In the world of this sweaty action flick, there is no job on Earth more manly than Texas Ranger (the state police, not the baseball team)–and there is no more manly Texas Ranger than Chuck Norris.
The first time we see him, he stands alone on a desert rock formation. It’s 158 degrees outside. His face is dripping. His shirt is stuck to him. The edges of his cowboy hat sizzle in the sun. We can smell him through the screen as he calmly watches a group of heavily armed Mexican banditos–horse thieves, though their homicidal viciousness shows us that they’re probably guilty of a lot worse–get the upper hand on some lower-ranked uniformed Rangers. Just as the bad guys are about to turn Ranger Robert Beltran into chorizo, Chuck fires shots at their vehicles. Right in the gas tanks. KA-fucking-BOOM, baby!
The banditos respond by firing their automatic weapons right in Chuck’s direction.
Chuck responds by just standing there. Chuck doesn’t even duck. All of the bullets just kiss the sand. Chuck is fine.
I guess that’s stupid, but I don’t care. It’s like in Shaft, when Richard Roundtree crosses New York City traffic without even looking to make sure that it’s safe. He’s too cool to get hit by a car, the film wants us to know.
Same thing here. Chuck Norris’s J.J. McQuade, loose cannon Texas Ranger, is too cool to get shot. At least not this early in the film. They’re gonna save that for later when he’s got to confront the main villain in a weakened state, but still kick ass.
That main villain is David Carradine, a suave and ruthless dealer in stolen arms who also happens to be a World Champion martial arts face-kicker. We hate Carradine from the moment that we see him. He oozes ego. We want to see him get taken down.
And we do get to see that (no spoilers; come on, you know it’s coming), but not before Chuck gets his guts kicked in more than once. Not just physically, but emotionally.
Chuck’s big weakness is his college-age daughter (Dana Kimmell, the “final girl” of Friday the 13th Part III the previous year). The bad guys target her to get to him more than once and Chuck can’t let that go. About fifty people need to die. He’s got to assemble a team. He’s got to get bazookas. He’s got to get FBI agent Leon Isaac Kennedy on his side. He’s got to give us a few more explosions and fight scenes in the blistering sun.
This movie is good stuff is what I’m trying to say. Anyone can die at any time and it’s got a great Texas border town atmosphere. Hot, sweat-soaked and deadly.
I love how the film depicts Chuck Norris as a total slob. The other characters in the film all notice. His shirts are dirty. His monster truck is a dirt-caked mess that hasn’t been washed in years. His home is cluttered with old beer cans and garbage.
Chuck Norris doesn’t vaccum floors, okay? Chuck Norris doesn’t dust cupboards. He needs a woman in his life for that (and it looks like sexy and upper crust Barbara Carrera might just fill that role). For now though, the only thing that Chuck cleans up is crime in deep south Texas.
MAJOR bonus points for the music score by Franceso De Masi, a twenty-year veteran at the time with a history in spaghetti westerns. The music in this film is flamboyantly Italian. Its strings soar with operatic tension. Its guitars growl with danger. Its synthesizers flirt with the stars. Its the perfect score for a steamy and dangrous world.