The Karate Kid has the distinction of being that rare 80's movie that can be called a classic. A mix of charm, charisma, talent and just the right amount of chutzpah that could allow a totally predictable film to become one of the most beloved martial arts movies of all time. But then, is the film utterly predictable, as the folks at Rotten Tomatoes would have us believe? Granted, the film cannot escape its 1984 environment: teenagers blasting a boombox on the beach, arcade hangouts in the valley, Mrs. Laruso's generalization that all California girls are blonde and, who could forget Daniel's excited interjection that "it's the eighties?" But perhaps, like the futuristic novel of the same title as the year of the film's debut, The Karate Kid was not only timely, but timeless as well.
While the film, as such, might be formulaic and even a "seen-it-done-before" saga in the tradition of Rocky, it is also, as Roger Ebert put it "an exciting, sweet-tempered, heart-warming story with one of the most interesting friendships in a long time." More than its reflection of the human condition, namely the need for guidance and self-sufficiency, The Karate Kid was groundbreaking in its approach to the telling of a martial arts story. That was neither formulaic nor predictable, especially in the world of martial arts cinema.
The film took two people, the underdog and the master, and thrust them into a development of character not seen before in this genre. Noriyuki "Pat" Morita as the calm, resilient and ultimately indomitable Mr. Miyagi set a different standard to follow from older portrayals of masters on film. He was human. He had been a war hero, had loved one wife and exhibited a genuine concern for the welfare of the young Daniel. He could even get drunk on occassion and lament his loss. On the other hand, he could also party it up; always in his dignified way, of course. Up until The Karate Kid, this kind of master was all but unheard of in martial arts movies. They were either supernaturally supreme forces of good, and asexual to boot, or cruel bastards with a twisted sense of training like PaiMei in Kill Bill, Volume 2. Mr. Miyagi was as modern and refreshing as he was traditional and admirable.
Then there's the curious case of Daniel Laruso, a skinny, undisciplined and lost underdog, trying to find his way. Can you imagine Bruce Lee playing someone with no training whatsoever? Neither can I. And even JetLi in his younger days did not portray the luckless, weak fighter even though he may have played the outcast. But Daniel's character brought an old truth into the limelight, turning it into a novel idea: the true master should train and guide the lost soul trying to find its way. Conversely, a seeker of true training in the way should find a master worthy of his title, someone who embodies the true philosophy of the arts.
The film was also refreshing in its approach to the theme of revenge, a theme all-too-prevalent in kung fu films and samurai movies of the Sonny Chiba variety of older generations. It even set a precedent for the decade and a half of martial arts movies to follow. That, however, was a miss, as (except for the other films in the Karate Kid franchise) most of those were cheesy movies with lame plots whose true appeal was in having martial artists play the lead roles. A seemingly good approach, except that some of these wonderful warriors were terrible actors. There were exceptions, of course, as there always are, but that is beside the point.
It's no wonder that The Karate Kid has become a classic even outside the genre. It explores themes of loss, redemption, vengeance and forgiveness and even enlightenment from a fresh perspective centered around a solid, if unconventional friendship. To use an 80s euphemism, this movie was, and is rad.
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