Boxing and Martial Arts in the Movies

Budo Journeyman had an entertaining post on boxing and martial arts as portrayed in movies. Below are some excepts. The original may be read here, where there are lot of clips that you may enjoy.

 

Boxing.

Below is a list of the main themes encountered in boxing movies. But bear in mind that boxing on film has probably the longest history in cinema. Ideal for the silent era, because language is not needed to explain the drama (very early documentary movies feature famous boxing matches).

First theme:

The Underdog.

Pitched against the injustices of society, whether it’s race or class, or the wrong side of the tracks; the ‘zero to hero’ story always has appeal; it offers hope to even the most downtrodden.

Notice how many boxing movies come out of America, clearly it taps into the myth of the American Dream. You could start with Rocky (Stallone) and carry all the way through to the ‘Cinderella Man’ (Russell Crowe), a biopic where the underdog theme is really larded on.

Probably the most famous non-boxing scene from a boxing movie, every line quotable. Great acting ‘On the Waterfront’ 1954, Marlon Brando and Rod Steiger in the back of a taxi.

Second theme:

Obsessions and consequences.

Tragic individuals and catastrophic results.

Probably the most gritty story rendered on to screen is that of Jake LaMotta in the movie ‘Raging Bull’, artfully told by Martin Scorcese. A true-life story of how LaMotta’s urge to make a success of his life and career, results in human carnage, in terms of relationships and family.

LaMotta played by De Niro; strong stuff, not pleasant.

We also need to consider how neither LaMotta nor the fictional Rocky Balboa are blessed with high intelligence; but that seems okay in boxing movies, where philosophy never really gets a look in (unlike martial arts movies). You don’t need deep thinking to understand a boxing match.

Theme three:

Violence packaged for the public in the name of sport.

Naturally, everyone pretty much understands the rules and objectives of a boxing match. Consider also how the contest and the drama is all conveniently contained in a small space; no need for long rolling tracking shots to follow the action. Compared to other action movies, this makes things so much easier to manage.

Also, the narrative on every boxing movie is split into two zones; inside the ring and outside the ring. The viewer unconsciously understands this, and accepts it unconditionally.

We also tolerate the brutality of the ring, no matter how graphic. Example; ‘Raging Bull’ was a movie shot almost entirely in black and white, but it didn’t lessen the gore-factor. In fact, it enhanced it.

The next theme:

Masculinity, and, a place for women?.

There are women’s boxing movies, but they are quite rare (think of Clint Eastwood’s ‘Million Dollar Baby’). Decades ago, the idea was totally unthinkable. There have been combat sports movies with women as the central protagonists; recently ‘Tatami’ 2023, a judo movie which is worth watching, for many reasons, cerebral, cultural and political, and then there’s the judo.

From the male perspective there are often very positive themes of honour, duty and responsibility, as well as sportsmanship (there is also pressure against corruption).

A quick mention of bare-knuckle, whether historical or not. (But, let’s put aside anything with Brad Pitt in it).

My go-to examples for historical bare knuckles fighting are; the short section in Robert Downey Jnr’s ‘Sherlock Holmes’.

And, the not very successful, ‘Prizefighter, The Life of Jem Belcher’, 2022. The Americans don’t seem to have an interest in these stories, leaving it up to the Europeans, despite having their own pantheon of fighters from the bare-knuckles age. I suspect that across the Atlantic everything has to hook on the myth of the, previously mentioned, ‘Great American Dream’. Europe and the UK tend to be more historically nuanced.

Comparison with martial arts movies.

Now, on to my main objective.

The common ground:

· Discipline and grind (Rocky chasing chickens and Shaolin types carrying buckets up steps).

· Underdog tales in both genres. It taps into something fundamentally human.

· Final climactic showdown. Think ‘hall of mirrors’ in ‘Enter the Dragon’ and any Rocky movie.

All of the above are found in martial arts and boxing movies, but…

The real differences:

· Martial arts movies don’t go for the same grit as boxing movies. They are more about grace and aesthetics.

· Superhuman potential is really ramped-up in martial arts tales. The bar is set really high. With boxing it tends to be grind and muscle, and, dare I say it; more realism?

· Endurance versus self-actualisation and philosophy. Eastern religions and disciplines very much guide the martial arts storylines. While in the world of boxing, it tends to be just doggedly staying in the fight and clawing your way out of poverty etc.

· With boxing, the themes tend towards Western individualism, while the Eastern traditions lean heavily into collectivism, even heritage or ancestor worship.

· Technical aesthetics: In boxing it’s the close-up toughness of the brawl. While in martial arts movies we find the viewpoint is pulled back away from the action, so we can appreciate the artistry and the flair of the fighters.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two Different Ways of Teaching the Art

There was an interest post at Applied Methods regarding the teaching karate formally in a school, and also outside of a commercial school. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

When I first arrived in the United States, I was struck by the sheer scale of the martial arts landscape. Coming from the UK, my formative years of training and teaching were spent in the tradition of the rented hall instructor. We packed our gear into the boots of our cars and drove to drafty church halls, local sports centers, and sometimes schools. We set up, we trained, we packed up, and we went home. A permanent, dedicated facility was a rare luxury.

When I eventually became part of a storefront dojo here in the US, it felt like a significant milestone. In a culture that often values a commercial footprint as a visible marker of achievement, having a permanent mat and a sign on the window felt like validation that I had finally “arrived”.

A few years later, the disruption of the COVID-19 pandemic forced a total re-evaluation. Like many instructors, the financial realities of that period eventually led me to close our doors. Today, my teaching happens on a much smaller scale - with a number of dedicated students training in a home garden dojo.

It is easy to view a shift like that through a negative lens. When you look around and see thriving commercial schools on every other street corner, modern metrics can quietly trick us into measuring our worth as educators by square footage, student rosters, and profit margins.

But as the dust settled, I began to see the transition differently. Losing the storefront did not diminish the transmission of the art. If anything, it returned the training to something closer to its historical roots.

 

The Cradle of Karate

 Below is an interesting documentary on the history and development of karate on Okinawa.

 

 

Japanese Sword Documentary

Below is an excerpt from a post at The Budo Journeyman, which is a review of a 2024 documentary about Japanese swords and the West, entitled The Sun's Shadow. The full post may be read here.

This is certainly not like the usual documentaries about culture and heritage based in Japan, e.g. the ones that National Geographic produce. Neither is it a bite-sized piece in a travelogue episode by a celebrity who happens to be visiting Japan. This is what makes it so intriguing.

With ‘The Sun’s Shadow’, over three episodes, we are introduced to a range of enthusiasts who have pitched their all into their particular shared obsession – the Japanese sword.

What is surprising is that contemporary Japanese sword makers barely feature, these are all Americans. I know that Europeans will raise a quizzical eyebrow at anything the Americans throw themselves into with their body and soul…. I certainly did; but even half way through episode one, I was totally convinced they’d got it right.

Admittedly, this series ticked many of my boxes; not only traditional Japanese martial arts, but Japanese culture, history and the world of crafted bespoke artefacts. I found myself salivating at the lingering shots of antique and contemporary Nihonto, beautiful understated sword furniture and wrappings, yes, sword porn.

But the characters… including grizzled elderly craftsmen, working away in backwoods forges, enthusing about types of steel, temperatures, carbon content and quenching, totally captivating. They were pushing beyond the boundaries that historical Japanese swordsmiths were struggling to reach, even seeming to recreate techniques the Japanese thought had died out centuries ago.

However, this was not approached with Western arrogance, but more with reverence and full respect for what these earlier smiths had achieved.

Two other aspects came over strongly:

Cultural understanding.

The American swordsmiths were not just focussed on the sweat and grind of the forge; they were all clear in their own heads that Japanese culture has a depth that must be really worked at for Westerners to get a grasp of what the real background is.

Swords as practical objects.

Although we are no longer in the age where people swing swords at each other, either one-to-one or in massed armed conflict, a sword loses its identity and status if it is just considered as a decorative artefact, or a historical curiosity. (or even an investment antique). By including in the documentary those individuals who, for various reasons, feel they are custodians of an uninterrupted tradition that includes the art of swordsmanship, this adds real value to the enterprise. It tightly ties the craftsmen of the forge to the craftsmen of the Dojo, in a line that stretches back into history.

 

 

 

 

The Great Hammers of Xingyiquan

 

 

Warrior Monks of Japan

Zen's Sekai thought this  link would be of interest. It's at article that appeared at BudoJapan about the history of the storied warrior monks. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

Introduction

Esoteric Buddhism, known as “Mikkyo” in Japanese, had a profound influence on the development of Japanese martial arts. Infusing ritual and philosophy into warrior culture, Mikkyo created a fusion where spiritual practices and martial training became intertwined. This integration gave rise to a paradox: warrior monks caught between Buddhist precepts of nonviolence and the brutal realities of feudal Japan. In this article, we explore Mikkyo’s esoteric practices and how they shaped the evolution of sohei (warrior monks), samurai, kobudo (traditional martial arts), and ninjutsu.

Part 1: The Rise of Mikkyo and the Warrior Monks

The roots of Mikkyo trace back to the Shingon and Tendai sects of Buddhism. Shingon was brought to Japan by Kukai in 806 CE, following his studies in China under the esoteric master Huiguo. After receiving full transmission and authorization to teach, Kukai returned with sacred texts, mandalas, and ritual implements, eventually founding Japan’s first Shingon temple, Kongobu-ji, on Mt. Koya.

Around the same time, Saicho returned from China with the teachings of the Tendai school and established Enryaku-ji Temple on Mt. Hiei. Situated near Kyoto, the temple was favored by the Imperial Court, which helped it expand into a sprawling complex of nearly 3,000 buildings. Together, these mountaintop temples of Shingon and Tendai have remained influential monastic centers for over a thousand years.

However, the generous court donations that Enryaku-ji received came with strings attached. The Imperial Court felt this gave them the right to appoint the temple’s next leader. When Enryaku-ji’s monks refused a court-appointed zasu (abbot), samurai troops were sent in to enforce their decision. The temple yielded, but resentment simmered.

Tension over court appointments continued to rise until the year 970, when Ryogen—Enryaku-ji’s leader—made the decision to create a fighting force to protect its interests. This act contradicted a policy Ryogen had issued earlier that same year, forbidding monks from carrying weapons or engaging in violence. His reversal of policy is made clear in the Sanka Yoki Senryaku (Abridged Records of Mount Hiei), which quotes Ryogen as saying: “On Mount Hiei, in order to guard the true Dharma, to secure oil for lamps, and to defend the temple lands, warrior practitioners are needed. Therefore, monks who are foolish and have the least amount of talent should be assigned to that role.” So when the sohei system first began, it was the monks least suited to quiet monastic life who were chosen to become warrior monks.

The next time the Imperial Court attempted to appoint someone they didn’t like, Enryaku-ji’s warrior monks marched into Kyoto to protest. The Court called in samurai troops for support and a bloody battle began—but this time, it was the monks who were victorious. A document known as the “Taiheiki” captures their defiance: “When tyrants disturb the land, we borrow divine power to drive them back.”

Among these warrior monks, the most legendary was Benkei—a figure woven from both fact and folklore. He began his training at Enryaku-ji Temple but was eventually expelled for misconduct. After wandering the mountains, he took up residence in an old, abandoned shrine that lacked a temple bell. Known for his size and strength, Benkei is said to have stolen a massive bell from Miidera Temple—Enryaku-ji’s main rival. According to legend, he dragged the bell across the mountains to his new home. But when he rang the bell, it would only make a strange sound, as if moaning to return to Miidera.

During the Edo period (1603-1868), theater performances became popular and Benkei came to be portrayed as both fierce and funny. The idea eventually emerged that Benkei had a weak spot—his shin, a spot so tender that even Benkei would cry if struck there. This sensitive area was called “Benkei-no-nakidokoro” (Benkei’s crying spot) and the term is still used today whenever someone happens to hit their shin.

In contrast to Enryaku-ji, Mt. Koya’s Shingon temple was less politically active and never developed warrior monks. However, the Shingon sect’s Shingi branch developed its own militant force at Negoro-ji Temple. Around 1560, the Jesuit missionary Gaspor Vilela visited the temple and described what he saw in his travel diaries: “Their swords cut through armor like tender meat. Their training was intense and the death of one of their members during practice was met without emotion.”

 

 

 

 

A New Arena

Over at Zen's Sekai, there was an interesting post about how with modern times and as we age, the "arena" in which we study and practice martial arts changes. The full post may be read here. An excerpt is below.

When the Test Changes

May 1, 2026 ~ Zen

---

Martial Training, Shakuhachi, and Takuhatsu in a Modern World

A thought recently surfaced during practice:

If this were a hundred years ago, the value of my martial training would have been tested through health and combat. Today, as an active takuhatsu komusō, that same training reveals itself through health, sound, and daily life.

The realization was simple but clarifying:
the test did not disappear … the arena changed.

---

Martial Arts Were Never About Forms

Historically, internal martial arts were not judged by lineage charts or aesthetic purity. They were judged by outcomes:

• Could the body endure hardship?
• Could it respond under pressure?
• Could it remain functional across years, not seasons?

Combat was one arena where truth appeared quickly. Health was another, slower one. In both cases, incorrect training revealed itself mercilessly.

Today, for most of us, that arena no longer exists.

But the internal requirements, unity, listening, adaptability, non-waste, remain exactly the same.

---

A Modern Constellation of Training

My own practice includes:

• Hunyuan Taiji (24)
• Wu Taiji (24)
• Yang Taiji (24, non-government)
• Gao-style Baguazhang
• Taiji Mantis

On paper, this looks eclectic. In the body, it is cohesive.

Each practice trains a specific internal function, and together they form a complete organism rather than a collection of techniques.

 

 

Thoughts on Lineage

Over at Thoughts on Tai Chi, there was a good post about lineage; what it does and does not mean. The full post may be read here. An except is below.

What exactly does it mean with a lineage in Tai Chi? And does training within a lineage mean to learn a more complete art, and does it lead to a fuller understanding of Tai Chi Chuan?

Ideally, it should. A lineage means that all of the knowledge in the same style, have been preserved and standardized by the founder of the lineage (or by the founder of a branch of a larger, older lineage). Thus, lineage is something style-specific, and this is maybe my main critique of “lineages”, that is cements the idea that there are “styles” in Tai Chi, something I personally disagree with on a fundamental level, even though I accept that “style” is generally accepted in the Tai Chi community.

What is positive and on the pro side with a lineage, is that you, can study an at least somewhat complete curriculum, and that the standard of what is taught in the schools of the lineage is the same and regulated. With other words – you can usually expect some kind of standard.

However, what is taught through lineages is not always as complete as claimed. All schools, styles and branches have their own limitations, though “lineage” might be the best example of a real problem of modern Tai Chi teaching, though their teachers often claim that what they teach is the superior school of Tai Chi. Why?

First, let me paraphrase something a martial artist said. Someone I have great respect for expressed himself very well when he said, well, I think it was something like this:

When you are looking at a performance of a high-level martial artist, you are only watching the results of that person’s, training. You are not seeing the training, how the person got to that level.

It sounds very simple and obvious, but there’s something important to learn here. Namely – that you don’t know exactly how a person achieved a certain skill just by looking at him or her. So what does this mean? Well, the problem is that when people associate a person with a style or lineage, they are mostly making assumptions based on simplifications, a simplified view on how to reach a certain point of development and achieve skills.

You could take a look at many practitioners, teachers and masters and and examine their backgrounds to understand better what I men. Let’s simplify the problem with taking myself as an example. So now, if you know how a typical Yang style Tai Chi curriculum usually looks like, and I said that I was a Yang Style practitioner, you would associate the skills that I myself can show and demonstrate, were developed by studying Yang Tai Chi and doing the typical training in this style. So, here immediately, you would do a mistake if you thought that I have achieved all of my skill only through typical Yang style practice.

By assuming I am mainly a Yang style practitioner, you woudn’t take the full extent of my background in consideration. You would not take into account such things as that I have learned things from other styles, or through cross-training in different internal arts, or by meeting up with different practitioners from various styles and schools. And you would not take into account that I’ve read tons of martial arts books and adapted methods and techniques from other schools into my own Tai Chi.

 

 

Kata and Flow Drills

There was an interesting post over at Budo Journeyman about distilling drills from kata. The full post may be read here. Below is an excerpt.

Chiefly about Naihanchi, but can apply to other scenarios.

Introduction.

It could be argued that any kata sequence can be turned into a useful paired drill, but it depends on how contrived and prolonged it is.

Back in the 1990’s I had an itch I felt compelled to scratch. It was all about Naihanchi kata. I just found it perplexing and frustrating; I honestly didn’t get it.

Clearly, in Wado karate it held a very important position. It wasn’t just an add-on, an oddity, but instead had a central position in the wider curriculum. However, anything beyond ‘just do it, then do it again’ was just not delivering for me.

I pushed into every available corner to try and figure it out. I consulted experts from other systems (I still have a box file of letters, printed out email replies and photocopies sent to me by the then leading scholars). But, the pieces still didn’t sit together easily.

It very quickly became apparent that any explorations in the direction of how the techniques from Naihanchi actually functioned at a practical level, just led me into a quagmire of reverse engineering.

Reverse Engineering.

Definition: ‘Reverse engineering (also known as backwards engineering) is a process or method through which one attempts to understand through deductive reasoning how a previously made device, process, system, or piece of software accomplishes a task with very little (if any) insight into exactly how it does so’.

I had a very interesting and honest email exchange with an expert in the field of kata interpretation (I won’t name him here). I asked him about his published applications of Naihanchi (Tekki Shodan)? He was very open with me; he admitted that he used the process of reverse engineering and said he had applied a ‘bunch of stuff he learned from Aikido and Judo’ to come up with some of his conclusions.

The problem seems to be that, apart from the above-mentioned researcher, nobody wants to admit to reverse engineering, because in doing so they lose any claim to a timeline that goes all the way back to 19^th century Okinawa, or maybe beyond. With reverse engineered kata ‘authenticity’ starts and ends with the instructor who created it.

Oldest version?

In the process of my research, I came to the conclusion that the nearest I was ever going to get to an oldest original version of Naihanchi was from Okinawan Shorin Ryu. But even there, nobody seemed to be prepared to put forward an explanation of what was really going on with kata. (Motobu was an interesting case, but my feelings about his interpretations was that they were idiosyncratic to him).

To continue the story. Curiosity got the better of me when I stumbled across an explanation of Naihanchi that was just too intriguing to ignore…

Nathan Johnson and his book, ‘Barefoot Zen’. Naihanchi as a flow drill.

I read the book first, before I visited Nathan Johnson’s Dojo in Southampton. The actual trip down was the first weekend in June 2001.

(His organisation is ‘Ko-do Ryu’ or ‘Zen Shorin-Do’, a synthesis of different stylistic approaches).

I had previously spoken to Nathan on the phone before I decided to drive down from Essex to Hampshire and experience this for myself.