One of my top five movies is The Karate Kid, 1984, starring Ralph Macchio and Pat Morita. Ralph played the unconfident Daniel Larusso, and Pat played Kesuke Miyagi, Mr. Miyagi.  It’s one of the coolest stories because it’s aboutbelieving in yourself.

Both at the time were relative unknowns. Macchio had only acted professionally, according to IMDb, since the early 80′s. Morita had been acting since the 60′s, possibly earlier.  I do remember him as Al in the sitcom Happy Days. Mr. Miyagi was his role to play, and from the DVD extras, the voice and mannerisms came to him instantly. A sign of this was his nomination as best supporting actor both in the Academy and Golden Globe awards.

When I first heard they were remaking this, I cringed. Then I heard Jaden Smith, Will Smith’s son was starring in it.  I felt Smith was grooming his son to follow in his stardom, which is fine. And I think it worked.

Honestly, I wasn’t going to watch this.  I loved the original too much, but then I told myself, “I gotsa support my Asian brothah, Jackie Chan!”  If that were true, then I would have watched The Spy Next Door.

I’ve always been a proponent of knowing why you like certain things, and The Karate Kid, 1984 was one. I’ve watched the movie dozens upon dozens of times.  Analyzed it as much as I could. And my most favorite part about the story is the relationship between the student and teacher. The relationship has a rocky start since Mr. Miyagi is cold and distant in the beginning. But as Daniel’s needs become apparent, Mr. Miyagi makes the reluctant decision to teach him, putting him through day-long chores, which are really karate lessons. You can feel that their relationship is real.

Remember “Wax on, wax off”?

The newly released version replaces Daniel with Dre, played by Smith, and Mr. Miyagi with Mr. Han, played by Chan.

The feel of an intimate relationship is what’s missing from The Karate Kid, 2010. Both Smith and Chan act well, but their relationship never blossoms. We see there is supposed to be a connection when Mr. Han gently pats a snoozing Dre, or when Dre realizes that taking his jacket off, throwing it on the ground, picking it up, putting it back on a thousand times is a karate lesson…I mean a kung fu lesson.  But I’m writing about The Karate Kid. Ah…huh…anyways…

The awe, the holy crap I am learning karate…argh…I mean kung fu…wasn’t totally realized. And it’s in that moment, in the original, is where their relationship solidifies from mere student/teacher…

to mentor/believer…

and moves on to BFFs…

Another problem I had with the movie was personal.  I’ve seen the original too many times.  I know it too well.  And they really didn’t do anything new with the story.  Well…there’s new names, new actors, better martial arts choreography, and two big names playing the main parts, and China, but that’s it.  It wasn’t really a remake as much of a regurgitate.

A lot of the dialogue mirrored/copied the original.  The story structure and plot mirrored/copied the original.  There was a moment in the movie where I told myself, here comes the humanizing of Mr. Han, jokingly.  Then that scene came when Mr. Han shows Dre, and the audience, that he’s human.  I often found myself comparing the two movies.  And I don’t think I would have had the dialogue, scenes, and when they happened didn’t mirror/copy the original so closely.

One last thing.  Macchio played the role well, swimming in and out of self-realization and fear.  In the last climatic fight, Daniel-san’s leg was kicked, rendering unusable, and Macchio sold it.  When the same thing happens to Dre, Smith doesn’t sell the injury at all, walking as if he stubbed his toe.  Despite acting well, Smith didn’t have opposing sides of fear and self-realization, something that would have given the character dimension.

“[Is] unacting acting, or acting unacting…” -Bruce Lee

Objectively, the movie worked, albeit without the relationship. The audience cheered the ending.  Most were too young to have seen the original.  It’s one thing to remain faithful to the original, like translating comic books to the silver screen.  It’s another to copy the original.

Onions.  They give you bad breath but adds flavor to the food we eat.  Have you ever peeled one?  Peel the rough skin and reveal a fresh moist layer.  Peel that and there’s another silky layer.  On and on.

In writing my book, I purposefully laid in layers to give it a sense of depth.  On the surface, it’s a fast-paced, action packed, page turner (damn, I’m conceited).  There’s sex.  There’s mayhem.  Want betrayal?  You got it.  Want love?  You got it.

Slice under that superficial layer and you’ll find a deeper understanding of the story.  Billowing clouds may reflect a character’s painful conflict within.  Heat from a fire reflecting off someone’s clothes may echo the character’s anger.  Wind may symbolize a character’s dominance over their lands.

In 1954 a renowned filmmaker released what’s considered one of the best films ever made:  Seven Samurai.  It’s about a Japanese farming village, constantly beseiged and pillaged by an army of bandits, recruits seven independent samurai to defend it.

Akira Kurosawa’s films have influenced great directors such as Steven Spielberg and George Lucas.  In fact, Star Wars was heavily influenced by The Hidden Fortress, a Kurosawa film.

I have to admit, when I watched Seven Samurai, I was like, “What da hell?”

I was caught off guard by the soundtrack, pacing and language (despite my slanty eyes, I don’t speak Japanese).  I did drag myself through the length of the film, all three hours and forty-five minutes.

Luckily, I had bought The Criterion Collection of the film.  There are tons of lectures on the DVD discs, and I listened to all of them, wanting to learn everything I could.  What I learned had a profound effect on me and my writing.  Or is it my writing and I?

Consolidating Kurosawa’s genius would be difficult and insulting.  But here I go.  He controlled everything because everything in his films had a purpose, a reason.  Every word, action, shadow, even the swipe or fading to the next scene meant something.  If someone broke wind, there was a purpose.  Unless it was silent but deadly.

The most interesting character is Kikuchiyo, played by Toshiro Mifune.  He doesn’t exactly look like a samurai, nor does he walk like one.  So is he a samurai?  He lugs his extra long sword on his shoulder instead of holstering it around his waist like the other six.  What does this say about Kikuchiyo?  Is he compensating for something?  Or is there a deeper story within the character?

In his dramatic scene, Kikuchiyo admits he was once a villager and somehow found his way to samuraism. (Is that even a word?)  This didn’t happen in those days of Japan.  It was difficult enough to move up the ranks of the samurai.  And admitting you were once a villager was like admitting you’re a woman, when you’re really a man, but without the operation.

The lectures in the special features stated Kikuchiyo symbolized the filmmaker, Kurosawa.  His views were somehow reminiscent of Kikuchiyo and his rise in society and that Japan had moved into the modern era.  This is further symbolized when each samurai is killed by a modern weapon:  the gun.  Once the villagers were saved, they continued their lives giving any thought to their saviors.  We see the surviving samurai walk from the cemetery where their comrades were buried and out to the horizon, never to return.

I rewatched the film many times, and I grew to love it. The story density is amazing.

It’s interesting to see how we clamor to the magazine stands to find out the latest on celebrities.  What atrocities have they committed?  But if we were truly curious about who they were, all we’d have to do is turn to their art.

For art is the language of the soul.

Anthony Hopkins is an Academy Award winner. Benicio Del Toro is an Academy Award winner. Emily Blunt is a Golden Globe winner. Hugo Weaving is an AFI Award winner. Director Joe Johnson is an Academy Award winner.

When they were brought together to make The Wolfman, given the technology today, it should have been one great remake.

Somehow the story was devoured. Put in place was a lot of shock value. Hey, here’s a really fast werewolf. Ooh, captivating. A damsel in distress.  Holy cow crap, Batman!  How about some gruesome murders. Ah, can’t call it a remake without reusing blood gushing murders. How unexpected. Needed? Yes. But it wasn’t done creatively. It’s one thing to be predictable. It’s another thing to know what’ll happen at the beginning of the movie.

The special effects were not over used.  A positive.

Netflix. Man do I love Neflix. Want to get rid of your cable bill? Get Netflix. It has TV shows, movies, DVDs, Bluray, and a lot of the content can be streamed online.

As I was browsing, I’d run across Dexter. The hero is a serial killer who kills serial killers.  And he’s likable.  You’ll find yourself rooting for him. I haven’t read the novel it’s based on, but once I watched the first show, I was hooked. I don’t like horror much but watch it on occasion.

One thing Dexter has very little of is shock value. But the tension and conflict is high in each episode. And it’s not predictable. For the most part anyway. The episodic stories and the overall story of Dex was amazing. There were story lines that ran the length of the season, and, more importantly, story lines that ran the length of each episode. Amazingly, it all coalesced together nicely, fitting together like puzzle pieces.

Each character is wondefully flushed out. Each one has their own goals, strengths, and issues. The backstory for each character is spread over each episode, and the season. And the growth, or deterioation, was well done.

Then, when I found out the first season was based on the book, Darkly Dreaming Dexter by Jeff Lindsay, I was ecstatic.  Somehow, within me, I was hoping it was based on the book.  The storyline just worked so well for me.  Every plot element circled on itself, playing an essential part to the story.  Shouldn’t that be the case?  Or else why not just eliminate it since it doesn’t serve the story or plot?

But The Wolfman was missing the essential element of story.  And the plot, though obvious, tried to circle back, but it just wasn’t done well.  I wasn’t rooting for any of the characters, nor did I care for any of them.  In fact, if the damsel was the werewolf who caused the initial murders, it might have been a better movie.

Maybe Dexter should go after the Wolfman.