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Why Martial Artists Love Martin Kove Among martial artists, villains are judged differently. We don’t just ask: Was he scary? We ask: Did he represent something real? Did he reflect the discipline, philosophy, danger — and responsibility — that come with martial power? That’s why Martin Kove  stands alone. As Sensei John Kreese in The Karate Kid  and later in Cobra Kai , Kove didn’t just play a martial arts villain. He embodied the shadow side of the dojo. And for those of us who live on the mat — who bow in, who tie the belt, who understand that martial arts is about character as much as combat — that’s exactly why we respect him. Here are ten reasons martial artists consider Martin Kove the greatest martial arts bad guy ever — and why his contribution to our world runs deeper than Hollywood. 1. He Represented the Dark Mirror of Martial Arts Every dojo teaches discipline. Every system teaches power. But not every student learns restraint. Kreese is the cautionary tale martial artists understand instinctively. He is what happens when technique outpaces ethics. When “win at all costs” replaces honor. Kove gave the martial arts community something powerful: a living reminder that skill without character is dangerous. That message matters — especially to black belts. 2. He Made Philosophy the Real Weapon “Strike First. Strike Hard. No Mercy.” To non-martial artists, it’s a catchphrase. To us, it’s a doctrine. Kreese didn’t rely on flashy choreography. His true weapon was ideology. He taught mindset before mechanics — something every serious practitioner recognizes as real. Martial arts is mental warfare long before it is physical. Kove understood that. And he played it with conviction. 3. He Elevated the Role of the Sensei Most films focus on students. Kove made the instructor the battlefield. Kreese wasn’t just a villain — he was a teacher shaping the next generation. That hit differently for martial artists. Because we know how much power an instructor holds. He forced audiences to ask an uncomfortable question: What kind of leader are you becoming? That’s not just cinema. That’s dojo culture. 4. He Understood Warrior Psychology In Cobra Kai , Kreese’s Vietnam backstory reframed everything. His harshness wasn’t random — it was forged under fire. Martial artists, especially those who cross-train in combatives or military systems, recognize that survival mentality. Kreese believes mercy gets you killed. That perspective isn’t cartoonish. It’s extreme — but it’s rooted in reality. Kove respected that truth instead of softening it. Photo credit: Karate Kid Sony Pictures 5. He Respected the Physicality of the Art Kove trained. He moved like someone who understood stance and posture. His body language wasn’t theatrical — it was disciplined. The way he stood in the dojo. The way he corrected students.The way he carried himself during confrontations. There’s a difference between an actor pretending to know martial arts and one who commits to the bearing of a martial artist. Practitioners can see it immediately. 6. He Gave Mr. Miyagi a Worthy Philosophical Opponent Martial artists revere Pat Morita ’s Mr. Miyagi because he represents balance, humility, and control. But balance only shines when contrasted with imbalance. Kreese’s aggression amplified Miyagi’s wisdom. His rigidity highlighted fluidity. His “No Mercy” sharpened the meaning of compassion. Without Kove’s intensity, the moral duel at the heart of the story wouldn’t resonate nearly as deeply within the martial arts community. Photo credit: Karate Kid Sony Pictures 7. He Showed the Consequences of Ego Every dojo warns against ego. Kreese lives in it. His downfall isn’t lack of skill — it’s pride. It’s the inability to evolve. Martial artists watching understand the lesson immediately: belts don’t make you invincible. Rank doesn’t equal righteousness. In that way, Kove delivered one of the most important teachings in martial arts — through failure. 8. He Preserved the Edge of Martial Arts Modern portrayals sometimes sanitize combat arts into sport alone. Kreese reminds us martial arts were born from conflict. From survival. From harsh realities. While we may reject his extremism, we recognize the historical truth underneath it: these systems were not created for trophies. Kove kept that edge alive on screen. 9. He Played the Long-Term Discipline Game For four decades, Kove has returned to this role without parodying it. He didn’t wink at the audience. He didn’t dilute Kreese for nostalgia. He doubled down on the character’s conviction. That mirrors martial arts itself: long-term commitment. Refinement over time. Evolution without abandoning core principles. Very few characters age with that kind of continuity. Very few actors protect a role the way a sensei protects a lineage. 10. He Made Us Reflect on Our Own Code Here’s the truth martial artists won’t always say out loud: A small part of us understands Kreese. We understand the drive to dominate in competition.We understand the hunger to win.We understand the edge required in real conflict. Kove didn’t glorify cruelty — he exposed that thin line between discipline and domination. And by doing so, he made us check our own motivations. That is a gift to the martial arts community. What Martin Kove Gave to Martial Arts He gave us a villain who respected the art. He gave instructors a cautionary archetype.He gave students a lesson in the responsibility of power. He gave pop culture a martial arts antagonist grounded in philosophy, not gimmicks. Most importantly, he helped bring martial arts into mainstream culture in a way that preserved its seriousness. For those of us who bow onto the mat, who understand lineage, who believe that character outranks kicks and punches — Martin Kove isn’t just the greatest martial arts bad guy in the world. He’s part of the conversation about what martial arts should be. And that’s why we cheer for him. Happy Birthday, Martin Kove!

If you’re reading this magazine, you already know Al Leong— action-movie legend, perennial big-screen bad guy and evil henchman extraordinaire. He’s menaced his way through more than 100 movies and TV shows, with iconic scenes in Lethal Weapon , Big Trouble in Little China , Kung Fu: The Legend Continues  and The Scorpion King  — more films than we have space to list here. Besides, you already know who Al Leong is. Or do you? Here are eight facts we’re willing to bet you never knew about one of Hollywood’s iconic villains: 1. He grew his hair out after seeing The Beatles  perform on The Ed Sullivan Show  and has kept it long ever since. 2. He was a top kung fu student and instructor under the legendary Ark Yuey Wong (1900–1987). Leong is an expert in ng ga kuen (five families/five animals kung fu) and won multiple martial arts tournaments in the mid-1970s. ln 1980 he came out of retirement to win the World Silver Cup Martial Arts Championship. 3. He’s an accomplished Chinese lion dancer. ln fact, Leong was a founding member of a lion-dance team called the Four Seas, which performed regularly at Chinese New Year celebrations, cultural festivals and restaurant openings. Leong is credited with introducing the guan gung–style, red-faced Cantonese lion to Los Angeles, and he was part of the first two-lion team to dance “the whole length” of LA’s Chinatown— climbing “every pole, every rooftop, over every railing, and all this in one day,” Leong says. Why? Because someone bet them they couldn’t. 4. His nickname is Ka-Bong. lt was given to him by one of his brother’s friends, a man named Chuck Wagner. “l believe [it was] just because it rhymed,” Leong says. “Anyway, it stuck.” 5. Leong has collected stuffed animals all his life. He has more than 150, and all of them have names. His favorite, a stuffed wolf named “Wolfman,” was a member of his wedding party — and even wore a custom-made suit. 6. Leong has ridden motorcycles, both on and off road, for most of his life. Before getting into movies, he worked as a motorcycle mechanic, welder and custom automotive pinstriper. These days, he off-roads in a Rhino UTV (utility terrain vehicle). 7. ln addition to having survived brain cancer (1993) and a stroke (2005), Leong has sustained three broken collarbones, 25 fractured ribs, several torn ligaments in his left ankle, multiple knee surgeries, broken fingers, broken arms, broken legs and one failed marriage. “l haven’t broken my back,” he says, “but then again, life isn’t over yet.” 8. His favorite weapon is the kwan dao, with which he performedat Ed Parker’s Long Beach lnternationals and for the film Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure  (in which he played Genghis Khan).

I blame David Carradine, may he rest in peace. If he hadn’t done such a fine job portraying Kwai Chang Caine for three seasons on the Kung Fu  TV series, chances are the Western world — or, at least, America — wouldn’t think that China’s Shaolin Temple is the sole source of Buddhist martial arts in Asia. Back in the mid-1980s, I first heard rumors of a little-known Buddhist fighting art in South Korea. But seeing how that was long before the advent of the Internet, searching for clues proved an arduous task — especially because I was not yet a Black Belt  staffer and therefore had no access to the magazine’s network of contacts. My only option was to fly to South Korea and find out for myself. Once there, I found work as an English teacher and started making connections with local martial artists. Months later, a lead from a martial arts researcher pointed me to a temple called Pomosa (also spelled Beomeosa), where I located a monk who taught a style known as bul mu do , meaning “Buddhist martial way.” I wrote about that encounter in the May 1988 issue of Black Belt . In the ensuing years, I managed to locate a few other temples and hermitages where the Buddhist arts are practiced. I even found a facility in Seoul that teaches a Buddhist martial art called seon mu do  to the public. During a few of those encounters, I was allowed to photograph the monks and students in training. Presented here are some of those images, many of which have never been published. I hope you find them as valuable in your quest to comprehend the vast scope of the Asian martial arts as I did in mine. Life as a Temporary Martial Monk South Korea created its Temple Stay program to help visitors better understand Buddhism. It offers various kinds of practice sessions, such as chanting, sitting meditation and the tea ceremony. Participants strive to find their true self while harmonizing with nature. Since 1992, a temple called Golgulsa has hosted seon mu do  training programs for those who wish to experience Buddhism through one of Korea’s Buddhist martial arts. This is how a typical day in the program unfolded: 4:00 a.m.  Wake-up call  4:30 a.m.  Chanting and sutra reading  5:00 a.m.  Meditation  6:00 a.m.  Jogging or walking 6:50 a.m.  Breakfast  8:30 a.m.  Cleaning temple grounds  9:00 a.m.  Martial arts training  11:00 a.m.  Chanting  11:50 a.m.  Lunch  2:00 p.m.  Work  5:00 p.m.  Break  5:30 p.m.  Dinner  6:00 p.m.  Chanting  7:00 p.m.  Martial arts training  9:00 p.m.  End of the day  9:30 p.m.  Bed Many of the activities have a deeper meaning than their names indicate. For example, food is eaten communally. Known as balwoo gongyang , the practice allows adherents to reflect on themselves and how they have the potential to awaken to a pure life. It’s a form of active Seon (Zen in Japanese) meditation that nurtures the understanding of the need for order, harmony and ultimately respect within the temple. That, in turn, fosters a deeper sense of compassion for the people who’ve made the meal possible. Photography by Robert W. Young

The Renaissance Man, Arcenio James Advincula Arcenio James Advincula embarked on the martial path for a reason that was far from unique. Being small in stature and of interracial heritage, the youth was a frequent victim of bullying. After one serious encounter with a group of young thugs, his father hired two former Filipino army scouts to school him in combat judo and escrima. Most styles of escrima emphasize stick fighting, but the soldiers chose a different tactic: They trained young Advincula with tools that would send modern parents running out of the dojo. Specifically, they had the 8-year-old wielding a bayonet and a butcher’s knife. Another unique aspect of Advincula’s martial education pertained to the role of the hands in combat. Many instructors refer to the non-weapon-bearing appendage as the “alive hand” and use it mainly to parry attacks, but Advincula’s teachers called it the “sacrifice hand” in honor of its special purpose in a fight. Yes, it was used for parrying, but it was also subject to being sacrificed to forestall a cut or stab aimed at a vital organ. Martial Artist Advincula joined the U.S. Marine Corps in 1957 and a year later found himself stationed on the “island of karate,” aka Okinawa. On December 1, 1958, he first set foot inside the dojo of the legendary Tatsuo Shimabuku, thus beginning his study of isshin-ryu and kobudo. Shimabuku had created isshin-ryu by combining elements he’d learned from Chotoku Kyan and Choki Motobu, who taught shorin-ryu, with what he gleaned from his time with Chojun Miyagi, founder of goju-ryu. To that mix, Shimabuku added his own innovations and concepts, giving birth to a unique martial art. A quick study, Advincula became one of Shimabuku’s top students. Standing 5 feet 6 inches tall and weighing 150 pounds, Advincula possessed a stature that was similar to that of his isshin-ryu teacher. Kyan, Shimabuku’s most influential sensei, was also very small, but he was renowned for his speed and maneuverability — attributes he strove to pass down to Shimabuku and, by extension, to Advincula. The American also capitalized on the component of Shimabuku’s system that revolved around cultivating power through body mechanics and control, what the old Okinawan masters called chinkuchi . Part of goju-ryu, chinkuchi gives the practitioner the ability to instantly transition from complete relaxation to full-body tension. That enables the student to effect the rigidity needed to penetrate targets, as well as to absorb impacts without sustaining damage. Chinkuchi was the key to Shimabuku’s ability to drive nails into planks with the side of his hands and to Advincula’s ability to easily move people twice his size and 50 years younger with just an open-hand block. Shimabuku began referring to Advincula as Katagwa , or “Kata Man.” Shimabuku selected the nickname because of the depth of his student’s understanding of kata, his knowledge of bunkai and his ability to make the bunkai work. On the surface, a kata is just a string of choreographed movements, but when analyzed under the guidance of a master like Shimabuku, its essential techniques, concepts, strategies and principles are revealed. Many instructors teach kata, techniques and free fighting as separate entities. In contrast, Advincula learned — and subsequently started teaching — the notion that everything comes from kata. From the get-go, he was told what the key elements in the kata were and shown how they could be used in combat. Graphic Artist Advincula played a key role in designing the unique — and controversial — isshin-ryu patch. It incorporated the symbol for the art, the megami goddess, as the centerpiece. In February 1961, Shimabuku approved the design. Unfortunately, the language barrier that stood between Advincula and the patch maker caused the design to be rendered incorrectly. Advincula had sketched it with a vertical fist that featured a thumb on top, just like the isshin-ryu punch, but the patch maker placed the thumb on the side — the way other styles of Okinawan karate teach. Also incorrect was the orange border: The crest was supposed to feature a gold border to symbolize purity and the idea that karate should never be misused. Since the error and its subsequent propagation, Advincula has worked tirelessly to get the right version of the patch out to the public. He said he’s pleased that with every passing year, more martial artists are donning the crest that Shimabuku authorized. Okinawan Ambassador Throughout the years, Advincula has enjoyed an ongoing link to Okinawa. The Marines sent him there repeatedly, civilian life saw him living there on several occasions, his Okinawan wife served as the impetus for making familial visits, and cultural tours have had him guiding groups there for the past 20 years. The resultant training ops gave Advincula a chance to pursue the study of several other Okinawan arts, including shorin-ryu, goju-ryu and uechi-ryu. One style the American picked up on the island and grew to admire was hindiandi kung fu . Originating in Southern China, it’s based on the concept of yin/yang. It uses two-man drills with rapid exchanges of punches, kicks and circular blocks. These moves, along with footwork designed to close the distance quickly and techniques designed to redirect an attacker’s momentum, made hindiandi an effective fighting system in the mind of Advincula. Advincula was so taken with hindiandi that when the San Diego Chargers hired him to train their defensive linemen from 1987 to 1993, he turned to the art. “I got to experiment with them,” he said. “They are at close range and in your face, so you better have your stuff down. Ninety percent of what I taught and used with them was hindiandi.” At age 49, Advincula had his work cut out for him with the Chargers, and it’s not surprising that initially he met with opposition from the players. His response? He devised a lesson that would start with him facing the linemen in a scrimmage, after which a snap was simulated before the full contact ensued. Witnessing the intensity of what had happened to the first lineman, the second player threatened to sue Advincula if the martial artist pulled his arm out of its socket. From that point on, Kata Man had their respect. As they say in the Marines, example is the language all men understand. Military Man Essential to understanding Arcenio Advincula is knowing that he served as a Marine for 24 years of his life. His discipline, work ethic and drive to make techniques work — no matter the conditions — stem from his time in the Corps. “When I graduated from boot camp,” he said, “I was convinced I was the best fighting machine in the world and knew you had to make it work no matter what you are doing, with whatever tools you have on hand.” Those are a few of the lessons that carried Advincula through 1965, the year he first saw combat in Vietnam. Subsequent tours gave him more hands-on experience, which he put to good use when he became a drill instructor in the 1970s. Advincula went out of his way to teach the recruits skills that could save their lives in combat. The karateka retired from the Marines in 1981, having obtained the rank of master sergeant, but he continued to teach the Marines how to fight with blades, as well as how to be successful in hand-to-hand combat. Recognition for his lifelong devotion to teaching Marines came in 2001, when he was acknowledged as a founding father of the revised Marine Corps Martial Arts Program. Advincula was awarded the title of Black Belt Emeritus. Knife Visionary In 1991 renowned knife maker Jim Hammond sought out Advincula in an attempt to create the ultimate combat knife. Designed to Advincula’s specifications, it acquired a name when someone sustained a cut after touching the blade and quipped, “That knife is a real flesh eater!” The description stuck, and the Flesheater quickly became one of Hammond’s bestselling tactical knives. Three years later, James Byron Huggins had the Flesheater playing a pivotal role in his novel The Reckoning . Specifically, the blade is wielded by the book’s main character, a retired Delta Force member, and employed in multiple battles that used Advincula’s knife-fighting system as a frame of reference. For those unfamiliar with the blade-fighting system: Advincula’s knife style is simple yet effective. It primarily uses the hammer grip and emphasizes attacking the opponent’s weapon hand before delivering a technique to end the encounter. Based on the escrima that Advincula began learning as a child, as well as his further studies in the 1960s, it also includes elements of isshin-ryu, making it an eclectic mixture of combat-proven techniques. The Flesheater was picked up by Columbia River Knife & Tool, which began mass-producing it in 2012 under the more politically correct name “FE Model.” The company also offers a plastic version of the knife so enthusiasts can train realistically and safely. Since CRKT started marketing its line of blades — as the FE7, FE9 and FE9 Trainer — Advincula has been in demand to teach the tactics he created to make best use of this unique weapon. Dedicated Teacher For more than 40 years, Advincula has worked the seminar circuit in North America. In 2013 alone, at age 75, the karateka traveled tens of thousands of miles to spread isshin-ryu, kobudo, escrima and military CQC, as well as something that’s near and dear to his heart: Okinawan culture. Back in 1960, an Okinawan newspaper reporter interviewed Tatsuo Shimabuku about the popularity of his style with U.S. Marines. Shimabuku didn’t say that he hoped his students would be the best fighters in the world or that he wished his art would gain popularity in the States. He said he longed for his homeland to be better understood through the practice of karate. “If you want to understand Okinawan martial arts, then understand their culture,” Advincula said. “They have a lot to teach us. Okinawan karate is not about punching, striking and kicking for sport; it’s about learning to defend oneself if needed. It’s about courtesy and getting along with each other and sharing and living.” In 2005 Advincula was recognized for his commitment to spreading Okinawan karate and kobudo when he received an invitation to a government-sponsored event designed to bring attention to the island as the birthplace of those arts. More than 250 senior karate instructors from Okinawa and Japan attended, along with just five foreigners. Advincula, representing the United States and isshin-ryu, spoke about how Shimabuku had taught him almost 50 years earlier that karate was for peace and the transmission of culture. Advincula remains committed to propagating the art of isshin-ryu, as well as the culture from which it sprouted. The 77-year-old still works out with his students, meticulously correcting their moves while wowing them with his speed, power and fluidity and trying to convey the message that karate is about much more than fighting. “If only one [student] listens,” he said, “the effort was worth it.”

I’d arrived early to meet a friend for dinner, but his class was still in session, so I watched from the viewing area. The students were practicing handgun defense under the tutelage of a senior student — which probably explained why it appeared so casual. I’m sure you’ve seen classes like that one, with mundane repetitions, comfortable surroundings and friendly pairings. You may even have participated in one. But observing that session wound up altering my outlook on gun defense. Why? Because that’s when I realized that the subject is misunderstood by many who lack an in-depth understanding of firearms and ammunition. To the students of ill-informed instructors, a “handgun” is nothing but a plastic or plywood replica of a firearm. As such, it elicits no urgency in training, no appreciation of consequence and no reality. If they knew a bit more about guns and bullets, they wouldn’t be so casual in their training. After arriving at this epiphany, I changed the way I teach to better prepare students for this most serious of self-defense situations. Here, I present the five truths of gun defense so Black Belt readers who aren’t familiar with firearms can fine-tune — and possibly rethink — their skills before they attempt them on the street. Size Matters Firearms come in many shapes and sizes. The type that’s most often used in the commission of crimes is the handgun, and within that category, smaller-framed models are favored because they’re more easily concealed. Grabbing a small handgun during an assault is harder to do. Even worse, it’s harder to leverage such a weapon out of an attacker’s hands, which means you need a higher degree of technical proficiency. The good news is, once you learn how to deal with a small weapon, you can more easily deal with a large one. It’s fine to train with a handgun replica that has a large frame and a 4-inch barrel, but if you wish to be adequately prepared, you should work toward being able to defend against a smaller-framed weapon with a 2-inch barrel — and that’s where you should remain in your practice. If you need to make things more challenging, incorporate environmental stresses into your sessions. Note that this train-for-the-small concept also applies to long guns. You’ll derive more benefit from practicing with a replica of a sawed-off shotgun than you will with a long-barreled hunting shotgun. It Will Go Off A handgun may be a revolver or a semi-automatic pistol. If it’s a semi-auto, it might be single action, a double action or a hybrid. None of that is overly important here. What is important is that you develop the mindset that the firearm, whatever it is, will go off when you try to grab it. Notice that I said it will go off, not it might go off. When it discharges, it will be in or near your hand, and there will be consequences. They likely will be immediate and painful, but if you prepare your mind in training, it can reduce the shock and surprise that occur in a fight for your life. Knowing that the gun will go off makes your training immediately more serious. Yes, a case can be made for the handgun not discharging. Maybe the criminal elected to use a toy gun. Maybe it’s a real weapon that no longer functions as designed. Maybe it’s empty. These circumstances all have occurred and surely will occur again, but do you want to bet your life on it? Do you want to have to even think about this during an encounter? For everyone’s safety, it’s best to behave as if the gun will go off. It Will Be Loud A cartridge has four basic components: the case, the powder, the primer and the projectile (or bullet). When the trigger is pulled, the firing pin hits the primer, causing it to ignite. That, in turn, ignites the powder in the case. As the powder burns, it generates extreme pressure because it’s in an enclosed space. That launches the projectile down the barrel and out the muzzle. As it leaves the muzzle, the projectile travels at high speed, usually emitting an extremely loud crack as it breaks the sound barrier. Even if it’s subsonic, it will be very loud. Without ear protection — which you’re very unlikely to be wearing in a self-defense situation — the sound can be deafening. Making it worse is the concussive force of the powder ignition, which is disorienting and painful if it occurs close to your head or chest. Obviously, you should make sure your defensive response keeps the gun as far from your face as possible. Guns Bite & Buck When you grab a handgun in a manner conducive to self-defense, your hand will cover at least some of the action of the weapon. I’m not talking about the “business end,” which is the muzzle; I’m talking about the parts that house the cartridge and contain the force generated by the burning powder. If the weapon is a revolver, your hand will cover the cylinder. It’s the component that rotates when the trigger is pulled, thus positioning a cartridge between the hammer and the barrel. When the hammer drops, the firing pin strikes the primer, igniting the powder. Hot gases, flames and even tiny metal shavings will escape through the gap that exists between the forward end of the cylinder and barrel entrance, called the “forcing cone.” Your hand is likely to be subjected to this during the grab. If the weapon is a semi-auto, it won’t have burning gasses jetting out the sides because it doesn’t have a cylinder to house the ammunition. Instead, it has a magazine that fits inside the grip and feeds ammo into a firing chamber at the near end of the barrel. All that is enclosed by the slide, which recoils sharply to the rear each time the weapon is fired. When it moves, it vents hot gas, ejects a hot empty case and recocks the weapon while feeding a new cartridge from the magazine. This takes place exactly where your hand is positioned. If you complete the grab and do so firmly enough before the gun discharges, it may jam. If, however, the weapon fires, your hand can be cut by the sharp edges of the rear sight and the ejection port. Either way — whether your defense is directed at a revolver or a semi-auto — there will be consequences that may include serious burns. Furthermore, both will feel like they’re attempting to jump out of your hand at the moment of discharge because of the recoil. Surfaces Are Slippery When Wet If your hand is sliced, gouged or abraded as the result of the weapon firing, it likely will bleed. Before blood coagulates, it’s slippery — as are sweaty, nervous palms, not to mention the oil that’s frequently used on guns. What this means for you: Dealing with slippery surfaces makes disarming a gunman even more difficult, especially when you factor in the perfect grip he probably has on his weapon. In Closing Are these five arguments intended to convince you that gun disarms are a lost cause? Absolutely not. They’re meant to make your training more realistic. As a martial artist, you prepare for the worst-case scenario, and I hope this information contributes to your understanding of how difficult such situations can be. The arguments are also intended to convince you that gun disarms are a last resort. Your chances of emerging unscathed are much greater if you choose running as your first line of defense. If you must make contact, redirection and/or disrupting the balance of the assailant before running is preferred. But when grabbing the gun that’s being pointed at your face is the only option — and sometimes it is — having trained with these five truths in mind can help you understand the dangers and survive.

Most martial artists know that Fred Weintraub served as producer of Enter the Dragon , the 1973 Bruce Lee blockbuster. What few know is that Weintraub, even though he doesn’t regard himself as a martial artist, has a laudable track record in fight filmmaking. He’s produced a slew of other movies, many of which boasted notable Hollywood stars. Here’s a partial list with some of Weintraub’s fondest memories — and comments from Black Belt ’s resident cinema expert. BLACK BELT JONES (1974) This blaxploitation movie features Enter the Dragon  co-star Jim Kelly in his first starring role. Gloria Hendry and Scatman Crothers are also part of the cast. Weintraub served as producer and writer for the action comedy. The filming resulted in plenty of fond memories for Weintraub — even 40 years later — and most of them involved the karate star. “The part at the car wash where Jim Kelly dumps [the bad guys] into the garbage can is a wonderful scene,” Weintraub says. Critical opinion: “Jim Kelly gives more nods to Bruce Lee than a bobblehead doll,” says Dr. Craig D. Reid, author of The Ultimate Guide to Martial Arts Movies of the 1970s . “He fights, walks, creeps, screams and wields escrima sticks and a rubber hose like Lee. It’s an homage to the max.” JAGUAR LIVES! (1979) This actioner stars Joe Lewis, as well as Christopher Lee and Donald Pleasance. Weintraub, who worked as producer, says Lewis was an impressive martial artist. “Joe Lewis was hoping to get the mantle from Bruce Lee,” Weintraub says. “Obviously, that didn’t quite work — no disrespect to Lewis.” Critical opinion: Early American martial arts films tended to cast real champions as the heroes, but that was often problematic because few of them could act well or do convincing film fights, Reid says. THE BIG BRAWL (1980) Also known as Battle Creek Brawl , this motion picture stars Jackie Chan and Jose Ferrer. To date, it’s earned more than $8.5 million. Weintraub served as producer and is credited with providing the story. “Jackie is wonderful,” Weintraub says. “He’s terrific. Whenever I see him, it’s hugs and kisses. The only problem with Jackie is he loves to do the impossible. For one scene in The Big Brawl , Jackie was ready to jump 50 feet into a bunch of boxes — that was before we had [crash] pads. We had to scream for him to come down because we didn’t want him to get hurt. He wanted to do the stunt, but we brought him down to the first level, which made it a 6-foot jump. We put the camera underneath him and got the shot — and it looked the same.” Critical opinion: “[Director Robert] Clouse believed that Jackie could be a Hollywood star if American audiences related to him the way they related to Bruce Lee, but it didn’t work,” Reid says. Eventually, Chan became famous in America by being Jackie Chan, not by trying to mimic Lee, Reid adds. FORCE: FIVE (1981) An ensemble cast of major martial artists — including Lewis, Bong Soo Han, Richard Norton and Benny Urquidez — were on board with Weintraub as producer. “Richard Norton I’ll always remember,” Weintraub says. “He’s a good guy, one of the unsung heroes of martial arts films.” Critical opinion: “The trick to doing a good action film with legitimate martial arts stars is having adversaries who are just as skilled, and when that happens, the fights are more engaging to the audience,” Reid says. “However, the heroes and villains of Force: Five  looked like they were doing another day of training at the dojo.” GYMKATA (1985) Kurt Thomas, Norton and a cast of lesser-known actors teamed up for this film, which attempted to combine martial arts and gymnastics. Weintraub was hired as producer. The movie wound up earning $5.7 million, but production costs exceeded $8 million. “I loved the idea, and it would have worked because everything was good, including the script,” Weintraub says. “And then they hired an Olympic gymnast who did great stunts but who wasn’t an actor. He was a nice kid, but it was impossible to get anything out of him.” Critical opinion: “Considering that great Chinese kung fu films at the time featured stars with strong acrobatic skills, it made sense to cast Kurt Thomas in Gymkata ,” Reid says. “But to specifically craft fight scenes around his gymnastic abilities and handy, gymnastic apparatus that ‘blended in’ with the environment was contrived.” Trivia note: “ Gymkata  is the martial arts film I get the most mail about,” Weintraub says. “I figure in about 25 years, some guy will remake it.” CHINA O’BRIEN and CHINA O’BRIEN II (1990) Back in the 1970s and ’80s, female action stars in Hollywood were unheard of. In Hong Kong, however, an American martial artist named Cynthia Rothrock had carved a name for herself. In 1990 she teamed up with Norton and Keith Cooke for two China O’Brien  films. Once again, Weintraub was producer. “Cynthia was really the first American woman to play the lead in an action movie,” Weintraub says. “We shot the two movies at the same time — we had to do that to save money. I think both of them turned out nice, and they ended up making a bit of money.” Critical opinion: China O’Brien  and China O’Brien II  benefited from the combined Hong Kong martial arts filmmaking experience of Rothrock and Norton, Reid says. “They had the capacity to be good American martial arts films. Rothrock and Norton were impressive in their Hong Kong movies, but they fell short in these films.”

In Japanese, the most common way to politely acknowledge something you’ve been told is wakarimasu : “I understand.” However, this is a word you should never use in the dojo. Chances are good that if you’re reading this, you have at least some kind of intellectual leaning. For you, karate and the other budo aren’t entirely physical. You also want to know about their history and philosophy. You want to grasp them on an intellectual plane, as well as a physical plane. There’s nothing wrong with this. It should be encouraged. I can’t see much of a future for those who have no curiosity about their art or those who don’t want to learn any more than what they might hear their teacher say in the dojo. Wait, you might say. There are plenty of professional ball players who know nothing of the lore of their sport. There are expert plumbers who couldn’t tell you anything about the history of plumbing. True, but budo is not a sport, and it’s not a technical profession. It is, at its fullest, an art. An artist who has no grasp of or appreciation for the past is not much of an artist. The Problem With Intellectualizing There is a serious problem, however, that afflicts those who are intellectually inclined, and it comes when they allow their curiosity, their desire to learn academically, to get out of balance with their commitment to physical effort. Karate, like all budo, is at its core a physical expression of mental volition. It’s realized not through intellectual effort but through action. To forget this, or to minimize it, is to sabotage any effort to master karate as an art. The matter of intellectualizing over physically internalizing is not new or unique to our age. It’s a danger long recognized. In the Asian martial disciplines, we have a legacy handed down to us from two Confucian scholars. Zhu Xi (1130–1200) described the interplay of knowledge and action. He noted that having legs doesn’t allow a person to see, nor does having eyes allow one to walk. Too, knowledge of Something is insufficient for mastering it. One of Zhu Xi’s descendants, Wang Yang-Ming (1472–1529), took this idea further. He postulated that knowing and not being able to actualize that knowing in doing is proof one does not really know at all. “To know and not to act is not yet to know,” Zhu wrote. Wang’s notion should lead to some contemplation, especially for martial artists. If I know what is right, what is moral, what is good, but I do not act on these, then I do not really understand them at all, according to Wang. If we narrow this down to the realm of the dojo, we see that having an intellectual grasp of a front kick is one thing. Being able to do that kick competently is, of course, quite another. “Mouth Warriors” vs. Sincere Students If you’ve been in budo very long, you know a few kuchi bushi, “mouth warriors,” whose lectures and opinions would have you think they're fifth-dan experts at least. These types are certainly examples of those who know but can’t do. However, there are also would-be budoka who don’t want to impress others, who aren’t interested in pontificating and sharing their opinions. They are simply people who really want to understand what they're doing. They are sincere. And so they pose questions: Why do we lift the knee so high when we kick? How important is the snap back? How can I make a high kick as powerful as a low one? The problem isn’t the questions they pose. The problem is they confuse intellectually grasping concepts with the physical ability to realize those concepts. They get things badly out of balance. The student who relies too heavily on his intellectual grasp of karate is apt to believe he’s got it. Unless he can translate that grasp into action, however, he does not. The gap between knowing and doing is apt to become wider unless he addresses this issue — or unless a teacher is there to guide him to a more balanced study. “Do You Understand?” “Do you understand?” is a question a teacher will often ask a student after having given an explanation. I can remember answering this in the affirmative once. “Yes, I understand,” I said. Wakarimasu. “OK,” my teacher said. “Do it.” I could not. My mind knew it, but my body didn't. After trying a couple of times — and failing badly — I felt as stupid as I ever had in the dojo. And that’s saying something. “You understand it up here,” my sensei told me, popping his forefinger against my forehead. “Down here …” — he poked my belly and shook his head. This is why, when discussions of learning come up, one often hears the expression karada de oboeru , “learning with the body.” When you've done something — a kata or a technique — a few times, you'll have some understanding of it. When you've put your body through it a few thousand times, you’ll have a real understanding. I don't know that I have a real understanding of anything in karate in the sense of the word my sensei was indicating. There’s still a long way to go. I have learned, however, that saying “I understand” when my teacher asks is a bad idea.

Senryu are not as familiar to Westerners as the more popular haiku. Senryu look much like haiku, but they don’t usually contain a seasonal word and they’re often more like aphorisms. They’re little bits of doggerel that often contain truths hidden in humor or quiet commentaries on the human condition. There are several senryu that address the life and culture of the samurai class and its martial arts. It’s revealing to look at them because they give us an idea of how the samurai and their arts were perceived in their age. Given the unchanging elements of human nature, these senryu also have some intriguing applications for today’s martial artist. The Samurai in a Rainstorm / Not Running to Shelter This senryu expresses the dignity that was characteristic of the warrior class. In this beautiful word picture, we can imagine other classes, as the thunderstorm breaks overhead and starts splattering big drops, beginning to scurry, to scramble for shelter. The samurai, though, continues to walk on placidly. In Japanese, this calm, composed walk is called shizo-shizo . It isn’t arrogance. It isn’t haughtiness. It’s a kind of dignity that doesn’t crumble under circumstances. Becoming Strong / The Young Lord Becomes Vulgar “Young lord” is the translation of wakatono . It could describe the son of a daimyo, or feudal lord. We can see the young man, privileged, accustomed to others waiting on him, who quickly grows to take these advantages for granted. He becomes self-centered and thoughtless, expecting others to overlook his rude behavior. If you’ve ever seen any of the conceited “champions” in a dojo — people who, because of their skills or tournament success, are treated preferentially — this senryu will seem like it was written yesterday rather than 300 years ago. Because They Are Fond of Him / They Teach Him How to Cut His Belly This senryu expresses the attitude seniors and mentors should have toward the son of their master. It seems very cruel. Hara wo kiru  is the phrase here; it’s better understood as hara-kiri . To be able to kill oneself if necessary was a skill the warrior needed in some periods of Japanese history. It could be ordered by one’s lord, one might do it to prevent dishonor, or it might be decreed as a matter of law for some crimes. Hara-kiri  was legal only for the samurai class. If the young warrior was to grow into a real samurai, his elders, because they cared for him, would teach him to do it correctly. It’s ironic, but it was a way of life. Because of Her Reputation as a Naginata Practitioner / No Man Came to Court Her This one expresses a timeless sentiment. If a woman becomes too physically competent or skillful, a lot of men will be intimidated. If you’re a guy, ask some of the women in your dojo about the accuracy of this notion. There are some interesting historical clues in this verse. First, the naginata, a long-bladed polearm, was not originally thought of as a woman’s weapon. Women didn’t become the predominant practitioners of naginata-jutsu  until rather late, well into the late 18th century. By then, after more than a century of peace, the samurai class had devolved. They were, for the most part, no longer warriors, just bureaucrats or playboys, and often had no martial spirit at all. We can easily imagine the weak, effeminate young men of the Tenmei era being nervous about even approaching a skilled female martial artist. Senryu were most often composed by townspeople, merchants, and non-samurai. Since senryu were frequently comic, it was natural that the samurai were sometimes the objects of derision. Samurai Quarrels Don’t End / Until There Are Two Widows These words poke fun at the warrior’s sense of self-importance and his delicate ego that wouldn’t allow him to back down, even when the dispute was silly and inconsequential. A Last Resort / The Samurai Takes His Soul to the Pawn Shop This senryu sneers at the samurai’s presumably elevated sense of integrity, one in which his sword was his soul. We can see the townsmen quietly laughing at the proud samurai who, reduced to poverty, is forced to sell his most precious treasure to afford a bowl of soup. Senryu also could celebrate the romantic image of the warrior class, however. Cherry Blossoms and Chrysanthemums / Both Can Teach Us How to Die Cherry blossoms are inextricably connected with the samurai. The blossoms come into perfect bloom, then the petals scatter and fall. The samurai were supposed to live the same way — living fully and beautifully, then dying while still perfect. Chrysanthemums, on the other hand, wither and fade slowly, giving up their lives reluctantly. The nobility of a “good death” is obviously preferred in this senryu. The best example of samurai poetry, however, eschews this romantic nonsense and looks at life much more realistically. One captures the uncertainty of life, the foolishness of thinking we can control fate, particularly when the rising and falling tides of war wash in and out across a country like ancient Japan. There’s an almost comic fatalism in this senryu, one that exposes how fragile and imaginary our plans can be: When His Forehead Wound Was Completely Healed / His Head Was Cut Off

Each week's Black Belt Watchlist is free to watch on Pluto TV! Sworn to Justice  stars martial arts icon Cynthia Rothrock , No Retreat, No Surrender ’s Kurt McKinney , and legendary character actor Mako . Watch now : https://pluto.tv/us/on-demand/movies/60ef386abfce9f0013d7d241 Before superheroes dominated the screen, Cynthia Rothrock  was already out there serving justice — with fists of fury and a badge of honor. In Sworn to Justice  (1996), Rothrock steps into one of her most complex and commanding roles yet, blending intense martial arts action with a dramatic, emotionally charged performance that marked a turning point in her career in Sworn to Justice . After a brutal attack leaves her sister and nephew dead, Rothrock’s character — a psychologist — finds herself torn between the courtroom and the streets. By day, she serves as a defense witness, fighting for justice within the system. By night, she becomes a psychic-powered vigilante , tracking down her family's killers and unleashing her formidable martial arts prowess in a storm of retribution. Fresh off her Hong Kong run, this role showcases Rothrock’s full range  — not just as a fighter, but as a leading woman. For many fans and critics, Sworn to Justice  was the film that elevated her from action star to cinematic icon . And let’s not overlook one of the film’s boldest elements: Rothrock’s confident, sensual screen presence . Her role includes a few tasteful, scenes that highlight not just her physicality but her feminine power and control . The fight choreography delivers exactly what martial arts enthusiasts have come to expect from Rothrock — clean, punishing, and precise. But it's the combination of psychological edge, supernatural twist, and a commanding lead performance that makes Sworn to Justice a true standout in her filmography — and a must-watch for devoted practitioners and action cinema aficionados alike.

Each week's Black Belt Watchlist is free to watch on Pluto TV! It’s the primordial ooze from which all ninja movies sprang—the Mike Stone –inspired classic that launched Sho Kosugi into global stardom. Enter the Ninja  is this week’s Black Belt Magazine Watch List selection, now streaming free on Pluto TV for viewers across the platform. Watch now : https://pluto.tv/us/on-demand/movies/5d9e552b1727763a8d6f63be Released in 1981, Enter the Ninja  follows Cole, a white ninja (played by Franco Nero ) trained in the ancient art of Ninjutsu, who travels to the Philippines to visit an old war buddy. But paradise doesn’t last long—Cole finds himself caught in a deadly land dispute with a ruthless oil tycoon and his army of mercenaries. Enter Sho Kosugi as Hasegawa, a vengeful black-clad ninja with unmatched skills and a score to settle. Packed with over-the-top action, dramatic standoffs, and the kind of stealthy shuriken showdowns that defined a genre, this cult classic set the stage for the ninja craze of the 1980s. Watch it now, free—because sometimes, you just need a ninja in white pajamas to save the day.

The knife and its use as a defensive tool are always contentious topics — not only with respect to if and when you should use one but also with respect to how. When I wrote about knives in my book Combatives for Street Survival, I was a subject-matter expert for the defense in a homicide case in Virginia. Here are the facts: A young man was horsing around with a much larger, older man who was known to be a violent, ill-tempered felon. The horseplay evolved into a far more serious confrontation, and the larger man began to severely beat the young man. Having knocked the smaller man down, he grabbed a plastic lawn chair and started hitting him with it. The young man, in fear for his life — or, at least, a terrible beating — drew a folding knife and thrust it out repeatedly in an attempt to make the attacker back off. The larger man continued to attack, however, and the knife eventually struck a lethal target. The young man was found guilty of manslaughter. He wound up serving time for doing what he believed was necessary to protect himself. Introducing a Weapon Introducing a weapon into any confrontation is problematic. Many times, it’s viewed as an escalation of violence instead of a legitimate means to stop an attack. It’s difficult to get a judge or jury to internalize the terror a person was experiencing when he or she felt compelled to draw a weapon in self-defense. And then there’s the inevitable “Well, why didn’t he …?” and “Why couldn’t they have …?” second-guessing and rearview-mirror conjecturing. I’m not sure there’s a formulaic, reliable answer to when you can legally use a knife in self-defense. There certainly are many anecdotal, emotional and impassioned answers to the question, but do you really want to rely — truly rely — on the axiom “Better to be judged by 12 than carried by six”? Suffice to say there are numerous self-defense scenarios that seemingly justify making the decision to use an edged weapon to protect yourself. So the next question is, what are the conditions in your particular situation and what is your intent? Intent Matters Your intent should always be to stop an attack, not to kill or wound. Obviously, gratuitously injuring an attacker is never acceptable or lawful. When you’re being judged after an incident that compelled you to draw a weapon, intent is very important — it’s second only to the factual details of the event. Your actions are the only things that can be considered in determining your intent. Why is all that important? Because it translates to what you will do with your knife, which translates to what techniques you need to know right down to how you should hold it to achieve your goal, which is to defend yourself. Techniques and Tactics As I said at the beginning of this column, it’s always contentious when people start arguing about the best ways to employ a knife. My opinion is that it’s most important to consider range and let that drive your tactics and techniques. For example, if you believe you're justified in drawing your knife based on the situation and your attacker is at range, holding him outside to stop an attack would be reasonable and best accomplished using Western techniques such as snap cuts and slashes that are intended to prevent him from closing. In a more confined situation, where the attacker is right on top of you, ergonomics, range of motion, space availability and motor efficiency dictate a different approach. In situations like these, the pikal technique makes more sense because it enables you to clear, fend, trap and stab effectively. Which, of course, means a change of grip. That inevitably leads to arguments against your changing grip once you’re in a fight for your life. It also ignites discussions about which type of knife is best for self-defense and if you’re unnecessarily hamstringing yourself by committing to a purpose-built knife for one style or another. No Absolutes — Only Training As in all self-defense discussions, there are no perfect or absolute answers. Training is ultimately the key to unlocking your personal best performance under duress and achieving that elusive balance between utility and variety of techniques. I feel strongly that the best way to accomplish this with regard to knives is not necessarily training knife on knife. Although knife-on-knife situations are possible, they’re improbable. As such, some portion of your training should focus on this, but it’s more important to focus on the myriad other situations that might compel you to draw your knife. Examples include multiple-attacker scenarios in which you're defending your space against repeated attacks, ground fights in which you're being choked (potentially to death), and carjacking situations in which a weapon is deployed inside the vehicle or as you enter your vehicle and you can’t escape. As simple as a knife is, the situations in which you might have to use one aren’t. Yes, stabbing and slashing are brutally simple, but knowing whether you should  do that — or use a better tactic — never is.

Many Black Belt  readers may be familiar with the Japanese phrase ken ki tai ichi . It means that one’s weapon ( ken , which can be written to refer to a sword or a fist but which really applies to any weapon), one’s spirit or energy ( ki ), and one’s body ( tai ) must all be ichi  – “one.” All must be employed in coordination and at the same time. If your weapon reaches the target but your body positioning is poor, it’s unlikely your strike will be immediately or convincingly effective. If you have a strong spirit but lack the proper weapon – let’s say you cannot make a solid fist – once again, the chance of failure is significant. It’s very common to see less-skilled karateka  poke or jab at their opponents in sparring. They’re delivering weapons, but their bodies remain unconnected, so it looks more like a slapfest than a fight. All three elements must be present; all must work together. Let’s look at the other side of the coin of ken ki tai ichi . That other side is the idea that not only must your strikes have all three of these elements, but it also must destroy all three of mine. It’s worthwhile to think about this because there are many ramifications. One of the problems faced by the samurai in duels and even more so in battle was one faced by all pre-modern warriors. Weapons, unlike the high-impact ones we have today, didn’t possess a lot of stopping power. An enemy could, when sufficiently energized by adrenaline, absorb half a dozen arrows and keep coming at you. A spear thrust or a sword cut could be gruesome and lead quickly to death – but not before the wounded man got in his own strike against you. The samurai were professional warriors throughout much of their history as a caste. They could be formidable. Hit one right between the eyes with a club and he would keep coming. Even if his intent was stopped, the momentum of his weapon could continue. (It’s fascinating that today’s law enforcement officers face the same problem with violent, drug-addled criminals who don’t respond to pain-compliance locks.) To be successful in stopping an enemy, the samurai sought to attack and destroy instantly the weapon (an actual weapon, or the hands or arms manipulating it), the intent and energy, and the body that supported the attack. It wasn’t enough to generate a perfect amalgam of ken ki tai . It was necessary to take out these same elements in the enemy. Not all martial arts share this philosophy. A good example is the teaching, which can be found in a number of combat arts, of “defanging the snake.” This usually means that one strikes the hand of an opponent that’s holding a weapon. If I have a knife in my grasp and you smack my hand hard, stinging it or perhaps even doing some damage, I drop the knife or at least am dissuaded from continuing the attack. The effectiveness of this strategy is not the point here. The point is that it’s very different from the concept that has always guided Japanese martial arts. In the budo , particularly in the classical budo  of the samurai, there isn’t really any aim to defang the snake. The intent is to kill the snake. This distinction is critical in understanding the different goals on which different arts are designed. The twin crescent horns or deer-antler knives used by kung fu  practitioners have their origin in weapons that were used in places where spilling blood was socially unacceptable. They could be used to pin an attacker against a wall or on the ground. There are some traditional Japanese implements — pole arms, with big hooks on the business end — that were used to entangle the sleeves of a bad guy or pin him. These were law-enforcement tools, however, and not meant for the battlefield. If you look at the armory of the samurai, you will see very few weapons that were designed to hold an opponent or prevent him from fighting. On the contrary, they were meant to kill. They were meant to allow the user to make the perfect strike, one that destroyed not only an enemy’s attack but also his will to fight and his physical ability to do so. Don’t assume that we’re talking about one culture’s art being better than another. Don’t believe that this mentality, of completely destroying an opponent, means that Japanese martial arts are the “real thing” any more so than any other martial or combat art. Different arts address the differences in cultures and countries, circumstances and histories. There is no point in making comparisons. What is worth considering is how this classical martial arts concept applies — or does not — to an art like karate. Karate is not a martial art, as we have discussed before. It was not practiced by a martial class. It was not created to kill instantly, to devastate. It had different goals and a different approach. When it was introduced to mainland Japan, its early pioneers there worked tirelessly to make it respectable and accepted, and that meant making it “Japanese.” That’s how we got ideas like ikken hisatsu , or “killing with a single strike,” which were not a traditional part of Okinawan karate. Were these efforts successful? Did they create more problems for karate than they solved? These are good things to think about when you’re considering just what constitutes a perfect strike.