The American action movies of the 1980s and ’90s could be cheesy, reactionary, and dumb, but at the same time, they could possess a brawny, brutal grace. Take Die Hard, for instance. The movie’s fun has a lot to do with form; John McTiernan’s use of camera movement, wide-angle lenses, and anamorphic lens flares, which streak horizontally across the frame, is integral to the action. The iconic shot of Bruce Willis shimmying down the ventilation duct depends on claustrophobic framing and a camera that moves at the same speed as the actor. The camera isn’t filming action; it’s partnering with Willis to create it.
The problem with most contemporary American action movies isn’t that they’re dumber than their predecessors; in fact, they’re often paralyzed by self-awareness and plot. The problem is that, in many cases, they shun the stuff that made action movies compelling in the first place.
Released earlier this year, A Good Day To Die Hard is a Die Hardmovie in name only. It contains one of the most complicated and expensive car chases in film history, though you’d hardly know it. The scene is a grab bag of contemporary action clichés—jittery handheld cameras, smash zooms, nonsensical cuts—that doesn’t work as action and isn’t artful enough to be appreciated as texture. All it takes to stage a convincing car chase is to establish some kind of relationship between the camera and the cars, which the movie doesn’t bother to do.
A Good Day To Die Hard is the worst of the recent crop of “late” action movies, nostalgia pieces in which aging action stars joke about their infirmity and obsolescence before kicking ass in the third act. If A Good Day, The Expendables 2, and The Last Stand are to be believed, the classic action genre has run its course. The movies will never be as entertaining as they once were; the best they can do is reference past triumphs.
Of course, this isn’t true. At the turn of the century, as big-budget action movies began to lose those integral relationships—between actor and camera, action and editing—a new generation of action movie directors began to appear. Inspired by John McTiernan, Walter Hill, Renny Harlin, John Woo’s Hong Kong-era films, and the Jean-Claude Van Damme/Ringo Lam collaborations, these filmmakers went to work in the direct-to-video, B-movie industry—which is where they’ve stayed ever since. Behind such unpromising titles as Undisputed III: Redemption, 12 Rounds 2: Reloaded,Universal Soldier: Regeneration, U.S. Seals II, and The Marine 3: Homefront is some of the finest action filmmaking of the past decade—and, in some cases, some of the finest filmmaking, period.
The world of direct-to-video action constitutes its own separate sub-industry, with its own stars and big-name auteurs, as well as its own industry town—Sofia, Bulgaria, which doubles (often unconvincingly) for everything from Russia to the United States. It’s where old-guard action stars who aren’t interested in parodying their screen personas—like Dolph Lundgren and Jean-Claude Van Damme—do most of their work, where pro wrestlers and martial artists get top billing, and where leads are expected to be able to do most of their own stunts.
The major hurdle for viewers isn’t access; anyone with a Netflix account can see most of the sub-genre’s major works. The problem, as is often the case in the age of instant everything, is knowing that this stuff exists. Because these films are neither shown in theaters nor on TV, they exist outside of the cultural conversation, which is still tailored to traditional models. They aren’t shown to the press, their trailers don’t run in front of new releases, and their titles and cover art are generic. Stateside, their audience is largely limited to action buffs and MMA fans.
It shouldn’t be that way. Direct-to-video action may be an isolated genre, but its strengths go beyond mere niche appeal. It’s a vibrant, interconnected scene that is continuing the traditions of the classic action movie without being caught up in reverence. In the process, it’s produced some of the most purely entertaining movies of the last few years—movies that often outclass their big-budget counterparts.
Take, for example, one of DTVA’s most popular and prolific directors, Isaac Florentine. A martial artist by training, Florentine spent most of the ’90s as a stunt coordinator and director for the Power Rangers franchise before breaking through—or whatever the direct-to-video equivalent of “breaking through” is—with 2001’s U.S. Seals II. Since then, he’s amassed a cult following thanks to an appreciative style, founded on his experience in stunts and martial arts, that uses wide-angle lenses to emphasize the way that the performers move through, or dominate, a space. His handheld cameras are choreographed with the action, emphasizing force and momentum.
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