Physical Address

304 North Cardinal St.
Dorchester Center, MA 02124

This ‘Cobra Kai’ Character Always Felt Out of Place

Realism and credibility are most definitely not within the vocabulary of Cobra Kai’s tumultuous six seasons, and that is why the series has been so ludicrously successful, lauding us with mesmerizing karate sequences and deliciously ridiculous drama. But if we did attempt to look at the show through a slightly more realistic lens, one of the more glaring concerns and baffling characters in the series is Raymond, nicknamed “Stingray” (Paul Walter Hauser). As the only adult in a teenager’s karate class, Stingray is clearly stuck in the series with the sole purpose of comedic relief, but as the show continues, we are more inclined to question exactly why he’s there. That’s not saying Hauser didn’t do an amazing job with Stingray, but if you think a bit too deeply about the character, perhaps a couple of red flags would be raised.

As Johnny Lawrence’s (William Zabka) titular dojo becomes increasingly more attractive to students who are run down by bullying or just life in general, Season 2 sees a spike in their enrollments and a cascade of new faces. One such face particularly stands out, mainly due to the fact he towers over the scrawny teens and sports a fully-grown beard. Stingray finds himself upending his lifestyle to join karate and finally confront the anxieties that have plagued him since his adolescence. Despite being well into adulthood, he finds himself identifying with his underage peers due to his past with bullying. The way they accept him into the dojo wholeheartedly is a touching moment, advocating a message that no one is ever too old to change their lives and accept themselves. But this begs the question: was there really no other adult karate classes he could join?

While Cobra Kai had gained a gnarly reputation at that point, and their philosophy of helping down-on-their-luck kids fight back may have resonated with Stingray, was befriending the teenagers outside of classes as well really the best move for him? Though the themes around his place in the dojo are inspiring, it is slightly undermined by his role as the comedic relief in this rivalry-oriented universe. Many of his comedy scenes are predicated on the fact that we believe he is still mentally and emotionally immature, which is also a sentiment that becomes the basis of the messaging around the character. The juxtaposition of Stingray reclaiming his life that has been stunted by past traumas and yet rendering him as a sort of comedic man-child just ends up undermining each other.

Though we are given light-hearted and cheery scenes of him proudly showing off his braided beard and claiming victory for his team during an unorthodox exercise, the majority of his brief appearances are reduced to his immaturity being the source of humor. That’s not saying he doesn’t bring humor to the show, but let’s just remember that he is in fact an adult, so when he’s out fighting children during a school brawl, it’s a little bizarre.

For some reason, Cobra Kai wasn’t content with leaving Stingray in his comedic role and instead tried to include him in the larger narrative in Season 5. When Terry Silver (Thomas Ian Griffith) conducts a hostile takeover of Cobra Kai, he forces Stingray to help him. It is revealed that he had severely beaten Stingray up but compelled him to accuse John Kreese (Martin Kove) of the assault, leading to Kreese’s arrest and Silver’s reign over the dojo. He manages to bribe Stingray to comply by securing him a spot in the dojo, and Stingray, who was battling intense depression after getting arrested during the school fight, felt as if he had no other choice.

While this move was an effective measure to cement Silver’s position in the dojo, it is slightly strange that Stingray was willing to send someone off to prison just to learn karate alongside a bunch of teenagers again (seriously, are there no other karate classes in this universe?). While the show tries to justify this by Stingray’s drastic downfall after he got into trouble, there are just more viable ways to facilitate this turning point in the story. Stingray’s character development then begins to mimic Hawk’s (Jacob Bertrand), where he becomes the bully that had antagonized him all those years ago. It not only becomes another recycled storyline that Stingray does not deserve (he deserves something more), but also propels the strange motivation to return to a kid’s karate lesson, a motivation that could have been avoided.

Stingray returns in Season 6 to raise even more eyebrows, as Johnny finds him trying to revive Cobra Kai after its demise at the end of the previous season. It’s honestly absurd that anyone would send their kids to Stingray to learn karate… in the middle of a forest. As endearing as the character is, the red flags he continues to raise are alarming. While his bumbling and toothy-grinned attitude would be adorable and comical in most other films alongside adults, here, Stingray’s run on the show simply compounds his creepy kind of comedy. But as previously mentioned, if we were grading Cobra Kai on a realism curve, the results would be dismal. Most of the characters would likely be in jail or jive, considering the numerous counts of assault, breaking and entering, and theft running rampant in the series. So Stingray’s place in the show is just another detail we blindly and willingly accept.

Ultimately, Cobra Kai is better for Stingray’s presence, as he gives Johnny a heartfelt speech about being proud of his legacy in Season 6 and truly turns his life around by becoming a sensei. Hauser gives a dynamic performance here, instilling the character with a hopeful and optimistic depth alongside the crass humor, creating a character that is guaranteed to elicit a few chuckles every time he appears on-screen. And really, it is Stingray’s comical and relatable relationships with the dramatic teenagers that make him that much more endearing… just don’t give it too much thought.

Cobra Kai is available to stream now on Netflix in the U.S.

WATCH ON NETFLIX

Source: Collider