I’ve written about travel and the martial arts several times over the years. Some of the essays were diaries of trips to Asia or stories about living life as a martial arts expatriate. Others were about the nature of travel itself and how it can inspire or disillusion a person. Recently, I reread those columns to prepare for this special issue on travel. In spite of being about very different things, they had one underlying theme: how unexpected travel can be. Sometimes the unexpected is simply the overwhelming newness of a place. No matter how much you learn about a country before you visit, directly experiencing it is a shock to the senses. For example, you can read about road congestion or the local cuisine in the Philippines, but being in the middle of a traffic jam in Cebu or eating food that is as sour as habaneros are hot is entirely different. Being surrounded by new languages is even more jarring. You can research the local language before going to the central Philippines. You’ll learn a little about the Spanish-influenced Cebuano dialect and the fact that many Filipinos can speak English well. But it won’t prepare you for the ease with which everyone switches back and forth between Cebuano and English, often many times within one conversation. Hearing the mixture is surreal—so much sounds familiar, but you can’t understand it. The practice of the martial arts in new places can be overwhelming, as well. Sticking with the example of the Philippines, actually crossing sticks with someone there can be more intense than you might think. You may practice stick fighting at home, maybe even the same style as your new Filipino training partner, but chances are he started pretty young and is now comfortable with a much higher level of speed and power. That means what should be a comfortable, familiar set of interlocking drills feels more like a struggle to survive. Sometimes the Unexpected Sometimes the unexpected moments are just the happy accidents of everyday life. For a couple of years, I lived in Finland, where winter lasts five months and the sun rises around 9 a.m. and sets around 3:30 p.m. every day. That’s a lot of night, and it can mess with your head. But it also means that if you walk out your door to do some daily chores, you might see the northern lights overhead, huge curtains of green and red light bending and curling in a clear Arctic sky. Speaking of Finland, it’s worth considering countries that are off the beaten path for your martial arts travels. Nations around the world have stories of combat and courage that don’t make it into the history books. The area in which I lived in Finland is called Pohjanmaa. In the 20th century, it was where the Finns stopped the advancing Russian army in World War II, something they devote as much time to documenting as we Americans do our wartime victories. But 200 years ago, Pohjanmaa was home to a breed of knife-fighting tough guys called häjyt. They were more like cowboys than samurai, though, and their knife skills never congealed into a martial art. But to this day, knives and häjyt are part of the region’s identity to the extent that making old-fashioned puukko knives with sheaths meant to be slung from the hip is still a thriving regional industry. Even in Places Even in places that are on the beaten path for martial artists, you can be surprised. Large distances and cultural differences ensure that we, as foreigners, don’t see Asian culture any more clearly than Asians see our culture. Before you visit a country like China, Korea or Japan, you see your own expectations reflected back at you in the media and in your martial arts practice. Once you make the pilgrimage to your art’s homeland, a lot will catch you off-guard. When I first came to Japan, I was surprised by two things: how little the average Japanese person knows (or cares) about the martial arts and how much he or she equates them with strength. Of course, everyone knows what karate, judo, kendo and kyudo are, but if you say you practice something like iaido or jodo, the first response will likely be, “What’s that?” If you practice something like judo or karate, people will usually reply with, “Oh, you must be very strong!” For those of you raised on the notion that the arts are mainly about technique, the attitude that karate and judo in Japan are sports for muscular tough guys is hard to wrap your head around. Probably the Best Thing About Martial Arts Travel Probably the best thing about the unexpectedness of travel is that it forces you to learn and understand more. You confront a new language, and you have to learn some to get by. You practice a martial art in the context of its culture, and things that were mysterious or strange in the art suddenly make sense. You learn a little about other people’s struggles against invaders and oppressors, and you conclude that what we regard as American courage is the same quality all people share when war forces them to show it. All it takes to get this and more is to make some plans and buy a plane ticket. Whatever surprises you run into, chances are you’ll be better for it.

So many legends and half-truths about the history of some martial arts get spread that sometimes it’s nearly impossible to sift through them. That’s particularly true of arts that have left behind few written documents, such as those of the Philippines. Practitioners just accept what their teachers tell them or go by rumors from those who seem knowledgeable. Few bother to do real research into the history of these styles. Those who do often find themselves pilloried as unbelievers. Case in point: Mark Wiley. Wiley spent a decade not just training in the Philippines but also interviewing anthropologists and museum curators there, sometimes traveling the length of the island chain to interview old masters in an effort to get to the truth about the history and nature of the Filipino arts. But his efforts have often met with scorn from the martial arts community, particularly in America. “When I first went to the Philippines, I was really looking to just confirm the legends and history I’d already heard,” Wiley said, “but what I found was the opposite of what I expected.” What Wiley found was that legends about blind warrior princesses and ancient mother styles for all Filipino arts were just that—legends. But the truths he uncovered were almost as fascinating. BASED IN PHILADELPHIA, Wiley, 42, began studying taekwondo as a child, eventually taking a part-time job at Asian World of Martial Arts, a popular supply store in the city. There, he came across a book Dan Inosanto had written about the Filipino fighting arts and was inspired to make the switch. Four-time Black Belt Hall of Fame inductee Dan Inosanto the cover of Black Belt's June 2009 issue. Initially training with noted arnis instructor Remy Presas, Wiley saved his money so he could fly to California to work with escrima master Angel Cabales. Together, they set out to write a series of books on Cabales serrada escrima. Unfortunately, Cabales died just before the first book was completed. Unable to sell the manuscript, Wiley ended up going to college, where he wrote his senior thesis on Filipino martial culture. Being a fan of the historical work of martial arts writers like Donn F. Draeger and Robert W. Smith, Wiley decided to turn his thesis into a book. By this time, his manuscript on Cabales serrada escrima had been purchased by Tuttle Publishing, which offered him an editorial job in Japan. From there, Wiley traveled to the Philippines several times, eventually marrying a Filipina and moving there to continue his training. He was soon introduced to the man who would become his most influential teacher, Antonio Ilustrisimo. “I had trained with a number of Filipino masters and thought I was hot stuff,” Wiley said. “But I sparred with grandmaster Ilustrisimo, who was in his late 70s, with padded sticks, and I couldn’t hit him very much. I did hit him a few times, but then I watched a videotape of the session and noticed that the whole time we were sparring, Ilustrisimo was watching a television playing in the next room. If Cabales and some of the other masters I met were like Jedi, then Ilustrisimo was like Yoda.” WILEY BEGAN RESEARCHING the history of the Filipino arts, meeting with numerous masters and talking to local scholars and historians. What he found was quite different from the impressions many Westerners have of the nation’s fighting systems. “I asked all these older masters about certain arts you hear about in the United States, like dumog (Filipino wrestling) and panantukan (Filipino boxing), and they had never heard of these things,” Wiley said. “The boxing they have in the Philippines is basically Western boxing. They do have some native wrestling styles, but they’re mostly confined to isolated local tribal groups.” Wiley said there’s also a difference between native Filipino battlefield arts, which had been practiced by tribal groups and are now all but extinct, and modern Filipino arts in the form of arnis and escrima. Arnis and escrima came into being when local Filipinos moved into the towns built by the Spanish, who occupied the islands for centuries. There, he said, they developed systems based on dueling or self-defense. WILEY RECORDED SOME OF HIS FINDINGS in Filipino Martial Culture, which was hailed by many as an outstanding piece of research. And although the book was rather tame, with Wiley passing on the oral histories presented by many masters without offering commentary on their veracity, it still made him enemies in the Filipino martial arts community. Oddly, the main cause of this hostility was the seemingly innocuous assertion that there’s no historical basis for the term “kali.” Although it’s a popular name used by many Filipino martial artists in America to refer to a mother style from which all Filipino weapon arts sprang, Wiley said there’s no evidence for it ever having been used before the 1950s. As for there being one parent art that’s the forerunner of all modern Filipino styles, Wiley said he broached the subject with many scholars in the Philippines, who pointed out the variety of languages and ethnic groups in the archipelago. “One of them told me they don’t even have one cooking style there,” he said. “How would they have one martial art that all the others came from?” Wiley said he has a lot more information that explodes cherished myths about the Filipino arts, but after being attacked online for so long, he’s leery about publishing it. His recent books have stayed away from such controversies. And that’s a pity. Sometimes what martial artists need the most is for someone to toss a hand grenade into their dojo bunkers and explode a few of the old myths.

In 1980, Dr. Alex Sternberg appeared on the cover of Black Belt—a fitting recognition for a martial artist whose extraordinary journey has spanned more than five decades. After emigrating from Hungary to the United States with his family in 1961, Sternberg began training at Brooklyn’s legendary Tong Dojo—a culturally diverse training ground that produced some of America’s greatest karate champions. He earned his black belt in 1968 and ultimately rose to the rank of 8th-degree master in Shotokan karate. As a competitor, Sensei Sternberg captured more than 75 regional, national and international medals, earning recognition as one of “America’s Top 10 Champions.” After retiring from competition, he coached the USA National Karate Team at major international events, including the World Championships. In 1982, Dr. Sternberg became an international referee certified by the World Karate Federation. He later served as Chief Referee of the United States and was honored by the WKF for 25 years of outstanding service. Beyond karate, Dr. Sternberg has built a remarkable career encompassing physiology, medicine, sports science, Holocaust research and Jewish history. From competitor to coach, referee, scholar and master, Alex Sternberg’s life represents the discipline, excellence and lifelong pursuit of knowledge at the heart of the martial arts. A champion in competition. A leader beyond it. A true Black Belt legend.

As a serious karateka, do you need to travel to Japan? Do you need to go to the homeland of budo to gain the perspective necessary to understand your art? No. Yes. Maybe. No, you don’t need to travel to Japan to train. Not in terms of technical training. The notion that you do is decades out of date. True, there was a time when the technical level of karate in Japan was much higher than in the United States. Those days are gone. American-born karate teachers have mastered the technical skills of their art and polished their teaching skills in an extraordinary way since I took up karate in the late 1960s. There are some remarkably good sensei here. That’s not to say they’re common, however. (In my opinion, nine out of 10 karate “teachers” are not really that and have no business trying to teach an art they don’t understand.) Great karate sensei are hard to find, but they are here, and you can learn the technical aspects of karate from them. So in that sense, no, you don’t need to go to Japan to polish your karate. You’ll notice that in the above paragraph, I used the word “technical” several times. If you want to learn karate’s physical technique, yes, you can be taught it here. If you want to learn the spiritual aspects of karate, I would say, with some reservations, maybe you can learn that here. Maybe. THERE ARE SENSEI in this country who have some grasp of the spiritual dimensions of karate and budo. Their numbers are few. If one in 10 karate teachers is really a teacher in a technical sense, then one in 1,000 has a real understanding of karate as a spiritual path. Few American sensei speak or read Japanese with any fluency. Few have any in-depth familiarity with Japanese spiritual and aesthetic concepts. While their mastery of technique is sometimes quite high, their understanding of budo’s spiritual dimensions is often poor. Or nonexistent. In many cases, it’s compromised by having read too many silly books about Zen or samurai philosophy and by superimposing their own ideas on top of that. It’s very important, while we’re in the realm of “maybe,” to note that a trip to Japan for karate training is not a guarantee you’ll be exposed to the spiritual realities of the art. There are plenty of Japanese sensei who are clueless about these. There are karate frauds and sadistic brutes in Japan. There are karate teachers there who indulge in all sorts of goofy, pseudo-Oriental philosophies that sound exotic and profound but that are mostly nonsense with no legitimate historical connection to karate or budo—just as there are in the States. Your chances of being correctly taught the spiritual dimensions of karate are better in Japan, true. But just like in America, if this is your goal, the answer to the question of whether you’ll get it in Japan is maybe. AS FOR THE “YES” ANSWER ... there are some facets of karate you can learn only in Japan. They’re not technical or necessarily spiritual; they’re cultural. Karate developed in Okinawa and evolved as a budo in mainland Japan. The cultures of those places played as much of a role in karate as, for example, Christianity has played in the art and culture of Western civilization. Japanese culture cannot be removed from karate, not if it’s to remain real karate. That’s not to say one must be Japanese to practice or understand it. However, one must have some understanding of and appreciation for Japanese culture to acquire a broad and mature understanding of karate as a complete art and way. If your goal in the dojo is to develop the physical aspects of karate, fine. Go to a nearby school and challenge yourself. But if you want to grasp karate as a do, as an all-encompassing way, sooner or later you must go to where it became that. THE LESSONS OF KARATE to be learned in Japan are not all or perhaps even mostly taught in the dojo there. They’re learned as you interact with a culture that’s markedly different from yours. It’s learning that form and formality are not dead, not merely rote behavior but a way of teaching a perception that leads to an entirely different way of dealing with the world than you may be used to. It’s being exposed to a culture in which what’s not said is often far more important than what is. It’s experiencing a culture in which much that you’ve taken for granted doesn’t apply, one in which you must be flexible and patient and calculating to survive. Westerners have had a long and often strange relationship with Japan. Our ideas about it have been influenced by romantic preconceptions, by popular novels and movies, and by our own imaginations. For a karateka going there for the first time, the experience can be humbling, disillusioning and frustrating. It also can be exciting, educational and meaningful. And you’ll be surprised at how often it can be all of the above. So do you need to go to Japan as part of your karate training? No. Yes. Maybe.

I was at a martial arts leadership seminar a few years back, and the speaker was talking about the glory of failure: “Failure is nothing but an opportunity. Failure should bring a smile to your face. When you fail, you should rejoice.” Glancing at those in attendance, I could see they were engaged by his enthusiasm, but I had to laugh at how ridiculous the scenario was. I cannot imagine that any of those people, including the speaker, if put in a real display of public failure, would feel enthusiastic. Failure is not fun. Although we all have had moments of embarrassment, disappointment and frustration, I doubt any of us would say the experience brought us joy. The speaker was right about one thing: Failure doesn’t need to be devastating. While I wouldn’t go as far as calling it joyous, it can serve as a great life lesson. As instructors, we have the opportunity to help our students learn how to handle moments when they fall short. Here are some suggestions: • Have standards written down. Consistent expectations draw out the best from students. Be prepared to enforce them. A standard that goes unenforced is not a standard; it’s a suggestion. A true standard is in writing and enforced all the time. If students have no idea what’s expected of them, their failure may come as a surprise. If they don’t understand why they failed, they’ll be unable to learn from their error. • Don’t sugarcoat it. If students have failed, they’ve failed. Be respectful but be honest. Making excuses for them or allowing them to make excuses for themselves won’t help them learn from the experience. The truth is all that’s needed. Simply tell them they didn’t do enough to meet the standard. It’s acceptable to say that—and to leave it at that. • Don’t be a “helicopter instructor.” There’s a tendency to withhold students from testing until you know they’ll pass. Although you may believe it’s in their best interest, it hinders their growth over the long term. If students don’t learn how to prepare themselves for an exam, how will they ever learn to gauge their progress? To better understand this, consider the plight of secondary school teachers. Much like martial art instructors, academic teachers have a curriculum they must teach. They also work within time frames and have students at varying levels of capability. Yet, in 21 years of being a parent, I cannot recall a single instance in which my children were guaranteed a passing grade on a school exam. The teachers taught them the information along with the proper study habits, and my kids had to ensure they’d done all they could to prepare for when their knowledge would be put to the test. As an instructor, you need to ensure you’re teaching your material consistently and effectively while allowing your students to reap their own rewards. Teach them the required skills, provide reasonable time frames and solid guidance, and then say, “Go!” • Be strong. Of course you don’t want to fail your students, particularly the children. The desire to help by allowing them to pass and then giving them “extra work” may be tempting, but it’s not productive. By enforcing a written standard, you’ve done your job. You should be considerate and respectful about how you inform them that they didn’t pass, but there’s no need to apologize. Navigating through such difficult moments is one of the greatest lessons they’ll learn on the mat. As they move through life, they’ll experience similar situations in which they fall short. If they’ve already learned how to recognize that emotion and move on, they’ll be better prepared. • Present a plan of action. If you’ve withheld rank from a student, take the time to explain the specifics, including which skills must be improved to pass the test the next time. I’ve yet to meet a martial arts instructor who doesn’t want his or her students to succeed. Helping them make progress is a huge part of why we love our job. It’s important to remember, though, that making progress doesn’t always mean providing a smooth path for students. Although it can be difficult, allowing them to fail an exam when they didn’t meet the requirements can be one of the greatest gifts we provide.

Photos by Peter Lueders An Ex-KGB Agent Who’s Also a Master of Combat Sambo, Systema and Judo Fills You In On Knife Defense! If you read our November 2010 issue, you no doubt remember Val Riazanov, the martial arts expert featured in “Punch Line: Mastering the Ballistic Strike.” For those who didn’t see the article and can’t wait to find out who Riazanov is, know this: The former KGB agent is a Russian special-forces vet and a systema instructor certified by Mikhail Ryabko. He’s also a combat-sambo master who owns a sixth-degree black belt in judo. Translation: He knows what he’s talking about. Val Riazanov launches right into his lecture on knife defense rather matter-of-factly, especially when you consider the lethality of the topic. “If you’ve ever been stabbed before, you know that what a lot of people teach isn’t very practical,” he says. I immediately believe he’s been stabbed, probably more than once. “A knife is a nasty thing,” he continues after a pregnant pause. For effect, he executes a simple low thrust with a training blade—the kind of attack most martial artists want their demonstration partners to feed them—and his opponent blocks easily. Just as the other guy starts to look proud of himself, Riazanov redirects his blade and stabs him several times while he fumbles to block. Point taken. “Even a man whose only experience with a knife comes from cutting a chicken should be considered dangerous when he’s angry,” Riazanov says. “If a man has ever put a knife into the flesh of a human, he should be considered really dangerous.” When faced with a blade, Riazanov continues, you have two choices: “You can give him whatever he asks for, and then you might or might not get stabbed anyway. Or you can try to do something about it.” You should try to do something about it, he says, only if you think you’ll have no psychological issues with the outcome, which obviously can entail you getting cut, him getting cut or both of you getting cut. If you get stabbed, get almost stabbed or actually do the stabbing, he says, there’s a good chance you’ll have psychological issues to deal with afterward. Once again, I believe he’s speaking from experience, and it’s that experience that’s pushed him toward a more realistic approach to knife defense. SERIOUS BUSINESS “The main thing about knife defense is you don’t play games with techniques,” he says. For emphasis, he has his opponent execute a half-speed horizontal slash, and he does a conventional two-hand grab of the knife arm, which is followed by a chop to the neck, a kick to the leg and a strike to the knife arm—each one punctuated by an exaggerated kiai. That bit of comedy sets the stage for one of his preferred defenses. “When the knife comes in, you’ll probably have time to move only your stomach away, so that’s all you do,” he says. Western martial artists often call this method of avoiding a blade “hollowing out.” Riazanov almost subconsciously uses his hand to “help” the weapon continue along its original path, which is to the attacker’s left, or across the front of his body. I say “almost subconsciously” because depending on the nuances of the attack and his position relative to the other man, he switches back and forth between using his left hand and using his right. It’s a minor detail, apparently. “At the same time, you strike,” Riazanov says as he pops a punch into the man’s chin. Earlier in the day, he talked about the value of even low- to medium-power punches that are delivered while the opponent is moving toward you. Seems the speed of your fist is boosted by the velocity of the attacker. Couple that with a precision strike to a vulnerable spot like the chin, and you have a blow that can sap the enthusiasm of any attacker, especially if he’s not expecting to be hit. Riazanov then demos a series of disarms that mesh with what he just did. Most of them include immobilizing the knife hand and stripping the knife, at which point he can opt to finish his opponent using the blade, to inflict pain using the butt of the handle on a pressure point or to coax him into behaving by judiciously pricking the skin with the tip. “Whatever you do now,” he says, “never let go of the knife.” JACK-OF-ALL-TRADES To drive home his next point, Riazanov grabs the training knife and instructs his partner to take it away. He can’t break the Russian’s grip even though he tries a variety of angles and hand positions. “See how much struggle there is?” Riazanov asks. “All it takes for me is this …” and he yanks his knife hand backward, breaking the grip of the opponent, after which he proceeds to carve him up like a Thanksgiving turkey. The lesson is clear: Mastering the art of the knife entails knowing how to use it, how to defend against it, how to maintain your grip on it and how to break your attacker’s grip. He hands the weapon to the opponent—“You hold it!”—and with his left hand momentarily placed against the back of the man’s knife hand, Riazanov uses the heel of his right hand to leverage the opponent’s thumb back, causing him to release the weapon. It looks so simple. Riazanov returns the knife to him and says, “This time don’t hold it that tight.” With his opponent expecting the same technique, Riazanov raps him on the knuckles using his own knuckles. The weapon falls to the floor. The third time, all he says is “Biomechanics.” With his left hand, he grips the man’s forearm, and with his right, he grabs the back of the knife hand—then brings them together as if he’s snapping a giant toothpick. The man’s wrist folds, and the pressure Riazanov applies to the knife handle in the direction of the thumb causes the knife to be released. The Russian establishes a grip on the weapon and pretends to slice his foe’s biceps. Quick to please, Riazanov runs through several more disarms, one of which involves using the knuckles of his right fist to drill the man’s forearm so he can effortlessly peel the knife out of his grip, again in the direction of the thumb. Another one has him fending off an attack in which the assailant gets close enough to press the tip of the weapon against his chest. Riazanov uses the back of his hand to push against the side of the blade, angling it down and then back toward the attacker. It winds up in his hand, so of course he uses it against him. In more than a few of the examples, Riazanov manages to cut the assailant with his own weapon even though he’s still clutching it. Biomechanics, as he said earlier—control the limb, bend it in a direction that severely reduces its strength and then apply enough force to ensure it does your bidding. The defenses that don’t involve counter-cuts take advantage of a quick strike to the chin or throat and even a short stomping kick to the nearest shin, followed by a takedown. RESOLUTION That takedown is Riazanov’s cue to explain his philosophy on effective follow-ups. “When you throw someone on the floor, there’s a very small chance he will come up—however much he’s trained—because the concrete floor is very different from the dojo floor,” he says. “With concrete, once you’re down, you’re down if you don’t know how to fall.” To illustrate the seriousness of the takedown and highlight a method for initiating it, Riazanov steps to the rear with one foot and then pivots as the opponent slashes—all while facing the weapon, of course. “When the knife is approaching, you let it go by and move away from the attack,” he says. As he steps and turns, he grabs the opponent’s wrist with his left hand and pushes down near the crook of the elbow with his right, taking him to the ground. “It’s a typical technique you’d see in sambo or judo,” he says. “Once he’s down, your knee goes just behind the elbow, into the triceps area.” A standing armbar results, but Riazanov immediately applies additional pressure with his knee to roll the man onto his stomach, his knife hand still trapped. “Then you take the blade, and if you have to hold him, you hold him,” he says. “If you have to disable him, you cut the tendon in his arm—you don’t have to get nasty. If you have to take him somewhere, you put the point of the knife against the crook of his arm—it’s not very nice—and he will come up as quick as he can. Then you stick it under his armpit and walk him. He’ll walk anywhere you like. If he resists, he bleeds a little.” “Even with the rubber knife, it hurts,” Riazanov’s training partner volunteers. THEORY AND PRACTICE Most of Riazanov’s knife defenses involve creating what he calls initial shock. For some of them, he hits the knife arm to distract, maybe causing the opponent to drop the weapon. For others, he clips him on the chin or drives his open hand into his throat before throwing. Occasionally, he kicks the inside of the kneecap with the bottom of his foot, collapsing the supporting leg so he can more easily take away the knife. “You have to be extremely precise with things like this, though,” he says with a smile. Once you’ve inflicted that initial shock, don’t get overconfident—even if your opponent is on his back, Riazanov cautions. “At that point, it’s not over. He will struggle and punch and kick—especially if he’s under the influence of drugs or alcohol. Here’s a little trick: As he desperately struggles to [regain control of his knife], you do this!” He drops his knee into the man’s gut. “Now it’s easy to take the knife away, and you didn’t do any damage.” He then demos a variation in which he drops his knee onto the man’s face. It would seem to be a bit more damaging—something he learned in the KGB, no doubt. “All this is good to practice,” Riazanov says before he ends the lesson. “But try to learn it from someone who’s been stabbed before—so they know what they’re talking about.”

From the archives of Karate Illustrated, we remember Kaicho Takayuki Yamazaki — a martial arts pioneer whose influence reached far beyond the dojo. A 9th-degree black belt, internationally respected sensei and martial arts leader, Yamazaki was part of a generation that helped introduce and establish karate in America alongside legends such as Fumio Demura, Chuck Norris and Dan Ivan. His skills also made their way to Hollywood. Yamazaki famously helped prepare Arnold Schwarzenegger for Conan the Barbarian and worked with stars including Sean Connery, Dennis Quaid, Sting, Brigitte Nielsen and Rolf Möller, contributing his martial arts expertise to productions including Conan, Red Sonja, Highlander, Dune and Dragonheart. But his greatest legacy wasn't Hollywood. Kaicho Yamazaki lived and breathed karate. He was a teacher, leader, father and friend whose influence continues through the thousands of martial artists he touched around the world. One student perhaps described him best: “The most complete human being I’ve ever met.” Karate Illustrated — February 1971. More than 50 years later, we honor the masters who helped build martial arts history.

For Unbeatable Ground Skill, Why Stick With One Style? “Marcel Louzado is one of the most remarkable people in martial arts today. He has combined various disciplines, knowing that the truth lies outside any one martial art. His mixture includes Brazilian jiu-jitsu, wrestling and judo, [which] creates a unique and deadly animal. This high-octane hybrid has attained Mr. Louzado three world titles. If the proof is in the pudding, Marcel has already consumed three bowls.” —Paul Vunak Marcel Louzado embarked on the martial path at age 3 with lessons in judo. Although the style is often recommended for children because of the low potential for injury, under no circumstances should that be interpreted to mean that judo isn’t effective in competition or self-defense. The art, properly known as Kodokan judo, was established in 1882 by Dr. Jigoro Kano, who studied the tenjin shinyo-ryu and kito-ryu styles of classical jujitsu until he’d learned their deepest teachings. Kano took up the martial arts as a child because even back then it was well-known that consistent training strengthens even the frailest body. No doubt Louzado enjoyed the same benefits during his youth. Having to begin from that disadvantaged position is likely the reason Kano was inspired to transform the traditional jujitsu principle of “defeating strength through flexibility” into the judo concept of “maximum efficiency” through the proper use of physical and mental energy. The lesson was one Louzado took to heart. The boy’s first judo coach required all his students to bone up on the history, culture and tradition of the Japanese art. That course of study generated tremendous insight and respect for judo in the mind of the youth—so much so that he was inspired to help preserve Kano’s legacy by competing in it. In 1989, when he was just 10, Louzado became a national judo champ. IN THE BEGINNING Kano eventually felt a need to supplement his skill base with training in other forms of combat. He continued to integrate what he considered the positive points of each one with his own ideas and inspirations. Similarly, Louzado looked to expand his horizons. At 15, with his judo skills on point—as evidenced by his four national championship titles—he started training in Brazilian jiu-jitsu with the intention of becoming a world champion. As we all know, Brazilian jiu-jitsu originated from Kodokan judo, so the transition wasn’t particularly tough for Louzado. He immediately noted that cross-training in BJJ would help him complete his game on the ground. When he was 16, he entered his first jiu-jitsu tournament—around the same time he received his black belt in judo. When he was 17, he won his first BJJ competition and started teaching the grappling sport in São Paulo, Brazil. IN THE STATES If not for a foreign-exchange program that took him to Fresno, California, the teen might have been satisfied with his ground skills and stopped right there. However, his time at Hoover High School brought exposure to America’s grappling art. Louzado joined the varsity wrestling team and immediately became a standout athlete. Upon his return to Brazil, Louzado figured that more opportunity to excel existed in the judo and jiu-jitsu worlds, so he started competing in those arts again. He took first place in the Junior National Judo Championships. In 1998 he competed in the Olympic trials for the Brazilian judo team but didn’t make the cut. In his free time, he attended college, eventually graduating with a degree in physical therapy. At 19, he decided to make BJJ his career. In 2000 he placed third as a purple belt in the World Championships in Rio de Janeiro—and then won the Pan-American Championships in Orlando, Florida. The following year was an even better one for him: He won the “triple crown of Brazilian jiu-jitsu”—the Pan-American Championships, the World Mundial Championships Rio and the Brazilian National Championships. That achievement was capped by a ceremony in which he was awarded his black belt. IN TRAINING On the mat, Louzado likes to integrate the skills of all three grappling disciplines. He effortlessly switches from one to the other, often in ways observers don’t notice. Watching him, I’m reminded of the Filipino martial arts axiom “soft as cotton, hard as steel.” He can roll with anyone, and that person need not fear getting injured, but just like when you’re in a cage with a big cat, the claws can come out at any time. One secret of Louzado’s success is his emphasis on the transitions between the techniques. He’ll attempt a submission, and if his opponent evades it, Louzado will flow effortlessly to the next—from armbars to guillotine chokes, from foot locks to triangles. He transmits this ability to his students through lots of hands-on training. In other words, he personally rolls with all his people. Grapple with any one of them, and you can feel his influence. Ask him to divulge another training secret, and he doesn’t hesitate: Execute your techniques step by step while focusing on precise movements. Why? Because it will make you more aware of your body—scientists call this “proprioception”—as well as more aware of your opponent’s body and where it is in relation to yours. Once your body knows how to move, speed will come naturally, and the result will be a level of skill that won’t fail under the pressure of competition or the emotions of the street. With regard to techniques, Louzado loves to use his wrestling takedowns to meet his opponent on the mat. Once there, he seeks out submissions using his judo and BJJ skill set. He never fixates on one method of fighting, however. The key to victory, he says, is being able to go from one art to the other and back again when needed. When that’s done with proper timing, alignment, balance and mechanics, strength becomes a nonissue. Translation: You have enough energy to fight longer, ideally outlasting your opponent—which, interestingly enough, circles back to that “maximum efficiency” motto of Jigoro Kano. Photos by Robert Reiff

A PRACTICAL PRIMER ON THE FIGHTING ARTS OF THE PHILIPPINES TAUGHT BY BLACK BELT HALL OF FAMER JULIUS MELEGRITO In our May 2012 issue, Julius Melegrito, Black Belt’s 2011 Weapons Instructor of the Year, wrote “10 Things You Probably Didn’t Know About the Filipino Martial Arts” to let readers who don’t already practice FMA know what they’re missing. In this follow-up, he explains and demonstrates key concepts from the group of arts that are commonly referred to as escrima, kali or arnis that you’ll need to get started in your training. Word to the wise: They’ll help you improve your skills and knowledge even if you don’t intend to take up FMA.—Editor CLASSICS: “Your whole purpose in classical Filipino stick fighting is to hit your opponent until he’s out of the fight—you don’t mess around with other techniques like traps,” Melegrito says. TARGETS: “In practice, you use your stick to hit his stick as close to his gripping hand as you can manage while staying safe, but in a real fight, you’d hit the hand,” he says. “It usually makes him drop his weapon. Of course, in a fight, an attempt to hit his hand might miss, which is why you practice follow-ups.” FOLLOW-UP: Melegrito likes to use an empty hand—assuming he’s not holding a second stick—to check the opponent’s hand right after it’s hit. That’s his insurance policy: If the strike doesn’t have the intended effect for whatever reason, Melegrito can prevent the man from bringing the hand back into action. He immediately follows up with a stick strike to the forearm, elbow, face, neck or some other available target. SIMPLICITY: “You don’t try to grab him or do anything else,” he says. “You just hit anything that comes at you—be it a hand, a knife or whatever. Whoever hits first usually wins the battle.” LEGS: If the opponent kicks, the same principles apply, Melegrito says. Aim for the foot or ankle, check the leg if necessary and then follow up. Don’t try to trap the leg. SCHISM: “In classical stick fighting, the stick is treated like a sword—which means all strikes are regarded as cuts,” he says. “If you’re doing the classical arts, you don’t touch the stick because that would be like touching a sharp sword blade. In modern Filipino stick fighting, however, the stick is treated like a stick.” MODERN APPROACH: “In the modern arts, it’s OK to touch the stick,” he says. “After all, it’s a stick, not a sword. You just treat it as an impact weapon. When the guy swings at you, you intercept his strike with a strike from your stick—aimed at his hand—then you grab his weapon close to his hand if he doesn’t drop it. Grabbing it allows you to use it against him or take it away.” OPTIONS: “Once you grab his stick, move it out of the way if you want to strike,” Melegrito says. “If he holds onto it, his arm will be carried along with the weapon, which will leave his body open for your counterstrike. If he tries to kick, you can maneuver the stick down to block his shin, then hit his body with your stick. Or you can use his stick to lock his arm. At any point, you have the option of switching to the classical approach and just hitting him.” DISARMS: Part of modern stick fighting is separating your opponent from his weapon, Melegrito says. As he already mentioned, you can hit the hand holding the stick with the intention of making him drop it. You also can leverage it out of his hand using a twisting motion. Or you can use your stick to push his stick out of his hand in such a way that it goes flying. This last category of techniques he calls “projectile disarms.” WARNING: “Disarming an attacker is a good concept for self-defense, but before you can disarm him, you have to grab his stick, and to do that safely, you have to understand the angles at which it’s dangerous,” Melegrito says. “Of course, it helps if you ‘soften’ him up with a strike before you try the disarm. Then it’s easier to use leverage to break his balance and force the stick out of his hand.” THEORY: “In modern stick fighting, the whole idea is if you can hit his hand, you can probably grab his stick, and if you can grab his stick, you can disarm him,” he says. “If it’s a knife, that changes things a little—your survival depends on being able to grab his wrist and prevent him from moving it to cut you. Then you can disarm him and maybe use it against him.” PROGRESSION: Once you have the theory and the basics down pat, it’s time for partner training, Melegrito says. “Start with static disarms and work your way up to dynamic disarms, in which you both are moving when you try it.” SHIELD: “Modern stick fighting is not just about beating somebody up—you don’t always have to hit,” he says. “This is very important to know in situations where there are a lot of witnesses because if you have a stick and your opponent doesn’t, the witnesses are going to view you as the aggressor. After all, you’re armed and you’re hitting him. That’s why you also need to know how to use a stick as a shield. These defensive techniques are good for police officers or anyone who doesn’t want to injure the other person.” IMPACT: The key to using a stick as a shield lies in positioning it in a nonthreatening location—such as parallel to your forearm—so it can absorb the force of an attack. Then, in the eyes of witnesses, it’s the aggressor who’s causing the problem by hitting you. All you’re doing is blocking. “This training is especially good for kids to learn because it’s totally defensive,” Melegrito says. SHIELD VARIATION: Say you’re walking along a street with an umbrella or cane in your hand. An aggressor approaches, and you raise your makeshift weapon. He grabs it with one hand to intimidate you, which prompts you to place your free hand on the other end of the weapon. Then he chambers his fist and unleashes a punch. “You can use the umbrella to block by raising it into the path of his fist,” Melegrito says. “If he tries to grab you again, you can lower the stick and block the arm. It also works if he tries to kick.” ESCAPE: “To make him release your umbrella so you can use it in other ways, twist it and snap it down,” he says. Then you can scoot behind him, assuming the situation warrants and your skills are up to the task, and apply a choke. “The idea is to use the umbrella in a way that doesn’t involve hitting,” Melegrito says. “You can push against his throat to get him away, or you can deflect a punch and go to a position in which you have it against the side of his neck. Once he’s under control, then you can talk.” CONTROL: That final category of techniques in modern stick fighting—moves that enable you to restrict or immobilize an attacker without inflicting harm—is an essential one to master in our litigious society. “When a guy comes up to you and reaches out, maybe he just likes your shirt—you don’t know,” Melegrito says. “That’s why in many situations it’s better to control than to immediately start hitting.” Photos by Robert Reiff

Former Editor of Inside Kung Fu, screenplay writer and producer Paul Maslak remembers his old friend with this written tribute. Remembering James Lew. In Hollywood circles, they often say that the villains make the movie as much as, and sometimes more than, the heroes. James Lew understood that dictum of drama as well as any actor I’ve worked with. Fortunately for those of us who knew him, he always left the villainy on the set. I had the privilege of casting James in his first starring role, as ‘Jaho,’ the death-touch master in the HBO actioner “Red Sun Rising.” It became HBO’s highest Nielsen-rated world-premiere movie that year (10.3 rating, 15 share), in no small measure because of James’s inspired performance. I remember James Lew as a good-hearted and remarkably unpretentious man, with a quick wit, a male model’s good looks, and brilliant martial arts skills. Whenever he was near, you felt his cheerful warmth, infectious positivity, and steadfast friendship. I also remember James as one of those people who was always willing to step up. If something needed doing and James could do it, he did it with good humor, without complaint, and usually with that smile of his. Looking back now, I realize how many of my memories of him begin exactly that way. My history with James goes back much further than “Red Sun Rising.” I worked with him while I was editor of INSIDE KUNG-FU magazine. Our offices were then on the site of today’s In-N-Out Burger, the one celebrities famously descend upon after the Oscars. Anyway, one day, Jackie Chan unexpectedly showed up for what would become his very first interview in America. Photo courtesy of James Lew archive Naturally, none of the editors were there. That included me, which, as a martial arts editor, was not my finest hour. Hey, I didn’t know he’d come by that day. They were in Hollywood; I was in San Francisco. But James happened to be around. Now, James was many things: a superb martial artist, a stuntman, an aspiring actor, a remarkably good-looking human being, and a kind soul. What he was not, under even the most generous interpretation of the First Amendment, was a journalist. But he was there. We were not. Jackie had brought along a Cantonese interpreter. Our publisher, Curtis Wong, pointed James toward Jackie Chan and, trusting that the chi would be with them, left them to it. James did what James always did. He stepped up. He persevered. Jackie persevered. The interpreter persevered. The interview, though, showed less determination. Let’s just say journalism took the day off. Then, weeks later, I asked James to step in as the fall guy for a Jackie Chan “techniques” magazine photo feature. James was the only guy handy whom I knew could keep up with the now-legendary Chinese opera star turned movie star. And James did. Jackie noticed. James would later work on all three of Jackie’s “Rush Hour” films. Fast-forward a few years. As a personal favor, I again got James to step in, this time as a stunt double to perform a daring aerial cartwheel kick over a hard-slashing sword for the climax of “Ring of Fire.” Not a feat that even the best martial artists could pull off. But James could. Repeatedly. For many, many takes. We were filmmakers. One good take always deserved another. A few years later, my business partner Neva Friedenn and I were heading up our first production as keyman producers, “Red Sun Rising,” starring Don “the Dragon” Wilson, Terry Farrell, Michael Ironside, Mako, Edward Albert, Stony Jackson and, ultimately, James Lew. Photo courtesy of Paul Maslak The story grew out of an idea that came to me while I was editor of INSIDE KUNG- FU. I thought the ninja movies of the day had it all wrong. A modern ninja wouldn’t be running around in 16th-century pajamas wielding primarily 16th-century weapons. The Japanese samurai, the traditional nemesis of the ninja, had largely evolved into policemen. So, I reasoned, maybe the ninja evolved into yakuza assassins. We also gave our modern ninja the infamous Chinese dim mak death touch. Okay, we were not letting cultural consistency get in the way of a good villain. But voilà: Don “the Dragon” Wilson versus James “the Dragonmaster” Lew. I knew almost instantly that I wanted James for the role. But not so fast. Hollywood sometimes takes the scenic route. Even a keyman producer has to gather collaborative support. Our savvy executive producer, Ashok Amritraj, insisted that we go after Jet Li first, which we did. I’d seen Li perform live as a child headliner for the Wushu Troope of the People’s Republic of China at the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC, as well as in his Chinese hit movie “Shaolin Temple.” But he was already signed to make his American debut in a “Lethal Weapon” sequel. Then Ashok insisted that we try Bolo Yeung. Not a bad idea. An “Enter the Dragon” villain. Again, he wasn’t available. Finally, Ashok gave us the go-ahead to open up the casting. Yeah, sure. Neva and I already knew who we wanted. Don “the Dragon” totally concurred. Our last obstacle was convincing our BBC-veteran movie director, Francis Megahy. He needed to see an acting audition, and not just from one candidate. Fair enough. James was spot-on brilliant in his reading. Regardless of our behind-the-scenes nudging, James flat out won that role the old-fashioned way: He earned it. Plain and simple. Photo courtesy of Paul Maslak Actors sometimes use the mental image of an animal to help build a persona for their character. James chose a shark for Jaho. His elegant acting coach to the stars, Ivana Chubbuck, suggested purple contact lenses to help bring that image to life. A shark with purple eyes. Only in Hollywood. Perfect. James graced us with a memorable performance. Certainly, my favorite villain among all the cable-TV movies I produced. His epic showdown with Don “the Dragon,” staged beneath the downtown Los Angeles skyscrapers against the night sky, seemed to leap from the screen. Fight master Art Camacho joined the duo in choreographing something cinematically special. Many years later, in 2017, I reached out to congratulate James on winning an Emmy as stunt coordinator for Marvel’s “Luke Cage” on Netflix. Then James reached out to me when my producing partner, Neva Friedenn, passed away in 2023. And in 2024, James received another richly deserved honor when BLACK BELT magazine inducted him into its Hall of Fame as a recipient of the Martial Arts Stunt Performer Award, alongside fellow Hollywood martial arts veterans Jeff Imada and Simon Rhee. It was nice to see this good guy finally get some glory. And now, on August 23, James passed. It is hard for me to reconcile the James I remember, the man who could fly sideways like a buzz saw over a slashing sword, take after take, with the physical frailty that overtook him toward the end. Time is not gentle even with the strongest among us. But what it could not diminish was the affection James had earned from the people whose lives he touched. I’m told that, at the end, James was surrounded by family and friends who loved him. Somehow, that seems fitting. James spent a lifetime showing up for others. And when his time came, people who loved him showed up for him. I’ll remember the quick wit, the cheerful warmth, the remarkable talent, and the friend who, whenever something needed doing, always seemed willing to step up and say yes. James Lew was a good man and a good friend. He will be missed. Not just by me.

Made in America. Kicking ass and taking names. For this list, Black Belt looked for movies that are fundamentally American in their setting, characters, filmmaking or cultural identity—and, most importantly, movies that had a lasting impact on martial arts fans. When people talk about the greatest martial arts movies of all time, the conversation usually begins in Hong Kong. Bruce Lee. Shaw Brothers. Jackie Chan. Jet Li. Sammo Hung. Gordon Liu. And deservedly so. But America created its own martial arts movie tradition. These were movies filled with muscle cars, pickup trucks, motorcycles, back-alley fights, underground tournaments, cops who didn't exactly follow department policy, high school karate rivalries, American kickboxers, street fighters and heroes who usually had one solution when diplomacy failed: This isn't necessarily a list of the most critically acclaimed films. It's about the movies that made us leave the theater wanting to train. The movies we wore out on VHS. The movies that made an entire generation punch, kick and spin in front of the bedroom mirror. So put on your black belt, fire up the Mustang and cue the training montage. Here are Black Belt's greatest American martial arts movies (made) in America. ABOVE THE LAW — 1988 Shot on location in Chicago Whatever you think about Steven Seagal today, it's difficult to explain to younger fans just how different he looked when Above the Law arrived. Audiences hadn't seen many American action stars move like that. The wrist locks. The throws. The joint manipulations. The economy of movement. And, yes, the attitude. Seagal's Nico Toscani didn't fight like Chuck Norris, Stallone or Schwarzenegger. His aikido-based movement gave American audiences something visually different. Above the Law announced the arrival of a new martial arts movie star almost overnight. For a while, every dojo seemed to have somebody trying those wrist locks. And probably a few kids named Nico. BEST OF THE BEST — 1989 Shot on location in Los Angeles Tommy Lee VS Dae Han ....For martial artists who grew up in the late 1980s and early '90s, this one was personal. Best of the Best wasn't simply about fighting. It was about being a martial artist. Training. Discipline. Teamwork. Sacrifice. Injury. Pride. Respect. Phillip Rhee and Simon Rhee brought genuine martial arts credibility to the screen, while Eric Roberts, James Earl Jones and a memorable ensemble gave the movie emotional weight. And then came that ending. If you were a young martial artist watching Best of the Best, you didn't just want to win. You wanted to earn respect. BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA — 1986 Shot on location in Los Angeles / San Francisco John Carpenter. Kurt Russell. San Francisco's Chinatown. Sorcerers. Monsters. Ghosts. Kung fu. Trucks. And one of the greatest collections of martial artists ever assembled for an American fantasy action movie. Big Trouble in Little China threw everything into the blender and somehow made it work. The movie was underappreciated when it arrived but became a cult classic, influencing generations of filmmakers, stunt performers and martial arts fans. It proved that American martial arts cinema didn't have to take itself seriously. Sometimes you could simply have fun. BLACK BELT JONES — 1974 Shot on location in Los Angeles Jim Kelly didn't just look cool doing martial arts. He helped redefine who could be an American martial arts movie star. One year after exploding onto the screen alongside Bruce Lee in Enter the Dragon, Jim Kelly got the chance to take center stage in Black Belt Jones. And he owned it. Directed by Robert Clouse, the man behind Enter the Dragon, Black Belt Jones took the martial arts movie out of Hong Kong and planted it firmly on the streets of Los Angeles. Kelly plays Black Belt Jones, a martial artist who steps in when the mob tries to take control of a neighborhood karate school and the valuable land underneath it. That's really all the story needed. Because the attraction was Jim Kelly. The Afro. The smile. The attitude. The speed. The kicks. Kelly brought something completely different to martial arts cinema. He wasn't trying to be Bruce Lee, Chuck Norris or anybody else. Jim Kelly was Jim Kelly. A legitimate karate practitioner and tournament competitor, Kelly had the skills to back up the swagger. His athletic kicking style looked spectacular on screen, but equally important was the confidence he projected. At a time when there were very few Black action heroes—and even fewer Black martial arts stars—Kelly became an icon. Black Belt Jones also captured a uniquely American moment. The kung fu explosion was colliding with the blaxploitation era, and suddenly martial arts were mixing with funk music, street culture, outrageous clothes and unmistakable 1970s Los Angeles attitude. The result couldn't have been made anywhere else. And the movie gave us one of the most wonderfully bizarre fight scenes of the era: Jim Kelly battling bad guys inside a car wash surrounded by soap and bubbles. Only in the '70s. Kelly would go on to star in films including Three the Hard Way, Hot Potato and Black Samurai, but Black Belt Jones remains the movie that best captured what made him special. He wasn't simply one of the first major Black martial arts movie stars. He was one of America's first true martial arts movie stars. Period. The Afro was iconic. The kicks were real. The attitude was all his own. Jim Kelly was cool before martial arts movies knew how cool they could be. BLADE — 1998 Shot on location in Los Angeles Before the modern superhero movie conquered Hollywood, Wesley Snipes gave us a superhero who could actually kick ass. Blade was dark, stylish, violent and unlike almost anything audiences had seen from a comic-book movie. And at the center of it was Wesley Snipes. Snipes didn't simply look like an action hero. He brought genuine martial arts experience and athleticism to the role, giving Blade a physical credibility that helped separate the character from the muscle-bound superheroes that had come before him. The result was a new kind of American action hero. Part vampire hunter. Part martial artist. Part gunslinger. And 100 percent cool. Released in 1998, Blade arrived just before The Matrix helped transform Hollywood action filmmaking. Together, films like these demonstrated that martial arts choreography could become part of the language of mainstream American blockbusters rather than remain confined to traditional martial arts movies. But Blade deserves another distinction. Years before the Marvel Cinematic Universe became a global phenomenon, Wesley Snipes proved that a Marvel character could carry a successful R-rated action franchise. The sunglasses. The sword. The black leather. The attitude. But underneath all of it was something Black Belt readers immediately recognized: The man could move. Wesley Snipes made martial arts an essential part of Blade's identity—and helped create one of the coolest action heroes of the 1990s. Some superheroes fly. Some shoot lasers. Blade just kicks ass. BLOOD AND BONE — 2009 Shot on location in Los Angeles Sometimes you don't need explosions, superheroes or a $200 million budget. Sometimes you just need Michael Jai White. In Blood and Bone, White does what martial arts fans have always wanted to see him do: fight. And fight. And fight some more. His combination of traditional martial arts technique, athleticism, speed, power and screen presence turned Bone into one of the great modern underground-fighting characters. The movie became a cult favorite because the martial arts never feel like decoration. They're the reason we're watching. CHINA O'BRIEN — 1990 Shot on location in Utah Cynthia Rothrock comes home. Was China O'Brien Cynthia Rothrock's greatest martial arts movie? Probably not. Her Hong Kong films—including Yes, Madam! and Righting Wrongs—gave her opportunities to demonstrate just how extraordinary her martial arts abilities really were. But China O'Brien represents something equally important. It brought Cynthia Rothrock back to America as the star. By the time she returned from Hong Kong, Rothrock had accomplished something few American martial artists—male or female—had ever achieved: she had become a legitimate martial arts movie star in the toughest action-film market in the world. In China O'Brien, she plays a martial artist and former police officer who returns to her small American hometown and discovers corruption has taken control. The solution is pure American martial arts cinema: clean up the town one bad guy at a time. And the movie had serious martial arts pedigree. Behind the camera was Robert Clouse, the director forever connected to one of the most important martial arts movies ever made, Bruce Lee's Enter the Dragon. Alongside Rothrock were fellow martial arts stars Richard Norton and Keith Cooke, giving the film a lineup that martial arts fans immediately recognized. It may not have showcased Rothrock with the same breathtaking intensity as her best Hong Kong work, but China O'Brien became a fan favorite and helped establish her as something America had rarely seen: A female martial artist carrying her own action franchise. For a generation of martial artists—and especially young women looking for someone on screen who could genuinely fight—Cynthia Rothrock wasn't pretending. She was the real deal. JOHN WICK — 2014 Shot on location in New York John Wick didn't just revive Keanu Reeves as an action star. It helped redefine what an American martial arts movie could look like. Wick drives a 1969 Ford Mustang Boss 429, wears a perfectly tailored black suit and goes to war with the Russian underworld after they make the worst possible mistake. But underneath the guns, cars and nightclub lighting is serious martial arts choreography. Judo. Jiu-jitsu. Throws. Joint locks. Grappling. Tactical firearms. The John Wick franchise created its own cinematic fighting language and helped introduce a new generation to an American hybrid of martial arts and action filmmaking. John Wick doesn't need a gi. The suit is his uniform. THE KARATE KID — 1984 Shot on location in "The Valley" Los Angeles You simply can't have this list without it. Few movies in history have done more to put martial arts into American popular culture. Daniel LaRusso. Mr. Miyagi. Cobra Kai. "Wax on, wax off." The crane kick. The Karate Kid wasn't really about winning a tournament. It was about what martial arts could teach a young person about confidence, discipline, restraint and courage. Millions of kids walked out of theaters wanting to take karate. Four decades later, we're still talking about Daniel and Johnny. That's cultural impact. THE LAST DRAGON — 1985 Shot on location in New York Motown meets martial arts in New York City—and somehow it all works. Few martial arts movies could have been made anywhere but America. Produced by Motown founder Berry Gordy, The Last Dragon took kung fu philosophy, Bruce Lee worship, '80s music, outrageous fashion, comedy and the streets of New York City and blended them into one of the most original martial arts movies of the decade. At the center was Taimak as Leroy Green, better known as "Bruce Leroy," a young martial artist searching for the final level of enlightenment—and "the Glow." Standing in his way was one of the greatest martial arts movie villains ever created: Julius Carry's Sho'nuff, the Shogun of Harlem. "Who's the master?" If you grew up in the '80s, you already know the answer. What makes The Last Dragon special is that it never tried to be a Hong Kong kung fu movie. It took the influence of Bruce Lee and Asian martial arts cinema and transformed it into something completely American—New York attitude, Motown music, street culture, comedy and kung fu all rolled into one. Four decades later, Bruce Leroy and Sho'nuff remain part of martial arts pop culture. It had the music. It had the moves. It had the attitude. And most importantly—it had the Glow. LONE WOLF McQUADE — 1983 Shot on location in El Paso Texas Before Walker, there was McQuade. Chuck Norris created perhaps the ultimate American martial arts action hero: a Texas Ranger who drank beer, drove a truck, carried a badge, rode horses and handled bad guys with a combination of firearms and martial arts. And, of course, he did it wearing cowboy boots. The climactic showdown between Norris and David Carradine gave martial arts fans something special: two American martial arts icons finally facing each other on screen. Lone Wolf McQuade wasn't trying to imitate Hong Kong cinema. It was kung fu by way of the American West. What could possibly be more American than that? NO RETREAT, NO SURRENDER — 1986 Shot on location in Los Angeles Small movie. Huge martial arts legacy. No Retreat, No Surrender had everything an '80s martial arts kid could want: karate schools, rivalries, training sequences, Bruce Lee worship and an almost unknown Belgian martial artist named Jean-Claude Van Damme. Van Damme wasn't even the hero. It didn't matter. The moment he started moving, audiences noticed. Directed by Hong Kong action filmmaker Corey Yuen, the film blended American karate culture with Hong Kong action sensibilities. The result became VHS-store royalty. And a star was born. ONLY THE STRONG — 1993 Shot on location in Miami Capoeira. Miami. Mark Dacascos. What a combination. At a time when most American martial arts movies centered on karate, kickboxing or kung fu, Only the Strong introduced many mainstream viewers to the spectacular movement, music and culture of Brazilian capoeira. Dacascos had the athleticism and charisma to make it believable. But underneath the action was something surprisingly heartfelt: a teacher using martial arts to give troubled kids discipline, identity and purpose. More than 30 years later, it still holds up. THE PERFECT WEAPON — 1991 Shot on location in Los Angeles For American kenpo practitioners, The Perfect Weapon was a moment. Jeff Speakman brought Ed Parker's kenpo to mainstream movie screens with combinations that looked dramatically different from the slower, single-technique exchanges audiences were accustomed to seeing. Fast hands. Rapid combinations. Explosive movement. Speakman became a martial arts movie star almost overnight. And for thousands of viewers, The Perfect Weapon was their introduction to American kenpo. RAPID FIRE — 1992 Shot on location in Los Angeles Brandon Lee never had enough time to show us everything he could become. But Rapid Fire gave us a glimpse. Lee combined speed, athleticism, charisma and a natural understanding of how martial arts needed to look on camera. The result was a distinctly early-'90s American action movie with genuine martial arts pedigree. Today the movie is also bittersweet. It reminds us just how much potential Brandon Lee had. REVENGE OF THE NINJA — 1983 Shot on location in Los Angeles The movie that helped turn America ninja crazy. By the early 1980s, American martial arts fans thought they knew what a martial arts hero looked like. Then came Sho Kosugi. After nearly stealing Enter the Ninja as the villain, Kosugi returned in Revenge of the Ninja—this time as the star—and helped unleash one of the biggest martial arts pop-culture crazes of the decade. Set in America, the film follows Kosugi's character, Cho Osaki, who leaves Japan with his young son hoping to build a peaceful new life in the United States. Peace doesn't last long. And that's when the fun begins. For many American moviegoers, Revenge of the Ninja was their real introduction to the weapons, movement and mythology of the ninja. Shuriken. Swords. Smoke. Stealth. Black uniforms. Exotic weapons that sent kids running to martial arts stores asking, "What is that?" The film also carried some serious American karate DNA. Among the martial artists appearing in the film was Keith Vitali, one of the great champions of America's tournament-karate era. Vitali belonged to the generation of American fighters inspired by pioneers such as Mike Stone, whose championship career and larger-than-life presence helped establish the template for the American karate superstar and Stone wrote the orgibal script to launch the series. But Revenge of the Ninja became bigger than one movie. It helped ignite Ninja Mania. Suddenly ninjas were everywhere. Movies. Television. Video games. Comic books. Toys. Halloween costumes. Martial arts magazines. And eventually four pizza-loving turtles who would take the phenomenon somewhere nobody could have imagined. For an entire generation of American kids in the 1980s, the ninja became almost as recognizable as the cowboy. And Sho Kosugi became its face. Chuck had the roundhouse. Bruce had the nunchaku. Sho Kosugi had the ninja—and for a while, every kid in America wanted to be one. RUSH HOUR — 1998 Shot on location in Los Angeles Big stars. Big studio. Big comedy. Big action. Big Hollywood director Brett Ratner. And one very important breakthrough. Jackie Chan had already conquered Asia and become a legend among hardcore martial arts fans, but Rush Hour turned him into a mainstream American superstar. Pairing Chan with Chris Tucker proved that martial arts could anchor a major Hollywood buddy-comedy franchise. The chemistry worked. The fights worked. The comedy worked. And Hollywood suddenly understood what martial arts fans had known for years: Jackie Chan was one of the most entertaining performers on Earth. ROAD HOUSE — 1989 Shot in California, even though the story is set in Missouri Is Road House technically a martial arts movie? We say yes. Patrick Swayze's Dalton is a cooler—a professional bouncer with philosophy, discipline and some extremely effective fighting skills. The movie blends barroom brawling with martial arts choreography and delivers one of American cinema's great action characters. Dalton's philosophy sounds almost like dojo wisdom: Stay calm. Stay professional. Be nice. Until it's time not to be nice. SHOWDOWN IN LITTLE TOKYO — 1991 Shot on location in Los Angeles Dolph Lundgren and Brandon Lee. That alone should get your attention. Showdown in Little Tokyo is unapologetically early-'90s martial arts excess: yakuza, swords, karate, gunfights and enough action-movie attitude to fill three films. It isn't subtle. It isn't supposed to be. Sometimes martial arts cinema exists for one simple reason: To entertain the hell out of you. THE TRANSPORTER — 2002 Shot on location in Miami Jason Statham plus Corey Yuen was a lethal combination. The Transporter took the cool European crime thriller, injected it with Hong Kong martial arts choreography and created another kind of action hero. Frank Martin could drive. He could fight. He could wear a suit. And somehow he could do all three without breaking a sweat. Statham would go on to become one of the world's biggest action stars, but The Transporter established the formula. Looks. Cool. Cars. Fighting skills. Sometimes you really can have it all. WHAT MAKES AN AMERICAN MARTIAL ARTS MOVIE? Hong Kong gave martial arts cinema its language. Japan gave the world generations of samurai cinema. But America took those influences and mixed them with its own mythology. The Western. The cop movie. The high school drama. The gangster film. The sports movie. The superhero. The American martial arts movie became something uniquely its own. Chuck Norris could be a Texas Ranger. Ralph Macchio could be a bullied teenager. Steven Seagal could be a Chicago cop. Michael Jai White could be an underground fighter. Keanu Reeves could be an assassin—or humanity's digital savior. And somewhere along the way, millions of Americans discovered martial arts because they saw someone throw a kick on a movie screen. That's why these films matter. They didn't just entertain us. They made us want to train. And for Black Belt, that's about as good a definition of a great martial arts movie as you're going to get.

Hollywood lost one of its most recognizable martial artists and stunt performers. Black Belt lost a Hall of Famer. And so many of us lost a dear friend. James Lew was the man you remembered: a martial arts master, stuntman, actor, and award-winning stunt coordinator, known by millions and loved by the friends and family who remained by his side until the very end. It didn't matter whether he was on screen for a minute or carrying a major role. James had a presence that stayed with you. The long hair. The intensity. The martial arts. The unmistakable look. And, behind the camera, an extraordinary understanding of how to turn martial arts into action that worked on film. For more than five decades, James helped define the intersection of martial arts and Hollywood. James Lew, Phillp Rhee and Simon Rhee truly the Best of the Best In 2024, Black Belt Magazine inducted James Lew into the Black Belt Hall of Fame alongside Simon Rhee and Jeff Imada in the Stuntman category—the first time the Hall of Fame specifically honored the extraordinary contribution of stunt performers in this way. The reception James received that evening said everything. His peers knew what he had accomplished. Martial artists knew what he represented. Fans knew the face they had watched for decades. But perhaps most importantly, James knew how much he was loved. For those fortunate enough to know him personally, his memory is a blessing. For those who knew him only through the screen, his career is an extraordinary journey through more than half a century of martial arts and Hollywood history. FROM MARTIAL ARTIST TO HOLLYWOOD Long before Hollywood knew his name, James was a martial artist. He began his journey studying kung fu under the renowned Douglas Wong in Southern California, becoming part of a remarkable generation of martial artists emerging in the region. Among those in that circle was Curtis Wong, who would go on to found Inside Kung-Fu magazine. Grandmaster Douglas Wong and the White Lotus Clan featuring a your James and Albert Leong James became a familiar—and formidable—presence on the Southern California tournament circuit during the 1970s, competing in both empty-hand forms and weapons and earning numerous championships. He had charisma even then. His image eventually became a staple of Inside Kung-Fu, appearing on its cover numerous times and helping make James one of the recognizable faces of the era. But another stage was waiting. Hollywood. James began performing on screen and in stunts during the 1970s, with credits reaching back to the era of the original Kung Fu television series starring David Carradine. Photo courtesy of James Lew archive Then came one of the films that would forever connect James to a generation of action-movie fans: Big Trouble in Little China. Photo courtesy of James Lew archive James worked as both a performer and martial arts talent on the production, and his distinctive appearance, movement and screen presence made him impossible to miss. Decades later, fans continued to recognize him from the film. That became a recurring them e throughout his career. James Lew was unforgettable. THE MAN BEHIND THE ACTION Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, James became a fixture of Hollywood action filmmaking. He appeared and worked alongside some of the biggest names of the era and contributed to productions associated with stars including Steven Seagal, Jackie Chan, Dolph Lundgren, Jean-Claude Van Damme and Jeff Speakman. His credits stretched across films and television including Showdown in Little Tokyo, The Perfect Weapon, Double Impact, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and The Crow television series, and the Best of the Best where he appeared with best friend of over 50 years Simon Rhee. The Korean Team from Best of the Best But James evolved far beyond being the martial artist the camera captured. He became one of the people Hollywood trusted behind the camera. Fight choreography. Stunt coordination. Second-unit action. Performance. James understood something very few people truly master: the difference between being able to fight and being able to make a fight tell a story on screen. Over the course of his career, James accumulated more than 140 film and television credits, touching multiple generations of action entertainment. And eventually, the television industry recognized what the martial arts and stunt communities had known for decades. James became a multiple-time Primetime Emmy Award nominee and winner for stunt coordination, with one of his proudest moments coming for his acclaimed work on Marvel's Luke Cage. After spending a lifetime helping other stars look extraordinary, James Lew finally stood on one of Hollywood's biggest stages and was recognized for being extraordinary himself. JAMES LEW LIVED TO THE FULLEST What makes James' final chapter particularly meaningful is that he never stopped being James. During the last months of his life, he continued attending the events and gatherings that meant so much to him, including celebrations surrounding Big Trouble in Little China, DragonFest and the Taurus World Stunt Awards. James with a Who's who of Martial arts legends, Tadashi Yamshita, Mike Stone, Simon Rhee, Phillip Rhee , Chong Lee and George Chung He wanted to be around the community. And the community wanted to be around him. Dragon Fest Aug 2026 That was James. Approachable. Humble. Funny. Gracious. Delighted to see an old friend and equally happy to meet a fan who had watched one of his movies countless times. For all of his accomplishments, James never seemed to forget where he came from. At his core, he loved two worlds: Martial arts and the movies. And somehow, he was fortunate enough to spend his life bringing those two worlds together. NEVER ALONE. NEVER FORGOTTEN. In James' final days, something remarkable happened. Friends gathered at his bedside to say goodbye. Others reached out from around the world. Voices from throughout his life came through the phone to tell him what he had meant to them. Among them were martial arts figures James deeply admired, including Al Dacascos and Mike Stone, who called to tell their friend that they loved him. James was surrounded by the very community he had spent a lifetime helping build. There is something beautiful about that. A stunt performer spends his career making moments look dangerous while quietly protecting everyone around him. James spent decades falling, fighting, coordinating and creating unforgettable moments so audiences could believe in heroes. But in the end, the measure of James Lew's life isn't found in a stunt reel. It is found in the people who showed up. The friends who sat beside him. The people who called. The martial artists he inspired. The stunt performers whose path he helped pave. And the millions of movie and television viewers who may not always have known his name—but certainly remembered his face. James Lew was not alone. He will not be forgotten. In fact, perhaps the most fitting thing we can say about James is the simplest: He was unforgettable. In the words of his best friend James Lew was the most positive person I have ever known. When we were shooting "Best of the Best" in Korea in the winter, all of us were hesitating to get into the ice cold water but James said, Dammit, we are here to do a job, let's do it and do it well", and that fired us all up to do what we were there to do. When we were working with Madonna, he got spit on and instead of getting upset, he made a joke out of it and said, "oooh, how much do you think I can get for this on Ebay?". This is the kind of quality that made James who he was. The ultimate professional when working and always making light of challenging situations to get the job done. His work was his life - even towards the end, he was always ready to go to work. I remember visiting him in the hospital and he thought I was picking him up for a day of filming. He had an illustrious career as a martial artist, stunt professional, stunt coordinator but to me he was my lifelong buddy. Everyone loved him and his personality and positivity set him apart from everyone else. It has been my pleasure being your friend for over almost 50 years, and helping to care for you in the end. When we were shooting "Best of the Best" in Korea in the winter, all of us were hesitating to get into the ice cold water but James said, Dammit, we are here to do a job, let's do it and do it well", and that fired us all up to do what we were there to do. It's time for you to make God smile. Rest in peace, my friend. I'll see you again for dim sum and pie again soon.....SIMON RHEE From all of us at Black Belt Magazine, farewell to our Hall of Famer, our colleague and, most importantly, our friend. Rest in peace, James. Your life was a blessing to us all.