Q&A with David Da Silva, Author of Martial Arts in Cinema Volume 2: The Golden Era (1988-1997)
1. What made you decide to focus specifically on the 1988-1997 period for this second volume?
That decade represents the absolute explosion of martial arts into mainstream Hollywood. After the groundwork laid by Bruce Lee in the 1970s and the Hong Kong wave, you suddenly had Steven Seagal and Jean-Claude Van Damme becoming genuine box office titans. But more importantly, this era saw martial arts infiltrate every action film: whether it was Sylvester Stallone in Rambo III, Mel Gibson in Lethal Weapon, or even Arnold Schwarzenegger in Commando. It wasn't just genre films anymore; it became the dominant language of cinematic combat. Plus, the VHS boom created this incredible ecosystem of direct-to-video martial arts films that shaped a generation of viewers. I wanted to capture that perfect storm.
2. How does this volume differ from your first book?
Volume 1 was really about the foundations: Asian martial arts cinema, its pioneers, and how Hollywood began importing those techniques. Volume 2 is about assimilation and stardom. I dive deep into how two very different martial artists (Seagal with his aikido and Van Damme with his kickboxing/dance hybrid) became global icons. But I also expand the lens significantly: tournament films, the video game connection, the VHS direct-to-video market, and extensive interviews with the people who actually made these films. The first book was historical archaeology; this one is more like cultural anthropology.
3. You interviewed an incredible roster of people for this book. Was there one conversation that particularly surprised you?
Honestly, several. But Enrico Rossi's testimony about Bloodsport stands out. Here's someone who was there as a ten-year-old kid (Mark DiSalle's mentee) witnessing Van Damme's audition, the editing battles. He had never spoken publicly before. Then there's Mohammed Qissi's incredibly candid interview about his friendship and eventual rupture with Van Damme. The emotional rawness of his account, describing how he was broke after Kickboxer's success while Van Damme became a superstar; that's the kind of material you can't fabricate. And Marshall Teague telling me about accidentally breaking Patrick Swayze's ribs with a real piece of wood during Road House? That's cinema history. The exchanges with behind-the-scenes figures, such as producer Moshe Diamant or producer Paul Maslak (who also wrote the preface), are fascinating. They reveal the backstage stories of creating classics like Double Impact and discovering talents like Cynthia Rothrock. I also loved talking with the major composers of martial arts films from that era, like Paul Hertzog, David Michael Frank, and Gary Chang. I think even the biggest fans of the genre will still learn something new from this second volume, given how much new information and never-before-told anecdotes it contains.
4. You devote enormous space to Steven Seagal and Jean-Claude Van Damme. Why these two specifically?
Because they represent two completely different paradigms of martial arts stardom. Seagal brought aikido (this mysterious, defensive Japanese martial art) to American screens for the first time. He was packaged by Michael Ovitz as this quasi-mythical figure, and I deconstruct that creation process. Van Damme, meanwhile, was pure kinetic charisma: classical dance meets karate meets bodybuilding. But more than their fighting styles, I was fascinated by their trajectories: Seagal's deliberate self-sabotage in pursuit of "serious" acting, and Van Damme's hubris in demanding 20 million like Jim Carrey. Both crashed spectacularly, but for different reasons. They're case studies in how Hollywood manufactures and destroys action stars.
5. The book has very detailed fight scene analyses. How do you approach breaking down something as visceral as a martial arts sequence?
I treat fight choreography as a language with its own grammar. I'm looking at shot duration, camera angles, editing patterns, the use of slow motion, sound design: how all these elements construct meaning. For example, in Seagal's Out for Justice bar fight, I analyze how the three-shot structure (attack-defense-counterattack) creates this pedagogical, almost educational quality. With Van Damme's "double punch" (double cut) editing in Bloodsport, I trace how that technique intensifies visceral impact. I also compare Hollywood approaches with Hong Kong methods: Jackie Chan's wide shots versus American rapid cutting. It's film studies, but applied to punches and kicks.
6. You discuss the "VHS era" extensively. Why was that market so crucial for martial arts cinema?
Video stores were the true pantheon of the genre. Theatrical releases were dominated by studio blockbusters, but the direct-to-video market allowed actors like Don "The Dragon" Wilson, Billy Blanks, Jeff Wincott, and Cynthia Rothrock to build careers and fanbases. These films were often shot in weeks for tiny budgets, but they reached millions of viewers who rented them repeatedly. I grew up in that era. I remember the excitement of discovering some obscure martial arts film on a shelf. That ecosystem sustained the genre when theatrical interest waned, and it created this whole parallel canon of cult classics.
7. There's a fascinating section on video games and their relationship with martial arts films. Can you expand on that?
The cross-pollination was extraordinary. Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat became massive film adaptations, but the influence ran deeper. When The Matrix arrived in 1999, you had this perfect synthesis: Keanu Reeves "downloading" martial arts from a computer program, while the film itself borrowed from Hong Kong choreography and video game aesthetics. Larry Kasanoff, who produced Mortal Kombat, told me he always envisioned it as "a cross between Star Wars and Enter the Dragon", not just a game adaptation but a transmedia phenomenon. The article I quote from Leon Hunt about The Matrix linking beat-'em-up games with Hollywood star transformation really crystallizes this.
8. You include interviews with people like Tom Muzila and Paul Hertzog who worked behind the scenes. What do their perspectives add?
They reveal the craft and the politics. Tom Muzila, Seagal's bodyguard and fight coordinator, describes how Seagal choreographed fights on the spot but needed karate expertise to make them camera-ready. Paul Hertzog, composer for Bloodsport and Kickboxer, explains how he mathematically mapped music tempos to edit points in fight scenes (sometimes changing tempo every beat). These are the invisible artisans who shaped what audiences experienced. The book is full of fascinating interviews with editors, producers, fight choreographers... People who don't often share their experiences in this field, yet they play a vital role and have some truly fascinating insights to offer!
9. The book doesn't shy away from controversy (Seagal's alleged mafia connections, Van Damme's ego, the racial stereotypes in Bloodsport). Why include these?
Because sanitizing history serves no one. When Adé Eric Neff, who played the "African fighter" doing monkey-style kung fu in Bloodsport, tells me he "sank in his seat" watching the final film and ultimately left acting because of the stereotypes he was offered, that's essential testimony. When Steven Seagal's own screenwriter describes him as "an arrogant jerk" who evolved from left-wing protester to conservative provocateur, that's character development. These aren't hit pieces; they're contextualizations. The genre existed within real Hollywood, with real power dynamics, real exploitation, and real creative conflicts.
10. What can readers expect from Volume 3?
The next volume will explore the evolution of the genre in the 21st century, since Jet Li's success and Jackie Chan's rise to fame in the West to modern sagas like John Wick, as well as the impact of DTV/VOD films, featuring a foreword by director Isaac Florentine. I am also studying the emergence of “wire-fu” (fight scenes using wires) in Hollywood with The Matrix. And many more interviews and surprises !