CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: The President's Man (2000)

After nine seasons and two hundred and three episodes, “Walker, Texas Ranger” would hang up his silver star in May of 2001. Presumably because he had roundhouse kicked every bank robber, crime boss, drug runner, human trafficker, Neo-Nazi, Satanist and skinwalker in Texas. Chuck Norris was not going to take it easy though. Instead, a year before “Walker” ended, he was already trying to get a follow-up going. CBS would air “The President's Man” on April 2nd of 2000, Norris Brothers Production having their logo right at the front of the presentation. As with “Logan's War,” the perspective series being set up by this TV movie would place Norris in more of a mentor role, while a younger, more agile performer shared the spotlight. In this case, Dylan Neal, another stout-chinned hunk of meat TV actor whose career never quite took off. Did it work better on a second go-around? 

It turns out that the President of the United States has a special operative, a secret agent infiltrator and all-around bad-ass, that answers to him and him alone. The current President's Man is Joshua McCord, a Vietnam veteran, college professor of Asian history, and martial arts expert. After rescuing the First Lady from South American terrorists, McCord fears he is getting too long in the teeth. Along with his daughter, Que, they seek out a protege. They find one in Sgt. Deke Slater, an Army Ranger who got dishonorably discharged for punching out a commanding officer and is now serving a thirty year prison sentence for killing a White Supremacist in a jail yard brawl. Slater is sprung from jail and taken under McCord's wing, the hot head bristling against the expert during the grueling training. Soon, the team is back in South America, seeking out a kidnapped nuclear physicist being blackmailed into building a nuke for the drug cartel. A cartel led by a former South Vietnamese general that McCord has unfinished business with.

 

The opening of "The President's Man" features Chuck Norris parachuting out of a stealth bomber, dispatching some baddies via knife throws and window dives, before paragliding the First Lady to safety. As this happens, a musical sting on the soundtrack that sounds suspiciously like the James Bond theme plays. This clarifies "The President's Man" as an attempt to do some super spy antics on an extremely TV budget. The drop out of the airplane features some sketchy CGI. Unlike the always horny Bond, McCord never makes any moves towards the totally grandmotherly First Lady, because that wouldn't fit television standards. For a movie about global politics and black operations, the sets and locations are seriously limited. The top secret training center for the presidential hit squad looks a lot like a suburban gym or recreational center. They hang off monkey bars, get kicked in the chest while doing pull-ups, and throw knives at spinning targets. A lot of the international missions seem to take place in sparsely forested fields surrounding farm houses. I really wouldn't expect a movie about the president's personal Rambo to feature this many scenes in offices, ranches, and sheds. 
 

The cheap production values of "The President's Man" point towards the film's status as basically the pilot for a series and not a work meant to stand alone. You also see this in the story structure. Within this ninety minute runtime, we see: The rescue of the First Lady, the botched mission that got Slater kicked out of the Army and dumped in prison, his first mission with McCord to snatch a Senator's daughter from a weird cult compound, and the saving of the nuclear scientists from some sadistic foreigners. Each of these story threads essentially stand alone, making "The President's Man" feel less like a single narrative and more like a couple of scripts for different episodes shoved together. The connecting fiber is devoted to the repetitive scenes of Slater training with McCord and his daughter, the kind of standard sequences used to establish the general set-up of a weekly show at the start of every hour. If "Logan's War" was an attempt to squeeze a whole backstory for a hero and his first adventure into one movie, "The President's Man" is an even shakier test-run for a concept more ready to air every Wednesday at 9PM than be watched as a complete story in its own right. 

One of the movies that makes up the episodic structure of “The President's Man” is basically a TV series version of “Missing in Action.” It's interesting how the television star portion of Norris' career saw him recycling ideas from his movie roles. “Walker” was “Lone Wolf McQuade” while “Logan's War” drew a little from “The Delta Force” and “Good Guys Wear Black.” This one makes McCord a Vietnam veteran. Much like Braddock, he has a Vietnamese wife and a child with her. As in “Missing in Action III,” she's murdered. To make the connection all-but-explicit, Soon-Tek Oh plays the killer who has returned, after previously appearing as the sadistic general in “Missing in Action II.” Chuck was too old at this point to take on-screen abuse so Dylan Neal gets strung up by the villains, shirtless and soaking wet, for an electrified torture scene. Braddock had a son that he didn't know about for years while McCord has a daughter that has grown up with him, Jennifer Tung playing the female lead. “The President's Man” also emphasizes this Chuck hero as a master of martial arts, who even gives lectures on samurai culture and practices zen meditation. Nevertheless, it would not take a lot of editing to make this a years later TV continuation of the “Missing in Action” flicks.

Does any of this prove especially entertain or interesting? The bits where Chuck is playing a wise sensai, especially when he's simply reading a book while his protege blusters around, are mildly amusing. While most of his kicks and punches continue to come from off-screen at this point, he does get a semi-decent fight with Soon-Tek Oh. The opening incursion he does got me to smile once or twice. Unfortunately, the action throughout is mostly extremely unremarkable. As a lead, Dylan Neal is astonishingly uninteresting. He's got a swell chin and a heroic build but little in the way of charisma or screen presence, instead merely acting like a generic tough guy. This is most apparent in the training montages, of which are there are many and all of them are quite dramatically inert. Jennifer Tung is a little more interesting and it was nice to see Stuart Whitman, in his final role, as Chuck's mentor. Sadly, most everything about “The President's Man” resists being memorable or compelling at all.

The greatest value “The President's Man” has might be as unintentional comedy. The film features an extremely corny inspirational rock song during its training montage, both of which made me laugh from how repetitive they are. Another quirk that's impossible not to notice is the awful sound design. Every punch sounds like a thunder crack, which because especially funny when Neal is driving several into a random goon's face at once. In general, this one is very cheap, extremely derivative and lame in its narrative, and doesn't present us with any characters to care about much. It's directed like an unambitious episode of television, which is more-or-less what it is. I guess it's a little more entertaining than “Logan's War,” if only becomes Chuck has more to do – despite really, really starting to show his age – and at least it's not 70% set-up. Consider this damning with the faintest of praise. [5/10]

[THE CHUCK OF NORRIS: 3 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
[] Shows Off His Hairy Chest*
[] Sports Some Cowboy Getup

*Chuck has a shirtless scene but, extremely distressingly, he has obviously shaved! 

CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: Logan's War: Bound by Honor (1998)

By 1998, “Walker, Texas Range” had been running for seven seasons. This was clearly a deal that had worked out for Mr. Norris and his bosses at CBS. Why not expand this surely profitable partnership some? That year would see the network airing “Martial Law,” a similar series mixing police procedural elements with martial arts and starring an action icon: Sammo Hung, Jackie Chan's old pal. While not a direct spin-off, Sammo would crossover with “Walker” and the show was clearly an attempt to recreate its success. A direct “Walker” spin-off would follow next year, with “Sons of Thunder.” That program only ran for six episodes but at least it made it to series. The same cannot be said for “Logan's War: Bound by Honor,” a TV movie Norris co-starred in that aired after a new “Walker” episode on November 1st of '98. 

Logan Fallon is the ten year old son of a district attorney. The boy seemingly has psychic premonitions of danger. His dad prepares a case against gangster Sal Mercado, despite his son's warning. This leads to the Fallon family being assassinated, Logan as the sole survivor. He's adopted by his uncle Jake, a former Army Ranger/kickboxing expert who has retired to a horse ranch following years of adventures. Logan swears vengeance against the mobsters who killed his parents and sister. Uncle Jake teaches him everything he knows, Logan following in his footsteps by becoming an Army Ranger. After returning home, Logan goes undercover in the Chicago mob, posing as a hit man. His final plan is to infiltrate the Mercado operation until he's close enough to take out Sal himself. 

By 1998, Chuck Norris would be pushing sixty. While “Walker” would run for another two seasons, it was clear that the action star could not pull off those roundhouse kicks and spin punches with quite the same level of limberness as he did in his glory days. Obviously, the instinct is to pass the baton onto to the next generation of acrobatic brawlers who can't act. Thus, “Logan's War” sees Norris stepping into a mentor role. The title character is played by Eddie Cibrian, Chuck mostly appearing at the beginning and end of the film. Honestly, it's a shift that Norris had been building towards for a long time. He was already depicting himself as a teacher to younger characters in “The Hitman,” “Sidekicks,” and “Forest Warrior.” Amusingly, while the film mostly sees Chuck passing on his knowledge and teaching Cibrian his bad-ass ways, he does leap right back into action at the end. In fact, “Logan's War” sees Chuck pulling off his trademark move of jump-kicking through a car's windshield. The implication is clear: Younger dudes must appear to fill these roles but that doesn't mean grandpa still can't kick some ass too, presumably in a reoccurring guest role in future episodes. 

While the star's production company would come onto “Walker” after the premise had already been conceived, “Logan's War” is based on a story by the Norris brothers. This means that, while the aging Lone Wolf does not play the title character, Logan is still blatantly a Chuck Norris type hero. Uncle Jake is a cowboy and an Army Ranger and an expert in melee combat. He passes all these skills onto Logan, who has a glorious and commendable career in the Army as well as being highly skilled in kicking and fighting. “Logan's War” also has the new guy involved in a very Norris-like subplot, wherein he defends a troubled woman and her young son from an abusive, shit-head boyfriend. This plot point contributes to the story in no meaningful way, there strictly to show audiences how noble and tough this guy is. That the script goes the extra mile and gives Logan an actual superpower is almost unnecessary. He's already hyper-capable and able to fight his way out of any situation.

Unsurprisingly, this means that Logan's precognitive abilities basically disappear from the story about half-way through. Why the guy has some sort of Spidey Sense is never explained. This is another symptom of “Logan's War” making its hero such a talented guy. The script is hopelessly top-heavy, as it sets up all of Logan's back story. First the extensive flashbacks to establish his need for vengeance. Then the lengthy training and sparring sessions and brave army record. By the time Logan is actually infiltrating the mob, “Bound by Honor” is already half-way over. The guy's trip into the criminal underground doesn't amount to much beyond some rough-housing, a quickly executed initiation ritual, and one hit. Is that all it takes to become a made man? When he pulls a gun on all the gangsters and reveals his true identity, nobody seems that shocked. Probably because they barely know this guy and have little reason to trust him anyway. 

Indeed, why should the audience give a shit about Logan either? Eddie Cibrian does not have the action star legacy of Chuck Norris. He was predominantly a pretty boy TV guy, having previously starred on “The Young and the Restless,” “Sunset Beach,” and the supernatural investigation spin-off of “Baywatch.” He can convincingly deliver a kick. Or at least swap places with a stunt double decently. He simply doesn't have much charisma. This pairs with a presentation that is nothing but workmanlike. Director Michael Preece was a TV lifer, whose most prominent work includes seventy episodes of “Walker” and sixty of “Dallas.” Which is to say that “Logan's War” never looks anything more than average, the blocking being extraordinarily standard and the imagery largely bland. I'm honestly surprised that the film features some passable action in its back half. When Chuck is punching and kicking, the film almost starts to feel a little more lively. 

While “Logan's War: Bound by Honor” ends with its title character getting his revenge, the film was clearly still designed to launch a series. The final scene has the protagonist being asked what he plans to do next, the obvious implication being that more adventures are to come. With Chuck still starring on “Walker” at the time, I suppose Uncle Jake would have only made occasional guest appearances. We'll never know, since no further installments followed. Considering how hard the film leans into the cowboy angle, not much effort was taken to avoid comparisons to “Walker” anyway. Mostly thanks to a story more focused on set-up than pay-off and a lead lacking any charm, “Logan's War” is a snooze. I'm glad Chuck got to fly through the wind shield of a car one more time though. [4/10]

[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

*Wears a low-cut tank top during a sparring scene, the Carpet of Virility briefly visible

CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: Forest Warrior (1996)

As a fan of low budget filmmaking – especially when it spotlights new voices or contains a subversive message – I do not believe there is any shame in going "direct-to-video." ("Direct-to-VOD" or "Direct-to-Tubi" being the modern equivalent.) It is a totally valid release strategy for a number of worthwhile movies. However, especially during the Blockbuster Video peak years of the nineties, the bias against films foregoing a theatrical run wasn't entirely unwarranted. Many lazy cash-in sequels, unambitious action flicks, horror films of debatable merit, and exceedingly lame kids movies were released in this manner. You'd think, with a steady TV gig on “Walker, Texas Ranger,” Chuck Norris wouldn't need to do any of that stuff circa 1995. I guess not, as the former karate champ starred in “Forest Warrior,” his first direct-to-video release, around that time. To add to that indignity, this latest collab with his brother Aaron was strictly within the kiddie camp. The resulting film is widely regarded as a low point for a star whose work rarely attracted critical praise in the first place. 

Near the Tanglewood forest, a group of children composed of Austene, Justin, Lewis, and brothers Logan and Brian gather around a camp fire. An old man named Clovis relates a local legend to them. The story goes that, back in the frontier days, a man named Jebediah McKenna lived in the woods. His wife, a Native American woman, grew sick and he rushed off to retrieve some medicine for her. This is when he was attacked by bandits in the woods, physically beating them back but still being gravely injured. Rolling into the river and near death, the forest spirits revived McKenna. They gave him the ability to change into animals and made him the ghostly protector of the forest. The kids think its only a story. The next day, the youths discover a fort in the woods and make it their new club house. At the same time, a logging company owned by the greedy Travis Thorne intends to cut the forest down, much to the protest of the locals. It's not long before the loggers and the kids come into conflict. Luckily for the children, the spirit of Jebediah McKenna is there to protect them and defend the forest. 

For most of its runtime, “Forest Warrior” is an almost insufferably mawkish presentation. The kids are all wide-eyed moffats, their actions and dialogue calculated for maximum adorableness. They spent much of the movie interacting with a bear cub they name Rags, who seems to rarely share actual screen-time with the child actors. Every facet of their lives and existence seem tied to this forest and their club house. Only Austene's life gets any additional depth. She has an often absent, usually intoxicated father. This subplot crops up for a few scene, an attempt to add even more syrupy emotion to the story, before the business in the woods is returned to. The villains are all two-dimensional bad guys, cartoonishly dumb and wicked who never pause at the thought of attacking or blowing up kids. Travis Thorne makes sure to announce that he doesn't intend to hire locals for his mill, because he cares so little about the near-by town. The bone-deep corniness of this writing peaks during the climatic montage of the youths sabotaging the baddies' vehicles, sticking potatoes in their tail pipes and boards with nails under their tires.

That hokey quality penetrates into every aspect of “Forest Warrior.” The musical score by Bill Elliot is composed of a few melodies that are repeated throughout. Every time the villains or the mill are introduced, a thumping Dr. Robotnik-esque theme plays. Every time Chuck kicks into action, a hard rock theme picks up for a few minutes. Most of Elliot's prior credits are Disney Channel Originals, which is what this music sounds made for. The film is often broken up by reaction shots of various animals or repetitive montages of the inner workings of the mill, all evident attempts to pad the run time out. The writing is preachy and awkward, with the opening prologue going on for ten whole minutes. The lameness of the film seems to suck down the talent of everyone involved. João Fernandes has long since proven himself a talented cinematographer, doing good and sometimes great work on past Chuck Norris gigs. However, even his skills seem half-hearted here, “Forest Warrior” often looking flat in its imagery with blanket lighting.

That is what ninety percent of the experience of watching “Forest Warrior” is like, overly cutesy kids movie antics supported by writing and production values that can best be described as workmanlike and worst as tedious. The remaining ten percent, however, is composed of moments so preposterous, that they can't help but be amusing. This largely means the action scenes. A red tail hawk swoops towards some logging company stooges only to turn into Chuck Norris delivering a flying kick. The film then immediately launches into a fast-paced action sequence, scored to that corny rock riff, and suddenly feels injected with caffeine. Other highlights include Chuck stopping a chainsaw blade with his bare hand and turning into bear via some underwhelming digital matting. He also grabs a bad guy and stares intensely into his eyes, until the film inverts, in what I can only compare to Ghost Rider's Penance Stare. The only non-Chuck related moment of goofy awesomeness in “Forest Warrior” is when an extremely underwhelming rock song on the soundtracks prompts all the lumberjacks to play their tools of deforestation like instruments. The fight scenes aren't great or anything. As in “Top Dog,” we are thoroughly in the era where Chuck's kicks, spins, and leaps mostly seem to be shot in long shots, close-ups on feet or fists, or with his back otherwise turned to the camera. However, these brief flashes of absurd actions still represent the few times “Forest Warrior” awakens from its sleepy, listless ambiance. 

There's only one other mildly interesting thing about “Forest Warrior.” Much like “Top Dog,” the film represents a now bygone time when even right-wing types like Chuck Norris could agree with the libs on certain topics. After fighting racists and Nazis, Chuck is now here to defend the environment. It's a natural extension of the star's ongoing Native American mysticism gag, which “Forest Warrior” is unsurprisingly heavy on. He's protecting the woods and animals here, like some kind of gosh darn tree-huggin' hippy. He goes so far as to theatrically snap a rifle in half, something I think would get you ex-communicated from the Republican party in 2026. Not that “Forest Warrior's” environmental message is especially well thought-out. When your loggers are cartoonishly evil buffoons, it doesn't leave room for any genuine insight. I think “FernGully” is a deeper reflection on the deforestation issue. Still, the film does represents a more innocent time. When macho ass-kickers were also rugged, salt-of-the-earth, cowboy, forest hermit types that acknowledged you shouldn't cut down every tree or slaughter every animal, before internet con-men completely took over that corner of the American psyche. 

Not that Chuck seems all that invested in “Forest Warrior.” For much of the film, he looms in the distance, watching over the children and trees, like some sort of fur-wearing, high-kicking Jesus. When called upon to speak any dialogue, Chuck's delivery is of a stiffness not seen since the “Way of the Dragon” days. A random moment when he teaches a kid how to kick someone in the head represents the sole time he has any spark in his eyes here. Maybe he did this one as a favor to Aaron? There are some notable names in the cast. Roscoe Lee Brown is the storytelling old man, his sagacious voice managing to make this stupid bullshit sound half-way believable. Terry Kiser plays the main villain, mugging and hamming up to such a degree as to make his performance in “Friday the 13th Part VII” seem subtle in comparison. Michael Beck is the main kid's alcoholic dad, Loretta Swit shows up as someone's mom, George Buck Flower is briefly here. It all suggest that “Forest Warrior” had enough money behind it to not look and feel so drab and boring for most of its runtime. 

The film was produced by Avi Lerner, the Israeli-born and South African-based producer who got his start with Cannon before launching his own production company, Nu Image/Millennium Films. Lerner and his company would basically keep making the kind of action schlock that Cannon had success with into the nineties and 2000s, on considerably lower budgets and without much of the flair. “Forest Warrior” doesn't feature the Nu Image logo, being filmed in Oregon rather than overseas, but it still feels a lot like that kind of production. Presumably, Chuck's commitments to “Walker, Texas Ranger” is what kept him from making more shit for those guys. You can cut together about five minutes of amusing moments from “Forest Warrior” but, as a feature length motion picture, it's difficult to recommend. I won't say yet if this is the nadir of Norris' career, as we've still got some dire looking shit to wade through, but it is a fairly steep fall-off from the heights of his eighties cult classics. [5/10]

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

CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: Top Dog (1995)

 

1948 would see the release of “The Naked City.” While it seems unlikely to me that this was the first movie to feature two mismatched cops investigating a crime together, influential filmmakers like Akira Kurosawa, Norman Jewison, and Walter Hill have all cited it as an inspiration. Hill's 1982 hit “48 Hrs." would prove that the premise could be a major box office winner. The producer of that film later made the similar “Lethal Weapon,” which was an even bigger success. After that, the buddy cop formula became inescapable in the eighties and nineties. To the point that increasingly higher concept variations arose. Such as: What if one of the cops was a dog? That seemingly improbable premise powered two separate movies in 1989. “Turner & Hooch” and “K-9" were mostly distinguished by whether the human or the dog were the straight-laced one or the wild card. “Turner & Hooch” was co-written by Michael Blodgett, who wrote the novel that became the Chuck Norris vehicle, “Hero and the Terror.” In what surely must be a coincidence, Chuck Norris would also headline a film with a nearly identical premise to Blodgett's cop dog movie five years later. “Top Dog” represented the action star's extremely late entry into this sub-sub-genre. 

Sgt. Swanson and his loyal mutt, Reno, are on the trail of a white supremacist sect that has been planting bombs around their city. Swanson tracks down the group responsible, both him and Reno getting a bullet for their troubles. Reno pulls through but his person does not. Later, loose cannon cop Jake Wilder is assigned the same case. Which means he is also paired up with Reno. The cop and the dog do not get along at first, the man bothered by the canine's seemingly smart-ass attitude. However, they soon close in on the Neo-Nazi terrorists behind the bombings. They quickly come into possession of a notebook that contains the list of targets the racist sect intends to explode next. Such as the upcoming Coalition for Racial Unity, a high profile gathering attended by several prominent public figures. Cop and cop dog race against time to save the day. 

While by no means a master thespian, Chuck Norris had proven to have a little bit of range by 1995. “Firewalker” didn't impress me much but Chuck was likable in it. He could sell a funny one-liner from time to time. "Walker, Texas Ranger" had turned him into a reliable TV presence. Unfortunately, “Top Dog” sticks Norris in the role of straight man against a rascally pup. Meaning he's mostly hammering the note of being annoyed or grumpy for the majority of the movie. Norris can't seem to perform this emotion in any way besides scowling and grumbling. Considering Chuck's charm actually lies in his down-home approachability, having him play a jerk takes away most of what makes likable. That a scene occurs where Wilder threatens to shoot the dog in the head, going so far as to unholster his gun, shows a major miscalculation happened somewhere. Norris seems genuinely angry and mildly unhinged, not comically bemused. 

That Chuck's bluster is extra blustery here stands in contrast to "Top Dog" basically being a family movie. Film producers figured out a long time ago that putting a cute animal in your movie all but guarantees an audience, no matter how underwhelming the rest of the antics might be. The role of Reno is essayed by two shaggy canines, Digby and Betty. Affable enough dogs, I've no doubt, but the amusement factor they provide on-screen is not that memorable. The biggest laugh in the movie might've been unintentional, when the dog performs Chuck's trademark slow motion dive through a window. Otherwise, Reno eating his partner's rotisserie chicken, dropping a box on a bad guy's head, or running off with a scarf that seemingly belongs to the Pope are lame slapstick set up in a belabored manner. There's a kid in the movie too, of course. Future "So Weird" cast member Erik von Detton is the kid in question, a subplot designed to tug at the heart strings without serving the story much otherwise. This is standard sad kid/cute dog content and similar scenes could be found in a number of underachieving family film slop in the nineties. The montage of the mutt getting into adorable shenanigans and trying on different outfits at a county fair is especially generic. 

That "Top Dog" is so indistinguishable from Disney Channel fair makes the seriousness with which it approaches the antagonists surprising. Nineties action movies could no longer invoke the Soviet Union as an easily booed bad guy and Middle Eastern radicals would not emerge as the primary cultural boogeyman until the next decade. The 1992 stand-off at Ruby Ridge and subsequent militia movement in America made right-wingin', bitter-clingin', proud gun clingers an acceptable target for action films that couldn't afford to shoot in Ireland. "Top Dog" features a group of White Supremacists who target homes in black neighborhoods or synagogues. Key scene has Kai Wulff as the organization's leader Sieg Heiling or delivering a speech about planning to unite real life Neo-Nazi organizations like Church of the Creator and the Aryan Nation. The climatic terrorist attack takes place on 4/20, because it's Hitler's birthday and not because Nazis hate pot smokers. All of this points towards "Top Dog's" actually doing some research into white supremacy. The fact that this is dropped into the middle of what is basically a kids' movie is unexpected and tonally baffling. You'd expect the villain in a movie like this to be evil dog catchers, not realistic depictions of active militant hate groups. Despite depicting the racist bad guys as sincerely dangerous, they are also buffoonish clowns at times, literally in one scene. (Which I guess is realistic, the buffoon part, not the clown part.)

This is not the only weird tonal shift in the movie. Chuck Norris co-headlining a movie with a rambunctious dog shows that we are clearly in the more undignified chapter of his career. Despite that, the action in "Top Dog" is still shockingly good. The opening scene features a massive explosion, during a time when you really had to blow shit up to get an effect like that. There are two car chases of note, one of which ends in a fiery crash. While he's not piling up corpses like James Braddock, Chuck still seemingly fatally wounds several enemies during the climatic shoot-out. The dog gets a kill too, playfully pushing a Nazi from a rooftop, which is more bizarre. You can tell Norris' age was starting to catch up to him, as the fight scenes feature more moments where his back is turned away from the camera or shot from a distance, to disguise stuntmen. However, the fighting is still decent, especially when Norris beats down the main villain at the end. That features one of his trademark moves that we haven't seen in a while, snapping an opponent's bludgeon in two and taking the splintered wood for himself. It's truly unexpected that this features some of the better fight choreography of his nineties era. 

The above-average quality of those pyrotechnics and fisticuffs plus the contrast between the plausible bad guys and otherwise comedic approach almost makes "Top Dog" an intriguing curiosity. Unfortunately, that first half is uniformly dull. The pooch provided pratfalls do not amuse. Chuck genuinely seems unhappy to do the film. At least we can be assured that, no matter how shitty Chuck's politics got in real life, at least he agreed that Nazis are bad. The film had the misfortune of coming out nine days after the Oklahoma City bombing, making its choice in villains especially out-of-step with its cutesy touches. That emphasizes the weirdness of "Top Dog," a movie that is otherwise too lame to defend. [5/10] 

[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: Walker, Texas Ranger: One Riot, One Ranger (1993)

Chuck Norris ending up on a TV show was probably inevitable. As the eighties changed into the nineties, the action genre was undergoing some big changes. "Die Hard" became a repeatable formula that popularized a more easily injured hero. The violence was growing more excessive, often to the point of self-parody. "Terminator 2" was the climax of the Schwarzeneggerian era of action, a massive success that pointed towards the future with its CGI effects and polished tone. The video market was increasingly becoming the home for that older breed of kick-punching action. Van Damme, Seagal, and even Sly ended up there by the end of the decade, the ultimate sign a star was washed-up. I suspect Norris was tapped in enough to cinematic trends to see that was the direction his career was headed too. Why not cash in on whatever name recognition his dwindling star power had by moving to another medium and maybe get a few seasons out of it? Or maybe I'm full of shit. Chuck had a TV show before, kind of. What we do know for certain is that "Walker, Texas Ranger" began life as a production of Cannon's short-lived television decision and Chuck Norris surely became involved early on. Especially since the series was clearly inspired by "Lone Wolf McQuade," with the producers of that film eventually suing over the similarities. 

Whatever its origins, "Walker, Texas Ranger" could probably be described as the biggest success of Norris' career, at least in terms of getting eyeballs on his rugged features. The show ran on CBS for nine seasons and regularly saw high ratings, despite often facing mockery from critics and audiences. It certainly kept a star, that probably would've otherwise faded quickly into lower budgeted action schlock, somewhat relevant for another decade. The initial season was composed of only four pilot episodes, owing to Cannon's financial woes at the time. The first episode was the feature length "One Riot, One Ranger," which was soon afterwards released on VHS as a standalone movie of sorts. This is how I can justify including what would otherwise just be a TV show in my journey through the cinema of Mr. Norris. After all, you can't truly talk about his whole career without at least mentioning "Walker."
 

Cordell Walker is a Sergeant in the Texas Rangers, based out of the Dallas/Fort Worth area. His mastery of karate kicks, propensity for taking down crooks personally, and tendency to skirt rules if they get in the way of justice often sees him coming face-to-face with the criminal element and receiving stern lectures from his superior. His cowboy cop ways sees him assigned a partner, in the form of the more technologically inclined James Trivette. He also gets help on cases from attorney Alexandra Cahill and a retired ranger named C.D., whose bar and grill functions as a base of operation of sorts. “One Riot, One Ranger” sees a group of bandits robbing a bank, their leader posing as a blind man to catch security off-guard. One of Walker's old friends is killed in the resulting shoot-outs. Now teamed with Trivette, Walker attempts to hunt down this team of crooks, their sunglasses wearing and nut chomping leader, and the explosive specialist they recruit. Meanwhile, a family of circus entertainers are terrorized by some yahoos, seeking shelter at the home of Walker's Native American uncle, Ray Firewalker.

For whatever merits the idea may have, the pilot of “Walker, Texas Ranger” does a good job of squeezing the Chuck Norris style into the scope and standards of prime time television. The parallels to “Lone Wolf McQuade” are set up early, as the very first scene has Walker crossing the Mexican border to beat up some thieves in a bar. It's a moment that recalls multiple bar room brawls for Chuck before, him decimating the bad guys with spin-punches and roundhouse kicks while croaking cheesy one-liners. There's a surprising amount of shoot-outs in the back half. Also recalling “McQuade” is Walker's fondness for his pick-up truck, which naturally leads to a car chase. There are some explosions too, though of a much more modest level than the pyrotechnics from Norris' Cannon days. While the scope is much smaller, the plot and politics of this would also fit in with Chuck's eighties work. He runs rough-shod over the law to track down some scary brown people. A would-be bomber mentions a connection to Libya, which is treated as sinister. When he's captured, Cordell and his partner have no problem physically intimidating the guy. While the villains are lawless, anti-government types with black tattoos and blacker sunglasses. Clearly, threats such as these necessitate a roundhouse kicking cop who makes the right to remain silent into a sarcastic joke.

 

The “Walker” pilot can't afford the massive fireballs nor allow the bloody squibs of “Lone Wolf McQuade” but this episode shockingly outpaces its inspiration in one regard. As in “McQuade” and a hundred other buddy cop narratives, the loose cannon cop and his by-the-book partner do not get along at first. Unlike most examples, Walker first meets Trevitt as the latter steps out of a swimming pool in nothing but a speedo. The moment is filmed from a low angle, as if to emphasize certain dimensions, and Trevitt wears only this throughout the rest of the scene. During which Walker glares at him skeptically but intently. The moment ends with Cordell sarcastically declaring “I love him,” which can only read as an admission of attraction in the context of what we're actually seeing. A few scenes later, Trevitt chases down and tackles a perp. After which Walker pulls up in his truck and asks – I swear to god, this is real – “Why are you pumping so hard?” Is that really the most heterosexual way he could have asked that question? The two eventually bond over cowboy partnerships of the past, while Trevitt seductively slurps on his juice bottle. The pilot ends with the men leaping into the air together, Trevitt in garish clown make-up. What a pair of queens! I really didn't expect the pilot movie for his long-running cop show to be the queerest thing Norris ever put his brawny, hairy pecs in. 

I doubt Mr. Norris would appreciate the suggestion that any of his characters were acting in a less than strictly heterosexual manner. Walker has belligerent sexual tension with the district attorney lady, who became a series regular, alongside a fairly gratuitous scene of a bank teller asking if he's single or not. That's because, much like “Sidekicks” and the general tone of Norris' work as he took over more control of the writing and production, “Walker, Texas Ranger” is partially an ode to its star's ego. The pilot depicts its title character as always a morally upright and ultimately reasonable man. If he beats the shit out of some guys or shoots somebody, or even momentarily gives into his anger while viciously fighting the episode's main villain, it is always justified. Cordell Walker is not only a bad-ass and a good guy but he's a pillar of the community. The B-plot about Walker providing a place to stay for the traumatized circus performers never connects with the main story about the bank robbers. It seems to be in the film mostly to give Chuck Norris a dramatic monologue about his own childhood trauma, an Emmy moment for the action star if I've ever seen one. Further into the pilot is a C-plot about Walker getting talked into performing at a rodeo for the benefit of some orphaned kids or something. He's such a stand-up guy!

The combination of the questionable ethical perspective of a wild west sheriff getting things done, corny old fashion moralizing, casual homoeroticism and kicking proves rather amusingly surreal. “One Riot, One Ranger” adds another seemingly unrelated ingredient to this stew: Hokey Native American mysticism. At various times in his career, mostly in “Firewalker” and “The Hitman,” Chuck has referenced his supposed Native American lineage. It is part of the self-built mythology of the man. That thread comes to fruition in “Walker,” where the title character is a white boy with an indigenous uncle. He weaves in and out of the episode to sprinkle some exotic flavor here and there. Most notably in a scene where Walker visits his dad's grave and performs some sort of ritual with a cape and feather. It has little to do with the rest of the story but mostly exists to further flesh out the kind of hero this guy is. He is, simultaneously, a defender of law and order and established authority but also closer to the Earth and the Old Ways than your average white man. It's a natural extension of Chuck's mastery of Eastern martial arts, trading Bushido and ninjatsu for chanting and communing with the Earth spirits. (Further episodes of “Walker” would also reveal the hero was a Vietnam veteran, adding yet another layer of mythic American do-goodery to his origin and also making him basically the right-wing Billy Jack.) 

All of the above is wrapped up in a fairly standard mid-nineties television presentation. Surprisingly, “One Riot, One Ranger” was directed by Virgil M. Vogel, a journeyman filmmaker who was close to wrapping up a sixty year career in Hollywood. Vogel got his start as an editor at Universal in the forties, cutting motion pictures like “The Invisible Woman” and “Abbott and Costello Meet the Invisible Man.” His most prestigious work is probably editing “Touch of Evil.” To me, however, Vogel most intrigues as the director of “The Mole People” and “The Land Unknown.” Rather than stick with cheesy sci-fi/monster movies, he would make the leap to television shortly afterwards and that's what he did for most of the rest of his life. In many ways, “One Riot, One Ranger” looks and feels exactly like every other cop show that aired in 1993. At the same time, some cock-eyed camera angles are employed from time to time, adding to the slightly surreal feel the entire presentation has. 

That zone of utterly average, weirdly personal, and the unintentionally hilarious is where this ninety minute pilot resides. See also: The hilariously awkward “as you know” dialogue, such as when Uncle Ray pauses to tell Walker his own backstory early on. Or the extremely odd decision to hide not one but two bombs inside ash trays that are, as far as I can tell, shaped like giant flies. I can't imagine all of this silly bullshit being stretched out for nine whole seasons. However, the premiere of “Walker, Texas Ranger” is suitably ridiculous enough for me to want to watch more of it. Mission accomplished, I suppose. [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

 

CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: Sidekicks (1992)

When “The Karate Kid” was released in 1984, it gave lame white people all over the world an excuse to embrace martial arts. John G. Avildsen's re-shuffling of his already iconic “Rocky” would also become a surprise hit. It turns out moving the well-worn underdog sports story to a youthful demographic and adding a generous helping of Asian quasi-mysticism was a winning formula. An easily replicated one too, as several similar films emerged in its wake. The second half of the eighties and early nineties contained a surprising number of movies that directly emulated “The Karate Kid's” premise or combined martial arts with a kid-friendly angle. At some point during Cannon's financial free-fall years, the idea emerged of building a new Chuck Norris feature around clips from his other movies. Norris liked the idea enough to hold onto it after Cannon's collapse. With a cash infusion from a Texas mattress mogul, “Sidekicks” came into being by 1992. The film would become a modest box office success and, owning to being a lot less violent than most of Chuck's earlier films, a frequent presence in my childhood VHS player. 

Barry Gabrewski is a socially awkward, asthmatic kid living deep in the heart of Texas. His mother died when he was young and his dad is preoccupied with his computer business. Instead, Barry looks up to karate champ and action movie star Chuck Norris. He often daydreams about being Chuck's sidekicks in his various cinematic adventures. Worried about the boy, Barry's favorite teacher Miss Chan introduces him to her uncle. Lee takes the kid under his wing and begins to train him in martial arts. Barry still fantasizes about being friends with Chuck but he starts to overcome his asthma, draw the attention of a crush, and stands up to his bullies. That includes the protegee of Kelly Stone, the obnoxious asshole sensai of a local karate dojo. Lee and Miss Chan submit Barry into a local martial arts tournament. This not only gives the boy a chance to truly prove himself but also brings him shoulder-to-shoulder with his idol. 

“Sidekicks” does little to dissuade the notion that it was heavily influenced by “The Karate Kid.” This is, after all, the story of a scrawny white kid learning discipline and uncovering his inner strength under the tutelage of a wise old Asian guy. As far as wannabe Daniel-san and Mr. Miyagis go, I think this one is serviceable. It helps that Barry's plight is fairly relatable. He wants the cute girl in his class, who is Winnie Cooper. At the same time, his physical frailness holds him back from self-actualizing as a traditionally masculine man. When the girl outright tells him that she doesn't like him that way but rather feels sorry for him, as someone who was an awkward dweeb in school himself, I know how that feels. “Sidekicks” is as facile a wish fulfillment fantasy as any other action film. Barry does learn to believe in himself, physically bests his bullies, defeats his asthma through the power of karate, and clearly seems to win Danica McKellar's heart. Despite actually fighting alongside his hero, he discards the fantasy father figure of Chuck Norris for his actual father figure at the end, a dramatic turn the script doesn't really earn. If anything, Mr. Lee has been more of a dad to Barry than anyone else. 

However, Barry's frequent fantasies about being Chuck Norris' little buddy does occasionally touch on something more significant. While having an asthma attack that puts him in the hospital, Barry imagines himself as a prisoner-of-war being tortured by some rather Nazi-like officers. He imagines Chuck is there with him, giving him encouragement as imaginary chains tighten around his lungs the way his condition does. Later, while trying to climb the rope in gym, he again daydreams that Norris is there, quietly talking him through how to beat this. Ya know, if you grew up with a deadbeat dad and looked to surrogate father figures in pop culture to fill that void, this is not an entirely unreasonable premise. “Sidekicks” definitely takes Barry's fixation with Norris too far. The way he constantly carries around a beat-up karate magazine is very silly. As is the degree to which he looses himself in his daydreams. However, I do think the film, juvenile as it is, sincerely tries to tap into something deeper about how fiction can help us cope with reality sometimes. 

I'm not suggesting that one of Chuck Norris' family movies is secretly “Cinema Paradiso” or anything. As a comedy, “Sidekicks” is often broad and irritating. Far too much of the film is dependent upon the comedy stylings of Joe Piscopo. He plays the Martin Kove part from “Karate Kid,” the leader of the bad guy dojo who practices martial arts not to achieve inner peace but to physically intimidate people. Piscopo spends the entire film bathed in shiny flop-sweat, grimacing and trying to push his skull out of his face in every scene. During Barry's fantasy sequences, he dresses up in cartoonish outfits and somehow reaches even more grotesque levels of overacting. The “Missing in Action” inspired scene has the future right-wing talk radio host donning yellow face and a questionable accent. Piscopo's villain is set up as an egomaniacal rival ready for the fall against Norris, his defeat being maybe the most ridiculous moment of buffoonery in this motion picture. Or maybe it's the “Hitman” based scene, that sees Piscopo in black leather and chain mail as he fills candy and toys with poison and razor blades. 

These extended fantasy scenes are the main gimmick that separates “Sidekicks” from “The Karate Kid.” For fans of Chuck, that makes the movie a greatest hits reel of sorts. I say “of sorts” because the script seems slightly confused. The “Missing in Action” homage does indeed copy the scene where Norris rises out of murky jungle waters while firing a machine gun in slow motion. The opening sequence is inspired by “The Octagon,” with Norris fighting off a horde of enemy ninjas in some sort of secluded, fortified compound. It adds more outrageous flourishes, like Norris in an all-white ninja costume or a bad guy in an elaborate Noh mask, but the homage is evident. When Chuck and Barry are in trench coats and wielding saw-off shotguns, that's obviously “The Hitman.” However, while the western saloon daydream practically mentions “Lone Wolf McQuade” by name, it is a direct horse opera spoof. Chuck Norris has never done a regular western. He's never done a World War II movie either, which is what the Nazi torture fantasy is presumably going for. 

“Sidekicks” is a film stars Chuck Norris as an idealized version of himself, was directed by his little brother, features a cameo from his son, and positions the man as a ineffable figure of strength, heroism, charity, and upright fairness. The final scene suggests the legacy of Chuck Norris will continue to inspire the disadvantaged and down-trodden to victory. This is an ode to the man's own ego. Which makes you wonder why it doesn't get more about Chuck's own movies right. Maybe Norris was imagining a slightly better version of his own career for himself here. Perhaps the version of Chuck Norris that exists in this movie's world didn't do the same kind of movies over and over, like in our more mundane universe. I guess a “Silent Rage” or “Invasion USA” homage wouldn't have fit the squeaky-clean image this one was going for.

Pedantic nitpicking aside, “Sidekicks” is a little better than it needed to be. The cast is actually quite likable. The bright-eyed Jonathan Brandis successfully mixes a child-like sense of awe with a more reserved kind of sadness. Julia Nickson is surprisingly good as Miss Chan, sweet and caring in a way that feels genuine. (She's also, if you'll allow me to say, gorgeous.) Beau Bridges has some decent chemistry with her in a few scenes. Mako gets probably the script's corniest dialogue as our Dollar Store Mr. Miyagi. A scene where he slapsticks his way through a fight with some bikers is quite bad. As are any of the moments when he drops some rambling ancient Chinese secrets on the hero. (Would've been nice if, once again, Mako Iwamatsu could have played a Japanese man but whatever.) However, Mako was too likable a presence not to make some of his scenes work. Such as when he humbles a bigot at the airport or decides upon the humiliating name for Barry's karate alter-ego. And when he slams through that pile of bricks at the end? That shit is still cool.

Aaron Norris' direction is no less mawkish than in past credits. However, I think he's learned by now to let João Fernandes go a little crazy with the cinematography. “Sidekicks” looks shockingly good for what is otherwise such a chintzy production. That opening ninja scene features some ominous slow pans over creepy statues. A shot of Barry training around a fountain, as his and his master's shadows are reflected on the wall, looks fantastic. The physical comedy is goofy but why is the lighting so fucking good in that shot of a ninja exploding through the school wall? You didn't have to go that hard, João. I'd say the same to Alan Silvestri, whose synth-heavy rock score genuinely gets the heart pumping at times. The film definitely needed a proper theme song, its own “You're the Best” or “Hold Onto That Vision,” to truly make it work but I'm still fond of Silvestri's score. I guess it's fair to say that I'm still kind of fond of “Sidekicks” in general, as vain, dumb, and formulaic a motion picture as it is. Maybe the nostalgia is talking but I do think I'd take it over “Three Ninjas!” or “The Next Karate Kid.” [6/10]

[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*

*Bolo tie and boots

CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: The Hitman (1991)

Watching your way through a movie star's entire career allows you to see how their style and screen persona evolved. There's always been a bit of a contrast between Chuck Norris: Memetic Bad-Ass, as depicted in his more ultra-violent eighties action-fests, and the distinctly Americana-infused cowboy do-gooder of “Walker, Texas Ranger.” The actor intentionally softening his image in the late eighties also, probably not coincidentally, dovetailed with his own brother taking over directorial duties on most of his movies. Despite that, I guess the industry and the demands of the marketplace can still throw you a curve ball sometimes. Right at the start of the nineties, the Norris siblings would work on a project originally conceived for Charles Bronson, who had starred in increasingly grittier variations on his “Death Wish” movies all throughout the previous decade. Being roughly three hundred years old at the time, however, forced Bronson to pass the mantle over to another mustachioed tough guy. The resulting film, “The Hitman,” would be “presented” by the barely-hanging-on Cannon, with no involvement from the company's previous execs. It represents an odd fusion of Norris' preferred style and the more intense violence that was becoming popular in the action genre at the time.

Cliff Carret is a Seattle police officer, investigating drug smuggling operations run by the local criminal empires. During one such bust, he is betrayed by his partner, Delany. Shot in the chest and pushed out a window, Cliff's heart stops momentarily in the emergency room. His police chief seizes this opportunity to have Carret declared dead. Under the new identity of Danny Grogan, a ruthless hitman, he goes undercover with the Luganni mafia family. The Lugannis are currently attempting to consolidate their empire with the LaCombe family across the border, against an in-coming intrusion into the area by Iranian criminals. Garret/Grogan, secretly in the employ of the police, attempts to complicate this fusion and dismantle both families. All the while, he continues to live a double life, helping out a bullied youth in his apartment building while still plotting revenge against his crooked partner.

Some ads promoted "The Hitman" with tagline “No more Mr. Nice Guy!” Unavoidably, the gimmick here is that Chuck is playing a “bad guy” or, at least, a violent anti-hero. Considering Norris had already portrayed a remorseless mass murderer in “Invasion USA” and “The Delta Force,” that really says a lot about the relative morality of eighties action movies. I guess it's okay when Commies and brown people are being slaughtered. The star sports a greasy looking mullet, a scar over his left eye, a black trench coat, and tough looking sawed-off shotgun.  He has multiple scenes devoted entirely to intimidating people and is re-introduced into the story blasting an unarmed man across a room. This choice is reflected in the tonal atmosphere of “The Hitman.” This is a story of rival mafiosos, peppered generously with outrageous profanity. There's at least two scenes of extended torture, one involving pig guts being shoved into someone's mouth and face. Racism is a reoccurring theme, alongside betrayal, greed, and corruption. The film also features Chuck's character evidently going down on his female love interest, something that's definitely not happened in any of his previous roles. If that scandalized any of his more religious fans, don't worry, she's shot in the head in the next scene or so. 

For a brief series of scenes, “The Hitman” seems like it's actually committed to the idea of Norris playing an irredeemable criminal. Perhaps whatever good was left in Cliff Carret died on that operating table, Grogan emerging as a Hydeian alter ego. That would've been interesting but “The Hitman” quickly gets cold feet. Upon returning back to his apartment, the “Grogan” persona is dropped entirely. He befriends a latch-key kid in his apartment, the boy's mom working three jobs just to support them. He enthusiastically shows the kid his model airplanes, as wholesome a hobby as a professional killer could have. When the lad reveals that he's being bullied, Grogan teaches him martial arts for self-defense. This leads to a light-hearted montage of the two training, set to a whimsical score. (There's also a scene where Grogan talks about growing up on an Indian Reservation as a white kid, getting bullied by darker skinned boys, which would probably be an insensitive thing to say to a black kid but this is apparently a real anecdote from Norris' own childhood.) This subplot – alongside inexplicable moments like mulleted Chuck basking in the quiet majesty of a Beluga whale – removes any ambiguity from the premise. See, this guy might be a brutal killer of bad men but he's ultimately a good man, who fights for justice and protects kids. He, in fact, is a nice guy.

The tonal disconnect between these two parts of the film is amusing, as if a hyper-violent shoot-em-up is randomly interrupted by a B-plot from a moldier episode of “Walker, Texas Ranger.” That's exactly how Aaron Norris and cinematographer João Fernandes shoot these scenes too. Funny enough, the rest of “The Hitman” actually looks quite moody. Fernandes' talent for misty urban locations, blue head lights and street lamps piercing the shadows of corners and alleyways, get a good work-out here. That slaughterhouse torture scene definitely reminds you of Fernandes' horror roots. Setting the film in Seattle and Vancouver – cities whose criminal empires I was previously unfamiliar with – with so many scenes happening in dark warehouses inevitably make this feel like an episode of “Highlander: The Series.” Joel Derouin's musical score, which is heavy on the warbling saxophones and bouncy synth bops, repeatedly draw attention to how cheesy and cheap “The Hitman” is overall. It's another contrast in the film, some decent neo-noir visuals standing alongside TV melodrama and a soft jazz soundtrack. 

If “Delta Force 2” suggested that Norris was becoming aware of Steven Seagal's style of limb-twisting action nudging into his territory, “The Hitman” makes me think that “A Better Tomorrow” must have made its way to Texas by 1990. The scenes of Chuck duel wielding firearms while dodging around further bullets brings the Heroic Bloodshed style to mind. While the heroic part is debatable, the film definitely has plenty of bloodshed. The squibs here are very big and wet. Limbs are blown apart, blood splatters from every wound, and people are visibly agonized by their injuries. A notable moment has a grown man reduced to blubbering like a child after a gut shot, an unexpectedly realistic moment in an otherwise exaggerated action movie. Again, if not for so many other things about “The Hitman,” it would be a pretty gritty crime flick. The bad guy explodes into flailing bloody giblets in the final scene, which is presented as a moral victory. 

The result is a bit of an odd ball. “The Hitman” seems designed to challenge Chuck Norris' established good guy act in many ways while also hilariously backtracking to cuddly, kid movie antics. All the actors playing the mobsters and crooks are giving suitably hard-boiled performances. Michael Parks is his usually colorful self as the film's main villain. The somewhat convoluted subplots concerning the mob world double-crosses point towards this possibly being a more serious crime movie. Then we'll leap back to the son/little brother figure that Chuck has to support or him rubbing a whale's head. Fascinating in its own way, it represents the direction the action genre was going in opposition to what Norris wanted to keep doing. He would pick the cheesy kids movie/TV stuff, mostly leaving the hard-hitting violence (and that awful mullet) behind. [6/10]

[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