He trained like Bruce Lee.
He fought like Jean-Claude Van Damme.
And Black Belt Magazine once ranked three of his films in the Top 10 martial arts movies of all time, just behind Bruce Lee himself.

Yet Hollywood erased him.

This is the story of Loren Avedon—the martial arts prodigy who did everything right, delivered classics, and still watched his career disappear.

It’s 1987. Late at night in Los Angeles.

Inside a quiet karate dojo, a 25-year-old Loren Avedon trains alone—throwing kicks into heavy bags, drilling combinations long after everyone else has gone home. He’s broke. He sells used Dodges during the day just to pay rent. The dream feels distant, maybe even foolish.

Then the phone rings.

On the other end is a Hong Kong producer in a panic. A martial arts film is days away from production, but both contracted stars—Jean-Claude Van Damme and Kurt McKinney—have pulled out. Filming is scheduled in Thailand. They need a replacement now.

Within a week, Loren Avedon—unknown, untested, and nearly forgotten—would be on a plane to Asia, about to become a martial arts movie star.

What he didn’t know was that the same road that would elevate him would also quietly end his Hollywood future.

A Father Missing, a Blueprint Found

Loren Avedon was born July 30, 1962, in Los Angeles and raised by a single mother. His father, Commander Bert Avedon, was a decorated U.S. Navy fighter pilot—a double ace who survived combat missions during the Korean War when most pilots didn’t last five missions.

But heroes don’t always come home.

Bert wasn’t present during Loren’s childhood, leaving a void that would shape his life. Loren entered show business early, appearing in commercials as a child—including the famous Carnation Milk ads. He had charm, looks, and camera presence.

What he didn’t have was direction.

That changed at age 11, while living in England. Loren walked into a cinema and saw Bruce Lee in The Chinese Connection. The effect was seismic. Bruce Lee wasn’t just strong—he was disciplined, precise, and commanding. For a boy growing up without a father figure, Bruce Lee became something deeper than a movie star.

He became a model for manhood.

Finding Discipline the Hard Way

Life didn’t immediately align with that inspiration. Loren graduated from Beverly Hills High School in 1980, enrolled in college, and drifted through his early twenties. The Bruce Lee dream felt distant—almost naïve.

Then, in the summer of 1980, he walked into the Jun Chong Taekwondo School on Wilshire Boulevard.

Everything changed.

From day one, Loren trained obsessively. Every day. No shortcuts. The dojang became his second home. His instructors—Jun Chong and Philip Rhee—became the father figures he had been missing.

Martial arts wasn’t just combat. It was discipline. Identity. Purpose.

While Van Damme was climbing the Hollywood ladder and Steven Seagal was teaching aikido to celebrities, Loren trained in obscurity—selling cars by day, perfecting technique by night.

Because in Hollywood, talent is cheap. Persistence is not.

The Audition of a Lifetime

By 1987, Loren was exhausted. Years of training. A tiny role in L.A. Street Fighters that went nowhere. No money. No momentum.

Then came that phone call.

Producer Roy Horan was desperately auditioning martial artists across Los Angeles. Seventy-five men showed up. Loren walked in knowing this might be his only shot.

And he had everything they needed:

Over six feet tall

Legitimate martial arts skill

All-American blonde, blue-eyed look

And most importantly—hunger

One week later, Loren Avedon beat out all 75 competitors.

Not only did he land the lead in No Retreat, No Surrender 2, he was offered a three-picture deal with Seasonal Films—the same company that helped launch Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, and Van Damme.

He went from selling used cars to starring in international action films almost overnight.

Baptism by Fire in Thailand

Filming No Retreat, No Surrender 2: Raging Thunder was chaos.

Language barriers. Dangerous stunts. No safety nets. No second takes. Loren often admitted he didn’t even know what was happening—but he adapted fast.

He worked alongside Cynthia Rothrock, Keith Vitali, and director Corey Yuen. When the film hit 2,500 U.S. theaters, Loren Avedon officially arrived.

The momentum continued with No Retreat, No Surrender 3: Blood Brothers (1990), where he reunited with Keith Vitali as on-screen brothers. In Europe—released under the Karate Tiger branding—these films became massive cult hits.

But his defining moment was still to come.

The King of the Kickboxers

Released in 1990, The King of the Kickboxers was Loren Avedon’s masterpiece.

Shot over four brutal months in the Thai jungle, the film cast Loren as Jake Donahue, an undercover cop infiltrating underground kickboxing to avenge his brother’s death in a snuff film.

Dark. Relentless. Raw.

His co-star was Billy Blanks, seven-time world karate champion. Blanks approached the project humbly, telling Loren, “This is your movie. I want to make it the best it can be.”

The final fight remains legendary.

The production was punishing. Real hits. Real injuries. No monitors. No CGI. At one point, stunt coordinator Tony Leung Siu-Hung accidentally punched Loren full force in the face. Loren wiped the blood away and kept going.

The suffering translated to the screen.

Critics took notice.

Crowned—and Then Cast Aside

Black Belt Magazine released its ranking of the Top 10 Martial Arts Films of All Time.

The top three spots went to Bruce Lee.

Numbers 4, 5, and 6?
All Loren Avedon films.

#4 – The King of the Kickboxers

#5 – Blood Brothers

#6 – No Retreat, No Surrender 2

Three consecutive entries.

At that moment in early 1991, Loren Avedon stood on the edge of superstardom.

And then everything collapsed.

Two Moments That Ended a Career

First, during filming in Thailand, tensions ran high. Actress Sherilyn Rose complained incessantly. Exhausted and frustrated, Loren snapped and told her to shut up.

She never forgot.

Back in Hollywood, whispers spread that Loren was “difficult.”

Then came the second blow.

Lorenzo Lamas—then a rising star and Loren’s student—accidentally broke Loren’s face during a self-defense video shoot. Loren sued for medical expenses and won.

But in Hollywood, winning a lawsuit means losing your future.

Suddenly, Loren was “difficult” and “litigious.”

The three-picture deal he was negotiating with PM Entertainment vanished—given instead to Lorenzo Lamas.

Hollywood stopped calling.

Loren pivoted to stunt work—steady, unglamorous, honest. He worked on Baywatch, Martial Law, Thunder in Paradise, choreographed Tiger Claws 3, and eventually won an Emmy Award as part of the stunt team on Chuck.

More importantly, he became a single father in 1993.

Later, he stepped away from Hollywood entirely to care for his aging parents—his mother until her passing in 2014, and his father until 2018, when Commander Bert Avedon was laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetery with full military honors.

Fame faded. Purpose didn’t.

Rediscovery and Redemption

While Loren lived quietly, his films found new life. Streaming. YouTube. A new generation discovered King of the Kickboxers and couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

In 2023, Scott Adkins invited Loren onto The Art of Action podcast. The response was explosive. Fans flooded back. Old co-stars reconnected. A simple Facebook photo teasing a Blood Brothers sequel ignited thousands of messages.

Three generations. One legacy.

Today, Loren Avedon lives in Florida. He’s a 9th-degree Grandmaster in Taekwondo and Hapkido, a 10th-degree Grandmaster in Kwan Park, and Secretary General of the U.S. Taekwondo Federation. He supports UNICEF, UNHCR, Save the Children, and veteran PTSD programs.

Hollywood may have forgotten him.

The martial arts world never did.

And when you watch The King of the Kickboxers today, the truth is undeniable:

That man was a star.

Hollywood didn’t beat Loren Avedon in a fair fight.

It beat him with whispers, timing, and bad luck.

But the film doesn’t lie.