Cobra Kai (parts 1-4)
Throwback nostalgia trip, or measured treatise on human nature?
Cobra Kai (2018)
Netflix; 4/5
1984 was a very good year for movies. Footloose, Romancing the Stone, Sixteen Candles, Temple of Doom, Ghostbusters, Red Dawn, The Terminator, Beverly Hills Cop, Nightmare on Elm Street, and the unforgettable Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo all hit theaters that year. And right in the middle of that summer came The Karate Kid. If any single year can be named as the genesis of current 80s nostalgia, 1984 might be it. And a few years back when that nostalgia was really taking hold and YouTube was trying to get into the original content streaming wars, their marquee debut was this show: a direct sequel series, set 30-odd years after the events of The Karate Kid (and its three sequels), and starring the same actors. With the fourth season recently released on Netflix (and a fifth promised), it’s worth taking a moment to see what we have here.
And what we have here is really impressive. All the actors are totally game, and fiercely committed to the project. William Zabka reprises his role as Johnny Lawrence, now a has-been Gen-X grump who reopens the Cobra Kai karate dojo ostensibly to teach a new generation of kids “how to be badass,” but more subtly to find redemption for his peaked-in-high-school life failures (including an estranged son). This rekindles his now-ancient rivalry with Daniel LaRusso (still played by Ralph Macchio), now a successful businessman, who responds to the re-emergence of Cobra Kai by opening his own dojo to show the kids “a better way,” though this creates friction within his own family. Delightfully retro conflict ensues (with many training montages). Many of the characters from the old 80s film franchise also reappear, either as curtain calls (Elizabeth Shue’s reappearance as Ali Mills, the girl the two men fought over in high school, is a moment of much fun) or as returning features (Martin Kove and Thomas Ian Griffith return as John Kreese and Terry Silver, the founders of Cobra Kai and principal antagonists of the whole franchise). Everyone’s still in great shape, and everyone’s having a ball.
Two important factors elevate Cobra Kai above the simple level of nostalgia trip. First, every character is being totally honest. There aren’t any mustache-twirling villains here lying to people to get ahead. While Kreese (and especially Silver) appeared in the movies as tropey embodiments of evil, both men’s motivations are explored and explained here in ways that make them less villains and more very damaged men working from a skewed vision of humanity. Silver’s presentation is cloudiest, but even he may be more mentally ill (manic-depression with a PTSD chaser) than truly sinister. Nobody involved here is truly evil, regardless of appearance. That allows the second great thing about this show to work: it’s a surprisingly deep meditation on the nature of masculinity, manhood, aggression, and violence (contained in tight and punchy 30-minute episodes). The four senseis are all trying to be the best men they know how to be and teach their codes of honor and conduct to new boys (and a couple of standout girls). The problems they face lie in their limited perspectives of what manhood is supposed to look like, and they’re all right (if incomplete). This yin-yang viewpoint split drives the show’s conflict, deepening the action of the show where it could have embraced after-school-special tropes of dastardly villains and plucky underdog heroes. If you haven’t binged this show yet, it’s well worth it.
4 stars of 5: I liked it, and there’s probably a whole life-coach course to be taught in re-watching it.