Letter openers are not what they
used to be. Today when you buy one or
are “gifted” one by some benevolent corporate entity or what have you, you get
a rounded off piece of plastic with a blade surrounded by more plastic. For your protection. Is it safe to use? You bet, but it’s also damned boring to look
at, and it has no sense of adventure to it.
Letter openers used to look like daggers. The looked like something some magnificent
bastard in a tailored suit would brandish at you from behind a three-foot-wide
oak desk. As I was growing up, we had
several of these faux death implements around my house, one of which resembled
the one discovered in J. Lee Thompson’s
Firewalker. It was curved, had an ornate (yet still
chintzy) scabbard, everything but the jewel in the butt of the hilt. Nobody that I know of was ever hurt by it,
but it sure looked like it could do some damage, and it was fun to pretend you
were a pirate or somesuch while running around with it. Was this unsafe for a child to play with like
it was a toy? You bet, but it sure as
shit wasn’t boring.
Max Donigan (Chuck Norris) and Leo Porter (Louis
Gossett, Jr.) are two pro-am treasure hunters who have apparently never
actually found any treasure but have found plenty of trouble. Following their latest near-death experience,
the guys are approached by the lovely Patricia Goodwin (Melody Anderson) to aid her in finding a hoard of Aztec/Mayan
gold. Meanwhile, El Coyote (Sonny Landham) is chasing after the
team for the aforementioned sacrificial dagger, and he’s not above using magic
to get it.
The Cannon Group produced Firewalker based on two criteria: the
popularity of Steven Spielberg and George Lucas’s Indiana Jones movies and
the popularity of Norris, one of the
studio’s golden goose stars (alongside Charles
Bronson). Like the big budget
Paramount pictures, this is an adventure with a sense of humor (whether or not that
humor works is entirely up to you; it was pretty flat for me), but it’s also
tonally light (despite the sacrificial aspects and an attempted rape) to the
point that it threatens to float away if even a mild wind should pass through
wherever it is playing. This is rather
against type for Norris who had been
a monosyllabic ass-kicker, taking down villains and winning the Vietnam War for
America for a long time (and before stuff like Sidekicks and Top Dog). Unlike the Harrison Ford character (who does stumble into situations bigger
than himself quite often but essentially comes from a place of expertise that
goes beyond his physical skills/struggles [he is a professor of archaeology
after all]; Jones understands the history and meaning behind the artifacts he
pursues), Max comes off as simply gormless.
He loves to spin yarns about the escapades he and Leo have gotten into
and out of (even one involving Bigfoot; why couldn’t we get that movie?), but
they feel capricious more than anything else.
Max (and by extension Leo) don’t have a plan, and they don’t really have
any specialized knowledge that distinguishes them as remarkable. They’re just like two college buddies who
become constantly and unwittingly ensconced in wild goings on over an extended
weekend of drinking. Thus, they don’t
really stand out as anything other than schlubs (Max’s martial arts skills
notwithstanding).
The relationship between Leo and
Max is an interesting one. From the
film’s outset, we’re lead to believe two things: one, that they will be opposites in
characterization (like The Odd Couple
but in an adventure milieu), and two, that they will be equals. Neither of these proves true. Although the men bicker and argue over the
situations they are in, I believe it’s fair to say that both got themselves
screwed equally, so neither has any leg to stand on with regards to laying the
blame at the other one’s feet. Once they
get to relaxing, they are incredibly similar as well. Both find the same dumb things funny. Both are more than happy to start and/or end
a (obligatory) bar brawl. Both have no
clue what they’re doing and simply luck upon any positive things that happen in
their lives. Aside from having someone
to talk to in public, they could easily be the same person.
To the second point, Max is (unsurprisingly)
the focus of the film’s story, and he is the alpha of the duo, so to
speak. Leo is more than content to
follow Max around like a dog and do whatever Max wants to do. He even admits as much to Patricia at one
point. Max gets to save everyone in the
film and play the hero. In fact, not
only does he have to rescue Patricia, but he also has to save Leo’s bacon more than
once. Max catches Patricia’s eye right
off the bat, and their romance is the only one in the film. Leo never has a chance with her or any woman
in the movie, despite the possibilities for some great scenes inherent in a
triangular relationship (which this film doesn’t have). As it happens, Leo is basically Max’s
valet. Everything he does is to support
his white pal/master. Combined with the portrayals of every other
non-white and/or non-American character in the film, it paints a rather clear,
mildly racist picture. For example, the
sadistic General (Richard Lee-Sung)
is so cliché, he speaks in clichés (“So, gentlemen, we meet again”). The Native American, Tall Eagle (Will Sampson), who helps the trio out,
is the classic old shaman/chieftain who abides by the traditions of his people
but has quirky, modern sensibilities (“I don’t know how Tonto did it”). Central American soldiers drink while on duty
and are insane with lust at the sight of a woman. Intriguingly, Max’s old pal Corky (John Rhys-Davies) is white and a man of
some power, but he is also an amalgam of Daniel Dravot and Peachey Carnahan
from Rudyard Kipling’s The Man Who Would Be King and Kurtz from
Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness (read: basically power hungry and more than
slightly insane). So, he is also an
“other” from Max, but he is also what Max could easily become and soon. That this isn’t explored more fully in the
narrative is a failing, but I think it is also beside the point of the
story. However, coming as all of this
does from the long tradition of pulp adventure stories, none of it comes off as
particularly offensive, particularly when viewed in that light. That doesn’t automatically make these facets
palatable, but it does make them a bit more acceptable for the duration of the
movie.
The Blu-ray from Olive Films presents the film in 1.85:1
aspect ratio, and the detail in the image is clear as a bell, accentuating Thompson’s mobile camerawork throughout
(though it also needs mentioning that editor Richard Marx [I believe no relation to the singer/songwriter, but
you never know] appears to either not know quite how to match many of these
shots with one another or was given a jumble of disparate shots without the
coverage to adequately tie them together; the world may never know). The colors in the film are also very nicely displayed
on the disc and the two combined make for a darn fine-looking visual package. The HD 2.0 audio does an acceptable job
mixing the dialogue, effects, and score (though the dialogue is less prominent
than other elements on rare occasions, just not enough to ruin anything, and
you’re likely not watching Firewalker
for its dialogue, regardless. The disc
has no special features.
MVT: Despite the issues with
their onscreen relationship, Norris and
Gossett do have charm, and the pair
have a certain chemistry together that works well enough for them.
Make or Break: There’s a
scene near the end that actually has some nice, tense action, and it involves
one of my favorite action/adventure sights: people hanging over some perilous
abyss/deathtrap/firestorm/anything. So
there’s that.
Score: 6.25/10
