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

 

CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: Delta Force 2: The Columbian Connection (1990)

At the peak of Cannon's popularity in the middle eighties, Golan and Globus would diversify their portfolios. They would purchase several theatrical chains and distribution companies, even partnering on a Columbia Records Club style venture for VHS tapes in the UK. During this time, they also put a lot of chips on pricier projects like "Superman IV," "Masters of the Universe," and a long brewing "Spider-Man" adaptation. This would backfire almost immediately and, by 1987, the company was already facing potential bankruptcy. Several high profile lawsuits, convoluted corporate mergers, and an investigation by the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission would follow. Golan would leave the company in 1989 and, by the start of the nineties, Cannon as it had once existed was basically no more. 

One gets the impression that, during this chaotic time, some essential corners were beginning to be cut. Production on "Missing in Action III" was marred by a helicopter crash that killed four people. During the filming of "Delta Force 2: The Colombian Connection" – a somewhat desperate attempt by Cannon's new owners to replicate past successes – another helicopter crash would happen. Four more men were killed and ten others were injured. This very upsetting incident would lead to Chuck Norris cutting ties with Yoram Globus, basically ending the long time association with the studio.

Despite the subtitle, “The Colombian Connection” is actually set in the fictional South American country of San Carlos. That's where vicious drug lord Ramon Cota controls a worldwide cocaine operation, so powerful even the country's president dare not challenge him. After Cota slaughters some DEA agent, the Delta Force is called in to assist. Colonel Scott McCoy and his new sidekick, Major Bobby Chavez, lead an operation to capture Cota. They are successful but the kingpin is powerful enough to buy his way out of prison. After which he hunts down Chavez and kills his pregnant wife. Chavez goes after Cota to settle the score personally, which doesn't work out for him either. With options running out, McCoy is dropped into San Carlos and sneaks into Cota's compound. 

Some of the posters and advertising material for “Delta Force 2” bear the subtitle “Operation Stranglehold.” This is because the script that became “Delta Force 2” was originally an unrelated project entitled “Stranglehold.” That is fairly evident in how disconnected the sequel feels in relation to the original. Colonel Scott McCoy in the first was not an especially complex hero. However, he at least had some brief reluctance to return to the Delta Force, showing some degree of inner conflict. McCoy in this film feels like a generic Chuck Norris hero, a high-kicking do-gooder with few other qualities outside of his commitment to justice. The script treats Paul Perri's Bobby Chavez like he's an established character, when he's someone we've never met before. I suspect, at one point in time, Perri's part was meant to be Steve James' character from the original. Much the same way that John P. Ryan's grizzled general feels like a hastily assembled replacement for Lee Marvin's Colonel Alexander. That speaks to how slapdash the sequel feels, as if it was quickly thrown together from whatever available resources the production had with hopes that audience wouldn't notice that they weren't watching an actual continuation of a previous story.

That assessment of “Delta Force 2” is basically correct. To read that the finished film was the result of a three year long cluster fuck of different scripts, revolving co-stars and changing directors is evident in the finished product. The sequel's plot is a mess of story threads all competing for screen time. The political situation in San Carlos is detailed. Local victims of Cota's reign of terror desire revenge on him. There's a DEA mole in Cota's operation, which the bad guy eventually sniffs out. McCoy trains a new group of Delta Force fighters to sweep into the villain's compound who end up getting captured instead. Government entanglements influence the direction of the story. All of this for a sequel to a fucking Chuck Norris movie, whose plot boiled down to some good guys rescuing hostages? 

The result is a motion picture that is almost impossible to care about. Aaron Norris directs his second starring vehicle for his big brother. The quirks he showed on “Missing in Action III” reoccur. Namely, when no better ideas can be found, throw some explosions on-screen, probably with people rolling away from them in slow motion. “The Colombian Connection” is absolutely full of pyrotechnics and lots of gunfire. Basically the entire second half is one shoot-out or fireball after another. Despite all the mayhem on-screen, the film is extremely dull. That the script introduces and then disposes of its various supporting characters further the impression that they don't matter at all. So much stuff going in within the plot causes the viewer to simply stop registering any of it. It is indeed quite a lot of sound and fury, signifying nothing. 

Only a few brief pleasures can be found here. After two smaller roles in previous Norris features, Billy Drago finally gets a chance to play the main antagonist in one of these movies. He absolutely devours the scenery, as a criminal kingpin who seems to perform every action in the most evil way he possibly can. When displeased by a worker taking a break to give birth, it is not enough to merely murder her husband. He must also kill her child and then rape her. (Events that thankfully occur off-screen.) Drago is introduced during Carnival festivities in some sort of “Eyes Wide Shut” mask, establishing him right away as an utterly alien and cold-hearted villain willing to do anything to consolidate his own power. Best of all is when Drago personally stabs the informant to death, pausing afterwards to acknowledge that he actually really liked that guy. “Delta Force 2” is a nothing movie with a nothing script but committed character actors like this guy were able to make absolute meals out such thin material. 

Drago's slithering theatrics are nearly enough to justify “Delta Force 2's” existence. (Putting aside the whole “several people dying” thing, of course.) For action fans, there are some cool Chuck Norris fights too. Perhaps showing that Steven Seagal was emerging onto the action scene by this point, more emphasis is put on Norris twisting his opponents' limbs and putting them in painful holds. There's a whole series of training montages inserted into the film, seemingly to give Norris more guys to kick. The stand-out fight is a one-on-one with Ric Prieto as the villain's primary henchman, a good confrontation in which the two martial artists knock each other around a colorful set before the bad guy gets a suitably gruesome death. There's also an elaborate sky-diving sequence, an extended stunt that surely can't have been easy to execute or shoot. Chuck was fifty around the time of filming. You do start to notice more cuts in the fight scenes or moments where his face is obscured, suggesting his age was beginning to effect his limberness. 

Or maybe “Delta Force 2” just kind of sucks. I feel really bad that people died during the making of such a mediocre, not to mention unnecessary, film. If you're going to give your life for the art of cinema, you'd hope it would be for something a lot less forgettable and stitched together than this. The only way “The Colombian Connection” improves upon the original – which is far from my favorite Norris feature to begin with – is by containing almost no Zionist subtext. Instead, the movie is propaganda for the Reagan/Bush I administration's brutal foreign policy in Central and South American countries as part of the mostly bullshit “War on Drugs.” Not sure if that's better or not. Whatever remained of Cannon did churn out one more “Delta Force” movie but a budget even more meager than this meant only a lesser Norris could be recruited for it. Imagine being a more inessential sequel than this.... [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'S ROUNDHOUSE: Hero and the Terror (1988)

While writing about “Silent Rage,” I pointed out how horror and action movies appeal to similar audiences, leading to inevitable crossovers between the two. The slasher movie had such a grip on the eighties that depictions of serial murderers that didn't invoke “Halloween” and its ilk at least a little bit became hard to find. Similarly, Reagan-era audiences were so used to movie cops being shoot-first, ask-questions-later lone wolves that cause lots of unnecessary collateral damage  that otherwise grounded depictions of the police still frequently used some of these tropes. Since cops ostensibly investigate killers, this meant action movies with horror villains became an identifiable phenomenon later in the decade. I guess it's possible they were all simply ripping off “Dirty Harry” but I always think of Stallone's “Cobra,” as stock-parts an eighties action movie as you can find that inexplicably becomes a slasher flick at random intervals, as what popularized the idea. Pretty much every big action star has done one movie such as this but Chuck Norris actually did two. After going toe-to-toe with a silent but raging killer in 1982, Chuck would play the hero against some terror in 1988's “Hero and the Terror.” 

Officer Danny O'Brien pursued Simon Moon – a lumbering, brutish serial killer who murders women with his bare hands – to his pier side lair. In the ensuing struggle, O'Brien is nearly killed but Moon falls from a ladder, leading to his capture. O'Brien, dubbed “Hero” by the press, gets the credit for catching the killer the media was calling The Terror. Three years later, O'Brien is still haunted by nightmares of the murderer while trying to start his life over, by convincing his pregnant girlfriend, Kay, to marry him. That's when Moon escapes from his prison cell, steals a van, and seemingly drives it off a cliff side. The Terror is presumed dead but O'Brien is not so sure. When new victims, barring Moon's trademark style of killing, begin to crop up around a recently restored old movie theater, O'Brien is more certain than ever that the Terror is back at it again. Will he be able to find the killer's new hiding spot, stop the madman, convince his boss he's right, and win his baby mama's hand in marriage?

After making Braddock a dad in “Missing in Action III” and trying out comedy in “Firewalker,” it was clear that Chuck Norris was trying to prove he could be more than just a kicking machine. “Hero and the Terror” represents the star's most concentrated effort yet to show off his (acting, not karate) chops. He's having sweaty, bare-chested nightmares about his encounter with the killer. He's feeling guilt over getting credit for a victory that he knows he doesn't deserve and desperately wants to prove himself again. Mostly, Chuck spends a large chunk of “Hero and the Terror” flirting and bantering with Brynn Thayer as Kay. They get romantic in her apartment, he tells her she's beautiful, takes out for dinner as she gets pregnant-lady-emotional, and even faints from nerves as she goes into labor. I've commented all throughout this retrospective that I actually like Norris as a romantic lead. He is charming enough here, having decent chemistry with Thayer and hitting most of his dramatic beats semi-convincingly. At the same time, expecting audiences to watch ninety minutes of Chuck Norris being domestic, with limited fighting in-between, is perhaps asking a lot. 

While it would be untrue to say “Hero and the Terror” doesn't feature Norris doing the things he's best known for, action theatrics are truly only one part of what the film is attempting to do. The scenes focused on the murderous antagonists are right out of a horror flick. Jack O'Halloran, better known as Non in “Superman II,” plays the villain entirely silent save for yells and grunts. He is a tall, stocky beast of a man whose face is kept in the shadows, as if it's going to be revealed that he's deformed or something. His doctor talks like there's a psychological reason driving his compulsion to kill and O'Brien makes mention of how one female victim was left to be found because she wasn't “pure.” However, the script provides no actual insight into the villain's mindset. We can only make presumptions about why he drags the dead bodies of those he kills back to a lair, posing them in the nude but pointedly not sexually assaulting them. When combined with Moon snapping his victims' necks with his bare hands, and the sanity-shaking effect his reign of terror has on the hero, the natural conclusion is simple: Simon Moon is less a man than he is a monster, an otherworldly demon made flesh that cannot be explained or reasoned with. 

Director William Tannen got his start in advertising, writing jingles and directing commercials before moving into feature films. This was only his second full feature – he replaced Larry Cohen halfway through production of the Billy Dee Williams vehicle, “Deadly Illusion” – and he's not done much in the horror genre since. However, he proves adapt at the macabre stuff. Surprising and delighting me, “Hero and the Terror” is actually kind of a “Phantom of the Opera” riff. The antagonist hides out in the walled off section of an old movie palace, sneaking through the duct work to attack people in vulnerable places like the rest room. There's a well done sequence where the madman appears in a largely empty auditorium, silhouetted before the screen. The last act makes good use of the behind-the-scenes interiors of a dusty old theater. The cinematographer on-duty here was Eric van Haren Norman, previously a camera operator on “The Burning” and the second and third “Friday the 13th” films. That perhaps accounts for the atmospheric night shoots and moody mist that float through a few scenes. The slow-mo neck crackings are cheesy but, generally speaking, “Hero and the Terror” operates like an okay monster movie. 

This is a good thing, as the action sequences are mostly limited to the beginning and end of the film. The script throws in a sequence of Chuck, undercover as a taco truck employee and amusingly going by “Carlos,” chasing some random thugs around a dock. This feels like the movie capitulating to expectations fans of the film's star might have, as it's the only real sequence of fighting we get before the climax. (Save for a brief though amusing scene where Chuck casually clotheslines a purse snatcher that runs by him.) That finale is good and arguably worth the wait. As in “Silent Rage,” the film gets some mileage out of putting Norris up against an enemy that's bigger and stronger than him. The way O'Brien and Moon slam and kick each other through walls and catwalks, before the fight explodes out onto the roof of the cinema, is well done. All of “Hero and the Terror” is building up to this confrontation and the film is mostly assured in giving us our money's worth after all that waiting. If nothing else, the Terror does get a suitably epic horror villain death. 

I guess I didn't look closely at the back of the DVD case when I popped “Hero and the Terror” in. As the opening credits progressed, my smile grew wider as more of the supporting cast was revealed. Steve James is back as Chuck's sidekick, returning from “The Delta Force.” They get a few amusing exchanges in but, sadly, James' own martial arts skills are not utilized. Then Ron O'Neal's name popped up, making his second appearance in this marathon too. He plays the untrustworthy mayor but, aside from a brief argument with Chuck, doesn't get to show off that Youngblood Priest energy much. Finally, when Billy Drago's name appeared in the credits, I got very hopeful. Cause why put Drago, another character actor with a great bad guy face, in your psycho killer movie and not have him play the psycho killer? Unfortunately, that is indeed what the film does, Drago having a fairly nothing role as the Terror's psychologist. Another reoccurring face is Jeffrey Kramer, once again playing Norris' partner after doing the same kind of role in “Code of Silence.” Good to know the Chuckster was loyal to his boys. 

“Hero and the Terror” ends with a very cheesy love ballad over the end credits, furthering the impression that the film is very seriously trying to sell Chuck Norris as a romantic lead. Another mildly interesting thing about the film is that it's based on a novel by Michael Blodgett, who had some success as an actor – with memorable roles in “Beyond the Valley of the Dolls” and “The Velvet Vampire” – before making the leap to writing. I wonder if the book is more or less insightful into its murderer's motivations? “Hero and the Terror” probably would've been better if it focused solely on the horror elements at play. As an action flick, it is frustratingly short on the kicking and punching. However, it is a nice display for how far Chuck has come as an actor from his earlier credits, I suppose. [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

CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: Braddock: Missing in Action III (1988)

In retrospect, it is both rather odd and quite funny that “Rambo” launched an entire sub-genre of movies inspired by the M.I.A./P.O.W. conspiracy theory. Imagine if Jeremy Renner got super-ripped for a sequel to “The Hurt Locker” and it was an action movie about PizzaGate. And then it became so popular that entire countries pivoted their whole film industries around copying it. While it's fun to imagine that all the Ram-faux features emerging from the Philippines and Italy cut into Cannon's bottom line, Golan and Globus had actually lost their shirts on “Superman IV: The Quest for Peace” and “Masters of the Universe.” Cannon needed a hit badly and, since “Rambo III” was on the horizon, they asked Chuck Norris to go back to Vietnam for a third time. Of course, they called it “Braddock: Missing in Action III,” Cannon clearly hoping their super-soldier could become as much of a household name as Sylvester Stallone's. Chuck wasn't interested at first until his brother Aaron came up with an idea that got his attention. It would be the first feature film directed by Aaron Norris, who had previously worked mostly as a stunt coordinator. Unsurprisingly, most of his future feature credits would also star his big brother. 

The prologue to “Missing in Action III” takes place during the fall of Saigon, revealing that Colonel James Braddock had a previously unmentioned wife named Lin Tan. After an incident involving a friend of her's putting on her bracelet, Braddock is led to believe that his wife is dead. Twelve years later, a missionary tracks him down in a bar and informs him that, not only is Lin Tan still alive, but she was pregnant when Braddock left the country. He has a son half a world away. While skeptical at first, the CIA trying to keep him from going back to Vietnam convinces Braddock it must be true. He sneaks back into the country and is quickly reunited with Lin and Van, the son he's never known. However, he soon runs afoul of Vietnamese General Quoc, who wants the colonel dead. Lin is killed, Braddock is tortured, and his son is taken to a camp where other half-American children are being held captive. Once Braddock gets loose, he unleashes Hell. 

Here's my theory. As early as “Lone Wolf McQuade,” where he questioned the protagonist's use of alcohol, Mr. Norris was mindful of coming across as a good role model to any kids watching his movies. We also know he felt “Invasion U.S.A.” went too far in some nebulous manner. I suspect that the ultra-violence of that film and “The Delta Force” is what inspired him to begin softening his image. After trying out comedy in “Firewalker,” “Missing in Action III” would show the sensitive side of one of Chuck's deadliest hero. It turns out that Braddock, much like Wu-Tang, is for the children. The arc of the third film has the super soldier bonding with the boy who has never met him before. Though skeptical at first, Van is calling him Dad by the time the end credits roll. Braddock endures torture for his off-spring as well. He also tells his wife that he loves her, sharing several emotional moments with her before she goes the way of all of Paul Kersey's exes. To further clarify that Braddock is fighting for family first and country second now, the entire last act has him saving a whole crowd of Asian-American kids left behind in Vietnam. I guess this wouldn't be a “Missing in Action” movie without somebody being freed from a prison camp. 

It's a bit of an odd decision, a character whose primary characteristics up to this point have been a propensity for blowing people up and his hatred of the Vietnamese suddenly having a softer side. However, it's not the oddest decision in the film. It's understandable why the Vietnamese government would be a little miffed at Braddock, since he killed seventy people last time he was in the country. However, “Missing in Action III” seems to take place in some alternate universe where the Vietnam War never ended. The film is explicitly set in 1988, two years after the government began various economic reforms. Relations between Vietnam and the U.S. remained strained, with various embargoes in effect, but that year marked the country officially de-listing America as a foe. Most pressingly, Vietnam was also wrapping up a long lasting and bloody occupation of Cambodia at the time, following decreased military and economic support from the Soviet Union. 

“Missing in Action III,” meanwhile, depicts Vietnam as a country still actively hostile to American forces. The minute Braddock lands in the country, he's being pursued by military forces. The film's villain makes no mention of why he wants Braddock and his family dead. I mean, we can assume it's a reaction to the previous film's events but that's never mentioned. That leads to the question of what's up with that prison camp full of Amerasian children. Mixed race kids faced heavy discrimination after the war and 1988 would see the signing of the Amerasian Homecoming Act, designed to make entrance into the U.S. easier for Vietnamese people with American fathers. Obviously, a trashy sequel is not expected to have an in-depth or thoughtful treatment of a complicated international issue. However, the depiction of the Vietnam War as essentially on-going and mixed race children as prisoners of war is a confusing one. It really gives the impression that the sequel was desperately clinging to any reason to keep this action-packed story line going. 

Which points to a much bigger problem with “Missing in Action III” than historical irrelevance. The narrative simply lacks much in the way of urgency. As in the first film, Braddock goes back to the country of his own accord. There's a passing subplot about the CIA trying to stop him but this is quickly forgotten, leaving the plot without any sort of time limit or deadline to drive tension. It's hard to get attached to Braddock's wife and son, as they are either dead or thrust right into the action shortly after being introduced. The sequel attempts to capture some of the sadistic malevolence of the prequel. Braddick still gets tortured by the bad guy, strapped into a device that'll fire a shotgun at his boy if he stops supporting his own weight. Aki Aleong is clearly attempting to be as viciously evil as Soon-Tek Oh was in “The Beginning.” However, it all feels listlessly executed. Joseph Zito was briefly attached to direct this one before Aaron Norris took his place. I think the film really would have benefited from the same kind of mean-spirited nuttiness seen in “Invasion U.S.A.” Aaron Norris clearly doesn't have that blood lust in him. 

Once Braddock goes on the offensive to rescue his boy, the film barring his name finally starts to pick up some steam. The sequel outfits Chuck's hero with an oversized grenade launcher. He announces its presence by firing it directly into the crotch of a Vietnamese officer who just got done assaulting a teenage girl, the man exploding only after taking a dive out a window. That insane moment sets up a last third full of pyrotechnics and Chuck gunning down countless enemies. Aaron Norris might not have the sadistic instincts of Zito or Lance Hool but he's clearly very fond of shit blowing up and his brother cracking necks. After that fiery nut shot, the second funniest stunt in the film involves Chuck diving through one window, shooting some bad guys, before diving back through another window. There's a decent car chase and an exploding helicopter in there too. 

“Braddock: Missing in Action III” also scores several scenes to a hilariously maudlin, Frank Stallone-esque ballad about the price of liberty and “seeing freedom in your eyes,” whatever the fuck that means. The final, set right across the Vietnam border, suggests that “Braddock” could have been better, more often. Generally speaking, the film feels mostly like a tired retread of the first one, going so far as to include a character suspiciously similar to M. Emmet Walsh as Chuck's sidekick. Perhaps Stallone was smart to send Rambo to Afghanistan for his third outing, rather than back to the jungle. We'll never know if Braddock would consider the Mujahideen fighters brave or gallant, as “Missing in Action III” grossed notably less than its predecessors and no further adventures followed. Considering how many similar action flicks filled the decade, it probably was not necessary to turn this one into a trilogy. I do like that grenade launcher though. [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