The Undisputed Beginning of ‘Undisputed’

Scott Adkins’ upcoming sequel Boyka: Undisputed IV is in post-production and we fans are getting almighty pumped for it. To help pass the time until it’s released, I’ve gone back and watched the first three films.

The original Undisputed was released in 2002 and centres on prison boxing in the USA, rather than the more internationally flavoured, mixed martial arts feasts that are the sequels. There’s no Adkins at all and it’s quite a different beast to what was to come.

It starts off with footage of a prison boxing fight and an older incarcerated mob boss telling a younger chap about some old classic boxing match. Cuts to some gentlemen of colour dancing around in the ring to hip-hop, lots of energetic arm-waving and such. Then Wesley Snipes comes out, enters the ring and gets an angry look he shoots to the side replayed not once but twice, with a zoom in on each replay.

His opponent? A very large skinhead with Nazi tattoos and a frightening moustache, but even all that isn’t considered sinister enough. Nope, they gotta tell us this bad man was also convicted of rape and kidnapping, making him all the more deserving of a beat down.

Michael Rooker plays a simpleton prison guard refereeing the match and is lovely to see among these other chaps, as is the bloke who played the toughest Pawnee in Dances With Wolves.

Snipes wastes the Nazi scum real quick with several fierce combos coupled with decidedly fake but satisfying sound effects. Evil Nazi rapist man is out of the movie quick-smart after delivering a total of zero lines of dialogue.

While Snipes defeating the Third Reich is taking place, a mean looking Mexican mafia man tells the younger chap with the older mob boss that somebody named ‘The Iceman’ is popping in tomorrow at 2pm. Seems important.

The Iceman turns out to be Ving Rhames, who is introduced through a sports news interview intercut with his indoctrination into prison, where he demonstrates his strong-headed nature, cockiness, enthusiasm for wealth and partying, and belief in himself as a “gladiator” rather than an athlete. The former boxing heavyweight is going into the slammer for a while but doesn’t reckon it’ll weaken him.

He’s a king hit boxer without a lot of agility or combination skills.  He also passionately believes he is not guilty of the rape he has been convicted of, saying “Look at me, why would I have to rape somebody?” before an angry, violent outburst over the matter. His character’s name is not Mike Tyson.

I should point out that Snipes is rocking a moustache in the style of Magnum P.I. only trimmed back, while Rhames’ face is adorned with a trimmed circular semi-goatee mo and chin strap.

So the old mob boss, who is clearly channelling Mickey Goldmill, limps straight into Rhames’ cell to tell him about Snipes. The pair exchange expletive-ridden lines bursting with dick-swinging machismo, in which Rhames is challenged to a match with Snipes and that sets up the rest of the film nicely. Sure, Rhames’ bigshot Tyson character smashes a big mean nasty Skinhead man who is probably also a rapist shortly thereafter, but the real deal is Rhames versus Snipes, world champion versus prison champion.

While Tyson/Rhames continues to get mad, punch people, swear, bully everyone, throw tantrums, hit on female lawyers and boast about his expertise in rough sex that is definitely not rape, Snipes gets all soulful while wrongfully in solitary confinement. He sets about pursuing a passion for arts and crafts, sticking toothpicks together to create oriental temples and such, exhibiting a peaceful, deep demeanour which endears him to the viewer.

Rhames/Tyson’s antagonistic behaviour and general Kanye West rich boy diva-ing it up becomes so offensive that the Black Panther style gang join forces and conspires with the Nazis, the Mexican cartel and some truly lovable Italian mafiosos to all try and help Snipes take down Rhames through cheating. Snipes, of course, says something about honour and righteousness and denies said help.

Prison films always have a certain appeal for me that’s mostly present in Undisputed. It’s the hyper masculine vibe, the blue tinge to everything and… the romance. But despite the frequent shots of shirtless, sweaty men grunting, there is a sorrowful lack of homoeroticism in this film, let alone any prison sex. The one shining example of glorious man love comes, of course, in the shower, where Rhames and Snipes face off nude and wet with a comical amount of steam rising between them, flirting outrageously while staring into each other’s eyes. Rhames then peacocks off proudly while the camera lingers lovingly for what feels like minutes on his bare arse.

The training montages are pretty average and marred, like many scenes, with weak, made-for-the-movie hip-hop. The film frequently cuts to black-and-white for no reason and there’s pointless, distracting time & date text displayed on screen. But none of that matters. It’s all an enjoyable mix of gangster talk, corrupt guards and wardens, male pride and anger leading up to the all-important final fight.

As for that fight? It’s great. I mean it certainly lacks the clarity and genius choreography of Florentine’s work in the sequels, but director Walter Hill puts it together well, making it suitably epic and satisfying enough.

Undisputed will disappoint people who just want to see Adkins performing roundhouses and Guyver kicks, but if you want to see a prison boxing movie it’s solid as. And it launched the franchise that is arguably the greatest showcase of Adkins’ extraordinary abilities to date. More on those in the next blog…