Let it be known that only a film as appalling and incoherent as Gymkata could rouse me from this unscheduled hibernation of mine. Within the first five minutes the makers of this had already gone so far astray that no amount of kung-fu gymnastics or crazy, half-naked people wielding pitchforks could compensate for these insurmountable blunders.
First off, it’s not terribly reassuring to open your film with a montage. In general, a montage only works when we have a vested interest in the characters’ actions or, at least, some foundation for what they’re attempting to achieve. Even then the use of a montage is shaky at best. In Gymkata we get a montage before we have an ample setup of the situation, understand the hero’s goal or motivation for undertaking the tasks he’s assigned, or, most embarrassing, before even knowing what is name is (probably not entirely the film’s fault since my attention for the material had already begun to wane at this point). All we can ascertain for sure is that he’s a skillful gymnast and that is all.
Good thing too, since that seems to be the film’s only purpose whatsoever. In fact, so committed is it to this concept, that at one point the protagonist, who we eventually learn is named Jonathon Cabot, even stumbles across a conveniently placed pommel horse while being pursued by a gang of lunatics and proceeds to fight them while doing gymnastics upon it. Two issues arise from this scene 1.) what the fuck is a stone pommel horse doing in the middle of an insane asylum and 2.) if the lunatics converged on Cabot all at once instead of rushing him one at a time, wouldn’t his absurd combat approach laughably fall to ruins?
Sadly, Gymkata doesn’t concern itself with conundrums such as these. Instead it digresses into some absurdly implausible battle royale of gymnasts known only as “the game,” that follows the structure of the competition later employed in the film The Running Man. Situations like this allow the movie to highlight precisely what makes it so tedious to watch, namely, that is spends WAY too much time on chase scenes. In fact, here’s a summary of a typical chase in this film: shot of Cabot running (sometimes with his stunning Thai counterpart in tow), shot of man or men armed with guns (or sometimes crossbows depending on the whim of the filmmaker), closeup of the weapon being fired, another shot of Cabot this time narrowly avoiding the spray of gunfire or the piercing of arrows, repeat sequence ten to fifteen times for roughly ten minutes until Cabot either gets captured or stumbles across a pommel horse or parallel bars and promptly “gymkatas” his way to freedom. If by some freak occurrence the scene doesn’t feel long enough already, occasionally director Robert Clouse (who went on to do not just one, but two China O’Brien films) will simply put the ENTIRE SEQUENCE in slow-motion just to ensure that he captures that right level of tedium in every action sequence.
Ultimately the film compacts what meager plot it has into the first 15 minutes or so, after that it’s nothing but pointless filler mixed with dreary, masturbatory gymnastics that make the work of Jean-Claude Van Damme seem almost humble. I never thought I’d say this but this film is somehow less interesting than if the director had simply put a gymnastics floor routine to film. At least that would have had some purpose.
