Firewalker (1986)

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

Invasion U.S.A. (1985)

Some people cannot display emotions. It's just that simple. However, whether said person can help it or not determines how society at large deals with this trait. When found in a patient, it's viewed as a characteristic of a mental/developmental disorder. When found in a politician, it's viewed as a nigh-sociopathic lack of empathy (shocking thing, that) garnered from years of practice. And when it's found in an actor, it's viewed as a sign that "actor" is the one thing they should not be labeled. Yet, folks have become famous, flourished even, while essentially imitating the titular character in Lifeboat. Yet, this does not necessarily mean the affectless are also talentless. Charles Bronson was a master of this. His face was like a well-worn catcher's mitt, and his lips rarely moved, but you knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling. And it was usually anger. Is there any wonder, then, that action heroes are generally characterized as wooden actors? They're rarely called on to emote anything other than anger. Okay, maybe rage, occasionally.
  
(Chuck Norris doesn't see dead people. He makes dead people.)

Mikhail Rostov (Richard Lynch) and his communist cohorts have infiltrated the United States of America. Funding a mercenary army with cocaine money, the invasioneers ("invaders" just doesn't encompass it here, I think) infiltrate all areas of the country, sowing unrest in the American people. However, Rostov also holds a grudge against the one man who ever thwarted him (I assume) – Matt Hunter (Chuck Norris). Hunter, however, has retired to the bayous of Florida, where he helps his pal, John Eagle (Dehl Berti), wrassle 'gators. After making things personal for Hunter (I'll give you three guesses how), the Great White Asskicker conducts a one-man war against Rostov and his soldiers, killing his way to the top.

(Chuck Norris has already been to Mars; that's why there are no signs of life there.)

Saying that Joseph Zito's Invasion U.S.A. is a rote action flick, is like saying Chuck Norris has some body hair. While it maintains the very basic premise of Alfred Green's 1952 Invasion U.S.A. (and it should be stated, I've never seen anyone make the case that Zito's is a remake of it, though it had certainly been around long enough to have been seen by the filmmakers), the later film is not really concerned with what an actual invasion of communists would do to the country (the 1952 film is unrealistic in other ways). Certainly, they show vignettes of society breaking down (and I must say, this is one of the most orderly societal breakdowns I have ever seen), but the overarching storyline is actually an ever-escalating duel between two men who hate each other. In this light, the film can be seen as a Western (and I'm sure Mr. Norris would have it no other way), working its way up to the ineluctable showdown with very large "guns." The "what-if" aspects of the Battle-Of-The-Bulge-like siege are mere background noise to Norris's mission.

(Chuck Norris is the reason why Waldo is hiding.)

In many ways, the film is structured like a horror film. There are multiple scenes where we see faceless (even gloved, sometimes) stalkers skulking about in the shadows while unknowing potential victims go about their business. There's also the old trope of walking around a dark house, not knowing what's around the next corner. However, whereas the horror film's cathartic release is typically triggered by the killing of a character or characters who we probably like (though not always) but more importantly probably don't deserve it, the cathartic release in action films like this one is often triggered by the sudden killing of characters who we feel truly deserve it. These are bad men, and no amount of punishment is too much for them.

(Chuck Norris is what Willis was talking about.)

Enter Richard Lynch. No one signifies evil on sight (with the possible exception of Thanos; I'll let you look that one up) quite like this guy. In this film, as in so many others, he plays not just the villain but a sadist. It is not enough that he murders a boatload of people. He first lets them think everything is okay, and then proceeds to kill them all. And he does it all with a smile on his face. Rostov is obsessed with the idea of killing Hunter to the point that he has nightmares about it and would even jeopardize his mission to accomplish this goal. By contrast, Hunter (and what a telling name that is) wants nothing to do with anyone at the start (truly a reluctant hero) and has always believed that the higher-ups (read: bureaucracy) should have let him ice Rostov when he had the chance. The two characters are so antithetical to each other, they could just as easily be seen as God and the Devil in the eternal struggle. In fact, Hunter seems to appear at just the right moment to save people (a sort of serial killer of killers) for the entirety of the second and third acts, like a guardian angel with a beard.

(The chief export of Chuck Norris is pain.)

Two hallmarks of 1980s action films were communists and overkill. Not every actioner had both, but almost all had either one or the other. It's interesting to me that the two great periods of "Red Scare" cinema occurred about thirty years apart. In the 1950s, the theme was often embedded in the horror and science fiction genres (The Thing From Another World, Invasion Of The Body Snatchers, It Conquered The World, etcetera) and rarely spoken of overtly (that was saved for "Red Scare" movies like the earlier Invasion U.S.A., another subgenre all its own). Then there was a lull in the prevalence of this theme in genre cinema, more likely than not precipitated by the rise of the public's interest in social concerns, the proliferation of psychedelic drugs, and the notion that "we are the monsters/Martians." Then, with no foreign war to distract the American public in the early 80s, the focus of villainy in pop culture turned again to the communists. 

(Chuck Norris counted to infinity – twice.)

Whether they were Latin American, Asian, or Russian, the Reds always seemed to have a plan to destroy us "Capitalist Pigs." And we, in turn, had enough hardasses and ordnance to blow them all back to the Stone Age. Invasion U.S.A. is no exception. Rostov doesn't just assassinate someone. He does it with a bazooka. It's not enough to shoot a bazooka at Hunter's cabin. You have to fire several, multiple times. Hunter doesn't just show up at the mall to take out the bad guys. He drives his pickup truck through the doors and walls, probably hurting more people than he's helping. But that's why we watch films like this one, and as an example of 1980s action movie excess, this one excels.

(When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris.)

MVT: Ironically, I'm giving director Joseph Zito the MVT here. He shoots and edits action exceptionally well. He uses the entirety of the screen, isn't afraid to move the camera, and throws a huge amount of production value onscreen. His pacing makes the film feel brisk, even at almost two hours of runtime.

Make Or Break: The scene where Lynch meets up with druglord, Mickey (Billy Drago), exemplifies everything that makes this movie and those like it so enjoyable. I won't spoil it for you, but it's sleazy, and over the top, and oh-so-satisfying.

Score: 7.5/10

The Octagon (1980)

Directed by Eric Karson.

Ninjas, terrorists, assassins, and mercenaries. Where do I start? How about with Scott James (Chuck Norris) - a retired World Karate Champion who's approached by an heiress (Karen Carlson) regarding a potential job as her bodyguard, but is subsequently lured into a dangerous situation involving terrorists who are being trained at a Ninja training camp called The Octagon by his estranged Japanese half-brother, Seikura (Tadashi Yamashita). Iconic tough-guy actor Lee Van Cleef plays McCarn - a militant rightist who leads a group of American mercenaries in a battle against terrorism, so you can bet he comes into play somehow when the shit goes down.

Once Scott realizes that there are Ninjas running around (the Ninja were thought to have been a long-forgotten thing of the past, mind you), he spends a good chunk of the movie trying to find them with hopes that he can infiltrate their training camp, but seeing as they're Ninjas after all (ie. stealth and hard to find), his search becomes complicated. That is, until he meets and teams up with a woman named Aura (Carol Bagdasarian), who actually trained at The Octagon and later deflected from the group of terrorists. Aura's an interesting character in that there weren't a lot of women being portrayed as tough, female-Rambo type characters in mainstream American cinema at the time. Considering THE OCTAGON was written by a woman, it's safe to assume that this strong female character was no accident.


Not to jump the gun or anything, but I did like THE OCTAGON a lot. However, it's not to say that the film is without flaws and mind-boggling WTF moments. First of all, one thing I never understood about the heiress character, who attempted to hire Chuck Norris as her bodyguard, is why she was a big deal in the first place. She was obviously so important that people apparently wanted her dead, or were at least willing to go out of their way to threaten her, but it turns out that she only inherited a publishing company. According to this woman, she started receiving threats because people wanted her to change certain editorial policies. Huh? I'm sure I must have missed something, but I went back a couple of times to learn more about her and still couldn't find anything. Also, actress Karen Carlson has a few scenery-chewing moments in the film which are quite amusing.


Another strange element to the film, or rather an odd trait of its lead protagonist, is that Chuck Norris's character hears voices. Well, just his own voice, but it almost comes across as this hidden psychic ability that he's tapped into. Throughout the film we hear Scott's thoughts out loud, but we hear them as these really slow whispers with some sort of creepy vocal effect added on, and sometimes his thoughts even warn him of impending danger, which we see during the film's initial Ninja attack (a WTF sequence in and of itself). But perhaps the most unusual thing about film is its structure. The plot tends to jump around on numerous occasions, which is fine and somewhat interesting in terms of how non-linear it is for a presumably accessible Action movie, but what's frustrating is how the characters are established. More often than not, someone will be introduced and you're not quite sure what it is exactly that this person does in the big scheme of things, but then it ultimately (and gradually) makes sense as the story unfolds. Don't get me wrong, I love movies that don't insult their audience's intelligence and feel the need to explain everything, but in this movie's case, it was kinda confusing at times.

As far as the eponymous Octagon, there are certain things about it that are a bit silly, but for the most part it's also quite fascinating in terms of how it looks and how it ultimately comes into play during the film's third act. And what I mean by "silly" is that the terrorists who show up there to train are the most un-Ninja group of people I've ever seen, for lack of a better term. Most of Seikura's trainees look like a bunch of hicks and ex-cons, and it becomes quite obvious not long after they're introduced that most of them don't know how to fight. Overseeing the training with Seikura and is this film's Boba Fett: a crimson-hooded Ninja named Kyo (shown on the film's poster). Played by Aussie actor/stuntman Richard Norton, Kyo is a silent character who occasionally steps out of the shadows to discipline some of the more lackluster trainees at The Octagon. In one scene, he disarms a froggy student and turns his own weapon against him in the blink of an eye. According to director Eric Karson, he slowed the footage of this scene down during production, watched it frame by frame, and was still unable to figure out how Norton did this maneuver so quickly.


Make or Break Scene: Easily the fight scene involving Richard Norton (as Kyo) and Chuck Norris towards the end of the film. Honestly, it looks a bit too choreographed at times, but nonetheless it still looks really good. One of the reasons I love this fight scene as much as I do is how long it's drawn out. Kyo is basically a "mini-boss" of sorts and another obstacle that Chuck Norris has to get through before he faces Seikura, but the scene is treated as if Norton's character were the main villain in the film. What sealed the deal was the impressive fire stunt at the end of the scene.

MVT: Chuck Norris. It's gotta be Chuck. He roundhouse-kicks Ninjas into oblivion in the film, and he also played an important role behind the scenes with the fight choreography and stunts along with his brother Aaron (who also stars a small part in the film).

Score: 6.5/10

THE OCTAGON leaves much to be desired when it comes to pacing, and, as I said earlier, it can be confusing at times and a little hard to follow, but the Ninja aspect of the film makes it unique in terms of Chuck Norris's filmography at the time, and it also provides for a great aesthetic (seriously, how could you not love Ninjas?). Ominous hooded figures running around at night and leaping out of the shadows is much more interesting than seeing a bunch of plain-clothed henchmen hopping out of pick-up trucks. If you happen to check out the Trinity Home Entertainment DVD, there's a surprisingly in-depth talking-head featurette on the making of the film, which I highly recommend checking out (after you've seen the film).