Jean-Claude Van Damme’s first lead role sends the Muscles from Brussels to Hong Kong, to compete for glory — and a big-boy sword — in a real Bloodsport. For a supposedly super-secret tournament, everyone speaks freely, openly and publicly about the kumite (pronounced koo-muh-tay), a full-contact, anything-goes competition held every five years among martial artists worldwide.
For reasons never shared, Frank Dux (Van Damme, Welcome to the Jungle) has to go AWOL from his U.S. Army post to get to the overseas contest, so he’s constantly having to evade two military cops tasked with hauling him back. Both of the cops are dumb, yet only one of them is played by Forest Whitaker (Taken 3). Ditching them proves a cinch, as does the kumite itself; Frank shatters a world record in his first-ever round. Look, Ma — nothin’ to it!
The cumulative combat scenes make Bloodsport worth the watch, as they showcase a variety of fighting styles. Amid many others, we witness one man circling his opponent like a crazed monkey; the backfiring, beer-soaked machismo of Frank’s fellow Yank (Donald Gibb, aka Revenge of the Nerds’ Ogre); and the brute intimidation of the legendary Bolo Yeung from Enter the Dragon, whose template this film flagrantly swipes. Of course, we can’t leave out Van Damme’s own patented splits or his character’s genius move: the slow-motion nut punch. That attack alone redeems the star’s (I hesitate to call him an actor) curious dress and overall appearance as every collar-popped preppy villain in every ’80s teen comedy. Like those guys, Frank succeeds in bedding the hot blonde (The Burning’s Leah Ayres, as a journalist yearning to break the kumite story).
Directed by Newt Arnold (Blood Thirst) and scripted by Sheldon Lettich (who went on to write four more Van Damme vehicles, including Double Impact), the Cannon Films hit bears the predictability of an orange-vested highway worker waving a flag to alert drivers of construction just ahead, past all those blinking lights. But, hey, those guys operating the machines are delivering kicks to the face and clenched fists to the testes! You better believe I’ll slow down for that! —Rod Lott