Ninjas were supposed to be silent assassins, masters of stealth, and all that malarkey. In the likes of Ninja III: The Domination, or American Ninja, for example, they are neither stealthy nor silent.
Cannon’s ninjas always preceded an attack by yelling a “Yaaaaarrrrgggghhhhh!” giving the victim more than enough time to be ready.
They also have the decidedly un-stealthy habit of wearing their black ninja suits in broad daylight, in green forests, on city streets – generally anywhere that will easily make them stand out to all and sundry.
And then there are the pauses, the interminable waits while our ninja reaches inside his costume to find a shuriken, smoke bomb or other ninja-device. Again, anyone faced with a black-clad killer rummaging through his apparel would be gone way before a throwing star struck him right between the eyes.
Of course, I am being a sour-puss about all of this, but one can only watch so many (too many, in my case) Cannon ninja films before you start wondering why we were so tolerant 30 years ago and how these dreadful films made so much money.