‘Warrior’ Review: Thrilling Reminder of What it Means To Be a Man
by Steven CrowderMy followers on twitter know I’m an avid follower of mixed martial arts (MMA). As a pathetic attempt at a submission grappler myself, it would be reasonable to assume that I’d be first in line to see “Warrior.” Truth be told, I avoid MMA movies like the plague. Prior to this film, the MMA genre was relegated to nothing more than straight-to-DVD filler whose voluminous presence in the bargain bin was surpassed only by the increasingly fluorescent Steven Seagal. I’d hate to see the world’s purest sport sullied by the likes of Degrassi dropouts and pretty boy soap stars, and so I was dragged to “Warrior” kicking and screaming.
Not only did I leave the multiplex misty-eyed and exhausted from the film’s emotional gut punch… but more strikingly, for the first time in a very long while, Hollywood made me feel truly proud to be a man.
Much like the sport of MMA, men in modern America are often misunderstood. One needs look no further than the hilariously ignorant review of “Warrior” from Andrew O’Hehir of Salon.com in which he describes MMA as “a theatrical hybrid of boxing, wrestling and kung fu.”
Ummm, no.
Firstly, Kung Fu plays little role in MMA aside from that of a debunked joke that died in 1993 when the sport birthed stars like Royce Gracie and Ken Shamrock. Also, as anyone who’s watched the sport can attest, MMA is often not theatrical at all. To the untrained eye, its game of human chess often looks like nothing more than two sweaty, bloody masses dry-humping each other into oblivion.
More importantly, elitist leftists like Andrew (who went on to call the movie a “pseudo-individualist, sub-Freudian, Tea Party-friendly fantasy”) seem to have little grasp of what it is to be a man in this century. Don’t worry, little guy, I’ll help you out.







Subscribe via RSS
Got a Tip?