Reviewnalysis: China O’Brien II (1990)

*SPOILERS
AHEAD*

Sequels
aren’t as common in martial arts cinema as other genres (at least not
for U.S. fare), and ones within the direct-to-video realm are
similarly rare. While China
O’Brien II was
shot simultaneously with its predecessor and therefore a
guaranteed
release,
the original’s success assured that a sequel would indeed be in
demand. Sadly, this is an
instance
where embarrassing stereotypes about sequels indeed
apply.
While
the original China
O’Brien
was a simple but endearing adventure that established
Cynthia Rothrock in America’s martial arts movie scene, China
O’Brien II
rings hollwer.
The circumstances behind
its creation
ensure that its production values and action content are as strong as
its predecessor’s, but an
uneven story and an unambitious
screenplay go a long way in making this the inferior flick.

The
film opens at night with a low-key soundtrack and
a
convoy of cars making its
way through a forested area. Things pick up soon, as the
convoy
divulges
a slew of police officers who’re
hunting
the story’s villain. Escaped convict C.Z. Baskin (Harlow Marks) –
ex-Special Forces operative and drug smuggler – shoots several
officers before turning up at a hideout with his sizeable
gang
of Vietnam veterans.
He lays out his goals in
a straightforward way:
he wants
to kill the judge, prosector, and detective responsible for sending
him to prison, along with a former teammate who betrayed and stole $5
million from him. Barely five minutes into the movie and we already
have enough information to determine that the hero-villain dynamics
have flipped: whereas
the first film featured our heroes attempting to topple a villain
who’d
entrenched himself in the system, this one casts the heroes as the
establishment and the villains as outsiders. We’ll
see soon
enough that
such a reversal actually renders our protagonists more vulnerable
than before.

Baskin
succeeds in having
his personnel eliminate
their
first three targets in short order,
treating
us to
a convoluted scene
where the
judge is murdered while participating in a magic act. The final
victim, Frank Atkins (Frank Magner), is living
under
the Witness Protection Program in the same town where Lori “China”
O’Brien (Rothrock) is receiving a commendation for ridding the place
of organized crime. Also present
are her returning cohorts Matt Conroy (Richard Norton) and Dakota
(Keith Cooke), and we see that their collective
problems
have become significantly less drastic
in
recent times:
while Dakota beats up a couple of men harassing a woman (one of
them’s future Mortal
Kombat
star Chris Casamassa), China and Matt drive off to arrest a bumbling
mountain man called Chester (J.R. Glover) who made a mess of a local
bar. The
trio seems to have everything under control.

This
impression continues even as the plot begins to move along and
several of Baskin’s men arrive
to kidnap Frank and his wife Annie (Tricia Quai) during
the July 4^th
celebration.
Despite
an ominous soundtrack, our
heroes
thoroughly kick the crud out of these guys. The would-be kidnappers
flee, and China gets the cagey Frank to tell her about the
situation…though
he leaves out the bit about the stolen money.
An unproductive call from
his
FBI keeper
gets
Frank into an uproar, but China shuts him down and forbids him from
leaving town. Frank
doesn’t like this. Unlike
its predecessor, this
film has almost nothing to say on gender roles or feminism, but
there’s a glorious moment where the impotent
Frank whines
“I bet you like beatin’ up on men, don’t you?!” It’s a
not-so-subtle reminder that China is a subverter
of norms and
that men of questionable character can’t come to terms with
this.

Dakota
is dating Frank’s stepdaughter Jill (Tiffany Soter), which is a
little uncomfortable when you remember that Dakota is old enough to
be in college but
Jill
appears to go to school with students in
their
mid-teens. He
picks her up from the
campus
on
his bike and
brings her home, where Baskin and his men are lying in wait. Dakota
puts up a fight, but he’s kidnapped along with Jill and Annie.
Ironically,
Baskin’s
attempt to thus
press
Frank to surrender himself and the money almost goes wrong: Frank is
in the process of skipping town when China happens upon him and finds
out what’s going on.
(Frank’s
shame at being shown up by a woman is complete when he threatens her
with a gun and she takes him down from
the other side of a door.)
She
calls in Matt and her deputy Russell (Michael Anthony), and they
hatch a plan to retrieve the hostages with Frank’s (forced?)
cooperation.
The next day, it’s put into effect: Frank meets with Baskin at a
rock-crushing plant while
China & Co. Sneak up
, and following a massive fight scene that parallels the first film’s
sawmill brawl, all the good guys escape. Baskin, who gets quickly
taken out by China early in the fight, vows revenge.

This
fight scene, in
which Dakota doesn’t actively participate,
is a demonstration of how he’s
become estranged from
the other lead protagonists. While
neither
his screen time nor his contribution to the action content has been
reduced,
he shares very
few
scenes with China or Matt and has no one-on-one
time
with
them at all.
What’s more, he’s become almost facetious to the story.
While
the original movie featured his quest for revenge as a major plot
point
and gave him moments wherein
he
at least helped
China out of a jam, here he’s little more than a flashy side
character.
The importance of his kidnapping is diminished by China already
being prepared
to put herself on the line for Jill and Annie, and probably the most
significant thing he does throughout
the picture is
rescue Jill from molestation
by one of Baskin’s men (Douglas Caputo). I’ve heard that Keith
Cooke was very discerning
about
only accepting
roles that highlighted
his onscreen presence; if this is true, then
Dakota
being
indepdent of China and Matt probably appealed to Cooke,
but the result is that the film could’ve largely been made without
his character. The things he does and the things that happen to him
don’t affect the plot much, and that’s disappointing.

Baskin
effectively isolates
the town by cutting phone lines, scrambling radio airwaves, and
setting up roadblocks.
The next day, his crew rolls in to flush out China and her allies,
and the rest of the movie consists mainly of China, Matt, and Dakota
taking out opponents throughout
town.
It’s a cool collection of fight scenes, including ones with a trio
of specialty fighters (Billy Blanks, a whip-wielding Indiana Jones
wannabe, and Toshihiro Obata wearing a pair of Freddy Krueger claws),
but the
whole affair is one-sided with our
heroes
rarely losing the upper hand.
Things are a little more perilous for the characters who aren’t
martial artists: Russell is shot to death trying to get help, China’s
dispatcher Lucille (Cindy Clark) is killed when the police station is
shot up, ol’ Chester is killed just shortly after being sprung from
jail,
and even Frank is gunned down by Baskin as his family and he try
to escape with the money. Baskin grabs the suitcase of
dough,
ignoring the women, and is subsequently killed by Annie after
she grabs Frank’s rifle.
It’s surprising,
a little disappointing, but also apt that the antagonist is taken
down by a character who even the audience is meant
to consider beneath notice. C.Z.
Baskin is a more threatening and able villain than Edwin
Sommers was, but in the end, they’re both eliminated by a former
victim of their greed.

TRIVIA:
Filming had already wrapped
when director Robert Clouse was told that the runtime had to be
increased. Some additional action scenes were shot, including the one
featuring Billy Blanks, who was cast at short notice.

The
film ends on a downer, with China and Matt leaving Frank’s funeral
and mourning the loss of Lucille and Russell. Dakota’s there, but
he doesn’t leave with his friends.
Looking
back at the whole picture, I get the impression that the filmmakers
were intending for this to be a grittier
and more perilous movie than the original – you get hints at a
darker tone throughout via the soundtrack – but they
failed
to achieve the effect by reserving
all of the more
depressing stuff
for
the final
15
minutes. Sure, the
movie collectively
lacks the original’s upbeat tone, but it’d
be
comparable to shooting The
Empire Strikes Back
without the heroes facing
any setbacks prior to Luke Skywalker losing
his hand.
It just feels uneven.

China
O’Brien II
is a typically
inferior sequel in many ways, but its production circumstances make
the situation a little weirder. The films were shot at the same time
with much of the same crew and supporting cast, so their look and
design are
identical. That’s what makes it so disorienting that China
O’Brien
should be such an engaging romp while its follow-up is a distant
exhibition. I don’t know nearly enough about the production to say
more, but it goes to show just how delicate of a process it is to
create
a cult classic. It’s difficult to capture lightning twice, even
when the bottles are standing right next to each
other.

Nevertheless,
as
technically
the more mature film of the two, the sequel manages to make at least
one
narrative point about
change and adaptation. The most obvious example
of this
is China’s relationship
with
firearms, which was laid down in the original film and even
reinforced,
here. China never uses a gun, even
opting
to use a hunting bow when in need of a long-range weapon, but she
reluctantly
approves of
her allies using them. Russell uses a machine gun during the brawl at
the plant and there’s a meaningful shot of China entrusting a gun
to Frank, and
even Matt takes control of a rifle at
one point.
(There’s
also
a
recycled shot of Dakota riding his motorcycle with an M-16 strapped
to his back.)
The good guys kill people with these weapons – a signifier
for
lack
of control and a major no-no in the past, but now an apparent
necessity. There’s much to be said about taking a realistic look at
self-defense and firearms, but in the context of the film, this
underscores the effectiveness of the villains: they’re apparently
so dangerous that they drive our heroes to desperation and put a dent
in China’s ideals. In the aftermath, Sheriff O’Brien probably
reflects
on her worldview and how she intends
to protect
her town. It’s impossible to imagine her deputizing schoolchildren
anymore.

The
relationship Matt and China share with Dakota also
comes under the header of change.
The former two are
now
a
couple, but Dakota is noticeably estranged. They
still share
friendly gestures and
show concern for each other,
but there are hints that the trio may be in the process of breaking
up. Dakota’s status as a deputy is strictly voluntary, and after
seeing him spend more time with Jill than his cohorts and not joining
them after the funeral, I’m left with the impression that their
dynamic is coming apart. Dakota doesn’t hint at his plans and I
don’t want to make unfounded predictions, but as China admits that
she’ll miss her fallen friends, perhaps the
unspoken message is that she’ll also
miss
Dakota, now that he’s beyond
her inner circle.

One aspect that I
wish had been taken greater advantage of is the rest of the town’s
involvement in defending itself. The movie starts off with the place
feeling as organic as before, but as the film progresses, we see less
and less of the citizens. By the time the big finale occurs, the
streets are empty. The film’s trailer promises us that “This
time, [China] will need to have the whole town cooking,” but the
most we see of this is an out-of-the-blue scene where a couple of
Baskin’s thugs are thwarted by two chefs armed with cleavers.
Perhaps that bit was inserted to pad out the runtime, but seriously –
where have all of the extras gone? I can see China advising the
townspeople to stay in their homes off-screen, but the impression
this makes is that, despite their successful rallying of the
community in the past, China and her friends are eventually on their
own when it comes to facing danger.

Despite
its drawbacks, I still recommend China
O’Brien II
– not to just anybody, but probably to general martial arts fans
and definitely to Cynthia Rothrock devotees. The fight scenes are
top-notch, and there are enough entertaining moments to make it worth
your while. The
movie has plenty of problems, but it avoids the most common sin of
sequels by not merely rehashing the last flick. This
one’s yet to be released digitally or on DVD, and while it may not
be worth buying a VCR for, it’s definitely worth digging an old
model out of the basement.

China
O’Brien II
(1990)
Directed
by
Robert Clouse
Written
by
Robert Clouse, Craig Clyde (The
Wild Stallion),
James Hennessy (Wind
Dancer).
Sandra Weintraub receives a “based on a story by” credit, but
it’s unclear whether this just refers
to
her work on the previous film.
Starring
Cynthia Rothrock, Richard Norton, Keith Cooke, and Frank Magner –
all of
who
appeared in the original China
O’Brien.
Cool
costars:
Chris Casamassa, Billy Blanks (The
King of the Kickboxers),
Toshihiro Obata (Rage
and Honor).
Donre Sampson plays one of the more
noticeable
henchmen, and while not particularly distinguished, he did appear in
the super cool Revenge
of the Ninja
and therefore merits a mention.
Title
refers to:
Cynthia Rothrock’s character.
Content
warning:
Violence against women, group violence, kidnapping
Copyright
Pan-Pacific
Productions, Inc. / Imperial
Entertainment Corp.

Reviewnalysis: The King of the Kickboxers (1990)

*SPOILERS
AHEAD*

The No Retreat, No Surrender series
is a benchmark of western martial arts cinema and a personal favorite of mine.
Ask a casual fan how many installments it contains and they’ll say three, but
ask me and I’ll say seven – pointing to the stylistic similarities between all
seven of the U.S. movies produced by the Seasonal Film Corporation. In this
regard, The King of the Kickboxers
may be called No Retreat, No
Surrender IV, and I’m happy to say that it retains many of its predecessors’
strengths. A few glaring shortcomings make it pretty weak in some respects and
repeat viewings have definitely sobered my initial impression, but nevertheless,
it’s still a cult classic and arguably the last good movie that Loren Avedon
starred in. Fight fans with a taste for the exotic will love this.

The film opens energetically in 1981 at the Samrong Stadium of Bangkok, where
American kickboxer Sean Donahue (Michael DePasquale, Jr.) wins the “Thai
Kickboxing Grand Championship” while his younger brother Jake (Patrick Shuck) cheers
him on. As the brothers depart the arena in a tuk-tuk taxi, Jake expresses
concern that some of the spectators seemed angry at an American winning the
title, and it turns out that his fears aren’t unfounded. In a rural part of
town, the taxi is stopped and Sean is accosted by a group of thugs. Their
leader, a rifle-toting man of African descent (Billy Blanks), informs him that
“An American can never be champion. You should not have won the fight tonight,
and you won’t win this one.” He attacks Sean, easily killing him with a set of
three devastating kicks. For good measure, the stranger breaks the
championship belt in half and beats Jake unconscious, leaving him with a facial
scar and a singed photograph as reminders of the night.

The assailant’s name is Khan, and in case this post fails to convey it
otherwise, know that he’s one of the most over-the-top villains I’ve
seen in a martial arts movie.

TRIVIA: The stadium in the movie may
allude to two actual locations in Bangkok – Muay Samrong Boxing Stadium and
Samrong Boxing Stadium. Both are located on Samrong Road and feature fights on
Friday and Sunday nights.

Ten years into the future, Jake has become a New York detective of particular
caliber. Our first scene of the grown boy – now played by Loren Avedon – is of him engaging in an
undercover drug deal. After the dealers incriminate themselves (and
voice a disregard for the wellbeing of children to boot), Jake purposely blows
his cover so’s to fight the aggressors hand-to-hand. After
thoroughly beating them and using a space heater to fry the face of their
leader (Jerry Trimble), his backup arrives, furious because Jake purposely
provided them with the wrong location. In summary, Jake is the consummate 80s
karate cop: too good for guns and too ahead of the curve to regard protocol,
whose use of police brutality is only fleetingly mentioned afterwards. New
York’s crime scene is no match for him, so his enraged captain (Oscar nominee Richard Jaeckel) assigns him to an Interpol case regarding snuff films produced
in Bangkok.

Clearly feeling his dark past, Jake is initially against the idea of working in
Thailand, but once he realizes that the man beating people to death on the tape
is none other than Khan, he becomes determined to take
revenge. Naturally, he decides against telling anyone about his personal
investment – not his captain, and not his Bangkok contact (Don
Stroud).

It’s interesting that while Jake is upset by the memories the tape
brings up, he regains his cocky confidence by the time he makes it to
Southeast Asia. He looks like a tourist in the introductory montage, and even
after he meets with his contact, he doesn’t seem particularly perturbed that the
three agents who’ve worked on the case before him have been killed. To be fair,
he can take care of himself: in an attempt to get noticed by the criminals, he
shoots his mouth off at the “Bangkok Kickboxing Academy” and handily wins an
impromptu brawl against three boxers. Perhaps he’d be a little more cautious if
he knew that Khan had only recently killed a fighter who likewise had held his
own against three attackers, after being tricked onto the set of the latest
snuff movie. While Jake will have the opportunity to address his own arrogance, the unfortunate fighter – played by Bruce Fontaine – is
left hanging by his jaw on a meat hook.

Khan and Jake are indirectly connected through a new character: Molly (Sherrie
Rose), an American model who’s presented to Khan by his unscrupulous filmmakers
as an unwilling prize. Molly escapes a near-rape but is pursued by Khan’s
thugs, from whom she’s rescued by Jake. Jake finds a temporary haven at her apartment,
and to be honest, the scene which follows is where I begin to tire of the
character. Not only is Jake an ace cop and awesome warrior, he’s now also
presented as a reader of women who lays Molly’s backstory bare for her – no
need for her to assert her character at all. The movie ends up handling the
relationship between these two with relative decency, but Jake’s become a real
problem. He’s way too cocky for me to admire the extent of his talents, and just isn’t very likable.

TRIVIA: Loren Avedon and Sherrie Rose
didn’t actually get along. Following a rocky behind-the-scenes relationship, Rose reportedly bad-mouthed Avedon to producers at the PM Entertainment studio after landing a contract with the company. Avedon claims that word got around and he was effectively blackballed from Hollywood.

Luckily, the humbling of Jake Donahue begins the following morning, when he’s
accosted by a fighter from the gym. “Thasi” (Ong Soo Han) engages
him in a quick fight, showing him that in fact even a modest boxer can actually
best him. Upon hearing that Jake is after Khan, the spirit of comradery moves Thasi to point Jake in the direction of Master Prang – a secluded hermit living
in the jungle, and the only fighter to have almost beaten Khan. Jake
ventures there but is disappointed that the master (Keith Cooke)
appears to be an alcoholic loser who shares his home with a pet chimpanzee.
Jake leaves in disgust, but not before the chimp steals his passport. When Jake comes back looking for it, he finds Prang confronted by a gang of knife-wielding thugs – likely
sent by the malicious filmmakers to abduct him for their upcoming
film. Jake holds his own, but as things get tough, Prang leaps into action and
demolishes the attackers with a series of amazing kicks.

Prang builds a rapport with Jake, and their exchanges end up being a highlight
of the movie. Prang’s alcoholism is revealed as a façade to make
him appear less threatening to Khan following their close fight. He
agrees to train Jake, and as tends to be the case in martial arts movies, these
scenes are a blast to watch. Prang’s methods are a combination of novelty and
brute force: instead of teaching Jake new fighting techniques, he primarily
assaults him with a club and tortures him with rope & pulley contraptions.
Prang claims that the point of the training is to prepare Jake for Khan’s
fearsome triple kick attack, and to simulate this, he swings whole logs at him.
It’s refreshingly human to see Jake lose patience at times, but it’s sort of amazing
that he survives the ordeal.

I wish that the screenplay focused more on Prang and his quest. While
Jake’s journey is a direct parallel to the mythical hero’s, Prang is in the
unique situation of having downplayed his own heroic qualities. He assumes the
role of the mentor, though the interactions between Jake and him (not to
mention the closeness between the actors’ ages) make them seem like equals. Most
unconventionally, Prang has very little moral high ground: though he claims that
he won’t train a murderer, that’s largely what he ends up doing, and despite
his attempts at emotional detachment, it’s not a stretch to assume that he
resents his predicament and wouldn’t mind seeing Khan dead. Prang’s
story is probably more interesting than it’s given credit for, and it’d be neat
if he had more time in the spotlight.

Having recently evaded another kidnapping attempt, Molly ventures to Prang’s
place, and Prang arranges for her to spend the night with Jake. There’s a scene
wherein Molly joins Jake in the bathtub, and the story behind it is worth a
tangent… According to writer Keith Strandberg, an actress who had previously
been cast for the role pulled out due to the required nudity. Sherrie Rose objected as well once filming had begun, being unwilling to
film the part where Molly bares her breasts. Shooting was halted as the
filmmakers tried to persuade her, going so far as to argue that someone who
had posed for Playboy shouldn’t
object to onscreen nakedness. Eventually, the nudity takes a condensed
form, with Rose’s breasts visible for only about two seconds. Rose’s protest – and especially her
successful compromise – is a rarity within the B-movie world, where catering
to male demographics could result in a demanding environment for actresses
and where a refusal to perform nude could end a career. (For a more complete take on
the state of sexuality within B-movies during the ‘90s, see Odette Springer’s
documentary Some Nudity Required.)

With his training complete, Jake engages in a series of underground fights and
successfully catches the eye of one of the snuff producers (David Michael
Sterling). He’s recruited with promises of starring in an action movie, and
despite the protests of his police superiors, he’s determined to risk death in
order to stop the crime ring. Following one more night with Molly and a
final exchange with Prang, Jake rows off to the shooting location. The set is an
enormous bamboo cage built in a river, with platforms to fight on rising out of
the water. Dozens of extras dressed in aboriginal garb watch as he enters the
cage, wearing an ornate mask and costume. It’s an impressive sight.

Jake takes on a number of spear-wielding assailants, but these guys are a mere warm-up for his true opponent. Khan appears, likewise
garbed in costume, and to Jake’s horror, he’s carrying the unconscious
Molly under his arm. He’s also carrying a sack, which he throws into the water
to reveal the body of the murdered Prang. With Molly now held in a rope net
and the filmmakers’ desired pathos achieved, Jake and Khan commence fighting. The
match is one of my all-time favorites, filled with back-and-forth action, and
both performers are at their best. Particularly Billy Blanks looks extremely powerful and more than capable of
hanging with the Hong Kong-style choreography.

TRIVIA: The outfits worn by Jake and
Khan are costumes from Thailand’s khon theater. Jake’s outfit
appears to represent Hanuman, the Hindu monkey god, while Khan’s probably represents the demon lord
Ravana. In Hindu mythology, Hanuman was instrumental in the vanquishing of
Ravana by the avatar Rama.

Jake eventually defeats his opponent, and Khan is mortally wounded when he’s
thrown under the spiked gate of the entryway. His last act is an attempt to
kill Molly by loosening the rope holding her up, but Jake catches her.
As the filmmakers revel in excitement, thinking they’ll be able to replace Khan
with Jake, the Thai police and Jake’s superiors arrive to chase everyone into
the jungle. As the cage is incinerated with a rocket launcher – presumably
destroying the bodies of Khan and Prang inside – Jake and Molly embrace in
front of the flames. Richard Yuen’s pleasant
soundtrack ushers us into the end credits.

The King of the Kickboxers was
released a year after Jean-Claude Van Damme’s Kickboxer,
and while strong parallels between their screenplays are apparent, the former
manages to stand out for its style. Whereas Kickboxer
is clearly an American movie, The King of
the Kickboxers has a much stronger Hong Kong flavor. Personally, I think it has the more believable and stronger
characters. But like
Kickboxer, I’m disappointed by the
lack of actual Thai performers among the prominent cast. Ong Soo Han is Malaysian, but Thai actors are uniformly relegated to bit parts. Billy Blanks doesn’t pass as Oriental at all,
despite the use of eyeliner.

Speaking of Blanks, I was so curious about his casting that I contacted Keith
Strandberg and asked about the character. I wanted to know whether Khan was in
fact anything other than a “pure” Thai, and I speculated that he may be
half-Thai or even a foreign expatriate. Strandberg – who was very pleasant and
can be contacted through his website – affirmed my former suggestion and
explained the basis for Khan’s antagonism. He said that Khan is the son of a
Thai mother and a U.S. serviceman who abandoned them while Khan was young,
thereby sparking his hatred of Americans. This is illuminating, but makes me
wonder about Khan’s relationship to the snuff filmmakers. They
certainly appear to be American, yet seem to have such control over Khan that
the Marlon Brando lookalike (William Long, Jr.) is able to make fun of
him without repercussion. There’s probably a lot more to this than I’m privy to, but despite being a
murderer and a sadist, Khan comes across as someone controlled by anger but who’s also been taken advantage of by other people.

The action content is really darn good, thanks in large part to the innovation
of fight choreographer Tony Leung. Leung would later work on the martial arts epic Ip Man, and you can definitely see a lot of his skill here in how he directs so many diverse performers to grand
results. I truly love the martial cast in this one, but the only real
drawbacks are the shortness of some of the fights and the fact that most of the
fighters only have one or two brawls apiece. Fans of Hong Kong regulars Steve
Tartalia and Vincent Lyn will be disappointed how uninvolved they are in Loren
Avedon’s first fight.

Speaking of Avedon, you have to love his enthusiasm. Loren would grow into a more
skillful actor as time went on, but at this point, all he had going for him was
fervor and the kind of natural charisma that most successful B-movie stars
have. Most of the acting in the film is along these lines, so if you can’t
stand extra raw drama, this isn’t for you. Of course, there’s some skillful
acting in here too, and while some viewers may name Richard Jaeckel or Don Stroud
the best performer, I give the title to Sherrie Rose. Jaeckel and Stroud play
stock characters they probably could have done in their sleep, while
the onus to create an original persona is on Rose. While she isn’t
given the opportunity to excel, she definitely gets her personality through and
is noticeably more nuanced than everyone she interacts with.

The King of the Kickboxers is
predictable and thematically unambitious, but no one can say that the
filmmakers didn’t put a lot of effort into it. As one of the most colorful
entries of the Seasonal Film series, it’s worth owning for both established
fans and general karate lovers alike. It’s definitely required viewing for
serious followers of the martial arts B-movie subgenre. Check it out!

The
King of the Kickboxers (1990)
Directed by Lucas Lowe (American
Shaolin)
Written by Keith W. Strandberg (screenplay, original story), Ng See-Yuen
(original story), John Kay (uncredited)
Starring Loren Avedon, Billy Blanks
(Tough and Deadly), Keith Cooke (Mortal Kombat), Sherrie Rose (Me and Will)
Cool costars: Hans Ong (Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story), Jerry
Trimble (The Master), Bruce Fontaine
(Outlaw Brothers), Michael
DePasquale, Jr. (China Heat), Steve
Tartalia (Death Cage), Vincent Lyn (Operation Condor). Hong Kong regular Mark King (Once Upon a Time in China) plays an uncredited police officer.
Title refers to: It’s written on a film slate visible after Khan’s death. Presumably, this is the name of the snuff film being shot and therefore would refer to Jake.
Potential triggers: Extreme violence, child abuse, violence against women
Copyright Seasonal Film Corporation

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.