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As I ventured into middle age during the 1990s, my personal life felt like a tangled forest. I started seeing a young woman of Italian descent who cherished her Very Old Grandmother. This endearing lady, who seemed to find no greater joy than spending her days at home in her United Nations Plaza apartment, had a particular fondness for reruns of Walker: Texas Ranger. The Very Old Grandmother didn’t speak a word of English—perhaps a conscious, slightly defiant choice—but this did not hinder her appreciation of the show. The allure was Chuck Norris, the show’s stalwart lead. Observing her admiration for Norris’ straightforward (some might say expressionless) acting and martial arts style, I often felt her gaze turn from the screen to me with a mix of pity and mild disdain. Next to someone like Chuck, what did I offer? Not much, I feared.
Feeling overshadowed by Chuck Norris is quite an experience, especially among my peers as a film critic. During Norris’ peak at the box office, both his television and film endeavors were often dismissed with sarcasm. It’s reminiscent of music producer Sam Phillips’ vision in the ’50s of finding a white singer with a Black feel—Elvis Presley being the result. While it may not be entirely fair to dub Norris the Elvis of martial arts films, it’s not entirely off the mark either.
Credit where it’s due: Norris was dedicated to his craft. He achieved black belts in five martial arts disciplines. Born in Oklahoma, he discovered martial arts while stationed in South Korea with the Air Force. Upon returning to the U.S., he moved to Hollywood, initially training actors, and secured his first role in The Wrecking Crew, a forgettable Dean Martin spy spoof. His skill caught the attention of Bruce Lee, who cast him as an antagonist in 1972’s The Way of the Dragon. This film, Lee’s sole complete directorial project, featured a climactic fight amidst Roman ruins, observed by a curious kitten—showing that directing is all about choices.
Norris landed his first leading role in the largely forgettable 1977 film Breaker! Breaker!, one of several films inspired by the CB radio hit “Convoy” by C.W. McCall. This film may sound like a relic to those under 65, but its real significance was its low budget and high returns. This success prompted producers to think, “Why not replicate this success a few more times with this Norris guy?”
While Norris wasn’t renowned for his acting skills—his emotional range made Charles Bronson seem like Joaquin Phoenix—his martial arts prowess kept audiences engaged in his early films. The 1978 film Good Guys Wear Black featured an eclectic cast including Anne Archer, Dana Andrews, and Jim Backus from Gilligan’s Island. Directed by Ted Post, known for the disappointing sequel Magnum Force to Dirty Harry, this film nonetheless tied Norris to Clint Eastwood in his mind, a connection he seemed to cherish.
The movie does hit on a theme that was to animate quite a few future Norris pictures; that is, missing-in-action Vietnam War soldiers. American Vietnam War soldiers, just so we’re clear. “My country wasn’t built on sacrificing people to expedite principles,” Norris apparently said of this story. I don’t even know what that means. 1983’s Lone Wolf McQuade set a template for the future series Walker, but Norris arguably didn’t find his ideal cinematic water level until he teamed up with the Israeli mega-producers Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus of Cannon Pictures. Together they initiated the Missing In Action series, which features Norris going to ‘Nam and rescuing his buddies from still-operational POW camps. The first Missing film came in between Stallone’s First Blood and Rambo: First Blood Part II and both franchises functioned as cinematic fantasy camps of sorts, snatching Vietnam victory from the real-life jaws of defeat. By this time Norris was less focused on showing off martial arts virtuosity and more into firing machine guns. In between Missing films, Golan and Globus tested Norris’ mettle by teaming him with the likes of Lee Marvin (in 1986’s Delta Force; Lee looks less than engaged, frankly) and trying him out in action-comedy (Firewalker, with Lou Gossett, Jr., also 1986).
His pictures grossed over 500 million bucks, and even after initiating the CBS series Walker (also a Cannon production), Norris churned them out. But he was over fifty by this time, and it’s harder to high-kick at that age. By 1995 they had him co-starring with a dog in, well, Top Dog. But he still commanded bona-fide respect from martial-arts stars, working with legend Sammo Hung on the short-lived CBS series Martial Law. Eventually, as happens to almost all action stars who live long enough, he got to make fun of his persona in 2004’s comedy Dodgeball: The True Underdog Story. He was a genuine show business trouper who made a lot of people, including non-English-speaking Italian grandmothers, very happy.
Veteran critic Glenn Kenny reviews new releases at RogerEbert.com, the New York Times, and, as befits someone of his advanced age, the AARP magazine. He blogs, very occasionally, at Some Came Running and tweets, mostly in jest, at @glenn__kenny. He is the author of the The World Is Yours: The Story of Scarface, published by Hanover Square Press, and now available for at a bookstore near you.