Category: Martial Arts

The Grandmaster (2013) is the first and only kung fu movie to come from Hong Kong film auteur Wong Kar-wai, but by no means does it suffer because of that. In fact, Western critics loved The Grandmaster — even though most probably didn’t grasp its full meaning.

Wong is no noob when it comes to filmmaking. His resume includes Happy Together (1997), In the Mood for Love (2000) and My Blueberry Nights (2007). So when he conceived of The Grandmaster as an authentic depiction of wing chun kung fu that features purposefully hidden martial arts nuances, it’s safe to say he knew what he was doing.

You can’t blame the reviewers for failing to notice those concealed treasures. The truth is, anyone who’s not a martial arts practitioner likely won’t appreciate the subtleties of the film.

Zhang Zi Yi (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon; Hero; House of Flying Daggers) as the daughter of Gong Yu-tian.

Before Wong Kar-wai started shooting the movie, he devoted several years to research, roaming around China in search of old kung fu masters. He even lived with a few so he could learn about and actually experience the traditions of the martial arts. During that time, many of those masters shared stories that otherwise would never have been told.

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Wong began to understand what it means to be a martial artist. Hint: It’s not about fighting or winning tournaments. The most important parts of the picture Wong discovered were intelligently inserted into The Grandmaster, as were the words that became mantra for the film: seeing, knowing and doing.

That mantra is what inspired lead actor Tony Leung to practice kung fu for three years in preparation for the role. The first year of his training took place under the shadow of not even knowing who he would portray in the film.

After suffering two broken bones, which served as his comeuppance into the real world of martial arts, Leung became concerned not that he’d be unable to execute the required film fights in a convincing manner but that he might hurt his opponents in the process.

The Grandmaster loosely chronicles the life of Ip Man (also spelled Yip Man), the man who trained Bruce Lee. It starts in the 1930s, when Ip lived in China, continues through the events that caused him to flee to Hong Kong after the Communist takeover and ends with his death in 1972.

The movie opens with Ip reflecting on martial arts, then cuts to a rainy scene in which he faces a dozen combatants. The water really tested Leung’s mettle. He later said it was the toughest scene to film. For 30 consecutive nights, Leung and the stuntmen were soaked to the teeth. Each time, no one was allowed to change into dry clothes until filming wrapped the next morning.

“10 Wing Chun Kung Fu Training Principles Any Martial Artist Can Use” — download this free guide now!

“Every night by midnight, I’d be shivering cold,” Leung recalled. “I began taking cold medicines and felt myself getting sicker and sicker. When we finished the scene, I was out for five days, taking medicines and living on rice porridge. I thought I had pneumonia — couldn’t stop coughing. It was bronchitis. That was the hardest thing about the filming.

“We wore cloth-soled shoes and fought in water that was over our ankles. Training doesn’t prepare you for fighting in the rain with slippery shoes. It got so cold, but with the fighting, I was perspiring. The fights put me under a lot of pressure. After all, I’m not a kung fu actor, but the film takes kung fu very seriously. I was nervous because I worried about hurting people and not doing the fights well enough.”

Tony Leung as Ip Man, grandmaster of wing chun.

Back to the story: In Foshan in 1936, the kung fu community is restless over the retirement of master Gong Yu-tian, leader of the Chinese Martial Arts Association. Hoping to find a worthy successor, the northern master sets up a battle of wits with the best fighter from the south — Ip Man. Most moviegoers failed to grasp the essence behind this fight. I won’t share it here out of respect for Wong Kar-wai, who said he wanted to keep it reserved for martial arts insiders.

The final fight featuring Gong Yu-tian’s daughter will also leave non-martial artists and Western critics wondering what the heck happened. The key moment involves fa jing (explosive energy), chi and kung fu.

Likewise, viewers who rely on the English translations to comprehend all that is happening in the movie won’t grasp the spirit of the Chinese dialog, which eloquently masks the cryptic codes of martial skill and philosophy. However, those who walk the path, who know how to open their mind so they can experience the martial arts as a way of life, are likely to get The Grandmaster.

Are you up to the challenge?

(Photos Courtesy of The Weinstein Company)

Go here to order Dr. Craig D. Reid’s book The Ultimate Guide to Martial Arts Movies of the 1970s: 500+ Films Loaded With Action, Weapons and Warriors.

Source: Black Belt Magazine

I met Bruce Lee for the first time during the filming of the TV show The Green Hornet, on which he played a butler. He was a nice fellow. The stunt coordinator hired me, and I worked on quite a few episodes. During that time, I was able to get to know Bruce a little bit, and we even worked out together. He was the best martial artist of his time.

Bruce and I had a bond with the martial arts, and we would get together frequently. We worked out about 10 to 12 times at his place in Los Angeles’ Chinatown and at my place.

Gene LeBell with shootfighting standout Bart Vale.

When I went to his place, he showed me what he did, and I showed him what I did. Although he seemed to love the finishing holds of grappling, it just wasn’t commercially attractive at the time. Actually, it was because of my grappling and tumbling background that I was hired to do the television show — because I could take falls for Bruce.

Read “Gene LeBell on Training, Weaknesses, Workouts and Respect” here!

Bruce Lee was an entertaining fellow who was very knowledgeable and very good at what he did. People may wonder just how good a martial artist he was. Well, as I said earlier, he was the best of his time. Also, many of his former students are doing very well today. That’s a sign that he was a good martial artist and that he was able to make his students into good martial artists.

Bruce developed and performed his own style of kung fu, and a lot of the traditional guys didn’t like it because it broke from Chinese tradition. I know what that is like because I had the same trouble when I tried to improve different martial arts by changing things for the better. I believe that anytime you can have an open mind and learn something new, then add it to your repertoire, it’s a good thing. It will only make you and your students more knowledgeable.

Black Belt honors the 75th anniversary of Bruce Lee’s birth in its August/September 2015 issue, on sale now.

At first, Bruce Lee was not particularly receptive to the grappling art that I practiced, but he eventually warmed up to it somewhat. I thought that was great. I’ve always been a big believer in cross-training, and I’ve practiced most of the major martial arts, as well as boxing and wrestling. I believe that a person who is involved with the martial arts should know as much as he can about all styles. The martial artists that I disagree with are the ones who know only their art; they don’t know anything about other styles and they don’t like anything else.

As I said, Bruce started out with sort of a negative opinion of grappling, but after we worked out, he demonstrated that he had an open mind when he acknowledged how practical it was for certain things in certain situations. Some of the techniques I shared with him were leg locks, arm locks, hold downs and judo throws.

Review your martial arts history! Go here to read “Judo Gene LeBell vs. Boxer Milo Savage: America’s First MMA Fight.”

Bruce Lee and I didn’t agree on everything. For example, I’ve always been a believer in bobbing and weaving to avoid an opponent’s punches — instead of blocking with your hands. Bruce’s theory was to block a punch and then strike back with your open hand or fist. My point of view was that if you can avoid absorbing blows in a match or a fight, and then come in with offensive moves, you’ll live a lot longer.

Gene LeBell teaches a lesson in pain at Gokor Chivichyan‘s Hayastan MMA Academy in Southern California.

Although no one in the martial arts community today seems to have the same charisma that Bruce had, there are many great martial artists out there teaching and competing. This statement is not intended to take anything away from Bruce Lee. He was a leader and trendsetter. I wish he were still with us today.

“Judo” Gene LeBell is a stuntman, former American Athletic Union judo champion, former professional wrestler and world-renowned grappling instructor. Visit his official Facebook page here.

(“Bruce Lee” is a registered trademark of Bruce Lee Enterprises LLC. The Bruce Lee name, image and likeness are intellectual property of Bruce Lee Enterprises LLC.)

Gene LeBell photos by Rick Hustead.

Source: Black Belt Magazine

To excel in muay Thai, you need to develop all your main weapons, Alex Gong said, and although the legs are used more than the arms, punching skills shouldn’t be neglected.

“Your hands are useful because you can quickly punch somebody in the head, and if you land one hard shot, you may knock him out or set him up for a knockout blow,” he said. “Your kicks set up your punches initially, and then your punches can set up your kicks — but that’s not to say you should rely on one more than the other.”

First, work on mastering your straight punches, Gong said. Understand how to do them and how to defend against them.

“I like to use a lot of same-side attacks,” he said. “That means you punch with your left hand and kick with your left leg, or you knee with your left leg and punch with your left hand. Same-side attacks don’t always leave you vulnerable to that centerline of fire.”

The counterpart of the same-side attack is the cross-attack, he said. “You jab with your left hand and kick with your right, or you punch with your right hand and kick with your left. Those are nice combinations, but as you throw from one side and switch to the other, your body’s in the line of fire. Using same-side attacks helps you avoid that.”

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Gong advised students to throw various hand and foot techniques at different parts of their opponent’s body to create new opportunities to launch follow-up attacks. Whenever an opponent adjusts to your attack and counters it, he inadvertently creates new opportunities for you to launch another attack, he said. Eventually, this barrage should wear him down enough for you to finish him.

“In muay Thai, you assume that your opponent will block your attacks,” he said. “In fact, he may block most of your techniques. So when you kick at his body, you’re not necessarily looking to land right into the body but to hit the outside shell.

“I like to teach the ‘walnut philosophy’: You have to crack the shell to get to the nut. You hit him on the outside of the shell to make him react. Assuming he can take the shot, he will adjust and fire back, creating opportunities for you to break down his outer shell.”

When you’re beginning a walnut-philosophy combination, Gong said, it doesn’t matter where your blows land. If you kick his arms, it’s good because it can keep him from punching. If he punches simultaneously and you slam your shin into his body, it’s good because you can do some damage. If you kick his leg, you may prevent him from raising that limb to block a follow-up kick. If you kick higher and target his head, that’s also great, Gong said, because of the knockout potential.

When you begin a bout, Alex Gong said, you might feel more comfortable using muay Thai’s boxing methodology: “When your opponent tries to attack, you get out of the way and counterattack. You’re constantly on the move. When he comes to one side of the ring, you move; and when he comes again, you attack.”

That mobility-based approach enables you to create openings to inflict damage on your opponent while you protect yourself from his attacks, Gong added. But as you expend energy, you may not be as quick to maneuver and counterattack. That’s when many kickboxers switch to the “walking and fighting” methodology.

You basically march forward and defend yourself, Gong said. “You don’t move around too much. Your opponent attacks and you block. If he comes in, you kick him. You meet his force and constantly move forward.”

Neither methodology is superior; the “right” one depends on your preference and the situation you are in, he said.

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Winning is about strategy more than anything else, Alex Gong said. Once you’ve mastered the basic techniques, focus on how and when you will use them. “You have to find your own internal rhythm, your own balance and your own movement, then apply that knowledge to make your opponent go off his movement,” he said. “Even if you have only one technique — let’s say, a jab — but you have great timing and great strategy, you can make it work.

“My personal fighting style has evolved over the years,” Gong continued. “I came into the game with the ‘big stick’ mentality: Kick him with a big, heavy weapon. And that’s a great way to start as a muay Thai fighter. But as I evolved, my timing and combinations got better. I could play with my sense of movement and set my opponent up by sucking him in. Things started changing for me, and I was able to grow as a fighter.”

Alex Gong said the optimal way for any fighter to grow is to adopt a simple philosophy: Every fight you have is like a semester of schooling. Just as each course you take in school focuses on a particular topic, each time you prepare for a bout and actually step into the ring should be viewed as an opportunity to improve a particular part of your performance.

“Don’t focus on a whole bunch of things,” he said. “Instead, you should think, ‘I’m gonna make this technique better, and by the end of this training session — which might be 10 weeks of six-hour days — I’m going to have another technique to put in my bag of tricks.’”

You may have a list of skills you’d like to master, but you must set realistic goals, Gong said. “For each fight, you should say, ‘This is what I’m going to improve.’ For each training session, you should think, ‘This is what I’m going to accomplish.’

“That way, you will get better every day. You should focus not on trying to learn a whole bunch of things at the same time, but on learning one or two things very well.”

(Read Part 1 of this article here.)

Editor’s note: In 2003 the martial arts world was saddened when Alex Gong was shot and killed at age 32. Obviously, the interview that led to this article was conducted before his death.

Source: Black Belt Magazine

On July 20, 1973, Bruce Lee passed away at age 32. After so many years, there’s very little anyone who didn’t know him on an intimate level can add to any conversation about his legacy. Yet on a personal level, everyone has a story to share about the “Little Dragon.” Mine is the subject of this blog.

I actually have two Bruce Lee stories to share. One you may know, and the other you probably don’t.

The 75th anniversary of Bruce Lee’s birth is celebrated in the August/September 2015 issue of Black Belt.

When I was 16, I was forced to down 30 pills a day and required to report to the hospital every three months. My doctor said I’d be dead in five years due to cystic fibrosis, a progressive, incurable disease. Death by malnutrition, suffocation, dehydration and lung infection was what I had to look forward to. Two weeks later, I watched Bruce Lee kick butt in Fists of Fury (aka The Big Boss). It was 1971, and all of a sudden I was no longer depressed and waiting to die. All I could think about was learning what Lee was doing.

As I immersed myself in the martial arts, I found that their real purpose is not to convey ways of fighting but to spread the art of healing. And I needed to heal myself. I discovered one chance for survival: an ancient Chinese healing skill that was seldom taught to outsiders.

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With that in mind, I moved to Taiwan in 1979 in search of a cryptic cure that most doctors claimed didn’t exist. At the airport, I was arrested and wrongly charged with smuggling illegal weapons and trafficking drugs. I was even threatened with the death penalty. It was definitely a bad time to be an American in Taiwan.

After straightening things out, I became a stuntman in kung fu soap operas and eventually won the trust of the man who would teach me his interpretation of chi kung (also spelled qi gong). Five months later, I was off all the meds and no longer needed therapy — as has been the case for the past 35 years.

Later, my teacher introduced me to chi healing, and my wife and I have been practicing it for more than 28 years now. We’ve done everything from working with Olympic athletes to helping veterans returning from war.

Some of you may know this Bruce Lee story — I’ve written about it in the past. Here’s one you don’t know.

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One day while serving as an apprentice to a Hong Kong fight director who was working on CBS’s Martial Law TV series (Sammo Hung and Arsenio Hall), I arrived on set only to discover that my mentor was experiencing a severe headache. When the TV crew members offered him their heavy-duty painkillers, he looked at me and said, “That’s how Bruce Lee died, blindly taking a prescription drug that wasn’t his.”

True enough. Lee did die from an allergic reaction to the prescription drug Equagesic. Because the fight director was familiar with my background, he asked if I knew how to get rid of a splitting headache. I did my thing, and a minute later, his headache had disappeared. That’s when it hit me: Wouldn’t it have been wonderful if Bruce Lee had known about chi healing?

In olde martial arts schools, a sifu was often a healer who would pass his knowledge down to his students, Huang Fei-hung being a famous example. Yip Man (also spelled Ip Man), the man who taught Bruce Lee wing chun kung fu, wasn’t a healer. Based on the literature, we know that Lee didn’t buy into the esoteric aspects of kung fu or chi kung. Maybe that was because he just never met the right sifu.

Lee accepted Western medicine, which is not a bad thing, but I wonder if his lack of interest in traditional Chinese medicine was related to his rejection of traditional martial arts. Lee was enthusiastic about using herbs, juices and teas as a means to create energy for training and optimize overall health, but when he found himself suffering a headache on that fateful day, he turned to Western medicine. What a pity!

This brings us to modern-day martial artists. We respect and admire Bruce Lee for his jeet kune do, his physical abilities, his dedication to self-development and his deep-seated philosophical beliefs. Yet how many of us know how to heal our opponent if we, God forbid, happen to injure him or her in the dojo or on the street? If you’re a teacher, are you prepared to take care of your students as they inevitably experience the mental, physical, emotional and spiritual ups and downs that are inherent in martial arts training? Are you teaching them how to heal in addition to how to hurt?

Curious about the Little Dragon’s exercise program? Check out “The Fighting Man’s Exercise: Bruce Lee’s Training Regimen.”

The first take-away here on the anniversary of Bruce Lee’s death probably doesn’t need to be reiterated, but I will do so nevertheless: No one should ever take another person’s prescription medication. The second is if we understand how our health and emotional choices are tied in to our chi, we’re more likely to invest some time in learning a few simple healing skills that could avert a tragedy like the one that took Lee’s life in 1973.

My own take-away is this: I will always be grateful that I’m alive because of Bruce Lee — hell, I walked 3,000 miles to pay my respects at his gravesite in Seattle! — and I will continue to spread the word regarding his work. I hope that on this occasion when the martial arts world reflects on Lee’s life, we can look behind the Oz curtain and see the potential of the art of healing. After all, Bruce Lee is the martial artist who taught us to have no limitation as limitation.

(“Bruce Lee” is a registered trademark of Bruce Lee Enterprises LLC. The Bruce Lee name, image and likeness are intellectual property of Bruce Lee Enterprises LLC.)

Go here to order Dr. Craig D. Reid’s book The Ultimate Guide to Martial Arts Movies of the 1970s: 500+ Films Loaded With Action, Weapons and Warriors.

Source: Black Belt Magazine

Before he took up muay Thai in 1993, Black Belt Hall of Famer Alex Gong trained in tai chi chuan, aikido, taekwondo, bare-knuckle karate and judo. While he was being exposed to the hundreds of traditional techniques that those arts teach, an idea germinated in his mind:

Why not seek out a style that’s composed of a few proven strikes that can be used in a wide variety of situations?

“When I was finally introduced to muay Thai, I realized that this is what I’d been working toward, and I knew I had found the right style,” said Gong, who trained in Thailand with Apideh Sit Hirum, the man who was named Muay Thai Fighter of the Century by the king of Thailand.

“Fighting is about evolution, and in muay Thai, you’re constantly fighting and testing,” Gong continued. “It’s the only true, constantly battle-tested style out there.”

Muay Thai is a simple art, one that doesn’t have a lot of techniques, Gong said. Once you’ve mastered the basic kicks and punches, it’s time to focus on what’s really important: moving, power, timing and defense.

Gong knows the truth of that statement not only from the time he’s put in as president and head coach of the Fairtex USA Muay Thai Team, but also from the time he’s spent on the road visiting camps and watching bouts. “I go to amateur and professional fights all over the country, and I know that if more fighters just had a better foundation of the basics, they’d be much more successful,” he said.

The basic weapon of muay Thai is the roundhouse kick to the head or body. “It is one of the easiest strikes to land, and you kick with your shin, so it’s very powerful and effective,” said Gong, who trains in San Francisco with Phicheat Arunleung Ganyao. “You have so much power because you put your whole body into it. Behind your leg, your hip and your shoulder are driving forward into the target. You don’t just kick the target; you kick through the target.

“Too often martial artists kick forward but let their body move backward, especially with the side kick and roundhouse kick,” Gong said. “If you do that, where are your power and inertia going? They’re not going into the target where they should be.”

If you perform the roundhouse kick properly and turn into the target, your shoulder will be positioned between your chin and your opponent’s line of fire, Gong said, and that will afford you some protection from a punch.

“If you step forward to do a roundhouse to your opponent’s body, you have to be careful not to step straight into the centerline of fire,” he said. “That’s why, when you step over to kick, your footwork is so important. If you step out at a 45-degree angle to throw a right kick to his body, your right shoulder will be to the outside of his right shoulder. Then his right punch will go right over your shoulder, not right into your nose.”

Go here to download a free guide titled “Master Toddy’s MMA-Tested Muay Thai Techniques: 3 Elbow Attacks That Can Improve Your Fighting Game.”

Another reason Thai boxers favor the roundhouse kick is it forces their opponent to react with more defensive movement, Gong said. “He’s got to work harder to stop it. He’s got to raise his leg higher and adjust his body more so than with any other attack you can deliver.”

Because the kick makes contact with the lower part of the shin, you can hit your opponent while maintaining a relatively safe distance from his hands, he said. “When you’re kicking at full-body length, it’s very difficult for him to land a shot to your face.”

Practicing body kicks helps you develop better footwork, and in muay Thai, footwork is everything. “If you become better on your feet and have that primary weapon, everything else will follow,” Gong said.

The straight knee thrust is another mainstay of muay Thai. It’s usually executed when your opponent is rushing toward you. “It’s not necessarily you hitting him or him hitting you, but the two of you hitting each other with your knee smashing into him,” Gong explained.

Although the straight knee has the potential to knock out an opponent, it’s more often used to tire him out and set him up for a knockout technique, Gong said. Because it may not finish him off, you have to think about protecting your face during and after the action — and fortunately, that’s relatively easy to do.

“You can use your knees to attack without giving up too much vulnerability,” Gong said. “When you punch somebody, he can punch you, too; but with knee shots, you can keep your head protected.”

The knee thrust derives its phenomenal power from physics. You use an unprotected part of your body to strike an unprotected part of his body — usually his gut or solar plexus — in a straight line, Gong said. “And a lot of times, you apply this technique when people are not backing up but are coming forward. So their forward momentum meets your attacking momentum — I call this ‘offensive-defense.’”

(To be continued)

Editor’s note: In 2003 the martial arts world was saddened when Alex Gong was shot and killed at age 32. Obviously, the interview that led to this article was conducted before his death.

Source: Black Belt Magazine

Some legends are so wonderful you want them to be true. The legend of bo specialist Muso Gonnosuke’s two meetings with Miyamoto Musashi is a good example. As a young man, Muso wandered around Japan, challenging other martial artists to duels — both to make a name for himself and to perfect his art. Despite the risk of serious injury or worse, he bested a number of skilled warriors with his staff.

While visiting the capital city of Edo (Tokyo), Muso found Musashi, a renowned swordsman whose reputation was rapidly growing. Musashi was an unconventional fighter whose training in a formal ryu was rudimentary, but he used cunning, strategy and bravado to overcome his opponents. Indeed, in his duel with Muso, Musashi didn’t use a steel sword or even a wooden training weapon. Instead, he employed a tree limb to thoroughly and convincingly defeat his opponent — but he spared Muso’s life.

Muso retreated to a mountaintop in Kyushu, where he trained furiously and meditated on his art and his loss. He was eventually rewarded with what he took to be a divine vision that compelled him to shorten his 6-foot-long staff. The modification enabled him to manipulate the weapon like a sword and a spear while retaining its use as a pole arm.

Once again, he sought out Musashi and requested a rematch. Musashi obliged. This time, however, Muso was able to defeat his opponent. But just as Musashi had spared his life in their initial encounter, Muso let Musashi live, handing him — if the story is true — his only defeat.

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More than four centuries later, Muso’s descendants still practice the stick techniques he devised, which constitute part of the curriculum of shindo muso ryu, or jojutsu (art of the stick). Within the kata of the school are a range of lethal methods, as well as a good example of hodoku, or compassion, as shown by the founder of the ryu.

Whenever I hear people’s petty arguments that Japanese terminology in the dojo should be replaced with English or another language, I think of terms like hodoku. I wonder what non-Japanese equivalent they would use because the concept and its application would require pages of explanation to describe adequately.

Classical martial arts kata — nearly always an exchange between two participants and not the solo sequences with which most karateka are familiar — teach a variety of combative strategies. Some are long and complex, while others involve only a single attack and counter. No matter their length, once the forms are finished, both participants are left in potentially mortal situations. For example, your weapon is pointed directly at my throat, and mine is set to break your wrist. How do we resolve the standoff? We turn to an unlikely source: the terminology of Buddhism.

In Buddhism, the word ko is defined as being one moment longer than the longest stretch of time any human can comprehend. Perhaps our standoff wouldn’t last that long; but in our positions and our attitude, we must be in a technical state of ko. I’m willing to try to keep my advantage, just as you’re willing to try to keep yours.

In the dojo, the combative ko is broken when one participant voluntarily moves his weapon into a nonthreatening posture. Even though he may still be in position to continue fighting, he shows a willingness to promote charity to his partner. (Of course, he would not do this if the situation were real. In that case, ko is broken when one participant stops breathing.) This attitude of compassion is hodoku.

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In shindo muso ryu, one trainee is armed with a stick, and the other wields a bokken, or wooden practice sword. At the conclusion of the kata, the swordsman slowly moves his weapon slightly off to his side, lowering it. This posture is called hodoku kamae. Slowly and carefully and without losing his concentration, the person with the stick slides his weapon back to his side, responding in an equally humane way to the swordsman’s charity. Both partners then retreat to take up positions to begin practicing the next kata.

On one level, the process of hodoku is purely mechanical. The swordsman’s lowering of his blade is a way to bring the kata to a technically safe conclusion. Even though the forms are precisely ritualized, they expose both practitioners to extreme danger. Weapons are swung with full force and stopped only at the last second, a fraction of an inch from a vulnerable target. Kata cannot be perfected without entering a mental state polished under the stresses of danger. Anything less and you’re merely doing a dance.

Given these concerns, a safe method for finishing a kata is important. But on a higher level, hodoku is a central precept that elevates classical kata beyond the medium of simple physical exercise or mental training. As much as it instills combative skills, it imbues the form and its practice with humanity.

The sole purpose of kata in a traditional martial art is to teach and perfect skills and attitudes necessary to destroy life efficiently. Nobody in one of these schools is trying to look beautiful or find inner peace. The kata are designed to teach killing or crippling, and anything else that may arise is purely secondary. Nevertheless, within the structure of the kata is built, in hodoku and other aspects of practice, the potential for great insight into human nature and the real meaning of what it is to fight.

It’s all well and good to talk about the spiritual rewards of the martial ways and to teach their wonderful philosophical attributes. It’s another thing entirely to include physical examples of these teachings in your daily practice. Shindo muso ryu does just that — as do, in one way or another, all the classical Japanese combative disciplines.

So the question you should ask yourself and your teacher is, Does my budo have hodoku within the kata or anywhere else in my training? An even more crucial question is, Do I have the spirit of hodoku within myself?

(Photos by Rick Hustead)

Dave Lowry is a freelance writer who has trained extensively in the Japanese and Okinawan arts. He started writing Black Belt magazine’s Karate Way column in 1986. Go here to order his classic book Bokken: Art of the Japanese Sword.

Source: Black Belt Magazine

If I walk into a crowd and mention A Summer at Grandpa’s (1984), Café Lumière (2003) and Flight of the Red Balloon (2007), I’ll probably be met with a sea of blank faces. If I do that with a bunch of Chinese-movie aficionados, no doubt many will immediately think of Taiwanese film auteur Hou Hsiao-hsien.

“Film auteur” is the term used to describe a director whose personal creative vision is so strong and recognizable that not even the studios behind his or her movies can eliminate the distinctive cinematic signature. There are more film auteurs than you might guess — in the Chinese martial arts movie genre, we have, among others, Ang Lee (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon), Zhang Yi-mou (Hero) and Wong Kar-wai (The Grandmaster).

My goal with this blog is to introduce you to one more.

Normally, I don’t discuss martial arts films that I haven’t seen or that are pitched to the media as a “work in progress.” The reason: How many times have we all bought into the hype surrounding some martial arts movie star who’s in talks with so-and-so to make such-and-such a film — and it never happens?

In this case, however, I carefully considered the impact the aforementioned martial arts films have had, then looked ahead to the potential popularity of the motion picture that’s being helmed by Hou Hsiao-hsien — and promptly made an exception to my own rule.

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Six of Hou’s films have been nominated for the Palme d’Or (best film award) at the Cannes Film Festival. Not until he made The Assassin (Chinese title Nie Yinniang) did he garner the best director award at Cannes. Interestingly, it’s his first kung fu movie.

The Assassin has been 25 years in the making. Based on a short story derived from a compilation known as The Extensive Records of the Taiping Era, the film was funded by China and Taiwan. Set during the Tang dynasty (618–906), it focuses on a legendary female assassin named Nie Yinniang. Nie is played by Taiwanese actress Shu Qi, who co-starred with Jason Statham in The Transporter.

A young Nie is kidnapped by a Taoist nun, who trains the girl to become an assassin. She’s eventually tasked with killing corrupt officials. Because of her success, Nie becomes a feared vigilante, but her world begins to fall apart when she defies an order to eliminate Lord Tian Ji’an (portrayed by Chang Chen).

In addition to that intriguing plot, The Assassin also deserves our attention because it wasn’t designed to be a run-of-the-mill kung fu film. We won’t see any of Nie’s 13 years of training in the arts of assassination. We won’t watch over-embellished fight sequences and elaborate wire-work choreography. We won’t witness the hero battling her way up a ladder until the final showdown with the villain.

Instead, we will see Nie doing what a skilled assassin does: swiftly taking out targets and disappearing in an instant. The concept reminds me of the kind of fights we were treated to courtesy of two other film auteurs: Chu Yuan, who made movies for the Shaw Brothers in the 1970s and ’80s, and the great Akira Kurosawa, who was responsible for all those Japanese chanbara classics.

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Are you wondering who the fight choreographer for The Assassin is? Recall the iconic scene in Enter the Dragon when Bruce Lee says to a young lad, “Don’t think; feel. It is like a finger pointing away to the moon. Don’t concentrate on the finger, or you will miss all that heavenly glory.” That kid was Peter Tung Wei, and as the fight choreographer for the film, he sees not only the moon but also the stars.

With a budget of $15 million, The Assassin was picked up for American distribution by Well Go USA Entertainment. If it’s as dazzling as all signs indicate, it will make a killing at the box office.

(Photos Courtesy of Wild Bunch / Well Go USA Entertainment)

Go here to order Dr. Craig D. Reid’s book The Ultimate Guide to Martial Arts Movies of the 1970s: 500+ Films Loaded With Action, Weapons and Warriors.

Source: Black Belt Magazine

On June 29, 2013, Jim Kelly — martial artist, tennis enthusiast and action-film star — died of cancer. Kelly, of course, was renowned for his portrayal of Williams in the 1973 Bruce Lee blockbuster Enter the Dragon. It was an association he never grew tired of.

Three years before his passing, Kelly was in San Diego, scouting locations for a tennis center he wanted to open. Through connections at the San Diego Asian Film Foundation, I arranged a meeting. I was surprised when Kelly said he’d heard of me. Perhaps it was because of my martial arts writing, my acting work in Taiwan or my chi healing. In any case, I devoted a few minutes to eliminating a bit of chronic joint pain he said he’d been suffering, then struck up a fascinating conversation about his life in the martial arts.

Jim Kelly appeared on the cover of the October/November 2013 issue of Black Belt.

When I asked him what it had been like as a black man working in the Hong Kong film industry, he flashed a knowing grin. “That is a very good question — I’m surprised more people don’t ask it,” Jim Kelly said. “But I know where you are coming from because you worked over there in the 1970s. You’ve been there and experienced it. Most people don’t know what it was like. The thing is, basically, I never had a problem except one time. There was one actor on the set of The Tattoo Connection (aka Black Belt Jones 2, 1978) who gave me trouble — he didn’t want to be touched by me.

“We were doing a fight scene, and this actor complained to the director that I was blocking too hard. I was just doing routine blocks, but he still complained. I was doing my blocks as light as I could — I couldn’t do them any lighter or it would have made the fight look weak and fake. You need some contact in order to react.

Jim Kelly poses in a scene from Black Belt Jones. (Photo Courtesy of Warner Bros.)

“The main problem from this was that now I couldn’t trust him. He had real good kicks, so I really had to be aware during the fight scenes and be attuned because of course he tried to hit me. The fights were almost real, as I knew he was trying to take me out, but now I was ready for it. But then I was not allowed to touch him. So that was a challenge.”

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Succumbing to the temptation that afflicted all who interviewed Jim Kelly, I asked if he could share a few memorable moments from his time with Bruce Lee. After a contemplative stare, he nodded.

“Basically, just sitting down between takes when we’d talk about life, philosophy and the struggles of being black and being Asian in America,” Kelly said.

Jim Kelly performs with Gloria Hendry in Black Belt Jones. (Photo Courtesy of Warner Bros.)

After he elaborated, I directed the interview back to his martial arts interactions with Bruce Lee.

“He asked me once while training, ‘Jim, who taught you that backfist and jab? I mean, man, you do it so fast!’ I told him Gordon Doversola taught me.”

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Kelly smirked, then continued. “I found out later that Bruce had also taken classes from him, so he knew and recognized the way I did the backfist. When we did a bit of training together, Bruce said that if he was to train me, none of the fighters going around at the time would ever have beaten me.

“I asked him, ‘You even mean so-and-so and so-and-so?’ And Bruce said, ‘Yes, they would not have been able to touch you.’”

A moment later, Kelly finished his thought: “But he didn’t live long enough. It never came to pass.”

Two years after Jim Kelly’s death, I’m retelling this story of our meeting in an effort to honor the man who inspired so many in the martial arts. Having walked the earth just 67 years, he didn’t live long enough, either.

Go here to order Dr. Craig D. Reid’s book The Ultimate Guide to Martial Arts Movies of the 1970s: 500+ Films Loaded With Action, Weapons and Warriors.

Source: Black Belt Magazine

It seems that every day we’re reminded of how time flies. I can’t believe that this month marks the sixth year since the world lost two of its biggest martial arts film stars in two days. Interestingly, both will be remembered in part because of their connection to Bruce Lee.

On June 3, 2009, veteran Hong Kong kung fu film star Shih Kien died from kidney failure at age 96. In the West, he was best-known for playing the inscrutable Han in Bruce Lee’s Enter the Dragon (1973) — specifically, for the battle in which he sliced and diced Lee using his prosthetic hand in the hall of mirrors.

When Enter the Dragon came out, most of us had no idea that Shih had already starred in more than 400 films. In most of them, he played villains. It was the result of the typecasting that followed his very first movie role: He portrayed a Japanese spy in Flower in a Sea of Blood (1940).

Shih’s skill set was diverse. Not only did he act — frequently starring opposite the famous Kwan Tak-hing in Kwan’s early Huang Fei Hung films, among others — but he also served as an action director.

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In a rare appearance as the hero, Shih starred in Tiger’s Claw (1974). His hair-and-beard combination made him resemble Spock’s evil doppelganger in the Star Trek original series episode “Mirror, Mirror.” Shih’s scenes in Tiger’s Claw remind viewers of his portrayal of Han — in large part because every time he fights in that film, we’re treated to the soundtrack from Enter the Dragon.

Although his name is synonymous with cinematic villains, in real life Shih was a kind man with a heart devoted to eagle claw and choy lay fut kung fu. He had trained at Shanghai’s Ching Wu Athletic Association, the gym created by Huo Yuin Jia, the teacher of Bruce Lee’s character in The Chinese Connection (1972).

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A day after Shih passed, American martial arts film and TV star David Carradine died from what’s best described as a judgment failure. He was 72.

Carradine, of course, was renowned for his spot-on portrayal of Shaolin monk Kwai Chang Caine in the TV series Kung Fu (1972-1975). The role was supposedly created for Bruce Lee, but the studio decided that the series had a better chance of succeeding with Carradine as the lead.

Kung Fu gave most Westerners their first exposure to the teachings of Shaolin. Even more important, it was a most positive introduction, one that showed time and again that a true martial artist trains not to fight and prefers to heal rather than hurt. The philosophy that Carradine’s character embodied and that the actor embraced in real life stood in stark contrast to what was depicted in the most popular kung fu films of that era.

“From that perspective, it was important to show the true way of Shaolin and kung fu, so the show created a balance between the violent kung fu films and the peaceful calm of Caine,” Carradine explained in an interview. “It was about the whole yin-yang balance.”

“When I worked with David on Kill Bill Vol. 2 (2004), I made it a point that when we were on location together to pull him aside and tell him how much I admired Kung Fu,” said Gordon Liu Chia-hui, the most famous Shaolin-priest character actor in Asia. “That series was a very important part of people in the West’s understanding of kung fu, and he played the role of what I think a Shaolin priest truly was.”

When my interview with Carradine was coming to a close, the actor waxed philosophical: “Each end is a new beginning.”

Tongue-in-cheek, I replied, “That’s like a sumo wrestler — heavy, man.”

He smiled, we hugged … and I never saw him again.

(Shih Kien Photos Courtesy of Warner Bros. / David Carradine Photos Courtesy of ABC)

Go here to order Dr. Craig D. Reid’s book The Ultimate Guide to Martial Arts Movies of the 1970s: 500+ Films Loaded With Action, Weapons and Warriors.

Source: Black Belt Magazine

Ask any martial artist to name the best-selling martial arts book of all time, and chances are he or she will say Tao of Jeet Kune Do by Bruce Lee.

What many martial arts enthusiasts and Bruce Lee fans don’t know is that this landmark book wasn’t a simple publishing project. In fact, its path to print was a veritable roller-coaster ride.

The following are some of the highlights as reported in Black Belt magazine.

•          November 1970 issue — Bruce Lee suspends work on a project he’s been fine-tuning for years. It was to have been titled Tao of Jeet Kune Do.

•          December 1970 issue — “Several years ago, we announced that Bruce Lee was working on a book called Tao of Jeet Kune Do,” a Black Belt writer says. “Unfortunately, Bruce got sidetracked from writing it, and even though it was almost completed, he has decided not to have it published.”

•          February 1971 issue — Martial artists launch a letter-writing campaign to convince Lee to change his mind and have the book published. The effect the letters have on Lee is not mentioned.

•          July 20, 1973 — Bruce Lee passes away in Hong Kong.

•          October 1975 issue — The staff of Black Belt, under the leadership of Gilbert Johnson, puts the finishing touches on the Tao. The first ad for the book is run.

•          November 1975 issue — A four-page story in Black Belt reveals how the book was compiled.

“When Linda Lee introduced Gil Johnson and said he was going to put Bruce’s book together for publication, we were all a little skeptical,” Dan Inosanto says. “We figured, since he had studied different styles, that he would interpret everything in terms of what he already knew and make JKD another style. But he didn’t. He worked out with us, and he was open-minded all the way. The way he put the book together was fantastic. People need some kind of organization to relate, to understand what they’re reading, and he gave them that, but he didn’t limit what Bruce was saying.”

•          December 1975 issue — The first Tao ad appears, offering the book for $6.95. History is about to be made.

•          January 1976 issue — An ad campaign for a deluxe edition of the book begins. “If you’re really a Bruce Lee fan, you will want this distinguished, hardbound edition of his Tao of Jeet Kune Do,” the text announces. The book sports a hard cover and is “bound in rich leatherette with a gold stamped signature.” It sells for $9.95.

•          January 2007 issue — It’s announced that a limited-edition, hard-cover version of the Tao will go on sale soon. It comes with a hard cloth slipcase and a numbered certificate signed by Linda Lee Cadwell and Shannon Lee.

•          November 1, 2011 — After extensive consultation with Shannon Lee, Tao of Jeet Kune Do: Expanded Edition is released as a paper book and an e-book. It includes digitally enhanced, hand-drawn illustrations by Bruce Lee, never-before-seen Chinese translations, framed training aids and exercises, a brief history of the book, and other improvements overseen by Shannon Lee. Go here to order.

(“Bruce Lee” is a registered trademark of Bruce Lee Enterprises LLC. The Bruce Lee name, image and likeness are intellectual property of Bruce Lee Enterprises LLC.)

Source: Black Belt Magazine