Sasha Mitchell returns as kickboxer David Sloan. This time, he goes to
Kickboxer 3: The Art of War features very little kickboxing. It also contains no art or war either. Because of this it should’ve been called Kickboxer 3: The Fart of Bore. It still doesn’t have much kickboxing, but at least you can tell from the title that it stinks and it’s boring.
Seriously though, where was I? Oh, the flick falls into the unfortunate Karate Kid 2 trap of being mostly a travelogue for the first half of the film, instead of getting down to the business at hand. You get to see a lot of the beaches of
Sasha Mitchell was pretty good in Kickboxer 2 but here he basically just plays his character from Step by Step. I don’t know what happened to Sasha in between Part 2 and this one but I have a feeling that it starts with a “C”, ends with an “E”, and has “OCAIN” in the middle. Seriously, the dude never blinks once throughout the entire movie and he has a nose as red as Rudolph. It could’ve just been the tint on my TV though. Still, the tint issue doesn’t hide the fact that he looks like he lost about 20 pounds throughout the course of the movie.
Kickboxer 3 is mostly the same old song and dance (or punch and kick) you get from many low budget action sequels but there was one thing about the film that I thought was truly original and that was the villain’s plan. You see, he has a lot of money riding on the match between his fighter and David. Most villains in this position would force David to throw the fight. This guy is a real sport though. He actually helps David train. And by “train” I mean his underlings force him at gunpoint to jog with a backpack filled with rocks, drop him miles off the coast and make him swim back, and take him water skiing without the skis.
Most movies have the obligatory training montage before the big fight. Others have the obligatory scene where the villain tortures the hero. This portion of the film is neat because it cleverly combines the two. It also helps when the villain (Richard Comar) is slimy as fuck. (He looks like the love child between Joe Isuzu and Chuck Woolery.) After this brief interlude of inventiveness, the movie goes right back to sucking.
Special Note: This movie was written by Dennis Pratt, which is really weird since he also wrote another movie I watched earlier today, Leprechaun 4 and little else. No, I didn’t plan it (like my Clint Eastwood double feature). Shit like that just happens here in The Vacuum.