Blood Ring (1991)

PLOT: An American fighter in Manila is forced to put down the bottle and take up arms (and fists) against the evil fight promoters who killed his friend. Bad timing too, because he just signed up for a mail-order membership to a “Godawful Cheap Vodka of the Month” club.

Director: Teddy Page (as Irvin Johnson)
Writer: Ron Davies
Cast: Dale Cook, Don Nakaya Nielsen, Andrea Lamatsch, Ned Hourani, Jim Gaines, Nick Nicholson, Steve Tartalia, Cris Aguilar

PLOT THICKENER

As a huge fan of Mark Hartley’s Not Quite Hollywood, the 2008 documentary that blew the doors open on Australian exploitation film for the mainstream, I was really looking forward to his 2010 follow-up that focused on the Philippines, Machete Maidens Unleashed. You can imagine my surprise, then, when the film reached the end credits with nary a mention of the important part that the chopsocky subgenre and its many stars played in the Filipino film industry of the 1980s and early 90s. Everyone from Richard Norton and Jerry Trimble to Loren Avedon and Don Wilson went for at least one go-round in Manila, and in a sense, starring in a Filipino actioner as a Westerner meant that your star power had reach and cachet.

Or, more simply: you were an accomplished kickboxer. The Filipino film industry -- particularly filmmakers like Cirio Santiago and Teddy Page -- loved kickboxers of every stripe. Dale “Apollo” Cook, who started kickboxing professionally in the late 1970s and saw his fight career last nearly two decades, was one of the few American-born stars whose film work (nine movies in all) was almost entirely limited to the Philippines (save for one part as a jerkward foreign devil in the 1992 Hong Kong film, Deadend of Besiegers). Cook may have lacked the dramatic chops or swagger to make it as an action star Stateside, but he had an easygoing, American-as-apple-pie vibe that Filipino action films, for whatever reason, seemed to really dig. 1991's Blood Ring was just his second film and the first of four films in which he would star with Teddy Page in the director's seat. It was also the film title most often confused for a sausage product.

In the world of underground Manila kickboxing, tickets may be cheap but life is even cheaper. (The beer is still expensive). Promoters use up and discard their fighters as often as they change their t-shirts. Max Rivers (Cook) is your typical burnout drunk, fighting and throwing fights in exchange for booze money from his sleazy promoter, Dingo. When Max’s fighter pal, Philip (Tartalia), goes missing, his girlfriend, Susan (Lamatsch) brings the news to Max, hoping that he can help. Philip has been trying to get out from under the thumb of his own promoter, the evil Caruleo (Nielsen), by betting on himself to lose fights. In exchange for these efforts, Philip gets “released from his contract” which is a formal way of saying that Caruleo beats him to death. (Wouldn’t you know it? Caruleo is a kickboxer too).

The reach and cruelty of Caruleo’s gang spreads far and wide. His main hatchet man is Stevens (Gaines), a coke-addicted creep in molester glasses whose enjoyment of violence is matched only by his love for nose candy. While Caruleo oversees many expert fighters -- including a beefed-up weirdo in a mask called D’Executioner (Aguilar) -- his most prized subject is Madigan (Hourani), a kickboxer with bountiful chest hair who can’t be trusted with any dialogue whatsoever. As Max gears up to infiltrate and destroy the gang who killed his friend, he’ll not only need to defeat each of these mini-bosses on the way to Caruleo, but he’ll also have to fight his raging addiction to booze on the road to sobriety.

There is little to no production sheen to Teddy Page’s films, and Blood Ring is no different. You can’t go into Filipino action films from this era with any expectation of technical mastery because you’ll walk away more disappointed than Steven Seagal after the food court Cinnabon has closed for the day. (Not fatshaming here, BTW -- Seagal just really loves Cinnabons). The plot here is simple, if stale, but the bad blood between the hero and his enemies is sufficient to carry us through the film. If you’ve seen a few of these early 90s Filipino chopsocky films -- Fighting Spirit and Blood Hands in particular -- you’ll recognize not just the filming locations, but also the cast of faces. The Jim Moss-Nick Nicholson-Jim Gaines triumvirate is back and in full effect -- all three have supporting parts -- but it was interesting to see Gaines get the baton as the baddie with the most screen-time. As the drug-addled rapist flunky, Stevens, he’s pretty good at capturing his character’s cowardly and sleazy qualities.

If Billy Blanks is the “casual Friday” of chopsocky b-movie stars with his denim ensembles and button-up shirts, then Dale Cook and his plain-tank tops or polos with sweatpants is definitely the “working from home” model. It’s not something exclusive to his character in Blood Ring, either, because he was rocking similar threads in American Kickboxer 2. You might remember from our conversation with Loren Avedon that on the chopsocky film set -- when you’re kicking, punching, and stunting for up to 12 hours a day -- comfort is key. So, maybe there’s a method to Cook’s sartorial madness, as plain and borderline sloppy as it might appear. Or maybe he was decades ahead of his time, as evidenced by the uptick in high-end sweats worn to premiere events and basketball games by everyone from Drake to Bieber. Oscar Isaac spent pretty much all of his screen time in Ex Machina wearing sweatpants and getting shitfaced. If it’s good enough for a tech genius in a top 10 film of the year, why isn’t it good enough for a kickboxer running around Manila and beating the shit out of crooked gangsters and fight promoters?

The real question though: do the sweatpants make a difference in the quality of the fight scenes? Beats the hell out of me. Cook moves well, and you can definitely tell he’s a pro fighter. The training montage in the back-half of the film finds him doing full-extension kicks in waist-deep water -- athletically speaking, that’s insane. He looks best when paired with other legit fighters (e.g. Hourani) as opposed to the standard stunt players, and his climactic fight with Nielsen (himself a former pro kickboxer) is pretty solid. The choreography is simple and the camerawork is average, but the atmosphere -- dark arena, ropes wrapped in barbed wire, and cavernous echoes -- is a cut above your traditional “two dudes kickfighting in a boxing ring” showdown. There’s a lot of blood, a pretty gruesome ending, and even Susan gets in on the action by swinging through the air (she’s tied up per the “damsel in distress” trope) and delivering a timely double-kick to the bad guy. Again, none of it will necessarily blow you away but I appreciated that they put some custom touches on the formula.

VERDICT

It’s undoubtedly cheap and occasionally sleazy. It’s plenty of other excessive adverbs combined with adjectives typically associated with Filipino exploitation films -- take your pick, man. It’s got all the customary markers: subpar acting, doofy plot, poor lighting, crazy stunts, and a library music score. Does Blood Ring rise above it all and deliver the goods in spite of itself? It sort of depends on your threshold for technically unsound cinema and your appreciation for Oklahoman kickboxers. Fortunately, I have both in spades, so I thought it was a breezy 90 minutes. Solid pick for those Saturday afternoons when you don’t want to change out of your tank top and sweatpants.

AVAILABILITY

It never made the jump to DVD (R1 anyway), so used VHS copies on Amazon or eBay are probably your best bet.

3 / 7

American Kickboxer 2 (1993)

PLOT: Two kickfighting meatheads reluctantly team up to rescue the kidnapped daughter of a mutual former squeeze. Can they put aside their bitter jealousy to work towards a common goal or will they settle their differences during a rainy and completely unnecessary mud wrestling match?

Director: Jeno Hodi
Writers: Jeno Hodi, Paul Wolansky, Greg Lewis (additional dialogue), Dan Mirvish (additional dialogue)
Cast: Evan Lurie, Dale Cook, Ted Markland, Kathy Shower, David Graf, Nick Nicholson, Ned Hourani



PLOT THICKENER:
The first time I rented Troll 2, I remember being pissed that it had nothing to do with its predecessor. Instead of a poorly made fantasy film with bad special effects and terrible acting, I watched a poorly made horror film with no special effects and terrible acting. The “sequel in name only” is not endemic of any one genre but seems to crop up a lot with action films. More often than not, it’s a sleazy viewer grab for what is usually an inferior film. In rare cases -- exemplified recently by Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans -- you get two unique and eminently watchable (though unrelated) movies. Add 1993’s American Kickboxer 2 to that list, right above the Bad Lieutenant entries. Not because it’s more unique or more watchable, but because it begins with the letter A and you keep all your list alphabetized as a result of your obsessive-compulsive disorder.

The film begins with a charming depiction of poolside domestic bliss. Lillian (Shower) is a curvaceous blond businesswoman married to Howard (Graf), a swell guy not even close to being in her league. Not only is Howard lucky enough to be her husband and stepfather to her daughter, Susie, but he’s also involved in a lucrative business her deceased father left to her and her uncle. As the adults head inside to make smoothies and Susie hops in for a dip, nothing could be more perfect.

What soon follows is one of the more amazing kidnapping sequences you’ll see. As her parents are in the kitchen playing hanky-panky to the loud whir of a blender, Susie is getting kidnapped from the pool by a man suspended from a helicopter hovering overhead. (Duh, he shot the security team with poisonous darts first). You would think that on the decibel scale, a helicopter in your fucking backyard would trump a kitchen appliance. Not so in the universe of American Kickboxer 2. Howard and Lillian stop dry humping in time to see their daughter airlifted away, and the kidnapper places a phone call to their home line during the getaway. Played by character actor veteran and skullet enthusiast Ted Markland, the dastardly Xavier is holding their daughter for a $2 million ransom and promises to kill her if they involve the authorities.

Despite the fact that her husband is warm, loving, and has a mind for business, it’s important to remember that he’s also the pudgy guy who played Eugene Tackleberry in the long-running Police Academy franchise. Instead of relying on him to hunt down the kidnappers, Lillian recruits more appropriate people to handle the matter: two dudes she used to bang.

Ex-lay number one is hard-nosed cop Mike Clark, played by five-time world champion … uh, something ... Dale “Apollo” Cook. The violence he sees in his occupation has unfortunately carried over into his personal life and Lillian left him due to his occasionally abusive nature. He’s high-strung, talks fast, and goes nowhere without a toothpick in his mouth. The second blast from the past is David, a motorcycle enthusiast and martial arts instructor. Played by PM Entertainment stalwart Evan Lurie, David is the yin to Mike’s yang: placid, laid-back, and very pensive. David seems more concerned with the appearance of his hair and chasing girls than the assignment, but his manner actually works well as a counterpoint to Cook’s over-the-top and tightly-wound portrayal of Mike.

After brawling in the parking lot of a McDonald’s and pretending to be landscapers at Lillian’s house, the odd couple begins to gather clues and follow leads. The owner of a helicopter rental outfit (played by Filipino DTV favorite Nick Nicholson) points them in the direction of a mysterious man with a shark tattoo. That clue leads them to a bar, which leads them to a massage parlor, which leads them to a warehouse, and you’ve seen this plot before and you get the picture.

Considering the budget, era, and intended home video audience, it can’t be terribly surprising that the fight scenes in the film are stilted in rhythm and short on creativity, but Hodi attempts to remedy these flaws by substituting frequency for quality. This is a bit unfortunate, because as evidenced by his work in the Hong Kong production of Deadend Besiegers, Dale Cook can definitely bring the goods with the right creative vision in place. While Ned Hourani’s henchman character isn’t a huge part of the story, his skills -- on fuller display in Fighting Spirit -- could have been utilized to better effect as well. Lurie has a pretty entertaining fight in a packed jail cell while handcuffed that seamlessly integrates light comedy and prison-rape phobia. He and Cook have a short but decent scrap in the mud during some heavy rain that looks pretty good visually but makes for a better brawl than a stand-up martial arts contest. The warehouse action and climax are all engaging for the zany Filipino fun factor of it all. But while the hand-to-hand action is frequent, so are the poor choices in viewing angles and editing and it’s unfortunate the efforts of the on-screen talent was betrayed by those on the production end. If you have a hankering for technically solid fights, American Kickboxer 2 won’t satisfy that hunger. Watch Drunken Master II or eat a banana instead.

One of the elements that can help to push a chopsocky film into upper-echelon cheesy-good territory is memorable dialogue. I don’t know if it was a consequence of having so many scribes involved -- two of which were dedicated solely to dialogue -- but there were no more than a handful of good lines (the “best” of which, IMO: “Your ass is grass, and we’re the lawnmowers.”) The script relies instead on the argumentative dynamic between the leads and the silly scenarios in which they find themselves: rapey holding cells, shady massage parlors, and the many brawls in mud, at bars, and on beaches.

VERDICT:
As far as action sequels which have no relationship whatsoever to their predecessors, American Kickboxer 2 is a pretty good kick to the pills. Those familiar with Filipino action films from the late 1980s to early 1990s will find a lot to chew on between the familiar faces and genre trappings. I haven’t gone very far down the roads of Cook Street or Lurie Boulevard, but I give the filmmakers credit for giving each performer an actual character to play, even if they were both douchey in their own special ways. Their frequent head-butting and contrast in characterization gives the film an engaging quality throughout its tidy 93-minute runtime.

AVAILABILITY:
Readily available on Netflix, Amazon, EBay.

5 / 7