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Karate Kid: Legends review
Karate Kid: Legends review

The Guardian

time2 days ago

  • Entertainment
  • The Guardian

Karate Kid: Legends review

There's a lot riding on Li Fong, warrior protagonist of the Karate Kid: Legends. The Beijing émigré (played by Disney mainstay Ben Wong) is barely settled into his new Manhattan surrounds when he finds himself schooling Victor, a West Side pizzaiolo (Joshua Jackson), in the ways of kung fu to help him win a boxing purse and clear his debt with unfriendly neighborhood loan shark (Tim Rozon). But when Victor is cheated out of a certain win by an illegal knockout blow, Fong is reminded of the tragic death of his kung-fu idol older brother, and his frozen reaction in the moment puts him at odds with Victor's daughter Mia, an emerging love interest (Sadie Stanley), and his own mother (Ming-Na Wen), who explicitly forbade him from fighting. Besides acing the SAT and fitting into a new high school, Fong is further charged with reinvigorating a cultural institution attempting its first feature film reboot in 15 years. Inferior franchises have buckled under lesser pressure. All of it had the makings of a disaster recipe for director Jonathan Entwistle. But Rob Lieber's script embroiders those plot points on to a classic underdog story that feels even more resonant at a time when young people appear to be more lonely and powerless than ever. Sure, longtime Karate Kid watchers will see many of Legends' punches coming, but there's vastly more enjoyment to be taken from watching the film with young viewers who are either coming into the Karate Kid world fresh or from Netflix's Cobra Kai TV series spinoff. (Kids ruled my screening of the film in Atlanta, where many of the exterior and street scenes in Legends were shot.) To set up the passing of the bandana, the film opens with a scene between Daniel-san and Mr Miyagi from The Karate Kid Part II. In it, Miyagi explains the connection between his brand of karate and a style of kung fu practiced in China – 'two branches of the same tree', as it were. That's our reintroduction to Fong's uncle, Mr Han (Jackie Chan) – the kung-fu master (and carryover from the 2010 Karate Kid sequel) who keeps Fong fighting over his mother's objections. He's the one who pushes Fong to enter a lucrative New York martial arts tournament after he gets in over his head, and the one who flies out to Los Angeles to recruit Master Daniel (played by a still-fresh-faced Ralph Macchio) to prepare Fong for the make-or-break event. It all makes for a winsome 94 minutes that satisfies young audiences' taste for constant action and plays to adult viewers' sense of nostalgia and makes them both laugh at the same jokes. (Fong picks up the nickname 'Stuffed Crust' after committing the worst New York pizzeria ordering faux pas imaginable.) Viewers of a certain generation will have a hard time not feeling old when they see Jackson (AKA Pacey of Dawson's Creek) as a grizzled girl dad, or Wen (AKA Street Fighter's Chun-Li) as a helicopter mom. (Maybe she'll get some fight scenes in the sequel?) Wyatt Oleff – the Entwistle holdover who plays Fong's tutor turned wingman, Alan – was delightful too in his moments of repartee with Fong, who initially recoils from this mother-enforced relationship. (In my screening, Alan got the night's biggest laugh off the bat when he asks Fong, who sports a shiner when they first meet, if his mom 'did that to your eye'.) But for Karate Kid fans of this generation, the biggest payoff is likely to come when the callback to Cobra Kai is finally revealed. For my money, though, the far bigger surprise was the chemistry between Chan and Macchio. It really saves what could've been a too-many-cooks situation. (Surely there's a Zen koan about the vanity of the student with two masters … ) Chan in particular remains the all-time best at getting laughs through martial artistry, and there's an apartment break-in scene between him and Fong that wouldn't look out of place in Rush Hour or another of Chan's stuntwork ballets. Still: that's not to say Legends is a perfect reboot. The grownups in the room who were too young to appreciate character development in the 80s will probably scoff at Legends' thinly sketched antagonists, Aramis Knight's Conor not least. Critical fight sequences in the film unfold like scenes from Mortal Kombat-style fighter games, with only the energy meter missing from the framing. The film also could have done without one notably cringe product placement nod, for which Oleff does the honors. But other than those faint missteps, Legends sweeps the leg. It's warm, it's breezy – it's a burst of summery family fun that is sure to inspire long looks back at the old movies and Cobra Kai episodes while sparking renewed interest in martial arts apprenticeship. Anyone would get a kick out of it. Karate Kid: Legends is out in US and UK cinemas on 30 May

Running in Afghanistan was an act of defiance. Now in Canada, I run to show others they can
Running in Afghanistan was an act of defiance. Now in Canada, I run to show others they can

CBC

time21-05-2025

  • Sport
  • CBC

Running in Afghanistan was an act of defiance. Now in Canada, I run to show others they can

This First Person column is the experience of Atefa Rahimi, who moved from Afghanistan to Saskatoon. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ. It was still dark when my little sister and I got up at 2 a.m. to train before everyone else in Kabul woke up. I felt like I was touching the sky as we ran through the beautiful, towering hills that surrounded our city. We were hungry and tired, but I didn't care. I felt alive. Running has filled me with joy and energy through the darkest parts of my life, first in Afghanistan and now in Canada. I was only 14 when my mother died. I had no choice but to become a mother figure to my four younger siblings. I was a child, but I stepped into an adult's role. It was my job to take care of my siblings, our house in Kabul and everything else that came with it. It felt like life was collapsing on me. Through all that pain, sport helped me survive. I was introduced to kung fu in 2017, and a year later, joined a running team in the city. My family hadn't supported me in either activity. I'd had to fight with my relatives and a society around me that didn't believe that girls should do sports. There was no one I could look at — in my family, my community or beyond — and say, "She did it, so I can too." I had to become that person. I became the first woman in my entire family and extended relatives to become an athlete. There wasn't a single day when it was easy. But slowly, something started to change. My cousins started doing sports. Their families began to allow it, little by little, because they saw me doing it first. In a place where I had never even seen a woman ride a bicycle, where the idea of a girl running through the streets was unthinkable, I was breaking through walls. I ran my first marathon in 2019 in Afghanistan, which drew runners — both male and female — from all over the world. That day will always stay with me. It wasn't just about the race. It was a symbol of everything I had overcome — the fear, the judgment, the loneliness. Every step I took was a step toward the person I wanted to become. The end of that marathon wasn't just a finish line. It was the beginning of something powerful. It was healing. It was proof that even when the world tries to silence you, you can still find your voice. I wasn't just doing one sport. At one point, I was doing kung fu, running and kickboxing, all while raising four children, managing a household and facing constant criticism and pressure. Imagine doing that in a place like Afghanistan, where girls weren't even supposed to be outside alone. Everything changed two years later with the return of the Taliban in 2021. Girls were banned from going to school and university. With videos of myself and my kung fu team out in the world, we were terrified we would be targeted. My team and our family members escaped with the help of the 30 Birds Foundation, which helped hundreds of Afghan women and girls come to Canada. They didn't just help us get out — they helped us start again. They've continued to support us in every possible way. When I moved to Canada, I thought things would get better. I believed I was finally free — free to run outside without fear and live without threats. In many ways, I was. There was safety. There were opportunities. What I didn't expect was that life here would bring a different kind of challenge — one that wasn't louder, but heavier. | found myself alone in a new country, not knowing the language, carrying the weight of trauma, grief and fear. I had no one to lean on, and the silence of that loneliness was its own kind of pain. I tried to keep going, joining the Saskatoon Track and Field Club and training for almost two years. But after I moved away from Saskatoon for university, something shifted. The grief and pain of the recent years over losing my mother and leaving my country caught up to me. I didn't have that clear goal of being a role model to other female athletes that I once held close in Afghanistan. The fire I carried for so long started to dim. I was still running, still showing up, but it didn't feel the same. Then, in November 2024, I joined a program called the Wingspan Summit, organized by the 30 Birds Foundation, which brought together other Afghan women and girls. That changed everything. Surrounded by people with powerful stories who reminded me of my own strength, I felt my spark return. That fire in my heart — the one that kept me alive through the darkest moments — came back to life. Now, when I run, I'm not just running for myself. I'm running for the little girl I was — the one who grew up too fast, who held a family together while chasing impossible dreams. I'm running for every girl in Afghanistan who is still fighting through the same darkness. I'm running for every woman in the world who is told she can't. I run because I can, and because I must — until they can too.

Kung fu hustle: Hong Kong action film actor turns mentor for stunt performers
Kung fu hustle: Hong Kong action film actor turns mentor for stunt performers

South China Morning Post

time17-05-2025

  • Entertainment
  • South China Morning Post

Kung fu hustle: Hong Kong action film actor turns mentor for stunt performers

With leaps and falls on screen, Hong Kong actor Andrew Clifford Pong King-fung is dedicated to nurturing the next generation of martial artists and stunt professionals through his studio to honour the rich heritage of the city's action and kung fu films. Established in 2022, the New Era Martial Club in Quarry Bay offers the public a place to try seemingly dangerous movie stunts in a safe setting and allows Pong to share his know-how with aspiring action performers. 'Our primary mission is to promote and cultivate a new generation of Hong Kong martial artists and to make them become more aware of Hong Kong's cultural diversity, especially in Hong Kong action cinema and kung fu in general,' the 34-year-old founder of the club said, adding the group welcomed individuals of all ages and backgrounds. Hong Kong cinema is renowned for its martial arts productions over the decades, from wuxia legends to kung fu epics, featuring superstars ranging from Bruce Lee and Sammo Hung Kam-bo to Jackie Chan and Donnie Yen Ji-dan. The films of John Woo Yu-sen and wire work techniques adopted by figures such as Yuen Woo-ping in the 1980s and early 1990s also influenced Hollywood and cemented Hong Kong's legacy as a powerhouse of action filmmaking. Pong's passion for action cinema was ignited in childhood, largely through watching the movies of his parents, Chin Siu-ho and Sharon Kwok Sau-wan, as well as his uncle, Chin Ka-lok. The Chins are both renowned martial arts actors and action choreographers in the city.

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