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

CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: An Eye for an Eye (1981)

Mr. Norris' previous three motion pictures were all produced and distributed by American Cinema Releasing, proving to be some of the low-budget company's most successful films. Unfortunately, as is too often the case, the studio overextended itself by trying out some bigger budget projects. A few flops and expensive re-shoots on “I, the Jury” led American Cinema Releasing to close their doors by 1981. Chuck was on a roll though and would have no reason to slow down his one-a-year pace. He simply roundhouse kicked his way over to Avco-Embassy, a company that had their name on so many cult favorites in the eighties. In no time at all, he was right at work on “An Eye for an Eye,” the Chuck Norris vehicle of 1981 How does it stand up to those that came before and after?

Once again, Chuck plays a city cop on the narcotics beat. He's Detective Sean Kane and, along with his partner Dave, they are meeting an informant in a dark alley. It turns out to be a set-up, Dave getting shot, crushed by a speeding car, and burned alive. In a vengeful rage, Kane immediately hunts down the shooter and punches him out an apartment window. The driver of the car remains unidentified and Kane turns in his badge, haunted by the memories. It also haunts Dave's widow, a respectable TV reporter named Linda Chan. She digs into the case further, uncovering something that gets her pursued by a giant Asian man. She calls Sean in a panic before being brutally strangled to death by her attacker. Sean teams up with Linda's dad, a martial arts master who taught him how to fight, and takes the law into his own hands. They soon uncover that the Triads are running an international drug running operation out of the city and it's connected with some powerful names

The first act of “An Eye for an Eye” resembles a darker, gritter type of action/crime movie than what you usually expect from a Chuck Norris flick. When Dave is murdered – the first of several times Terry Kiser would appear as a corpse in an eighties movie – there's a close-up on the body's burned, bloodied face. Afterwards, Kane is driven into such a rage that he's pointing his gun at old ladies in the hallway. There's a visible pissed-off aura radiating from Chuck in these scenes that is intense and different from the kind of roles he's played up to this point. This leads into the sequence of a terrified heroine being pursued by Professor Toru Tanaka, all his mass squeezed into a turtle neck and propped up on one elevated shoe. It's a surprisingly tense chase, ending with a shot of Tanaka's fist exploding through a door like it's Jason Voorhees' machete. I found myself wondering if “An Eye for an Eye” was going to continue in this mold, bringing some slasher energy to its gritty inner city setting. 

I would have liked to have seen a little more of that but this grim first act doesn't really represent what “An Eye for an Eye” is like. Instead, the film immediately veers in a much lighter direction. I guess a few weeks off from the force is enough to mellow Kane out, cause he almost seems like a different character in these scenes. He has an adorable dog, who has a habit of running off with his shirts. This is the focus of several scenes, including when he brings his love interest home. That love interest would be Heather, played by Maggie Cooper. Her and Norris have actual chemistry, better than the leading ladies in his prior movies. When he does things like carry a stack of VHS tapes or promises her she'll be safe in his home, it actually comes across as sweet. There is some tonal whiplash from swinging so hard between a gritty action flick and a cutesy romantic comedy but, weirdly, it works.

 

That's the mood “An Eye for an Eye” operates in for most of the rest of its runtime. Chuck cracks a few quibs here and one actually got a laugh out of me. Most of the film pairs him with Mako, as John Chan. It's another example of the obviously Japanese actor playing a Chinese character. (Professor Toru Tanaka, who was of Hawaiian/Chinese lineage in real life despite his stereotypically Japanese stage name, is as well.) However, Mako slips into the role of a martial arts master really easily, to the point that I'm surprised he didn't do it more often. Either he's doing some of these throws and tumbles himself or the stunt team did a good job of matching him. Either way, he has an amusing gimmick where he always criticizes Kane's martial arts, no matter how much he just saved his ass. The two do not tag along with each other for the whole movie, “An Eye for an Eye” stopping just short of being a proper buddy cop action flick. However, I would have happily watched a whole movie of Mako being Chuck's smart-ass sensai type as they fight the bad guys together. 

This is another Norris vehicle that seeks to compensate for any lack of charisma the star might have by filling out the supporting cast with reliable performers. Aside from Mako, Richard Roundtree shows up as the police chief. Definitely needed a few more scenes of him gruffly reading the cowboy cop the riot act. Christopher Lee plays the head of the network, a role the script does a very poor job of disguising is villainous. Mostly because they cast Count Dracula in the part. Stock though the role may be, Lee was a master at elevating nothing parts to grand poetry. An exchange he has about his preference for Asian woman drips with sinister intent that I don't think a lesser performer could have sold with the same weird level of dignity. Matt Clark, another instantly recognizable but not always easy to name character actor, also has a memorable part. If nothing else, he gets the grisliest death scene in the whole movie. 

After his first few films almost seemed to apologize for being martial arts movie, the eighties finally let Chuck Norris fight more than a few times in each of his flicks. This trend continues with “An Eye for an Eye,” which features some excellent action over all. The showdown between him, Mako, and a horde of Triad enforcers is very well done. Chuck's trademark moves, not only the roundhouse kicks but when he delivers multiple blows in quick succession or trips someone up by hooking his leg around their necks, all get a big workout here. The gag of kicking some bad guys off a railing or cliff is repeated a few times and works nicely. The proper finale of the film is the showdown with Toru Tanaka. It's a stand-out because Chuck actually gets his ass kicked during it, tossed across the room repeatedly. Much like “The Octagon,” the finale doesn't merely focus on Norris kicking and punching his way through the villain's army. There's plenty of that – an amusing beat-down takes place on a pool diving board – but throws in some shoot-outs and explosions too. Basically giving the audience as big of a bang for their buck as possible. 

If you go back and look at the reviews of “An Eye for an Eye,” you find a succession of critics saying that it's simply another Chuck Norris movie, doing all the same things his other films have done. This is basically true. If you aren't already a fan of this strain of bullshit, you are unlikely to find much compelling here. However, “An Eye for an Eye” actually presents some interesting tonal shifts that keep the same old kicking and fighting more compelling than usual. When combined with some strong action choreography and a supporting cast full of familiar faces that you are always happy to see, it makes this one go down real smooth. [7/10]

[THE CHUCK OF NORRIS: 2 outta 5]
[] 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
[] Sports Some Cowboy Getup

 

 

CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: The Octagon (1980)

The first references in Japanese history to the descendants of a disposed samurai founding a school to train soldiers in guerilla warfare appear around 1160. By the 15th century, the word shinobi-no-mono – literally translated as "one who hides or steals" – had come to refer to soldiers specializing in espionage and stealth. During the Sengoku era, a 150 year period of political instability and civil war between feudal lords, clans and villages devoted to the training of shinobi are said to have existed. They were hired as mercenaries, spies and bodyguards. Actual appearances of soldiers like this in the historical record are uncommon. Details on the techniques they practiced and the tools of their trade – collectively known as ninjutsu, a term that does not seem to have been in common usage at the time – are limited to a few sources. Much of what we think we know about the practitioners of ninjutsu, what you might call ninjas, actually emerges from pop culture. Folk tales, novels, and plays about these mysterious warriors have been popular since the early 1800s, often giving them fantastical abilities and depicting them clad all in black. (A cliché that got started in kabuki theatre.) A series of popular kids books on the subject extended the public fascination with the ninja into the modern age and it's been going ever since. 

That's how the ninja became a pop culture phenomenon in Japan. What about here in stupid ol' America, where we don't know a daimyo from a dip shit? It's mostly James Bond's fault, as "You Only Live Twice" would introduce the world at large to the pop culture conception of the ninja. While a little bit of ninja media would be imported abroad during the seventies martial arts craze, it wasn't really until 1980 that the shadow warriors started to catch on globally. That year saw the release of a best selling novel and, later, a Chuck Norris movie called "The Octagon." That is the humble well from which several Marvel Comics characters, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, a plethora of video games, thousands of Halloween costumes, Sho Kosugi's entire career, and another internet meme about exaggerated acts of masculine super prowess emerged. But let's go back to "The Octagon" for a minute and consider its worth, apart from the ninja boom that followed it.

Martial arts pro Scott James is invited to a ballet performance, where the prima ballerina incorporates some karate into her dancing. Their date afterwards is ruined by ninja attacking and killing the girl. This is the latest in a series of high-profile assassinations that bear the marks of the Shinobi. Scott knows this because he was raised within a secret camp to train ninjas. There, he formed a bond and then a rivalry with Seikura, his ninja foster sibling who was kicked out of the order for being too bloodthirsty. Seikura has now returned to take over the family business and the increased global presence of ninja assassinations is his work. Scott attempts to get to the bottom of this. His investigation leads him to an heiress with an anti-ninja agenda, his old mercenary friends, a recent disaffected trainee from the ninja school, and to the fortified fortress known as the Octagon. 

As I watch my way through the oeuvre of Mr. Carlos Norris, I'm noticing a frustrating trend. His movies tend to take too long to get to the good shit. Perhaps it was his previously stated desire to make more story-driven action movies at play. In effect, this means we've had to wait through some half-ass attempts to build up a proper story before we get to the ass-kicking. This is definitely true of "The Octagon," a film to which the maxim of "there's too much plot getting in the way of the story" can be applied. The film follows multiple story threads, cutting between Scott's journey, flashbacks to his past, the trainees being molded into professional killers at shinobi boot camp, the behind-the-scenes drama of Seikura seizing control, and the fates of several supporting characters who get entangled with this ninja business. The result is a motion picture that never seems to truly get moving, cutting away to some other event any time the promise of chopping and fighting seems ready to ensue. 

"The Octagon" is thankfully less of a slog than "Good Guys Wear Black" nor as squeaky clean as "A Force of One." In fact, the movie starts with a brutal execution featuring some extra juicy squibs, as if to announce that we are in the eighties now. While all the ninja training does feel more like an extended prologue to the actual action, a demonstration involving a sai and a melon amused me. Strangely, these warriors of the invisible arts seem to do a lot of recruiting among barns and tractor pulls, leading to more than a few scenes of Chuck intimidating some rednecks. There's also a decent car chase in the first half-hour. Much like Norris' previous few flicks, this one also has some recognizable faces in the supporting roles. Chuck has good banter with Lee Van Cleef as his grizzled mentor, one generation of tough guy actor interacting with another. Art Hindle has some nice smart-ass energy as AJ, Scott's sidekick. Mostly, I got a kick out of random familiar faces popping in for some minor parts. Such as Ernie Hudson randomly appearing in two scenes or Tracey Walter doing an above-average Peter Lorre as the creepy recruiter for the bad guys. I'm always happy to see these guys. 

Hindle's role points to another curious reoccurring trope in Chuck's flicks. Once again, a guy younger than Norris' hero, who seems to definitely look up to him, gets brutalized and captured by some bad guys. As in "Good Guys Wear Black" and "A Force of One," Chuck ultimately fails to rescue this surrogate little brother or son figure. Normally, such a plot point would motivate the hero to more extreme measures or make his mission against the bad guys all the more personal. This comes across as especially gratuitous in "The Octagon," as Scott's former foster brother being the villain already makes this a long-brewing vendetta for the hero. Moreover, the death blow occurs right before the climax, just a little extra escalation for the final fight.

 

When you read about the man's personal life, the auteur theory as applied to formulaic action stars seems to ring true once again. Chuck was the oldest of three siblings. His youngest brother, Aaron, plays his character in the flashbacks here. His middle brother, Wieland, died in Vietnam at the age of 27. You would think that, if Norris was going to play-act this formative trauma over and over again in his movies, he would rescue the kid every time and symbolically bring his little brother home. But he frequently doesn't and it adds an intriguing melancholy quality to these movies. Or maybe I'm reading too much into a dumb-ass action movie. Perhaps. However, "The Octagon" does feel a bit more introspective in other ways too. From the red-tinted opening credits, the movie repeatedly gives us a peek at the main character's inner thoughts. This play out as whispered, repetitive phrases that echo in his head during multiple key moments. It's, surprisingly, one of the more realistic depictions of how thoughts and an inner monologue work that I've seen in a film. 

Another interesting reoccurring element is the role of women in these movies. The hyper-masculine ubermensch that would come to dominate the action genre in the eighties rarely had any use for women beyond a token role. While the tough guys in earlier decades, your Bonds and Eastwoods, seem to disregard women in gruffer, openly sexist ways. Chuck is not in-touch with his feminine side and the love interests in his films have yet to truly distinguish themselves. At the same time, the movies do keep playing him as a romantic figure, usually unreachable by women but often desired by them nevertheless. "The Octagon" gives Chuck three ladies to bounce off through its runtime. The cute Kim Lankford exits early on, while Chuck's scenes with Karen Carlson are characterized by a more combative chemistry. Scott James is too focused on his mission to be distracted by a woman's charms... Except when he isn't, as he shares a love interest with Carol Bagdasarian as the ninja deserter. It's a fairly gratuitous moment, surely including for titillating purposes, but moments like these do distinguish Norris from his contemporaries. He was definitely being sold not just as a macho figure of wish fulfillment fantasy for the guys but also obviously as a sex symbol for women. 

But what the hell am I talking about? You don't rent a Chuck Norris tape from your local Ma and Pa video store because you want to see this guy mourn or emote. You wanna see him punch and kick some dudes. For what feels like the first time since he left Hong Kong, "The Octagon" sees the karate champ really showing off his skills. The entire last act of the movie is Scott navigating the titular fortress, fighting and killing every ninja attacker that gets in his way. And it's pretty damn cool, Norris' smooth but powerful fighting moves actually getting a proper display here. It makes "The Octagon" a proto-video game movie, the hero navigating an obstacle course and the enemies within, taking them out with his special moves, before reaching the area where he battles the big boss. In this case, that being decorated martial artist and stuntman Richard Norton. This is his film debut in the memorable role of a hissing, mute ninja in a bitchin' looking mask and he is clearly a good match against Norris. That bout ends in a spectacular manner, worthy of an early pixelated cut scene from a "Double Dragon" or "Final Fight" game. If that isn't enough action for you either, the film also throws in some shoot-outs and a big-ass explosion. 

This means that "The Octagon" does indeed make up for its slow start. If the movie was as awesome as its final third throughout its whole runtime, it would easily be the best movie of the star's career up to this point. Even with a belabored set-up, this one does reveal some quirkier notes than you might expect, in terms of its approach to its hero's inner pain and how that may or may not have reflected on the public image Norris was creating. It definitely needed way more ninja theatrics. Next year's "Enter the Ninja" and its sequels would build much more on the mystique of the stealth killers, eighties ninja-mania getting well underway at that point. (And this one's director, Eric Karson, would later direct Sho Kosugi in "Black Eagle.") However, at least this one is not so timid with the ass kicking once it finally gets around to it. [7/10]

[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: A Force of One (1979)

Largely because of the influence of Mr. Norris, it eventually became increasingly common for heroes in the action genre to have some sort of martial arts training. When that is the case, it's always a fun game to play to see if the film bothers to justify this or not. By the end of the seventies, when high-kicking skills were still a bit more out-of-the-ordinary for brawlers, Norris' films usually felt the need to cook up some vague reason. His “Breaker! Breaker!” trucker practiced martial arts for discipline while his “Good Guys Wear Black” hero was former special forces. His next movie, “A Force of One,” explicitly makes his character a professional kickboxer who owns a dojo. Much like his previous work for American Cinema Productions, “A Force of One” would inexplicably attract a high-profile writer to pen this low budget punching-and-kicking movie. In this case it was Ernest Tidyman, the crime reporter and novelist who wrote “Shaft” and “High Plains Drifter.” Tidyman would be nominated for an Oscar for “The French Connection” but his presence on a standard potboiler is easy to explain, as the author flatly admitted he “wrote for money.” Either way, Tidyman must've figured that a Chuck Norris hero being an experienced kick-fighter was the easiest way to incorporate that necessary element. 

It's Christmas time in California but the local cops are not having a holly jolly holiday. They are more concerned about a snow of a decidedly non-festive variety hitting the streets. Yes, drugs have flooded our dear city. Worst yet, the local kingpin has apparently hired a karate expert to protect his operation. Two cops are punched and choked to death. Officer Mandy Rust theorizes that only an experienced martial artist could pull off such blows and decides to look into the local scene. That brings her to Matt Logan, a pro-fighter who runs a gym. Logan is invited to train the whole police force in karate. Logan's ex-girlfriend died of a drug overdose and he adopted her son, Charlie, meaning he has a personal investment in stopping the smugglers. When more cops are murdered while hunting down the drug operation, Logan becomes a target of the karate killer too. His involvement is about to get a whole lot more personal too. 

Ted Post, “Good Guys Wear Black's” director, was originally going to helm “A Force of One” but dropped out before filming started. The relatively inexperienced Paul Aaron would take his place, a guy who went on to make several TV movies. That's exactly what “A Force of One” feels like. The unambitious cinematography and story of plainclothes cops tracking down leads makes this feel a bit like an episode of “Hill Street Blues” with Special Guest Star Chuck Norris. As somebody fond of old television, this actually doesn't bother me. The scenes of Chuck hanging out with his adopted son and secretary, exchanging banter while he chuckles from his weight bench, are amusing. As are moments when he's training kids or when two of the goofier officers are acting as comic relief. On the other hand, the fight scenes being emphasized by dorky slow-motion or the car chases being framed in flat medium shots remind me of seventies television in a bad way. Aaron would not direct too many fight movies after this, unsurprisingly. 

“A Force of One” feels like a TV show in its incredibly corny moral too. The Just Say No era was not upon America yet but the War on Drugs was well underway. The film is melodramatically fixated on this point. Officer Rust shows Logan a teenage girl with track marks on her arms with a dealer boyfriend. After the cops show him all the contraband they've taken off the streets, Logan has an enraged flashback while beating on a speed bag. The thought of drugs circulating among the youths angers him so much, he becomes bathed in sweat in seemingly a few seconds. Combined with his weepy back story and how much the thought of kids getting hooked infuriates him, I was immediately reminded of “Black Dynamite” and “Disco Godfather.” Yes, angel dust is among the illegal substances being distributed. The film doesn't consider the proliferation of addictive drugs in cities merely a social ill with many complicated moral questions around it. It reacts with abject horror, in a way that can only read as camp to modern eyes. 

The title of “A Force of One” presumably refers to how Logan is such a master of physical combat that he can substitute for the entire police force he's training. When the drug runners take the life of someone he cares for once again, I was fully expecting him to go full vigilante on the crooks. That does not happen. In fact, Chuck disappears from the movie for a surprisingly long stretch, not appearing again until kickboxing weaves its way back into the plot. This is probably when you notice that Mr. Norris is actually second-billed in “A Force of One.” Jennifer O'Neill, who I recognize from “Scanners” and Lucio Fulci's “The Psychic,” is technically the main star. She's a likable enough presence and I do think she has better chemistry with Norris than his past leading ladies. However, when her sleuthing takes center stage in the second half, the film's pacing undeniably slows. In general, there's not nearly enough action here, most of the fisticuffs taking place within the boxing ring. 

O'Neill is not the only recognizable name in the supporting cast. Nor the only one with a name pronounce like that. Ron O'Neal plays one of the cops. If you're tempted to think that Superfly TNT has switched from dealing dope to fighting it, well, just keep watching the movie. O'Neal gets some decent moments, managing to generate some suspense with just a look or nod. Clu Gallagher also shows up as the police chief, bringing the exact level of crusty charisma you expect from him. Not-so-experienced an actor is Bill “Superfoot” Wallace. He plays the other most prominent fighter in the film, making his eventual role easy enough to guess. Wallace, a pro kickboxer obviously, was making his screen debut here. Amusingly, he is clearly not an actor. His big puppy dog eyes and perpetually doofy expression do not make for an intimidating villain but that kind of adds to the movie's charm.

Also, you partially see a movie theater marquee advertising “Message from Space” in the background of one scene. I liked that. I also got a laugh out of the super abrupt ending, the film going to credits right after its villain is dispatched. That too feels like something a TV episode, squeezed into an hour time slot, would do. (That Norris and his co-star are then forced to awkwardly maintain a pose all throughout the credits also made me chuckle.) “A Force of One” probably isn't very good. Like too many of Norris' early movies, it limits his on-screen abilities as a fighter. The plot is nothing special, the production values are fairly minimal, and it's likely to leave your memory right after you finish watching it. However, it is worth it for that angry speed bag montage. [6/10]

[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
[X] Shows Off His Hairy Chest
[] Sports Some Cowboy Getup

CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: Good Guys Wear Black (1978)

 

In 1977, Chuck Norris' career was at a turning point. Kickboxing champ Benny “The Jet” Urquidez – who would later have a memorable bout with Jackie Chan in “Wheels on Meals” – reached out to him about starting a new professional fighting league. At the same time, “Breaker! Breaker!” was about to come out and potentially launch a proper film career for Norris. Obviously, Chuck went with the latter option and he pursued it seriously. He had a hand in conceiving the story for his next movie, “Good Guys Wear Black.” He sought out producers for the film personally, banking on his karate cred. When a distributor couldn't be secured, the producers four-walled the movie themselves and Chuck promoted it heavily. The strategy worked. The film grossed 18 million against its small budget and set Chuck up for a very busy eighties. A perhaps more important question remains though: Is the movie any good? 

During the waning days of the Vietnam War, John T. Booker would lead a team of CIA-backed commandos known as the Black Tigers. Their final mission was to go behind enemy lines and bust American POWs out of a prison camp. The mission goes badly, all but four members of the team are killed, and no helicopter arrives to pull Booker and the boys out. This was the work of Senator Conrad Morgan, part of a sketchy negotiation to end the war. Five years later, Booker and the other guys are in the U.S. and trying to move on with their lives. A female reporter named Margaret reaches out to him and clearly has secret information about the Black Tigers and their botched mission. At the same time, someone is hunting down and killing the remaining members of Booker's team. He sets out on a journey across the U.S., uncertain of Margaret's loyalties but keeping her close-by, and tries to rescue his teammates before the killer finds them.

Looking at how the American mass consciousness processed the Vietnam War through our pulpiest pulp fiction is fascinating. By the time “Rambo: First Blood Part II” had come out in 1985, the narrative that neither the American armed forces nor capitalism were beaten but were instead let down by politicians in D.C. was firmly established. The war had only been over for five years by the time “Good Guys Wear Black” came out but it features almost this same attitude. The machine gun wielding soldiers sent overseas to kill, who did so without question, certainly weren't wrong. They're heroes, by gum! Instead, they were failed by a deliberate conspiracy within Washington to get the war over with, who only cared about their own popularity and power and not the lives lost. Chuck's character is a political science professor in his day job and admits during a lecture that the war in Vietnam was a mistake, that the U.S. never should've been involved. This feels like a weird half-way point to the Reagan era's full-bore revisionism, when brawny super-soldiers were allowed to retroactively win the war. It's a half-hearted admission that, yes, the Vietnam War was wrong. John T. Booker and his team of black-clad super secret assassins are the good guys though. The title says so! You can root for him. Don't think about what the CIA was doing in Vietnam. 

Despite possibly containing some insight into how All-American types compartmentalized the Vietnam War, “Good Guys Wear Black” unfortunately is not actually about that. It simply uses the war as background for its hero and villain, as a motivating factor for why Chuck Norris is awesome and why somebody wants him and his buddies dead. Instead, the film is trying to be a conspiracy thriller of sorts. It has Booker traveling the country, looking over his shoulders for possible attackers, being paranoid at airports and in parking lots. There are repeated scenes of Booker being met by Lloyd Haynes in offices, while the latter stares at terse read-outs on computer screens. While the film is clearly trying to build tension over who is doing these killings and why, any suspense is wasted by the very first scene. That depicts Senator Morgan explaining his plan to screw over the Black Tigers and his reasoning why. Kind of deludes the mystery when the movie informs us right from the get-go who ordered the screw job and why!

On one level, I suspect screenwriters Bruce Cohn and Mark Medoff – the esteemed playwright of “When You Comin' Back, Red Ryder?” and “Children of a Lesser God,” who must've needed a paycheck – were aware that the film shoots itself in the foot from the get-go. There is an attempt to create tension with another story element. When Anne Archer first meets Chuck, she immediately begins asking him about the black ops. shit he did during the war. That is clearly suspicious and Booker is rightly uncertain of her loyalties. (Though not, in the proud tradition of James Bond, enough to turn down sleeping with her.) This angle is repeatedly brought up by Norris sneering at Archer about who she is and what she actually wants. That's some weird spy movie version of your classical romantic subplot, built on whether these two will end up together. With the question of “they might not,” being followed by “because she's a CIA spook out to kill him.” While Chuck was not without his charms, they are not on-display here. He has little chemistry with Archer, the romance never materializing over the improbability of these two having much interaction at all. I feel like a former special forces guy would not humor any questions about his secret missions, not even from an attractive woman. 

While Norris himself was a driving force on “Good Guys Wear Black,” the film seems to misunderstand his appeal some. Out of everything I've mentioned in this review, have you noticed what hasn't come up much? The kicking and the punching, what we're here to see this karate champ do. “Good Guys Wear Black” does have some strong action scenes. There's a decent fight outside an airport and another that ends with Chuck jump kicking through a car's windshield, probably the highlight of the entire film. Aside from a overly dark opening raid in Vietnam, a punch isn't thrown until an hour into the movie though. The climax is not a one-and-one fight between the hero and villain but instead a terse conversation in a car. I'm sure Norris was eager to prove he could do more than just fight but “Good Guys Wear Black” deliberately turning away from his strengths is a baffling choice.

While “Good Guys Wear Black” is disappointingly short on fisticuffs, it does have a weirdly stacked cast of recognizable character actors. Haynes brings some mild authority to a thankless part. Dana Andrews pops in as a foppish government director who goes out in a silk bathrobe while swilling Scotch. Maybe the most unexpected name in the credits is Jim Backus, Mr. Howell himself, who gets surprisingly high billing despite playing a comedic hotel doorman in one sequence. Another former Bruce Lee co-star, James Franciscus, plays the scheming senator. He does fine in the role, better than he did filling in Charlton Heston in director Ted Post's earlier “Beneath the Planet of the Apes.” Little of the eccentricity of that film or “The Baby” are on display here, the action scenes being flatly shot and most of the movie looking like a TV cop drama. Though this is the second Chuck Norris movie in a row to feature a Faulkerian man-child, which is unexpected. Weirdly, he's one of the Black Tigers, which seems to say something about the CIA's qualifications for a black operations team. “Good Guys Wear Black” made money and Chuck credits this one for truly launching his career but I found it to be a misconceived snooze. [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