Alright, fellow tapeheads, let's dim the lights, ignore that tracking adjustment fuzz for a second, and talk about a flick that probably spent some serious time in your VCR back in the day: 1991's The Hitman. This wasn't just another roundhouse kick extravaganza for Chuck Norris; it was a grittier, darker turn that felt like a deliberate shift, landing on shelves just as action movies were getting a bit moodier. Remember pulling this one off the New Releases wall at Blockbuster? It had that serious cover, Norris looking less like a karate instructor and more like a man with a dangerous secret.

The premise itself felt a bit more complex than your usual Cannon fodder (though, interestingly, this was released by Cannon Pictures, albeit post its Golan-Globus glory days). Norris plays Cliff Garret, a Seattle cop betrayed by his partner Ronny “Del” Delany (Michael Parks, perfectly slimy) during a drug bust and left for dead. But Garret survives, burned and vengeful. The cops fake his death, give him a new identity – Danny Grogan – and send him deep undercover to infiltrate the criminal underworld run by French-Canadian mob boss André LaCombe (Marcel Sabourin) and dismantle the drug operations... including the one run by his treacherous ex-partner. It’s classic undercover tension, but with that distinct early 90s, slightly downbeat flavour.
This wasn't Invasion U.S.A. This felt more grounded, more focused on infiltration and suspense than just mowing down armies of disposable bad guys (though don't worry, there's still plenty of action). Aaron Norris, Chuck's brother and frequent directorial collaborator (he also helmed Delta Force 2 and Braddock: Missing in Action III), keeps the pacing tight and the atmosphere suitably grim. Filmed primarily in Vancouver, British Columbia – doing a solid job standing in for Seattle and the Pacific Northwest – the locations add to that damp, grey, slightly desperate mood that permeates the film. You can almost feel the drizzle just watching it.

Now, let's talk about what VHS Heaven readers crave: the action. And The Hitman delivers with that satisfyingly real crunch we miss sometimes. Forget floaty CGI – this is the era of squibs that look like they actually hurt, stuntmen taking hard falls onto pavement, and explosions with genuine fireballs. There’s a warehouse shootout that feels dangerous precisely because it relies on practical effects and choreography over digital trickery. Remember how impactful those bullet hits felt on a CRT screen? They weren't smoothed over; they had a raw physicality.
There's a particularly nasty bit involving Garret dispatching a rival hitman in an apartment that showcases this grounded brutality. It’s quick, efficient, and feels less like a superhero move and more like a grim necessity. This commitment to practical stunts was a hallmark of the Norris brothers' collaborations. While perhaps not boasting the budget of a Schwarzenegger or Stallone vehicle of the time, they knew how to make the action feel tangible and impactful within their means. It gives the film a certain weight that holds up surprisingly well.


While Norris is the undeniable star, the supporting cast adds texture. The late, great Michael Parks, an actor who could bring layers to even the most standard villain roles (think From Dusk Till Dawn or Kill Bill), makes Delany a convincingly slippery and hateable antagonist. His casual menace provides a strong counterpoint to Norris's stoic determination. And Al Waxman (familiar to many from the TV series Cagney & Lacey) brings a weary authenticity to Chambers, Garret's police contact who carries the burden of the undercover operation.
The script, penned by Robert Geoffrion and Don Carmody, tries to juggle the undercover tension, the revenge plot, and even a burgeoning relationship between Garret/Grogan and a single mother (Alberta Watson) and her son. Sometimes it feels a little overstuffed, a common trait in action thrillers trying to add depth, but it gives Norris more emotional beats to play than just "angry." It’s fascinating to see him navigate this slightly more complex character, even if his range wasn't always given its due. It's not Shakespeare, but it's a solid effort to add shades to the typical action hero mould.
Interestingly, The Hitman didn't exactly set the box office on fire upon release, making around $4.6 million domestically. It found its real audience, like so many films we cherish here, on home video. It became a reliable rental, the kind of movie you'd grab for a Friday night when you wanted straightforward action with a familiar face, but maybe something a touch less cartoonish than his 80s output.

Justification: The Hitman delivers solid, practical action sequences and features a commendably darker, more layered performance from Chuck Norris than usual. Michael Parks is a strong villain, and Aaron Norris directs competently within the genre's confines. However, the plot, while ambitious, can feel a bit predictable and occasionally clunky, and it lacks the truly iconic moments of Norris's bigger hits. It's a very competent early 90s action thriller, enjoyable for fans, but not quite a top-tier classic of the era.
Final Word: This tape delivers that satisfying thunk of early 90s action realism – a reminder that sometimes, the best explosions were the ones that felt like they could actually singe your eyebrows through the TV screen. Definitely worth revisiting if you like your Norris served with a side of grit.