It was never intended for Johnny Lawrence to be the hero. That’s important to keep in mind because it influences nearly every aspect of why so many people adore him. He was the antagonist in the first Karate Kid movie, the golden boy bully who tormented Daniel LaRusso in the parking lot of a San Fernando Valley apartment building. It was made abundantly evident to the audience that he was the villain. And that’s precisely who he was for thirty years.
Then there was Cobra Kai. And the whole thing disintegrated in silence. The emotional core of the entire series is William Zabka’s portrayal of an older, rougher, and significantly more perplexed Johnny Lawrence. It’s worth taking a moment to consider that claim because it’s not insignificant. Daniel LaRusso, the original lead in one of the most popular sports movies of the 1980s, was able to make the former antagonist the show’s most interesting character.
That is not an accident. It occurs because Zabka understood exactly what that something was, and the writing discovered something truly human beneath all that bluster and stubbornness.
There is a lot of humor, which is helpful. Johnny has a relationship with contemporary technology that ranges from antagonistic to nonexistent. He approaches the internet as if it has wronged him personally at some point, doesn’t understand social media, and hardly tolerates smartphones. In a psychology textbook, his parenting advice would deserve its own chapter under “what not to do.” In addition to being humorous at the time, these moments serve a more beneficial purpose by giving him the impression that he is a real person—that is, a real person who got stuck and never quite figured out how to get out of it.
However, the bond between Johnny and Miguel Diaz is what truly touches the audience. The show doesn’t have to do much to convey the warmth of those scenes because it is earned over several seasons of witnessing two people who truly need each other develop a bond akin to that of a father and son. Johnny needed motivation to try again, and Miguel needed direction. The show recognized this and handled it more tactfully than one might anticipate from a show centered around dojo rivalries and karate competitions.
Miguel is one of the most beloved characters in fan discussions, and for good reason. In many respects, he is the show’s real-life karate kid—the novice picking up discipline from a challenging mentor, making mistakes along the way, and gradually discovering who he wants to be. Even the more dramatic parts felt grounded because of Xolo Maridueña’s naturalness in the role. Without Miguel, Johnny’s storyline might be much less compelling.
Then there are characters like Hawk and Robby Keene, both of whom have ardent fans but differing opinions in fan forums. One of the show’s more patient narrative elements is Robby’s journey from a resentful, mistrustful adolescent to something approaching self-awareness over the course of the seasons. Fans were given two distinct character arcs in one person due to Hawk’s transformation in the opposite direction and then back again. That level of investment isn’t earned by every show.
As you watch it all, you get the impression that Cobra Kai’s most beloved characters have one thing in common: they are clearly having difficulties. Not in a dramatic, staged manner, but rather in the more subdued sense of those who made poor decisions and are currently dealing with the fallout. More than anyone else, Johnny Lawrence personifies that. He is making an effort. He frequently fails. He gives it another go. Regardless of the number of karate trophies involved, audiences seem to respond to that formula.
