CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: Invasion U.S.A. (1985)

There are, interestingly enough, two different movies entitled "Invasion U.S.A." Both are about forces from Communist countries attempting a mass attack on the United States. The first is a terse melodrama from 1952, that depicts this situation as an all-too-possible hypothetical that Americans must be vigilant to guard against. The second "Invasion U.S.A.," on the other hand, is an exaggerated action movie from 1985 in which one super-tough, all-American bad-ass is nearly enough to defeat the Communist forces single-handedly. The contrast says a lot about the difference in how America was feeling about itself in the two eras. In the fifties, shortly after the end of World War II, atomic bombardment and invasion by Soviet forces was horrifyingly plausible. Knee-deep in the Reagan era, America was secure in its position as a superpower and extremely confident that its hyper-macho strength was more than enough to repel any challengers. Both films are propaganda but with pointedly different reactions expected from the viewer. Let's delve into the latter some more, as the 1952 film has a distressing lack of high kicks in it. 

After gunning down a raft of Cuban refugees, a Soviet-backed guerilla named Rostov arrives in Florida. He trades smuggled drugs for heavy artillery, with which he arms a small army of Russian, Latin American, and Asian solders. Rostov's forces begin a full-scale campaign of terror against the Southern United States, annihilating a suburban town and attacking crowded public spaces. While Rostov hopes to dismantled democracy, his scheme has another purpose: To find and destroy his old arch-nemesis, CIA agent Matt Hunter. Hunter, having already lost his best friend and gator farm to the terrorists, personally takes on the invading army. As chaos breaks out throughout the country, only his twin Uzis, indestructible pick-up truck, and extremely tight blue jeans may be enough to stop the violence. 

Norris and his brother, Aaron, would conceive "Invasion U.S.A.'s" screenplay with "Missing in Action" and "An Eye for an Eye" co-writer, James Bruner. It was the first of six films the star would make under a newly minted contract with the Cannon Film Group, commanding the biggest budget of his career. (Two million of which went to Chuck himself.) If any of Norris' eighties films can be said to have emerged directly from his mind, it's this one. The story was inspired by Norris' own fears that America was vulnerable to terrorist attacks backed by hostile superpowers. The villains in "Invasion U.S.A." do not represent a merely tactical threat to this country. They dress as cops and gun down Latin-American businesses, with the intended goal of turning Americans against the police and each other. We hear off-screen mentions of race riots and wide-spread chaos breaking out as a result, martial law being put into effect. These Red Commie Bastards are not only attacking America's infrastructure but attempting to destroy the ideas that build this country as well. 

This is evident in the movie's most histrionic sequences. The villains strike in common places, targeting families and children. They blow up a peaceful suburb and we see children injured in the aftermath. Key sequences have them attempting to destroy a church full of praying Christians and a school bus packed with singing kids. The film is set around Christmas, carols and festive decorations contrasting with the mass violence that ensues. This is done not only because it means shopping malls are full of shoppers but also to demoralize us by destroying a holly, jolly celebration. The terrorists – who are depicted as Soviet, foreign, and directly involved in drug and sex trafficking – in "Invasion U.S.A." are an existential threat to American identity. An identity which is pointedly Christian, capitalistic and submissive to authority. (And, to give Chuck and his team some credit, multiracial. Though the bad guys also being made up of different skin colors, and the local Latin community being so easily invited towards violence, kind of muddies any intentional message there.) "Invasion U.S.A." directly reflects the paranoid, right-wing viewpoint of its leading man, in which innocent red-bloodied Americans who only want to shop and pray to Jesus are under threat by Marxist lunatics determined to undermine everything we hold dear. 

Many people believe these things utterly sincerely, now as then. However, it is difficult to take “Invasion U.S.A.” too seriously. Part of this is because of budgetary restraint. Golan and Globus spent twelve million dollars on the film, quite a lot by Cannon standards. You can certainly see that money up on the screen. The final act features an entire fleet of tanks clogging the streets of Atlanta. When the explosion arrive, they usually of an impressively massive size. At the same time, this siege still seems rather quint by international standards. This is less an invasion of the entire United States than it is several parts of Florida and Georgia. The only credits play out over Chuck sailing across the Everglades in an air boat, his glorious locks blowing in the breeze. This clarifies early on that, by “U.S.A.,” the title is referring more to the rural corners of this country, rather than the centers of its economic and political power. The final battle takes place mostly inside a non-descriptive office building, with some bloody squabbling on the street below. In many regards, “Invasion U.S.A.” got a proper amount of bang for the buck expended. At the same time, the film's scope falls far short of what it is clearly meaning to intend. 

The other reason one can laugh at such blatant, fairly unhinged propaganda is the degree of ridiculousness that infest every aspect of it. Joseph Zito is back in the director's chair again, after “Missing in Action,” and he indulges in even more orgiastic displays of pyrotechnics. The suburban neighborhood and shopping malls were real locations about to be demolished and refurbished, meaning the production team were allowed to truly blow them up. The fireballs are massive, the debris tossed into the air generous, the flames consuming a helicopter and multiple embankments. One notable blasts has a burst of flame coming through a wall and right at the viewer. Every time Chuck fires his machine guns, there's a spray of bullets, sparks, and bloody squibs. At one point, he blows through an entire wall with some bullets. Lots of stuntmen earned their pay by tumbling through the air. Multiple car chases and crashes ensue, the camera often attached right to the sides of the careening vehicles and proudly displaying the twisted wreckage hurdling towards us. The film's mayhem is so excessive that it leaves reality far behind, rising to a level of cartoonish carnage. 

What truly makes “Invasion U.S.A.” a display of delirious camp is Mr. Norris himself. His previous heroes usually had romantic subplots or family members to add some degree of humanity to him. “Code of Silence” and “Missing in Action 2” both showed the star playing fallible men capable of being injured and humbled. Not so in “Invasion U.S.A.” Matt Hunter wears skin-tight denim that often leaves his chest hair fully displayed but it seems to be the most effective armor of all. He rarely has to reload his firearms. Not that he needs guns, as his equally impervious pick-up truck smashes through enemies on multiple occurrences. At two separate points, the film seemingly depicts Hunter as able to teleport, disappearing from the enemy's line-of-sight and reappearing on the opposite of them. Chuck is never anything but a steely-eyed murder machine here, croaking incredibly goofy one-liners like “I'll hit you with some many rights you'll be begging for a left.” He doesn't even kick people that often, though when he does the film treats it as a visual punchline. He's more brutal than Braddock and more of a Lone Wolf than J.J. McQuade. 

Some token attempt is made to provide Matt Hunter with identifiable human emotions. He banters with his alligator hunter friend for two scenes before he's killed. He gets annoyed with the CIA recruiter who reaches out to him and occasionally expresses grief over the senseless destruction he witnesses. Melissa Prophet appears as the reporter who seemingly follows Hunter from action scene to action, a character that would be a love interest in a less insane movie but merely bugs him here. (Chuck wanted Whoopi Goldberg to play this part and was so annoyed that Zito wouldn't cast her that he refused to work with the director ever again.) Instead, the only truly meaningful relationship Hunter seems to have with anyone is with Rostov. The promise Hunter made to him that it's 'time to death” is repeated over and over, like an echo the two men can't escape. The guys are so obsessed with destroying each other that it seems to drive them more than any political ideology. Destroying capitalism is a bonus for Rostov and saving America is a side gig for Hunter on the way to finishing the business he started. If Norris' performance is one of steely faced, macho determination, Richard Lynch plays the villain as a wide-eyed, teeth-gritting lunatic. 

The mere thought of Hunter is enough to drive the already unhinged Rostov to uncontrollable acts of violence. Such as slamming a coke sniffing straw into a woman's nose before throwing her out a window or shooting Billy Drago in the dick. Upon dictating that Hunter is in the same room as him, Rostov begins blasting wildly and erratically with a machine gun. It's as if he has no control over his passions. Neither Rostov nor Hunter have any interest in the women. When they finally prepare for their final confrontation, Hunter extends a phallic rocket launcher and Rostov's raging face seemingly shows a moment of satisfaction. That is before exploding in an orgasmic fireball, body parts fluttering out a window as the smoke and flames fade. And then “Invasion U.S.A.” abruptly ends, its purpose complete. 

In other words, “Invasion U.S.A.” is a film that one can either dismiss as totally brain-dead nonsense, vulgar popular propaganda with little redeeming value, or action entertainment so absurd as to become ecstatic. If “Missing in Action” was Chuck Norris' “Rambo” moment, then this is his “Commando” moment, playing a practically amoral ubermensch that slaughters a tidal wave of thugs on the way to dispatching his homoerotically obsessed nemesis. It's not as brilliant as that camp masterpiece, because Norris only has a fraction of the charisma of Arnold. However, it is a hysterically goofy piece of excessive explosion cheese that must be treasured by fans of things such as these. Norris would later say he regretted the movie a bit, finding it a little excessive for his taste. Cannon would try to make a sequel, recasting Matt Hunter with Michael Dudikoff and basically making an unrelated film. It's not Chuck's best movie but it is one of his most ludicrous and that itself is an achievement. [8/10]

[THE CHUCK OF NORRIS: 4 outta 5]
[X] Facial Hair
[X] Jumps or Kicks Through a Window or Wall
[X] Performs Spin Kick or Spin Punch to Enemy's Face
[X] Shows Off His Hairy Chest
[] Sports Some Cowboy Getup*

*The female lead repeatedly refers to Chuck as “cowboy” but only the oversized belt buckle screams giddy-up to me. 

CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: Code of Silence (1985)

Chuck Norris' previous feature film for Orion Pictures was “Lone Wolf McQuade,” a modernized homage to the spaghetti westerns that first made Clint Eastwood a global superstar. His next Orion production would essentially see Norris stepping into a role not dissimilar from Eastwood's other most iconic reoccurring character. Screenwriters Michael Butler and Dennis Shryack, previously of “The Car” and “The Gauntlet,” originally wrote “Code of Silence” as the fourth “Dirty Harry” movie. Eastwood passed on the script – Butler and Shryack ended up writing “Pale Rider” for him next instead – but the writers continued to shop it around as an original project. Orion eventually picked it up and eyed it as a starring role for Kris Kristofferson. When he and half-a-dozen other tough guy actors passed, it ended up in Chuck Norris' lap. The film won the star the best reviews of his entire career and he would later cite it his favorite of his projects.

Eddie Cusack is a cop on the rougher side of Chicago. Along with his partner Dorato and a whole group of cops, he's part of a sting operation to bust a dealer working for Colombian drug lord, Luis Comacho. Instead, the set-up descends into chaos when killers in the employ of rival mobster, Tony Luna, open fire on the building. During the shoot-out, Dorato is shot, several crooks are killed, and another cop on the force named Craigie shoots an unarmed teenager. He then plants a gun on the dead kid. Cusack refuses to exonerate Craigie and ends up working with his inexperienced partner, Kopalas. As revenge, Comacho targets Luca's family, killing all of them except his teenage daughter, Diana. Seeking to protect the innocent girl, Eddie Cusack soon finds himself in a fight between mob families and with no fellow cops on his side. 

Here in America, most major city's police forces are less concerned with protecting and serving the public trust than they are with protecting the rich and powerful, extorting citizens for money, operating as enforcers of the prison industrial slavery complex, murdering and harassing racial minorities, and bleeding billions of dollars from local taxpayers so they can buy themselves tanks and body armor. In fact, they have no legal obligation to protect people and have gone to court several times to prove this. However, if you're only encounters with American police are through our popular culture, you would think the cops are constantly under siege from organized crime, small time crooks, and damn regulators trying to get in the way of them doing their job. So-called “copaganda” is unavoidable in this culture. I love me a good action flick, as this series should make clear, and likely the overwhelming majority of that genre is more-or-less about how police officers should have the right to do whatever they want and kill whoever they please. Because, damn it, they get results. You really have to totally disconnect fictional cops from real ones if you want to enjoy ninety percent of American action flicks. 

“Code of Silence” is notable for being one of the few eighties action flicks I've seen that actively acknowledges how cops are terrible. Honestly, I was shocked by the film unambiguously depicting a cop killing a black teenager as an impulsive choice and then planting evidence to make the murder look justified. You hear about this happening all the time now and I guess it's always been that way. Despite this set-up, “Code of Silence” is not an A.C.A.B. classic. Ralph Foody plays Detective Cragie as a despicable jack-ass who never feels any remorse at all for killing an innocent. Most of the cops around him believe it is their duty to protect their co-worker and stand-up for him. Eddie Cusack is the exception. He's the One Good Cop on the force that prevents all of them from being bastards. His testimony proves that the system works. His example gives at least one other officer the strength to also do the right thing. The film is not saying that the entire police system in America is fundamentally rotten but merely that it needs more “good” cops than bad ones. 

I almost think “Code of Silence” is aware of the obvious contradictions in this statement. After the rest of the precinct basically cuts him off, Cusack goes outside of the law to do what is right. He is heading into bars and picking fights, clinging to the outside of moving trains, getting into car chases. The climax of the film involves him stealing heavy artillery from the police station and using it on his own. All of this is obviously illegal, the “good” cop ending up breaking the law just as much as the dirty ones. “Code of Silence” can't step outside of its eighties action movie viewpoint. Cusack's cowboy cop ways save the day. He faces no consequences for it. He continues to be a cop, when the obvious moral of the story would be him leaving the force at the very least. The movie comes dangerously close to realizing that any system where such wanton destruction is the “best” ending is hopelessly broken. But it's still an action flick so it can't go that far. 

This is not so much a criticism as an observation. That a movie starring Chuck Norris manages to address these ideas with any sort of depth at all is surprising. “Code of Silence” benefits greatly from having a far grittier tone than most of the star's previous movies. The dialogue is hard-boiled, with quite a lot of colorful profanity. A strong supporting cast takes further advantage of this, with Dennis Farina as Dorato especially getting to dig into his part. The cinematography is from Frank Tidy, previously of “The Duelists,” and he gives the film a properly gritty, lived-in look. Director Andrew Davis, coming off atmospheric slasher “The Final Terror,” helpfully captures a sense of circumstances spiraling out of control for its hero. By the time he's getting wailed on in a bar, the feeling that he has no one to turn to and that the walls are closing in is clear. 

As at odds as these two threads of “Code of Silence” are, I think the film actually does a very good job of balancing its status as both a cheesy action movie and a grittier neo-noir. You see this in the bar room brawl, which has Chuck doing both his trademark moves and still getting beaten up in time. The pacing is extremely fleet-footed, the film rarely not building towards its next set-piece. That sequence where Chuck is chasing a guy across a moving train is both an impressive stunt and a good example of how the film plays with how very vulnerable its hero is, in opposition to the invincible eighties action hero cliché. That car chase is actually fantastically assembled, with a wonderful shot of the vehicles sparking against the asphalt as they leap through the air. That the film manages to successfully capture an air of gritty realism and end with an over-the-top smorgasbord of explosions and gunfire that prominently features a remote controlled robot tank is certainly some kind of achievement. 

By this point in his career, Norris has indeed developed into a decent actor. He's not Oliver or anything but he's become adapt at summoning up a certain degree of emotion. The scenes he shares here with an old friend are a highlight. “Code of Silence's” great weakness is that its primary villain isn't in more of the film. Henry Silva, owner of one of cinema's all time greatest psycho faces, gets to sleaze it up gloriously as a Colombian drug lord while still feeling strangely absent for most of the film. I also wish we got a little more interaction between Chuck and Molly Hagan as the distressed damsel, who he shares a distinctly fatherly energy with. Oh yeah, the movie is also set at Halloween, as if I needed another reason to like it. Contradictions at all, “Code of Silence” is some well engineered pulp and easily Norris' classiest flick. And Andrew Davis would go on to become the only filmmaker to direct two Steven Seagal films and a Best Picture nominee... [8/10]

[THE CHUCK OF NORRIS: 4 outta 5]
[X] Facial Hair
[X] Jumps or Kicks Through a Window or Wall
[X] Performs Spin Kick or Spin Punch to Enemy's Face
[X] Shows Off His Hairy Chest
[] Sports Some Cowboy Getup

CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: Missing in Action 2: The Beginning (1985)

Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus were confident in their plan to rush out a movie suspiciously similar to “Rambo: First Blood Part II” six whole months before the soon-to-be blockbuster was released. So confident, in fact, that they decided to double-down and get two “Rambo” knock-offs in theaters before Sylvester Stallone donned his red bandana again. “Missing in Action” and its sequel would be filmed back-to-back. The first film would depict Colonel Braddock's escape from the Vietnamese P.O.W. camp back in early seventies. The second would show him going back, in the present day, and rescuing the men who were left behind. Lance Hool would direct the first and Joseph Zito would direct the second. Upon getting a look at the finished movies, however, Golan and Globus decided the intended sequel was better than the original. Probably because it was more directly imitative of “Rambo” and had more explosions. To resolve any confusion, they simply flipped the titles. Zito's “Missing in Action” became the first film. Hool's became “Missing in Action 2: The Beginning,” the subtitle presumably added to clarify to audiences that this was a prequel. 

In the summer of 1972, Colonel James Braddock and his team would be deployed via helicopter into the jungles of Vietnam. Their mission to offer support to pinned down U.S. forces would go horribly wrong. The helicopter was shot down. Braddock and his men – Captain Nester, Lieutenant Mazilli, Corporal Opelka, and Master Sergeant Franklin – are captured by the North Vietnamese army. They spend the next two years under the brutal supervision of Colonel Yin, who delights in physically and psychologically torturing the Americans. The men are not let free as Yin schemes to get Braddock to sign a bogus confession admitting to war crimes, which he refuses to do. As the situation grows graver and men begin to die, Braddock makes his own move to escape the prison camp, free his men, and take Yin down himself.

 

“Missing in Action” was, of course, ridiculous agitprop designed to make American audiences hoot and cheer as revenge is taken against those nasty Vietnamese who so bruised our national ego back in 1975. Its Vietnamese characters were mostly villains, two-dimensional bad guys for our patriotic hero to vanquish. Having seen “The Beginning,” I'm surprised to say that Zito's sequel actually toned down the propagandist xenophobia of Hool's work. The North Vietnamese forces in “Missing in Action II” are depicted as almost inhuman in their sadism. Men are strung up and stabbed with knives, beaten on the regular, and kept in cages deep in the ground. They are forced to fight for their captives' amusement or stripped naked and paraded before mocking prostitutes. A notable moment has Norris hung upside down while a bag containing a starved rat is placed over his face. The torment is not merely physical. Yin regularly plays a “game” with the prisoners, in which he places a gun to their heads and pulls the trigger, only to reveal that the pistol is unloaded. He tells the boys that America has already lost the war, that no one is coming to save them. He informs Braddock that he's been declared dead and his wife has already remarried. When Franklin becomes deathly ill with malaria, his friends are told he's being injected with drugs to keep him alive when it's actually a fatal dose of opium. If that wasn't bad enough, Yin then kills Mazilli's pet chicken and hands him the dead bird. 

All throughout, Yin dangles the possibility of freedom before Braddock, as long as he signs that paper admitting to bogus war crimes against the Vietnamese. The warden claims that Braddock and his men have been kept here as long as they have because they are not prisoners of war but rather criminals. History, of course, tells us that the United States armed forces did inflict horrible war crimes against non-combatants in Vietnam. The North Vietnamese and the Viet-Cong did horrible things too, mostly to the South Vietnamese. All of this is a matter of public record. War is not a children's game, where one side is good and the other is bad. Exploitation films like “Missing in Action II” hope to drive ticket sales by playing on the audience's emotions. Obviously, Americans want to see themselves as the heroes, the victims of hideous atrocities and never the perpetrators of it. By depicting the Vietnamese forces as such brutally evil people, who then have the gull to falsely accuse the Americans of being just as bad, is to further facilitate ugly cheers and whoops in 42nd Street theaters and anywhere else. 

The result is a motion picture with a real malicious energy flowing through it. An early scene has an failed escape attempt ending with an American set on fire via flamethrower, his suffering lingered on. Later, when Braddock gets his hand on the same device, he turns the flame on the Vietnamese in a similarly ruthless fashion. The torture scenes and gladiatorial combat are not merely bloody but brutal too. Since this is a war movie, there's little guarantee that anyone will survive these events. Whenever a bit of hope is dangled before the P.O.W.s – a helicopter appearing overhead or an Australian photographer appearing and claiming to be from a human rights organization – it inevitably ends badly. Honestly, out of the first two "Missing in Action" films, if I had to guess which one was made by a horror movie specialist, I would assume it was this one. 

"Rambo: First Blood Part II" turned its nationalistic rage against the Vietnamese into over-the-top camp, difficult to take seriously as anything but comic book theatricality. "Missing in Action" aims for something grittier and uglier. So why watch the prequel then? First off, "The Beginning" feels like one of those fifties Men's Adventures pulp story, in its focus on physical agony, tough men in tougher situations, and racist caricatures as villains. There is a cultural context to be gleamed from this motion picture, in other words. It also, eventually, does become an entertaining action movie in its own right. Once Braddock escapes the camp and turns the tide on his captives, this becomes a fast-paced enough flick with some solid stunts from Norris and some pyrotechnics. While Zito's "Missing in Action" mostly limits its star's karate abilities, "The Beginning" smartly climaxes with a one-on-one showdown between Braddock and Yin. It's a very good fight, maybe the best of Norris' whole film career up to this point. Moreover, after watching an entire movie of Colonel Yin being so wicked towards everyone, watching him get beat up is quite satisfying. It helps that Yin played with an impressively vicious glee by Soon-tek Oh, making a fine villain. 

I commented in my review of the first "Missing in Action" that it seemed to feature Chuck Norris evolving into an actually semi-decent actor. Knowing that "The Beginning" was shot first reveals this as the movie where Norris finally started to put some non-kicking/non-punching skills behind his movies. Supposedly, Chuck thought about his brother's death during the scene where Braddock is forced to watch one of his men die, the martial artist actually employing a bit of what you might call the Method there. Lool manages to get a surprising degree of pathos out of Norris' eyes during the many shots of them peering through the bars of his prison. There is a sense of camaraderie between the ensemble here. None of the guys are developed much beyond one or two characteristics – Cosie Costa probably does the best as Mazilli – but you do get the feeling that they all care about each other.

"Missing in Action 2" is a hard movie to defend, in many ways. It's a fairly ugly exploitation movie, not only in terms of content but also in the real sense of rage it directs towards its villains. Villains very much meant to stand-in for an entire nation of people, or at least their military forces. The movie represents some very sour grapes from the world's super power, demonizing its enemies and then executing them. At the same time, it's well-made, ultimately becoming quite efficient in getting the intended reaction out of the viewer. It also happens to feature some pretty bad-ass Chuck Norris stuff, the reason we watch these movies after all. It's certainly a much more interesting film than the prior "Missing in Action," which was less memorable in terms of action and not as compelling in its pacing. Being a fan of action movies means liking some ethically dubious shit some times, which is the feeling I have as I give "Missing in Action 2" a positive final score. [7/10] 

[THE CHUCK OF NORRIS: 5 outta 5]
[X] Facial Hair
[X] Jumps or Kicks Through a Window or Wall
[X] Performs Spin Kick or Spin Punch to Enemy's Face
[X] Shows Off His Hairy Chest
[X] Sports Some Cowboy Getup

CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: Missing in Action (1984)

When U.S. military forces pulled out of Vietnam for good in 1975, over two and a half thousand servicemen remained listed as missing in action. As of this year, only 1067 have had their remains positively identified. For those who have lost a loved one in such a traumatic manner, it is understandable how they could hold onto perhaps naive hopes that their husbands, sons, or brothers might still be out there, somewhere, even as the Vietnam War slips further into the past. In 1973, President Nixon announced that all 591 American prisoners-of-war kept in Vietnam had been returned. Because the U.S. had performed secret, illegal strikes in Cambodia and Laos, admitting unclaimed bodies existed in those areas would amount to admitting to war crimes. These inconsistencies led civilian organizations to pressure the government into releasing more information on those reports. All war is abominable, and Vietnam was one atrocity after another, but every person deserves to know what happened to the people they care about.  

In 1981, while under investigation for defecting to the Viet-Cong, former Marine Robert R. Garwood claimed that American prisoners-of-wars were still being held in Vietnam nearly a decade after the active fighting had ended. Whether Garwood was a turncoat or the victim of a disinformation campaign depends on what side of the political paranoia spectrum you fall on. Either way, his statements would throw fuel on the fire of a growing conspiracy theory. That U.S. servicemen were still alive and still imprisoned overseas, that both the Vietnamese and American governments knew about it, and were willfully attempting to cover up their existence and discredit those who claimed to have seen them. I don't know what meaningful intel could be gleaned from soldiers that had been stuck in prison cells for upwards of six years but, well, it was the Cold War, I guess.

In other words, a reasonable movement to locate still missing remains of deceased soldiers was soon infiltrated with crack pots. And where there be crack pots, there be con men. Names like Jack E. Bailey and Bo Gritz would attract attention for highly publicized private "rescue missions" to locate these P.O.W.s. Those two never found any imprisoned Americans but they did sell a lot of T-shirts, raise a lot of money through direct mail marketing, and make increasingly outrageous claims about their war records. Despite the questionable credulity of the theory, the concept of servicemen still imprisoned in Southeast Asia had entered the public consciousness. 1982 would see the release of “Uncommon Valor,” a film from the director of “First Blood” that depicted the rescue of live prisoners in Laos. Around that same time, Sylvester Stallone himself began to develop a “First Blood” sequel revolving around the same idea. The treatment for the film that would become “Rambo: First Blood Part II” circulated heavily in Hollywood. That's when another group of perhaps dubious ethics decided to exploit the M.I.A./P.O.W. idea to make a little money.

That party would be Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus of the Cannon Films Group. The Israeli cousins and their company had already made a name for themselves in the early eighties for their low budget hits about ninjas, breakdancing, and Charles Bronson shooting people. It has long been rumored that Golan and Globus had seen the “Rambo II” treatment and fully expected the movie to become a massive hit. Seeking to cash-in on this incoming success, they decided to rush a knock-off into theaters before the real deal. Supposedly at the same time, Chuck Norris and writer Lance Hool were already developing an action script about the M.I.A./P.O.W. claim. They took their idea to Cannon, who combined it with their already cooking “Rambo” rip-off. The resulting film was “Missing in Action,” the beginning of Chuck's prosperous relationship with Golan-Globus and the first of many would-be John Rambos to re-invade Vietnam in the eighties.

Colonel James Braddock spent two and a half years in a North Vietnamese prison camp, where him and his unit were subjected to endless torment. He managed to escape while the war still raged but knew other men were left behind. A decade later, he is still haunted by the memories. He is recruited by an investigation dispatched by the U.S. government to Ho Chi Minh City. The Vietnamese officials claim that all the P.OW.s have been returned but Braddock is not convinced.  He digs up information about a supposed prison camp still active deep in the jungles of Thailand. He gains a boat from old friend Tucker as well as a motorized raft and lots of heavy artillery. With Vietnamese assassins on his trail, Braddock heads out to rescue the supposed U.S. prisoners and decimate anyone who stands in his way. 

Films like “Missing in Action” and “Rambo: First Blood Part II” acted as psychic exorcisms over America's trauma from the Vietnam War. While “Rambo” began with the poignant enough promise of simply “bringing them home,” it turned into unhinged jingoism immediately. It wasn't only fantasizing about saving those that couldn't be saved but about retconning the end of the war, restoring America's metaphorical big dick by making us an undefeated superpower once again. I'm not going to say that “Missing in Action” is any better than that cause it's definitely not. However, the film is less preoccupied with playing out Cold War talking points and humbling the Soviets than it is specifically focused on the Vietnamese. Braddock's rescue mission ends with him landing a helicopter in the front yard of the Vietnamese capital and dragging the missing P.O.W.s before the country's leaders and the world press. Earlier, he sneaks into a high ranking military member's bedroom and threatens to stab him personally. Obviously, this is still an extremely stupid racist revenge fantasy. The script pointedly ignores all the terrible things the U.S. did to the Vietnamese, treats an ended war like it's still on-going, and depicts an entire country as populated solely by evil Asians. However, there's also a specificity to the anger on-display here that, if nothing else, feels like a release of very genuine emotions. 

Considering Chuck's brother died in Vietnam, it's not difficult to assume he was personally invested in conveying that feeling. In fact, I think you can visibly tell that is the case. After having the starring role in eight feature films, Chuck Norris seems to be genuinely attempting to act in “Missing in Action.” When dramatically awakening from a nightmare in his sweaty hotel room and glaring angrily at the “Spider-Man” cartoon playing on the TV, there actually seems to be a degree of still simmering rage behind Norris' eyes. Rather than vacillate between a more pissed-off action hero mode and a more affable persona, Chuck actually maintains this driving anger throughout most of the movie. When having a tense conversation with a former rival or angrily firing off his guns, that lingering rage is still under his stern face. There aren't even too many flat or awkward line-readings. This is not especially deep or nuanced acting. However, Norris has either gotten comfortable enough on-camera to no longer appear stiff or inconsistent or he actually put some thought into the thoughts and feelings of his character. 

Unfortunately, while Chuck has clearly learned some lessons from his past movies, “Missing in Action” repeats a mistake that a lot of the star's earlier films did. It takes way too damn long to get to the good stuff. The first half is devoted largely to Chuck, dressed all in black and sneaking around the Vietnamese embassy. There are long scenes of him investigating leads, gathering supplies, and preparing for his return to Vietnam. There are some decent action beats during this first hour. A knife-wielding spy attacking Chuck in a seedy bar or him nearly avoiding a bomb going off in his hotel room aren't bad. However, over half of “Missing in Action's” runtime feels like an extended prologue to the stuff the audience is actually here to see. I suppose the idea is that Braddock is not a trained martial arts, lessening the amount of melee combat in the film... Which does not stop Chuck from utilizing a few high kicks. 

After entirely too much build-up, “Missing in Action” finally begins to give the viewer what they are here for. By the time this film was released, the Cannon Film Group had already produced “Exterminator 2” and Luigi Cozzi's “Hercules.” The studio's reputation for explosive action on a budget was beginning to take shape. The required pyrotechnics are put on display here. Chuck blows up an entire encampment. A clever gag involves a grenade wedged into the back of a truck. There's no shortage of shoot-outs and vehicle chases. M. Emmet Walsh, essentially playing the film's comic relief, even gets in on the bloodshed. It's competently assembled and mildly diverting, as far as the lizard brain pleasures go. Ultimately, the only action beat that proves truly memorable is an extended sequence devoted to that bulletproof speed boat chasing around a Vietnamese gunship. It goes airborne at one point and you can visibly see either Chuck or his convincing stunt double flip out of it, so some real work was put into that one. 

The film wouldn't just begin Chuck Norris' fruitful collaboration with Cannon. It would also completely shift the career of its director, Joseph Zito. Zito got his start making sleazy exploitation films in New York before directing “The Prowler,” one of the best stand-alone slasher films of the early eighties. That film got him the job of directing “Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter,” easily one of the best entries in that particular franchise. I suppose his horror work proved Zito could bring a film with elaborate effects in on schedule and budget, which is probably why Cannon selected him for this gig. Zito brought along his regular director of photographer, João Fernandes. The team continues some of the atmospheric night shots that made their slasher films stand-out. A shot of Chuck sneaking around a staircase in the shadows is a good example of that. A sequence where Braddock is attacked by a knife-wielding assassin in his bedroom is probably the scene that most indicates that the same guy who made “The Prowler” also made this. Unfortunately, Fernandes and Zito's style fades into the background the more action focused the movie becomes. 

Golan and Globus' plan to get “Missing in Action” in theaters six months before “First Blood Part II” paid off. The movie became a hit, the highest grossing of Chuck Norris' entire career. Clearly the producers and audiences were satisfied with this one. However, I found myself hoping for a little bit more from this one. The cultural context around it and Norris' clear personal connection to the idea makes “Missing in Action” fitfully interesting. However, better pacing and more chances for its leading man to show off his skills would've improved this. [6/10] 

[THE CHUCK OF NORRIS: 3 outta 5]
[X] Facial Hair
[X] Jumps or Kicks Through a Window or Wall
[] Performs Spin Kick or Spin Punch to Enemy's Face
[X] Shows Off His Hairy Chest
[] Sports Some Cowboy Getup

CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: Lone Wolf McQuade (1983)

When you're watching through every leading role in a movie star's career, you inevitably start to think of the actor as the main driving force behind most of the creative decisions. In a case such as Chuck Norris, where audiences are expecting very specific things from his movies, this is probably more true than with a performer that absorbs themselves more in a character. We are here to watch Chuck Norris do Chuck Norris things, not see the versatility of his acting. Accordingly, Mr. Norris did not work with the same directors that often in his earlier credits, most of the filmmakers not having diverse or memorable filmographies of their own. Steve Carver is the exception. A graduate of the Roger Corman school of independent film making, Carver's name is on notable B-movies like “The Arena” and “Big Bad Mama.” He would graduate to slightly classier studio movies with “Capone” and “Drum” before directing “An Eye for an Eye.” Chuck and Carver must have gotten along because the two teamed up again for 1983's “Lone Wolf McQuade.” Back in 1983, it got slightly better reviews than previous Norris joints and remains a favorite among his fans. 

J.J. McQuade is a Texas Ranger in El Paso, a cowboy hat wearing, karate-kicking former Marine who drives a turbo-charged truck, carries a big gun, and doesn't seem to own a shirt that buttons up all the way. His lone wolf attitude brings in the bad guys – frequently in body bags – but has made him unpopular with his commanding officers. McQuade's boss teams him up with Kayo, a younger and more by-the-book highway patrolman. McQuade's teenage daughter is injured after stumbling upon a criminal syndicate smuggling weapons across the border. He reluctantly teams up with Kayo to get to the bottom of the case. A smug, kung fu fighting weapons dealer named Rawley Wilkes is behind the operations. He is muscling into the territory of local crime lord Falcon, prompting an alliance of sorts. McQuade also ends up romancing Rawley's moll, a horse trainer named Lola, making the inevitable confrontation all the more personal when his daughter is kidnapped by the bad guys and he has to go across the border to get her back.

While Bruce Lee or any other martial artist star might seem like the more obvious inspiration, Chuck Norris was always fairly open about what movie star he wanted to be. In interviews promoting “Good Guys Wear Black,” he directly cited Clint Eastwood as his model. “Lone Wolf McQuade” follows that influence to its logical conclusion. The opening credits feature a font not dissimilar to that seen in Sergio Leone's “Dollars” trilogy. Composer Francesco De Masi does a decent Ennio Morricone impression on the soundtrack. Cinematography Roger Shearman invokes Leone's mythic version of the American West in the opening scene, filming Norris behind the midday sun and among the wide, flat Texas deserts.. The movie is a spaghetti western for the eighties. There are Dodge trucks instead of horses and Uzis instead of Winchester rifles but “Lone Wolf McQuade” is still operating in that same mode. It's a hyper-real story of tough men, with stubble and perpetually sweaty faces, hunting down far more ruthless villains in a south-western landscape so barren and topped with rocky structures as to be a fantasy land. 

“Lone Wolf McQuade” is also an action movie from the era when the genre was starting to get more excessive, the pyrotechnics and machismo reaching such a level that it very quickly crossed over into the realm of self-parody. That actually turns out to be a good fit for the spaghetti western aesthetic, which was already a more exaggerated version of traditional American myth making. While Norris' past films were mostly fight movies with some shoot-outs or explosions added here and there, “McQuade” truly ups the ante. The opening sequence has machine gun fire breaking out across the mesas of the desert. A well done stunt involves the action star being dragged behind a moving truck, a sequence that concludes with a fiery explosion. The last act, meanwhile, is an orgy of bullets, flames, and heavy machinery. Norris' movies before this one very much felt like B-movies, lower budget attempts to compete with the big studio spectacles. “Lone Wolf McQuade” is the first time the star seems to be operating on the same level of gloriously overwrought mega-violence as his peers.

Shortly before his death, Steve Carver would do an interview where he admitted that Chuck Norris wasn't much of an actor. He called his performance “mechanical.” It is true that Norris has not always had the most graceful line readings or emotions up to this point. There are a few exchanges in “Lone Wolf McQuade” that come off as fairly stiff. However, the guy had developed a certain presence, which the film definitely capitalizes on. The film sees Norris bonding with “Friday the 13th Part III's” Dana Kimmell as his daughter, the actor convincingly being paternal towards her. It's an interesting note that McQuade's ex-wife is written as still fond of him, their relationship seeming easy-going and relaxed. A way overqualified Barbara Carrera plays his proper love interest. When she cleans his filthy house out, McQuade is annoyed at first but soon tries to do better. This proceeds a very silly but kind of sexy garden hose assisted make-up session. When out at a date in a saloon, Carrera slaps a handsy barfly. Amazingly, McQuade walks away from the conflict here. All of this points towards the secret appeal of Norris as an action star. Despite his tough guy exterior and powerful punches, he's actually kind of a sweetheart. Men want to be him, sure, but also he could be your dad. Women can actually imagine themselves running their hands over his hairy chest, as opposed to the god-like mega-physiques of Arnold or Stallone. 

Chuck's more approachable style of bad-assery did not mean that his films were any less campy than the bigger budget fair coming out at the time. In fact, “Lone Wolf McQuade” is hilariously silly in spots. A key sequence involves McQuade being buried alive in his truck. He does not escape this death trap through quick thinking or any applied skill. Instead, he pours a beer all over himself and revs the engine until the truck explodes out of the earth, sheer boneheaded good ol' boy brute force overcoming the laws of physics. That McQuade is a romantic lead is amusing, considering his sloppy, beer-swilling life style – directly compared to the wolf-dog that is his pet – seems irreconcilable with a feminine touch. (That dog, by the way, gets a far more mournful send-off than a later death scene. Carrera is effortlessly charming in her part but the character is never anything more than a pawn to pass between the hero and villain, woman as accessory to brawny guys.)

What I'm saying is this is Chuck's gayest movie since “Breaker! Breaker!” Despite being a lone wolf, McQuade's most important bonds are with the other guys in the movie. He has a mentor relationship with L.Q. Jones as an older cowboy cop. Despite initially being antagonistic towards him, in buddy cop movie fashion, McQuade and Kayo becomes partners before the end. The final scene even sees Kayo pulling the hero's attention away from his ex-wife and daughter, inviting him to leave the women behind and play with the boys. Before his final dual with the bad guy, McQuade removes his belt. Obviously, this is a hero and villain setting their fire arms aside to have a fair fight but it's seemingly deliberately framed as a prelude to a distinctly different type of wrestling. “Lone Wolf” is hilariously adrift with hyper-macho imagery. McQuade is usually seen with an oversized phallic firearm of some sort. A memorable moment has him pushing another vehicle out of a ditch with his Supercharger, after the other drivers besmirch his attitude, as if this is some truck-on-truck alpha wolf domination thing. That's not the only example of mechanical frottage in the film either. The dialogue is also littered with repeated references to the manly posterior. When McQuade's sidekick blasts a bad guy and says he “never forgets an asshole,” I'm sure it's supposed to be a tough one-liner but the implication struck me as slightly different. And it should go without saying that Chuck is topless for most of the film. This cowboy doesn't tuck in his shirt, no sir. 

As all of the above should indicate, this is not a motion picture of any degree of realism. “A Force of One,” “An Eye for an Eye,” and “Silent Rage” would all draw some attention to its protagonist overstepping the boundaries of law enforcement. You'd see Chuck turning in his badge before going full vigilante or attempting to visibly restrain himself before utilizing lethal force. That's not a problem for J.J. McQuade, who is blasting bad guys from the first scene on. A key moment has him capturing a key witness before L.Q. Jones tortures him by nearly shooting him several times. The last act has McQuade deliberately ignoring the laws of the land to cross the border and take on the weapon smugglers personally. He has the approval of the FBI in doing this. While R.G. Armstong as the captain chastises McQuade for his cowboy coppery, he is ultimately only rewarded for his extra-judicial actions. That was another sign we were well and truly in the eighties now. Harry Callahan would make a show of tossing his star away, acknowledging that he had broken the law in his pursuit of fascistic “justice.” J.J. McQuade doesn't give a shit about that and neither would Marion Cobretti, Martin Riggs, John McClane, or Jack Slater. Thus was the ethos of Ronald Reagan's “might makes right” administration. 

 

None of which is meant as a criticism. One must acknowledge the ridiculous perspective of films like this before being able to embrace them as the campy fantasies they are. On that level, “Lone Wolf McQuade” is effortlessly entertaining. The finale is an orgy of destruction, bazooka and bulldozer included, that repeatedly tops itself in terms of destruction. The climax is a showdown between Norris and David Carradine, a title bout between two of the icons of white boy kung-fu. Amusingly, Chuck would supposedly later be quoting as saying, “David Carradine is every bit the martial artist as I am an actor.” This is an astute, self-aware observation but I will say that Carradine can more convincingly throw a kick here than in his Kwai Chang Caine days. Carradine plays Rawley like a slithering snake of a bad guy, all slick self-confidence. His gold chain and polo shirt paints him as a deliberately different type of masculine verve than McQuade's sweaty, rugged cowboy machismo. Another campy touch is Falcon, the story's other gangster, being a dwarf. That too is a touch that feels more Sergio Leone than John Ford. 
 

In other words, “Lone Wolf McQuade” is absolute cinema. It takes all the goofy touches of Norris' earlier films and pairs them with a more self-assured sense of campy artifice. When Chuck does a slow-mo jump kick to a wooden target, it's a deliberate declaration that this shit is as awesome as it is silly. All the varied influences of Norris' self-image come together here, in a miasma of martial arts, western imagery, reactionary politics, and rascally redneck charm. I guess we are missing some New Age Native American mysticism or Born Again Christianity nonsense – two elements that Chuck would add when essentially recycling the film's premise for “Walker, Texas Ranger” – but the film has enough dudesweat and fireballs to make up for that. Take a beer bath yourself and give this one a spin, preferably on an over-rented VHS tape in the back of a shitty trailer, with the A/C howling against the scorching heat of the Texas summer night. [9/10]

[THE CHUCK OF NORRIS: 5 outta 5]
[X] Facial Hair
[X] Jumps or Kicks Through a Window or Wall
[X] Performs Spin Kick or Spin Punch to Enemy's Face
[X] Shows Off His Hairy Chest
[X] Sports Some Cowboy Getup

CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: Forced Vengeance (1982)

 

As I mentioned in yesterday's review, the threshold of entry into the action genre is relatively low. Or at least it was in the seventies and eighties. Once you locate some dudes that can actually fight, humans being the most durable special effect of all, you've got all the spectacle you need. That's presumably why Chuck Norris' earliest brawlers were independent productions, made outside the big studio system. Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer wasn't going to drop some real dollars on this wooden karate guy nobody has heard of, ya know? By 1982, people actually had heard of this wooden karate guy though. That's the year that Chuck made his major studio debut in both “Silent Rage” and “Forced Vengeance,” the former for Columbia and the latter for M-G-M. “Forced Vengeance” actually had the highest budget of the star's career up to that point, at five million dollars. Were karate nerds in 1982 decrying Chuck for selling out or were they happy their boy had finally made it to the big days? While you dig up Usenet posts from forty-four years ago, I'll write my review of “Forced Vengeance.” 

Josh Randall was a U.S. Navy chief who was kind of drifting through life. After getting into a brawl in a Hong Kong casino called the Lucky Dragon, Josh catches the attention of the business' owner, Sam. He takes the guy under his wing, employing him as the casino enforcer and treating him like a surrogate son. Randall sorts his life out, finding a girlfriend in a pretty blonde named Bonnie, and considers his next move in life. That is when Sam is murdered under mysterious circumstances. Randall immediately knows who is responsible: Hong Kong gangster Stan Ramandi, himself an heir to a local criminal empire. After the rights to the land goes to Sam's daughter, Joy, Randall has to use his martial arts skill to protect the girl and her property from the killers sent after her. 

Those critical of action movies, or any genre that relies on repeatable formulas for that matter, complain that these movies are interchangeable with each other. That you can put on any Chuck Norris movie and get basically the same thing. While I don't think this is an entirely fair criticism, “Forced Vengeance” does do little to distinguish itself from Norris' prior films and many other fight films from similar performers. Revenge plots are extremely common across Norris' flicks and, as the title indicates, that's what “Forced Vengeance” does too. The premise, of a casino owner being killed by gangsters after his land who then attacks the dead man's family, is extremely generic. To the point that it resembles the story of “The Way of the Dragon” to a degree. “Forced Vengeance” doesn't go out of its way to dispel perceptions, is my point. M-G-M wanted to make a Chuck Norris movie but they clearly didn't want to mix up the formula any.

The script from Franklin Thompson – most of his credits are as a consultant on Perry Mason episodes – seemingly tries to mix things up by piling on a number of supporting characters. Norris' hero gets both a girlfriend and a surrogate sister figure to protect. He has a former war buddy who becomes involved for a little bit. A Hong Kong detective accompanies Norris in a few scenes. Frustratingly, many of these characters come and go from the story, getting shuffled out of the plot in sloppy and quick ways. The film also includes multiple villains for Chuck to kick through. The final boss of which is not introduced until ten minutes before the end credits roll. Having the big bad of the story be an infirm old man in a wheel chair is intriguing but not much is done with it. Much of “Forced Vengeance” is like that, as if a bunch of ideas were thrown together quickly without much time to assemble them into a satisfying whole. 

Chuck Norris might be one of the origin points for the widely held belief that action heroes can't act, that they are strictly physical specimens without any of the intellectual artistry that goes into the craft of creating a character. Now, I do think Chuck actually has a degree of charm and physicality. He's got a winning smile and an easy-going, relaxed screen presence that makes him fun to watch. When it comes to delving into deeper emotions, anger seems to be the one he's most effective at portraying. There's a moment in the last third of “Forced Vengeance,” where Norris' character has lost almost everything. He slips on his old military uniform, marches down a hallway, and beats goon to a pulp inside a public bathroom. It's one of the better moments in the film. However, Norris' weakness as a movie star become apparent in how he does not maintain that sense of ferocity and rage throughout. Randall's characterization seems to change from scene to scene, how pissed-off or relaxed he is different at any point. The first scene sees him intimidating a guy who owes the casino some money, causing you to believe that maybe this character is a bit of a jerk. When hanging out with his girlfriend, he's cuddly and sweet. When on the warpath, he's a cold-eyed avenger. The film cannot tie these elements into a coherent whole. He also has an extremely half-hearted voice over narration. 

Maybe I'm looking at it the wrong way. The action is what we are here to see, after all. Director James Fargo, previously of “The Enforcer” and “Every Which Way But Loose,” has a decent grasp on that. For a good chunk in the middle, “Forced Vengeance” becomes a chase movie, as Randall leads Claire and Joy around Hong Kong and tries to protect them from a succession of attackers. This is probably the most fleet-footed, exciting series of moments in the film. When Chuck is caught off-guard at a train station, the film briefly becomes exciting. Cinematographer Rexford L. Metz – second unit guy on “Jaws” and many other high-profile works whose primary D.P. credits are mostly TV movies – cooks up a few eye-catching visuals. One fight takes place in silhouette against a large neon sign, a moment so striking it was reused for the opening credits. 

The fight choreographer features the smooth, powerful blows from Norris that we've come to expect. Credit where it is due, the film manages to convincingly sell the idea that Michael Cavanaugh is an actual threat to Chuck Norris, by emphasizing him swinging a pole arm around. “Forced Vengeance” also tries to distinguish itself by making the action a little bloodier and bolder than in some other previous examples. The villains memorably splattery death scenes. The grittier approach is also present in what happens to Chuck's primary love interest, a darker element that doesn't seem to match up with a lot of the other tonal choices made here. In fact, both female leads get pawed at by villains, pointing towards this being a sleazier exploitation movie that is never built on. 

The Hong Kong setting does add some color and novelty. That includes an amusing homage to Bruce Lee. However, “Forced Vengeance” ultimately feels a lot sloppier than Norris' last few films, which were only getting stronger up to this point. A story that is both generic and unorganized, with a bunch of ideas that never come into focus, keeps this form being a truly satisfying brawler. Maybe I should have expected a generic example of action schlock, what with that unimaginative title. I suppose the idea is that the villains' wicked actions force Chuck into enacting some revenge against them? Kind of awkward though, as he still willingly goes about his roaring rampage. Another example of how maybe this wasn't the most well thought out motion picture. Cool cowboy hat though. No doubt Chuck can rock a Stetson like nobody's business. [5/10]

[THE CHUCK OF NORRIS: 5 outta 5]
[X] Facial Hair
[X] Jumps or Kicks Through a Window or Wall
[X] Performs Spin Kick or Spin Punch to Enemy's Face
[X] Shows Off His Hairy Chest
[X] Sports Some Cowboy Getup

CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: Silent Rage (1982)

They are the two genres I think of whenever memories of slightly disreputable video stores come to mind. I have no actual proof to go on here and my personal preferences might be clouding my judgement. However, if you ask me, the Ma and Pa rental places were built on the back of low-brow horror and cheap action movies. These are the most blue collar of movies. Back in the eighties and early nineties, you could probably sell five thousand units with simple ingredients. All you need for one is a decent location and a little fake blood. All you need for the other is one guy who can kick higher than his head. Filmmakers had been getting their action chocolate in people's horror peanut butter since Maciste went to Hell. The broad appeal among the video renting public of these two styles meant proper cross-pollination was inevitable. As far as I can tell, the first big American action star to lend his fighting prowess to a stab-stab-knife movie was Chuck Norris in “Silent Rage.” This has made the film a minor cult fave among fans of both demographics. I've written about it before but it's been long enough that I think a revisit is in order. 

John Kirby is having a hard time. His mind is a wasp's nest of violent thoughts and agitation. The apartment he's staying in is occupied by screaming kids, a bickering land lady, and screeching music. After making a panicked call to his shrink, Kirby finally snaps. He takes an axe to the other residents. Sheriff Dan Stevens and his incompetent deputy Charlie are soon on the scene. Stevens subdues the now silent and rageful Kirby with his karate moves but it's not enough: The madman is shot down by the other cops. His body is taken to the local hospital and catches the attention of Dr. Spires and Dr. Vaughn. Against the protests of Kirby's psychologist Dr. Halman, Spires and Vaughn pump the not-quite-dead Kirby with an experimental drug. It cranks his immune system to its highest level, causing his wounds to heal within seconds. Unfortunately, the experiments do nothing to cure Kirby of his psychosis and violent tendencies. Spires tries to use Kirby to destroy those that would stop his research but the madman proves too difficult to control. Halman is the brother-in-law of Alison, Stevens' on-again off-again girlfriend. This puts the woman in the path of the murderer, which means the sheriff is going to have to find a way to stop this unstoppable threat. 

Director Michael Miller insists he wasn't a fan of slasher movies and was not thinking about “Halloween” when making “Silent Rage.” He instead points to “Frankenstein” as his primary inspiration. While I don't believe him that John Carpenter's classic wasn't a point of reference at all, the Frankensteinian elements are intentional and unavoidable. The words “Dr. Stein” are even said by someone. Steven Keats as Dr. Spires repeatedly says that he believes the advancement of science is more important than any moral concerns. Dr. Halman repeatedly points out that doing a Weapon X on a spree killer is extremely unethical, not to mention obviously unwise. Spires, meanwhile, is too preoccupied with the could've and does not consider the should've. Hysteria over what science has wrought in its hubris surely seemed as old hat as can be in 1982. However, “Silent Rage” attacks the idea with such sincerity that it honestly worked for me. 

If one were to break down the percentages, you would probably find that “Silent Rage” is more slasher than it is action movie. The sequences devoted to the killer hunting and dispatching his intended victims probably take up more of the runtime than the brawls. Despite dismissing any connection to the stalk-and-slash style, director Miller and his team are competent at it. We get more than a few Michael Myers-like point-of-view shots of the killer watching his targets. A mild degree of tension is generated in these moments, the viewer wondering when Kirby might finally strike. There's a smidge of that small town isolation, that late-at-night eeriness, in the tracking shots through a darkened home or an empty hospital. 

While not especially gory by the standards of these things, I do think the film handles the grue nicely as well. A sequence where Kirby emerges suddenly and strikes a head against a wall with killing force is extremely well done. Brian Libby, previously of a small part in “The Octagon,” wears a fairly silly cleansuit throughout most of the movie. Otherwise, he simply looks like a guy. Probably needed a spiffy mask or a hook hand or something. Nevertheless, Libby has the frame and the intimidation factor necessary to make a decent villain. No explanation is provided for why this rage is silent but Libby has the dead-eyed stare and the occasional unhinged smirk down. 

The public perception of the slasher film is that they are nothing but mindless violence. In actuality, the most lovable slashers tend to quietly hang out with their characters long enough for the audience to get a sense of their vibe, if not their personalities. “Silent Rage” does this as well and it's maybe the motion picture's secret weapon. After being complacent in creating an immortal murder machine, Dr. Halman goes home to his wife. She is a painter, gives him a glass of wine. The two order a pizza together. The reliable charm of an actor like Ron Silver is a big reason why this moment feels so comfy and lived-in. However, it goes a long way to make you care about what may or may not happen to these characters. Similarly, the third scientist involved in this is a nothing character that is elevated by the oddball energy William Finley brings to it. That's the kind of thing you would hire William Finley for. It's not a lot. Slasher films are not built on “a lot” but rather a little and these are the exact components fans like to see.

 

The dominant side of “Silent Rage's” brain certainly belongs to its horror instincts. However, this is still a Chuck Norris flick. It is, in fact, the first of his motion pictures in which he puts on a cowboy hat, shit-kickin' boots, and a big ol' belt buckle. Combined with his unexplained karate expertise and its Texas setting, the roots of “Walker, Texas Ranger” are starting to show. Much like the future TV show, this element of the film is corny with extra kernels. Stephen Furst plays Charlie, the comic relief sidekick, and he has barely turned the volume down from his performance in “Animal House.” This is a ridiculous character, an overgrown child that is utterly stunned by a sight of some boobies, completely delusional about his own abilities, and incapable of doing anything right. The romantic subplot, meanwhile, is conveyed with no less seriousness. Norris and Toni Kalem have an awkward, combative chemistry. He's not quite able to sell the smooth lines but, somehow, it works in the film's favor. This is good, as they spend most of their scenes together in bed. Most prominently in a romantic montage set to a seriously syrupy love song. 

The hokiness extends to the context around the action scenes. In order to give Chuck more warm bodies to beat, a cartoonish motorcycle gang rides into town to cause trouble. Much like Charlie's bizarre confession to freezing his childhood dog alive, this scene contributes nothing to the overall plot. Not that I mind because it's a surprisingly effectively piece of fight choreography. Chuck repeats the gag of splitting a pool cue and using the broken wood as a weapon, while delivering some fast piece kicks and punches. It concludes with the delirious sight of a motorcycle flying through a window, the kind of imagery eighties action movie legend is built upon. While most of Norris' action beats are isolated to a few scenes, the central gimmick of “Silent Rage” provides a new angle to the familiar fisticuffs. This is an enemy Norris can't beat into submission. John Kirby gets Michael Myers-shot out a window, dragged behind a moving vehicle, set on fire, takes all the roundhouse kicks to the face and it only annoys him. While Chuck Norris was never much of a thespian, he does a good job of conveying that desperation. It's novel to see the action star up against a threat that actually outclasses him. 

“Silent Rage's” uneven split between two different types of low-brow entertainment means it might not please everyone. If you are here strictly for the action, you might walk away disappointed. Slasher nuts, however, are used to keeping their expectations low. Which means we are more than satisfied with a competently executed body count thriller that has the bonus of including some silly Chuck Norris theatrics. That many of the additional elements are extra silly on their face only makes this a more delicious camp stew. Like most of the murder movies that followed in Michael Myers' path, “Silent Rage” ends by promising that its deathless killer will return. Like the majority of slasher flicks that flooded theaters in-between 1980 and 1983, no sequel followed. “Silenter Rage” wasn't in the card. However, I think this genre hybrid remains a fascinating idea and could probably support a remake. Get Jason Statham or Scott Adkins up against another speechless super-killer and I bet I'll have a good time with it. Every guy famous for kicking folks in the head should fight a monster or two in his career. “Silent Rage's” all-timer of a tagline – “Science created him, now Chuck Norris must destroy him” – works just as well with any martial artist slotted in. [7/10]

[THE CHUCK OF NORRIS: 4 outta 5]
[X] Facial Hair
[] Jumps or Kicks Through a Window or Wall
[X] Performs Spin Kick or Spin Punch to Enemy's Face
[X] Shows Off His Hairy Chest
[X] Sports Some Cowboy Getup