial arts fans will quickly realize a stylistic difference between the gangs
during the opening matches: Terry’s gang clearly comes from a kung fu
background while the Surfers seem to favor kickboxing and karate. As a matter
of fact, the very first fight features Terry wearing a traditional sash
while his opponent (Stan Longinidis) wears trunks emblazoned with the words
“KICK BOXING.” The theme of inter-discipline competition goes back to Hong Kong
wuxia pictures, and criticism of the “fancy” Chinese styles by “hard” stylists
had been an issue in U.S. martial arts communities for decades. In the movie,
the difference underscores the conflict between the two factions.

Trivia: Wilson – a student of pai lum tao – began competing in kickboxing to counter the widespread prejudice that kung fu practitioners couldn’t actually fight.

The only person at the arena who’s opposed to what’s going on is Julie (Maria
Ford), Brad’s sister and fiancée of his friend Chuck (Vince Murdocco). Julie is
repulsed by fighting and refuses to watch, fearing that somebody will get
hurt. Her fears are vindicated when one of Terry’s friends (Ron Yuan) is hospitalized after a vicious beating. His attending physician is Terry’s cousin,
Jonny Woo (Don Wilson) – a legendary fighter who nevertheless rebuffs Terry’s
request to fight on his behalf. While Jonny seems to consider
Terry’s activities so inevitable as to never outright discourage them, he is so
against the idea of involving himself that it seems to create an inexplicable
bond between Julie and him when they meet shortly thereafter. Julie visits the
restaurant of Terry’s mother (Jane Chung) and mistakes Jonny for a waiter. He
takes it in stride and there’s an instant attraction between them, which seems to symbolize their mutual rejection of racial
prejudice.

The two engage in a genuinely romantic courtship after Jonny – dressed as the
Phantom of the Opera – crashes a masquerade party to dance with Julie. She goes
out with him despite being engaged, but it’s important to note that Chuck is
making himself increasingly irredeemable by succumbing to Brad’s influence.
Chuck is never seen displaying quite the level of racism of his pal, but his
time is continually monopolized by Brad and he seems completely oblivious
why this repels his fiancée. Julie makes a few efforts to maintain their relationship,
but Chuck’s preoccupation seems to justify her doubts about marriage.

Tensions between the gangs rise when Kwong (Eric Lee) – Terry’s resident
goofball and possible kung fu instructor – is badly beaten outside of the ring and
Terry retaliates at the expense of one of the culprits (Gary Daniels).
This leads to the film’s biggest combat scene – a massive gang brawl – but when the battle is dispersed by the police, the factions
agree to settle their differences via a one-on-one match between Brad and
Terry. While the two of them train in their own unique ways – Brad focusing on
technique and precision while Terry builds strength and endurance –
the relationship between Maria and Jonny grows to the point that Maria breaks
up with Chuck. Feeling scorned and sensing Jonny’s involvement,
Chuck tells Julie about the upcoming fight and indicates that Brad intends to
seriously injure Terry. Later, Jonny approaches Terry and asks him not to fight,
revealing that he’s in love with his opponent’s sister. Terry is moved but
argues that he can’t back out of the fight without losing face. Unwittingly
setting the stage for disaster, Jonny suggests that Terry demand that they fight “Thai style,” with their knuckles covered in glue and broken
glass. He’s certain that Brad will back down rather than compete like this,
and Terry agrees. However, both have underestimated Brad’s casual attitude towards
violence, and when the gangs meet at night for the showdown, Brad readily
accepts the challenge.

TRIVIA: There is much dispute whether fighting
with broken glass was ever a genuine practice among Thai boxers. In the book Comprehensive Asian Fighting Arts, Donn
F. Draeger and Robert W. Smith hypothesize that this particular practice occurred only in wartime, and many other sources claim that it was
an uncommon event at best.

What follows is a montage wherein shots of the fighters gearing up are
interspersed with shots of Jonny and Julie getting intimate. It’s an example of one of the most persistent and
controversial B-movie tropes: the mingling of sensuality with violence. Nevertheless,
it’s interesting that despite the film’s license to exploit, both the sexy shots
of this scene and the nature of the romance are remarkably
wholesome by low-budget standards. Wilson’s character is utterly decent and the
buildup to sex is very well-paced. Rather than actually depicting the act,
all this scene shows is the characters slowly disrobing each other. Against
all expectations, the film depicts the undressing of one’s partner as a pinnacle
of sensuality. Much of this modesty may be thanks to Wilson, who – in addition to
cultivating wholesome onscreen personas – seems concerned about how women are
treated in his films. In the future, Wilson would personally minimize violence
against female characters in at least one screenplay, and in doing so seems to challenge
the general perception of women in B-movies. To this end, Maria Ford – regularly
typecast in sexual roles – can direct her efforts to her dramatic performance
rather than titillation.

[UPDATE 8/4/18: For his review in Videohound’s Video Premiers, Mike Mayo alludes to “one of the hottest love scenes you’ll ever see on video” taking place in this movie. Unless Mayo is especially titillated by chasteness, I’ve reason to think that what I’ve described above may reflect an edited version of the original film. Whatever the case, my review is based on the Reel Entertainment Digital (RED) release, and it’s possible that a different version has been released by another distributor.]

Their tranquility is shattered when Julie realizes Jonny’s plan
and assures him that her brother is indeed capable of killing. They rush to the
combat zone – literally a ring of fire, created with gasoline –
only to find Terry near death from a massive neck wound. Brad is so driven that
he attacks Jonny as he tries to attend to his cousin, but he and the others flee at the arrival of the police. Later, Brad has become so so unhinged that he leads
the gang to crash Terry’s funeral, seeking to collect Julie after she defied
him by attending. Julie seems to feel some responsibility for Terry’s death,
and her guilt is augmented by indirectly causing this disruption. The cold stares she receives from the other funeral attendees certainly don’t help, and she
attempts to stem future harm by breaking up with Jonny and leaving with Brad’s
gang.

A heroic intervention by Julie’s grandmother (Shirley Spiegler Jacobs) brings
the two back together, after Jonny publicly makes a bid for Julie’s heart in
the middle of her aerobics class. The Surfer Gang inexplicably turns up to challenge
Jonny, and Brad strikes Julie after she pleads with him to stay out of their
relationship. This finally pushes Jonny beyond his limit, and he meets Brad in
the arena. Julie is present as well, perhaps agreeing to watch because she
cares more for Jonny than she did for Chuck, and witnesses her boyfriend being
true to his legend. Jonny handily overwhelms Brad and even rallies after Chuck
interferes. Frustrated, Brad grabs a
katana he had been training with earlier and charges Jonny. Oddly, the only person who
rushes to Jonny’s defense is Julie, but while Jonny is able to avoid Brad’s
attack, Julie is slashed across the torso. The brawl immediately comes to an
end and animosities turn to concern over the injured Julie. As Jonny carries her
from the ring, the melancholy soundtrack makes us fear for Julie’s life, but
within the final seconds before the credits, she raises her head to look into
Jonny’s eyes. We’re to believe that Julie survives, and the film’s sequel – Ring of Fire II: Blood and Steel –
assures us that this is indeed the case.

The ending is abrupt and leaves core issues of the film
unresolved, but in its most drastic departure from the Romeo and Juliet template, I appreciate how it concludes the feature
with a tinge of hope. If Julie can live, perhaps the gangs can resolve their
conflict.

Racism sparked the gangs’ conflict, but machismo is what drives it. I can’t
come up with a better explanation why two gangs who hate each other would cooperate to the extent of securing a boxing ring to
exercise their grievances. Fight culture and the history of feuds between
professional fighters seem to influence their thinking, and the concept of
honor definitely plays a part, but these things don’t fully explain the absurdity
of the setups and thus convince me that the characters are bound by masculine ideals. While machismo provides the benefit of the
gang members eschewing guns (after all, anybody can pull a trigger),
it ultimately makes mutual problem-solving
impossible. It may even be viewed as an infectious condition: in addition to Chuck’s
increasing fascination with Brad’s violent world, Jonny spends the entire movie vowing not to fight – even when his cousin is killed – but when Brad strikes
Julie, he forgoes all rationality by agreeing to a fight in
front of spectators. The demands of masculinity turn fiancées into
villains and healers into participants of bloody rituals.

Speaking of blood, the film’s fight content is an interesting study. The unique
collection of performers promises spectacular results, but the fights are a
mixed set. An ugly trend of editing fight scenes at the time was to cut shots
right before a performer landed a strike and switching to a different shot for
the impact. Ring of Fire does this a lot, though curiously only for its
ring-based matches: the street fights feature longer shots with follow-through.
Don Wilson only has a single genuine fight – the finale – and I’m sorry to say
that it seems to cue an increase in such icky editing. It’s a style that’s present
throughout Wilson’s movies, and it really played against my opinion of the guy
when all I was interested in was the quality of fight scenes. While I’m still
not a big fan, I’ve since
learned that this style may be the result of noble intentions. Wilson claims to
go out of his way not to make contact with his onscreen opponents, and this is
probably reflected in the editing tricks. It doesn’t do much for the
presentation, but after hearing stories of how Steven Seagal and Jean-Claude Van
Damme have hurt costars while shooting fights, it’s easier to give Don credit
for being a human being.

TRIVIA: In the late 1980s, after Wilson
publicly disputed Jean-Claude Van Damme’s claim of having been a world kickboxing
champion, producer Roger Corman hyped a proposed fight between the two and
offered Van Damme $100,000 if he could defeat Wilson. Van Damme turned the
fight down, reasoning that he made much more money through acting (see Black Belt
Magazine, Nov. 1989).

Nevertheless, I mainly have a good impression of Ring of Fire. The filmmakers get absolutely everything they can out
of their production without giving the impression of scraping bottom. It’s a
flamboyant movie filled with nice cinematography of Venice Beach and Los
Angels’ Chinatown, not to mention an eyeful of early 90s fashion. The dramatic performances
are really out there and bombastic, though solidly anchored by Don Wilson’s
likable presence and Maria Ford’s pure talent. Despite its representation of
real-life problems and a smattering of racist language, it’s not a hardline
picture and I largely consider it harmless for adult viewers who know what
they’re getting into. General martial arts fans ought to consider it, and Don
Wilson fans will definitely want to own this one.

Ring
of Fire (1991)
Directed by Richard W. Munchkin (Dance or Die), Rick Jacobson (Bitch Slap)
Written by Jake Jacobs, Richard W.
Munchkin, Steve Tymon (Death Match)
Starring Don Wilson, Maria Ford (Angel of Destruction), Steven Vincent Leigh (Deadly Bet), Dale Jacoby (No Retreat, No Surrender)
Cool costars: Vince Murdocco (Kickboxer 2: The Road Back), Eric Lee (Weapons of Death), Ron Yuan (White Tiger), Gary Daniels (Bloodmoon). The gang brawl features too
many cool people to count, but some of my favorites include Jon Agro, Art
Camacho, Harold Hazeldine, and Rod Kei. Stan Longinidis is
Terry Woo’s first opponent and an 8-time world kickboxing champion. Also, IMDb.com credits Michael Jai White (Black Dynamite) as being
in this movie, but I’ve never seen him.
Title refers to: The literal fighting space created for the Terry-Brad showdown.
Content warning: Racist dialogue, violence against women, group violence
Copyright PM Entertainment Group
Inc. / Reel Entertainment Digital

Reviewnalysis: China O’Brien (1990)

*SPOILERS AHEAD*

Sometime in the early 80s, Hong Kong
producer Ng See-Yuen examined the West Coast Demonstration Team in search of the “new” Bruce Lee. He had set out looking for a male
performer, but ended up signing the group’s lone woman, who ironically hadn’t
even been invited to the tryouts. This was the first step on the road to superstardom
for Cynthia Rothrock, a martial arts master already earning the highest acclaim
on the competitive circuit. It’s apt that See-Yuen’s search was fashioned as a hunt for Bruce Lee’s successor,
as Rothrock’s career would share some significant parallels with Lee’s: both
were groundbreaking martial artists who established themselves as action stars in
Hong Kong before gaining greater fame via an American film directed by Robert
Clouse. Where Lee had Enter the Dragon,
Rothrock has China O’Brien.

Trivia: Rothrock’s claim to fame is
having been world champion in forms & weapons competition for five
consecutive years (1981-85). What’s impressive about this is that Rothrock’s titles do not amount to five
awards from a single organization, but rather reflect her cumulative successes. Rothrock’s
accomplishments were tallied by publications like Inside Kung Fu magazine, and for five years, she
amassed more wins than all other competitors. In other words, Cynthia Rothrock
won more tournaments than anyone else in the world for half a decade.

China O’Brien was produced by the
Golden Harvest Company – technically making it a collaborative project between
the U.S. and Hong Kong – but unlike Rothrock’s other projects of the same
description, China O’Brien has a
distinctly American texture to it. It’s clearly a take on Walking Tall, but more importantly, its story structure and screenplay
are simpler than its star’s previous films. The plot’s cultural norms
are clearly western, and while this may disappoint fans who particularly
enjoyed the extralocal flavor of Rothrock’s earlier fare, China O’Brien feels more accessible and less of an
acquired taste. Newcomers to her movies, especially those who’ve never seen a
Hong Kong movie before, would be wise to choose this for their first
impression.

The film begins with urban police officer China O’Brien (Rothrock) teaching martial
arts to a class of adult students. Rothrock’s a tough instructor in
real life, and hardly seems to be acting as she drills her pupils. One of these
students – the oddly-named Termite (Doug Wright) – doesn’t take well to her
authority, and the two get into a confrontation wherein he disputes her
toughness and successfully challenges her to a nighttime showdown against
“five guys, hand to hand.” Sometime later, Termite is accosted by some thugs of
ambiguous origin, and by the time China shows up, the challenge has become a life-and-death
situation. China so impressively outclasses her attackers that she doesn’t even
realize something’s up until being alerted by her co-instructor (played by the
kenpo-practicing sculptor Nijel Binns). At the fight’s zenith, she saves
Termite’s life by shooting a shadowy figure pointing a gun at his head. To her
horror, the slain gunman is a teenager, and she subsequently quits the police
force out of guilt, turning in her badge and the offending gun.

These opening scenes tell us a few important things about China and the other
characters. Foremost, China is not just a skilled fighter but an
honest-to-goodness master of her craft – so good that she can explain the
techniques she’s using against her attackers even as they’re coming at her.
While she also seems to be a good markswoman, the only time she kills a person
is after drawing a firearm – an act which moves her to declare she’ll never
touch a gun again. In this film, the martial arts symbolize self-mastery while firearms are a symbol of chaotic destruction:
China can determine how thoroughly she’ll incapacitate an opponent, but she can’t
control the gun’s lethality. Most importantly, while China’s cohorts are
convinced of her abilities, her predominantly male opponents underestimate her. It’s an examination of what men expect women to be capable
of in confrontational situations, and as the film progresses, this will be
examined in more than just combat scenarios.

After retiring from the police force, China heads to her small-town home in
pursuit of a simpler life. We see a contemplative scene of her driving through
the country while a song called “Distant Storm” plays, sung by a pre-superstar Tori
Amos, with lyrics foretelling that China’s trials aren’t over yet. She rolls
into the idyllic municipality, looking for her father the sheriff (David
Blackwell), but quickly realizes that things aren’t right. Unsavory folks have flooded
the town, including a creepy deputy manning the sheriff’s office (Patrick
Adamson), the lecherous goons at the Beaver Creek Inn, and a bought judge (Will
C. Hazlett) clearing violent thugs from prison terms. She can’t have been in
town for more than a little while before she has to defend herself against five attackers
at the bar, and then witnesses firsthand how her father and his good deputy (Chad
Walker) are powerless to stem the tide of corruption – they can’t even
fingerprint a suspect before a lawyer shows up to spring him. The source
of this corruption – drug lord Edwin Sommers (Steven Kerby) – calls shots at a
sleazy poker game and gets his thrills by torturing a woman tied to a bed at
his ranch.

After the crooked deputy overhears them planning to bring in the FBI for help,
the sheriff and his trustworthy deputy are killed by car bombs. China is
devastated, but with the town about to be taken over via an emergency
election to replace the sheriff, she channels her fury into running for the
position herself. The town is supportive – amazingly so, with its people
organizing a full parade in support of her. The embracing of China as the town’s
symbol of hope is refreshing and continues the theme of China’s allies being
able to positively gauge her strengths while her opponents underestimate her.
She gives an adrenalizing speech wherein she calls out the corrupt judge to his
face, and later engages in a public brawl against some rally-rushers, but
there’s no scene wherein the townsfolk skeptically demand proof of her ability.
They know her and know that she can do it, while the villains foolishly think
that a few more displays of force will cow her.

Trivia: The abovementioned parade is as
authentic as it gets. It was an actual event taking place close to the filming
location, and the filmmakers incorporated it
into the story by slipping in some of the actors. Rothrock appears in a horse-drawn carriage while supporters
carry signs reading “CHINA O’BRIEN FOR SHERIFF” and “VOTE CHINA.” Apparently
this was so convincing that the local news and radio stations – not having been
alerted to what was going on – reported China’s run for sheriff as fact.

China’s most important supporters end up being a couple of other martial
artists: longtime admirer and ex-Special Forces fellow Matt Conroy, and a
mysterious Native American biker called Dakota. Matt and Dakota are played by Hong Kong veteran Richard Norton and superkicker Keith Cooke; alongside
Rothrock, they compose an excellent trio and create some stellar fight
scenes. Dakota is a drifter whose left hand was disabled by Sommers’ thugs and
whose mother was killed after being pressed into prostitution; I’d argue that
the filmmakers try to make him the more interesting character, but Matt intrigues
me more by being such an anomaly. Matt is an enthusiastic
supporter of China’s, but were this a different movie, his character would probably
be the star. It’s almost weird to think that cool, righteous Matt waited
until China came along to take action against the villains…but then again, films
have conditioned us so that we wouldn’t have questioned it if China were
the one waiting around for Matt to initiate things. The performers play it so
naturally that you don’t even think about it, but this is in fact a blatant
subversion of action movie norms. Cynthia Rothrock’s prowess for playing leaders actually makes movies wherein she plays supporting characters – i.e. Martial Law, Tiger Claws – a little awkward by comparison.

After China and Matt forcefully stop an attempted vote-tampering, China wins the election but must immediately contend with an
assassination attempt. She responds by deputizing her partners and a bunch of
Matt’s high school students, then shutting down Sommers’ operations. This leads to a massive fight at the Beaver Creek Inn wherein Dakota
crushes the keeper with his motorcycle. After confirming that his mother was
killed by Sommers, Dakota rides out to the ranch for vengeance, bringing
along a rifle (thereby indicating his loss of emotional control). China and
Matt follow, fearing that he’s about to commit a murder, but arrive to find
that Dakota has chosen not to kill Sommers. Sommers is handcuffed and Dakota symbolically leaves the rifle behind.

As the trio lead Sommers outside, the woman he had tortured earlier shoots him
from a window – a decision that I consider less satisfying than him standing
trial and seeing his crimes publicly exposed. Nevertheless, the movie then ends
on a positive note, with China and Matt inviting Dakota to remain in town as a
deputy. To my dismay, a riffy guitar tune plays over the end credits and we
don’t get to hear “Distant Storm” a second time.

The release of China O’Brien may have
marked a gradual change in media trends regarding female representation in
action films. While women were starring in action movies every so often, backlash
to progressive strides in the media was in full force during the decade prior
to Rothrock’s vehicle (i.e. the Reagan years), and even before then, America hadn’t
had an actress who regularly headlined fight flicks. While the low-budget realm
isn’t as subject to societal cues as mainstream Hollywood, it does tend to
follow the industry leaders, and in this regard, China O’Brien broke the mold. Much of this may have been possible
thanks to the Hong Kong production company: Hong Kong cinema had been featuring female action stars for decades, and Rothrock was already a proven
performer with Golden Harvest. Credit is also due to Sandra Weintraub, an
award-winning TV writer who put together the story.

Trivia: Rothrock accepted her role in China O’Brien as an alternative to different project. She had
verbally committed to a film that would have required her to rappel down a Hong
Kong skyscraper without the benefit of a safety net. Increasingly concerned about the risks, she opted
for the less stunt-intensive China O’Brien when it was offered
to her.

Of course, the film’s status as a cult favorite is something it had to earn,
and in this regard, credit is due Robert Clouse. Clouse never recaptured
the acclaim he won by working with Bruce Lee, but he maintained penchants for
creating investable characters under limited means. Many of China O’Brien’s locations may as well be
public property, but they feel homey and authentic, and the personalities
inhabiting them are never boring. There are no great
actors in the cast, but Clouse channels his ensemble’s natural gusto into
organic performances. Rothrock would eventually improve her dramatic
output, but even here it’s clear that she has the winning presence of all major
B-movie performers, and the director makes great use of it.

The film addresses misogyny but is careful to do it in an inoffensive way, with
the perpetrators always being the clear-cut villains who are guilty of other crimes as well. There’s a particularly
insightful scene where China is confronted by Patty (Lainie
Watts), a former schoolmate and apparent sex worker. Patty makes a show of accepting
her low status among the villains, laughing along with their sexist jokes and rebuffing China’s compliments about her looks. She accuses China of
snobbery, gets angry, and attempts to humiliate her. This leads to one of the
aforementioned brawls, and it’s a little surprising when the majority of the
bar’s patrons applaud China’s eventual victory, given that they stayed out of
the fight completely. As such, it’s implied that while the townsfolk do not approve
of the villains’ behavior towards women, they are too powerless or apathetic to
stop it. China never directly addresses the sexism or violence towards women,
and while a lack of overt social commentary may have spared Cynthia Rothrock
from antifeminist criticism throughout her career, her character’s lack of
reflection on happenings so relevant to her makes the film feel incomplete.

One thing that I wonder about is the decision to cast the Irish-Japanese Keith
Cooke as a Native American. The character’s ethnicity isn’t made a big deal
of, which makes this an even odder instance racial miscasting. Why didn’t the
filmmakers just make his character Asian? The only reason I can conjure is
that a good deal of Sommers’ henchmen are also Asian, and the filmmakers
may have thought that selecting an ethnicity not represented in the villains’
ranks was necessary to justify the insults they level against him.

Nevertheless, it’s safe to say that China
O’Brien ends up doing more things right than wrong. Its fight
scenes are consistently strong and the story structure is nicely indulgent,
providing ample opportunities to cheer the heroes for both their deeds and
their kicks. The cinematography is bright, colorful, and always fun to look at. Out-of-genre viewers may yet have a
problem with this one, but karate devotees with even a little appreciation for
the genre’s outliers are well-advised to find it on disc.

China
O’Brien (1990)
Directed by Robert Clouse
Written by Robert Clouse (screenplay),
Sandra Weintraub (story)
Starring Cynthia Rothrock, Richard
Norton (Mr. Nice Guy), Keith Cooke (Mortal Kombat)
Cool costars: Nijel Binns (Shadow of the Dragon) as China’s
co-instructor, Toshihiro Obata (Teenage
Mutant Ninja Turtles) as an uncredited thug and possibly the only opponent
who puts up much of a fight against the heroes.
Title refers to: Cynthia Rothrock’s character
Potential triggers: Violence against women, group violence, torture
Copyright Pan-Pacific Productions
Inc.