‘Cobra Kai’ will never die

The season’s first set of episodes saw the former members of Cobra Kai join their rivals Miyagi-do under both their trio of senseis—Daniel, Johnny, and Karate Kid Part II villain Chozen Toguchi (Yuji Okumoto)—for the fictitious international karate tournament known as the Sekai Taikai. The second set featured the tournament itself, and all the ensuing teenage complications of placing adolescent teenagers in a high-stress environment (that too, in beautiful Barcelona). However, it also ended with an unexpected wrinkle: the accidental death of a student belonging to a re-forged Korean chapter of Cobra Kai, under the ruthless Kim Da-Eun (Alicia Hannah-Kim) and Johnny’s former sensei, John Kreese (Martin Cove). With this dark cloud cast over the participants, the final episodes kick off with everyone having returned to their regular lives in the Valley—or so it would seem.

The show’s premise thus far has involved adults and children alike unable to let go of the hold the original movies’ events have on them. The films in the Karate Kid trilogy were released in 1984, 1986 and 1989, meaning this story has been ongoing for over 40 years, but that it still works is a testament to just how well the characters’ arrested development functions as a premise. As much as we’d love for them to let go of the past, doing so would mean leaving karate behind, which is why it’s so whiplash inducing to see the new season begin with Daniel hiding all traces of the martial art from his public image, including the bonsai trees—once a favorite of his teacher, the late Mr. Miyagi (Pat Morita)—that have long graced his car dealership. The healthy alternative to all karate, all the time is balance, but when Cobra Kai returns, Daniel has convinced himself the answer is repression, and he needs to be talked out of it when the tournament inevitably resumes.

Of course, it wouldn’t be Cobra Kai without returning villains, and Karate Kid Part III baddie Terry Silver (Thomas Ian Griffin) is back to his old tricks—this time, for more complicated reasons—and backs the merciless Hong Kong dojo the Iron Dragons to exact his revenge on Miyagi-do. However, what’s unexpected is the way last season’s events impact Kreese, who has long teetered on the edge of redeeming himself, and has seemingly found the best (or rather, worst) possible reason, in the death of a student. For Kreese, making up for lost time also means acknowledging his treatment of Johnny all those years ago, a confrontation that affords Zabka the chance to access heartbreaking vulnerabilities. The events of the ’84 movie propelled Daniel to celebrity, but they left Johnny feeling abandoned, a sensation that comes full circle now that he’s on the verge of being a father himself. Maybe he’s not cut out for it? Maybe he’ll continue the cycle too?

Breaking this cyclical abuse is a major part of the teenagers’ stories too—primarily, and surprisingly, that of newcomer Axel Kovačević (Patrick Luwis), a Johnny-in-the-making under the unfeeling auspices of Sensei Wolf (Lewis Tan). Everyone’s story is a reflection of someone else’s in these final episodes, and what stops the show from being repetitive is the way its characters mature together. The returning Miyagi-do teenagers all have the same minor betrayals and white lies to work through, whose impact is doubled now that they’re on the precipice of college (each decision is imbued with a sense of finality), but the growing trust between them over the least six seasons brings each of them to a new point of maturity and understanding.

For Daniel, reaching a new understanding of himself, and his past, means confronting the new information he’s learned about Mr. Miyagi. Unfortunately, this is the one place the show drops the ball, both because it makes this catharsis too easy for Daniel, and because it involves a spiritual projection of Mr. Miyagi in the form of an ugly, digitally resurrected Morita. Thankfully, this ghoulish deepfake zombie is on screen for mere seconds, and its impact is eclipsed by that of the flesh-and-blood generational drama between Kreese and Johnny, but it leaves a sour taste nonetheless.

While there’s no justifying such hapless imagery, it does at least fit with the show’s M.O. this past season, wherein re-purposed footage has taken on a greater significance. The show’s flashbacks (in the form of clips from the old movies) now appear at pivotal moments of action and decision-making. Considering how easy it would be for a show to lean on this as an easy dramatic crutch, its use is surprisingly judicious, turning the original films (and their celluloid texture) into not just memory, but sensation.

Nostalgia sequels have a tendency to retread their originals, but by the end of its final episode, Cobra Kai finds rousing ways to meaningfully subvert the iconography of the original movies. It is, after all, the story of Karate Kid’s villain finally coming into his own by letting go of the past that shackles him, and the most honest way for him to do that isn’t to imitate the series’ hero, but rather, to be the best and purest version of himself, as we’ve always known him.

And so, when familiar images come roaring back (usually accompanied by thunderous ‘80s needle drops), the series’ gaze towards the past propels it forward in equal measure, en route to a feel-good finale of uber-schmaltzy proportions, destined to stand the test of time as the platonic ideal of the nostalgia revival. Wherever the Karate Kid franchise goes from here, Johnny’s mantra on the show is likely to stay true for years to come: “Cobra Kai never dies.”