Regardless of your feelings about action cinema’s most blatant act of cultural appropriation, there’s something deeply impressive about the fact that this legendarily childish franchise somehow made it to five installments. However, techinally, the fifth outing of caucasian martial artists pounding seven bells of crap out of dudes in various colours of ninja garb isn’t actually an American Ninja entry at all and actually was shot under the typically patriotic title of American Dragon despite still starring American Ninja back up lead, David Bradley.
It’s not even subtle, as this textbook case of franchise extension by the Cannon Group now means that Bradley suddenly has a completely different character name within a franchise he’s already appeared in twice before!
Anyway, as we stiltedly roundhouse our way to the end of a franchise that was arguably five films too long, prepare yourself for yet another procession of Z-list, Bond villain wannabes, flamboyantly clad super ninja and a nefarious plan so ropey, it feels like it could be thwarted by the Paw Patrol during a day off…
Joe Kastle (not Sean Davidson, okay?) is yet another American ninja who comes complete with a tragic back story and an inexplicable ability to be superior to be ninja from any other country on earth, but suddenly a task is placed into his hands that even his talents will find tough to handle. Seemingly wandering in directly from the Karate Kid franchise comes Pat Morita who fancies a vacation and therefore dumps Hiro, his precocious, twelve year old grandnephew, into Joe’s care before exiting stage left.
While Joe now has to look after a know-it-all kid who has a Game Gear practically grafted to his hands, we segue into yet another threadbare bout of international terrorism as the well-meaning Dr. Strobel has found his invention of a new type of insecticide co-opted by the villainous Mr. Glock. Despite having his own hotel, a selection of henchmen and an army of ninja at his disposal, Glock apparently is still strapped for cash enough to force the kidnapped scientist to turn his invention into nerve gas for a Venezuelan despot. In an effort to convince him to test the poison on a whimpering puppy, the order is given to kidnap Strobel’s daughter, Lisa, in order to provide some puppy harming leverage, but unbeknownst to them, Lisa is currently throwing herself at an American Ninja and is midway through a date once she’s snatched.
Next thing you know, Joe and Hiro are giving chase and find themselves fighting ninja all the way from America to Venezuela as they develop a solid, brotherly bond by repeatedly battering assassins with nunchucks. Can Joe teach his young charge the way of the ninja in time to square up to Glock’s cape wearing, blade waving, super ninja, the Viper?
Due to its non-American Ninja origins, the fifth installment has a more kid friendly feel to it than previous films – which is a strange point to make when you realise that the average American Ninja movie feels like they were scripted by a gang of over-stimulated adolescents – but in the era of Ninja Turtles and countless, direct-to-video, entries of the Three Ninja Kids franchise, cramming in an unwanted child sidekick was par for the course.
However, despite being initially as punchable as the vast array of ineffectual ninja he’s about to help annihilate, Lee Reyes’ Hiro isn’t as agonisingly irritating as most random child sidekicks tend to be and his endlessly upbeat approach to repeated death attempts sure beats the kind of whining that usually emits from the brattish features of prebubesent co-stars. Weirdly enough, now that he doesn’t have to try and stand out against the wooden intensity of Michael Dudikoff or Steve James’ relentless jive talking, David Bradley looks way more comfortable with his dialogue than ever before. I mean, he’s hardly churning out the charisma levels of Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan or even – dare I say it – Chuck Norris, but his back and forth with Hiro could have been a lot worse. Plus it helps that Hiro is actually useful, even if his ability to instantly pick up everything from flying a plane to learning ancient, secret ninja fighting skills is almost as far fetched as the villain’s plot.
Ah yes, the villains. While the bad guys in any Cannon production are hardly on the level of, say, Die Hard’s terrorists, the American Ninja movies in particular provide antagonists that even seem incompetent next to ne’er-do-wells out of a Saturday morning cartoon. On top of the wobbily accented Glock (whose real name of Clement von Franckenstein sounds way more like an outlandish, villain moniker than his screen name ever could), we have the bald, moustachioed, leering henchman known, bafflingly, as Flathead and The Viper, a ninja master who dresses like Liberace meets Dracula despite the fact that a cheap, billowing, dime store cape is probably the worst item of clothing you could possibly attempt martial arts in.
However, even more questionable than easily knock-outable ninja and the sight of Pat Morita using mystical Asian arts to casually teleport in and out of rooms in a luff of smoke like Nightcrawler from the X-Men, is the truly head scratching nature of Dr. Strobel’s invention. Despite creating an insecticide that apparently has no lasting effect on the environment, too much of it apparently proves to be deadlier than agent orange – which is probably true of any chemical now I come to think about it. However, despite the movie hyping up how lethal this compound truly is, at numerous times, the leads find themselves exposed to the stuff and yet treat it as if they’ve caught a direct spray from a malfunctioning smoke machine – and that damn puppy looks like it’s positively thriving in the noxious crap.
Still, I have to say, while American Ninja 5 is hardly a new high – or low – for a franchise that’s regularly displayed more cheese than a margarita pizza the size of a manhole cover, it’s far more watchable than any 90s Cannon movie has any right to be. Now, that’s hardly glowing praise, especially considering the fact you can actually feel it murdering your brain cells as it goes (a single viewing has eradicated at least an estimated two phone numbers from my long term memory), but for the final entry of a long running action franchise that thrived on idiocy for nearly a decade, it’s hardly a kick in the teeth.
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