Don't hunt what you can't kill.
In historic Crescent City, men of little means and no hope are being hunted for sport, arranged by sociopath Emil Fouchon and his second-in-command Pik van Cleef. For the right price, the willing participant will be given a belt-strap filled with ten thousand dollars and ordered to follow only one guideline: run. Should the prey make it to the designated endpoint, he shall not only win the game, but also the cash in his belt—a ticket to a second chance. And all he has to risk is...his life. It's during one of these hunts where a homeless war veteran is felled by a hunter's arrow, and once it's become obvious that he's gone missing, his daughter, Natasha, comes to New Orleans to figure out what's become of him. It's there that she meets a poorly-dressed, mulleted, and nearly indecipherable local named Chance Boudreaux, whom she hires to guide her in traversing the criminal underbelly to find out once and for all what's happened to her father. They soon cross paths with a New Orleans police detective who seems hesitant to get involved, but does so only after learning that the institutions on which the police department depend may not just be corrupt, but in league with the very shadowy group of men she is investigating. It's not long after that the mystery of "the game" slowly starts to unravel, men are kicked across the world, and Chance Boudreaux slaps the head of his snake until it goes limp. Some men are sitting ducks; others are a HARD TARGET.
Hard Target was written by Chuck Pfarrer, also responsible for the loony Navy Seals, the awesome Darkman, and many other films that cause him cold shudders whenever someone whispers their titles even thousands of miles away (virusredplanetbarbwire uggggghhhhhhh), but the big reason behind Hard Target's "success" is a name infamous for high-testosterone, operatic, and completely unhinged action. A man who broke out in a big way on the international independent scene before coming to these American shores to make his domestic debut. So what director has bestowed upon us the most exaggerated western in history? Who has the fascination with doves, eye close-ups, unnecessary flips, trench coats, and post-production slow-motion?
Not who, but Woo. John Woo—the only director esteemed enough to appear twice in this top ten list of action absurdity is the crazyman also responsible for the number nine pick, Face/Off.
Hard Target was John Woo's first American film, and how that came to be has a couple different versions. Rumors abound it was Van Damme's urging that John Woo leave his native China to come and work on his first big American film (and this rumor is further perpetuated by Van Damme's own semi-autobiographical film JCVD). Other versions have it that it was Universal Pictures themselves who were courting the director, and that while Woo was receptive, he was actually pursuing Kurt Russell for the role of Chance Boudreaux (which not only would have been its own form of awesome—he already had the mullet and everything—but would seemingly put Van Damme's involvement in Woo's China-to-Hollywood migration in question). Added to that, Hard Target isn't groundbreaking just because it was the first American film of John Woo's career, but it was actually the first time an Asian filmmaker had directed what was considered a tentpole film for a major American studio. Because of this, during production, Universal execs were very nervous, being that one of their own had entrusted a multi-million dollar production to a director who spoke very little English, so it was requested that Hollywood superstar Sam Raimi, an executive producer on the picture, be on set in the event that he had to "take over" production—something that thankfully never happened.
A direct riff on the nearly 100-year-old short story "The Most Dangerous Game," which by 1993 had seen many interpretations, Hard Target appropriated the famous tale once again, this time as less of a satirical thriller and more as a western—right down to Boudreaux's "boots," his skill with a handgun (upside down though it may be), and his first on-screen appearance that has him sitting at a bar and the camera going in close on his eyes, which is not just a Woo trademark, but a western one. Take that, add the twangy guitar/finger-snaps score by Graeme Revell, the New Orleans storefronts indicative of an old west town, and that genre-defining battle of a few good versus many evil, and the western motif has never felt more at home. That the film is set in New Orleans solely to suit Van Damme's thick accent thankfully not only avoids handicapping Hard Target's western influences, but rather complements it quite well, in that it highlights the incompetence and corruption of the New Orleans police department (it wasn't often, in the western genre, that law enforcement were directly responsible for expunging the evil from their on-the-nose named town) while also heightening the economic disproportion that still exists in the Crescent City today.
Hard Target is immensely silly from beginning to end. A "guy" movie through and through, so much that the character of Natasha Binder (Yancy Butler) is painted to be utterly useless without the presence of a man to help her. She's not on screen for ten minutes before she's crying and getting slapped around by a group of thugs looking to rob and perhaps rape, opening the door for Van Damme to enter, destroy those men's limbs, and hand Natasha back her purse and admonish her for counting out her cash in public. In a "real" film, especially in the modern era where blockbusters like Mad Max: Fury Road are invading theaters with the inexplicably controversial notion that women can be pretty bad-ass, this kind of gross undervaluing of the female lead would be tantamount to misogyny, but in Hard Target, it's all for the best, as, no shit, it's Van Damme's name on the poster. That is why audiences have bought the tickets (this argument comes up again later), so that's what the filmmakers were going to provide. (It doesn't help that Butler appears to be on a heavy dose of lithium during her entire doe-eyed performance, anyway.)
Despite it being heavily inspired by the famous concept of one man hunting another for sport, the plot of Hard Target is the most inconsequential thing about it. Upon its initial theatrical release, even the most discerning critics and harshest reviews had no choice but to acknowledge the sheer spectacle of the film and the magnitude of the stunts, dismissive of the overall plot though they may have been. And in all honesty, had Van Damme, Henriksen, and these same gun battles and motorcycle stunts and explosions been surgically removed and implanted into an entirely different plot, it wouldn't have mattered. Nothing is really gained from the "man is the most dangerous game" concept beyond motivations for both our hero and our villain to eventually come head-to-head while taking a hundred lives in the process. That a group of rich men are selling organized murders of the poor eventually becomes nothing more than window dressing: Van Damme letting loose kicks and punches and gunshots and explosions would have sold any film in 1993. This time, it just so happened to be selling Hard Target.
THE GOOD GUY
Chance Boudreaux. Able seaman. Captain beater. Food critic. Deadbeat union member. Amateur detective-for-hire. Lifetime pedestrian. Bayou born-and-bred. Nephew to the oatmeal guy. Unlicensed punching bag. Doctor hater. Substitute masseuse. Snake wrangler.
Hard Target not only returns John Woo to the fold, but also our beloved Muscles from Brussels, who appeared here previously in the number six pick Universal Soldier. Following that 1992 display of macho bravado, Van Damme appeared in Nowhere to Run, offering an atypically understated performance, and provided a cameo as himself in the underrated Last Action Hero before donning the mullet, the trench coat, and the Timberlands of Chance Boudreaux. His take on the lone gunslinger with the mysterious past is as muted as one might expect—and cowboys certainly don't speak with a Belgian accent—but the posturing and bigger-than-life persona is certainly ever in place. Many of these western-hero characters were deeply flawed individuals shooting men through saloon windows not only because they were pretty pissed off and tired of everyone's shit, but because of that "r" word: redemption. Whether drunks, or aging, or guilty of some anonymous past indiscretion, they quite reluctantly embraced the honorary title of "hero." In Hard Target, Chance doesn't embrace that title due to any particular urge to redeem himself and make up for any especially haunting past sin—not only because the film begins and he's already clearly the hero, but because, frankly, the script for Hard Target ain't tryin' that hard. This is evident at the end when Fouchon demands to know why Boudreaux began meddling in his affairs and Boudreaux responds it's because he was bored.
Chance Boudreaux apparently knows everyone in New Orleans, from ornery diner waitresses, to homeless men, to seedy pornography advertisers, to madams at brothels. To the more discerning viewer, it would seem that such infamy would violate the preordained rules of the mysterious gunslinger, especially with the conflict taking place on the streets of his very own home, rather than the streets of a town into which he had just ridden. But where Van Damme may lack as a gunslinger in external construction he makes up for thematically. He's got the mysterious past down, he's kind of a lowlife, and he inserts himself into the inner workings of law enforcement once he realizes that they're kind of infantile without him. Plus he rides a horse during the finale while shooting a bunch of dudes, you idiots.
Up to this point, Van Damme had opened several films that were designed around his impressive fighting style, which pertained to their own sub-genre of the action world, and which were all nearly identical in their plots: man who fights well is drawn hesitantly into a fighting scenario out of sense of revenge or necessity and eventually wins the day. These films—Bloodsport, Kickboxer, Lionheart—are entertaining for what they are, but sometimes audiences want more—more violence, that is. More grue, more death, more destruction. Universal Soldier would be the first film with Van Damme as the star where the fighting styles are dialed down and guns are finally placed into his hands. After the one-two punch of Universal Soldier and then Hard Target, audiences were delighted to be seeing what they were seeing: Van Damme not just high-kicking dudes across Planet Earth, but seeing him whip out a gun and finishing his victims' descent into space.
In the mid-'90s, Van Damme was at the absolute height of his superstardom. In fact, Hard Target would prove to be the beginning of the end of his box office domination. Following on Hard Target's heels would be the first of three collaborations with filmmaker Peter Hyams, beginning with Timecop, the last film with Van Damme as the lead to make significant bank. While his immediate films to come would assure a modicum of silliness (Sudden Death is among the most entertaining of the Die Hard rip-offs), Hard Target would see Van Damme not just appearing in his most ridiculous film, and not at his most ridiculous looking, but would prove to be "the" film—the one in which the action hero idolized by genre fans would achieve the "one-man army" title and lay a record number of bad guys to waste, all while making the goofiest of faces every single solitary time he fired a gun.
THE BAD GUY
Emil Fouchon. Literal man hunter. Hyperbolic drug dealer. Cash slammer. Thompson Center Arms Contender wielder. Existentialist. The most infuriated pianist in existence.
Lance Henriksen is god of the b-movies and the greatest actor that will ever appear within these hallowed Murdered Men halls. The nicest man you have ever met is capable of playing the most sadistic, sociopathic villain this side of World War II. Long and better-known as having portrayed Bishop in Aliens, Ed Harley in several chapters of Pumpkinhead, Frank Black on cult television show Millennium, and "the Father" in personal favorite No Escape, Lance Henriksen can appear in the biggest piece of shit you've ever seen and make you glad you're watching it—that's the power behind his talent. He has been turning in extremely solid but mostly supporting character work ever since his first feature film appearance in Dog Day Afternoon back in the dark ages of 1975. Though his filmography lists a litany of titles that sound as unappealing as they likely are (his self-admitted "alimony movies"), there's one thing that can be guaranteed: no matter how many people in those films melt, or explode, or meet the teeth of aliens/mutant Bigfeet, Henriksen is going to be putting 100% into his performance as whatever good guy/bad guy/voice-over-only character that he's playing. He's as dedicated to his craft as they come, hailing from the old school of method-acting. Motherfucker was so in-tune that he for-realsies allowed himself to be set on fire in the third-act scene of Hard Target, during which the flames flared a bit more than anyone anticipated, forcing him to rip off his fiery coat and hurl it at the nearest wall..all while staying in character to complete the scene. That cool thing you did once and keep telling people about?
It will never be that cool.
What makes all the films featured in Top Ten Murdered Men so worthy of celebration is admittedly that delectable permeation of irony—that undercurrent of unintended humor that heightens the level of audience enjoyment. To be specific, would Hard Target have benefited from utilizing another performer as the lead (like Kurt Russell) who could not only display the kind of skillful choreography of which Van Damme was capable, but all while offering a solid performance free of the kind of foreign-tongued baggage that's come to define so many of our action stars? Sure, more than one person would argue that a stronger performance makes for a stronger film. But what kind of film needs to be strengthened? Which aspect would be ultimately reinforced? Would it benefit anyone at all if one could go back in time and start plugging stronger aspects into Hard Target, in effect creating a "better" film? Fuck no. Hard Target is a product of both purposeful and accidental sensibilities, a beautiful amalgamation of success and failure—and this more than includes the somewhat stunted performance by our leading split-doer. The legendary status that Hard Target has achieved has everything to do with the "shortcomings" of its own production.
While Henriksen is fully aware of the over-the-top nature of the story and that it's not to be taken seriously, he knows that the best way to contribute is to dial up his performance of Emil Fouchon way past eleven. If Boudreaux's arch nemesis plays the piano, then he's going to play the ever loving fucking shit out of that piano, slamming every key with a near-maniacal look of unbridled fury splayed across his face. If he's going to dismissively throw money at an obese underling, he's going to slam that money across his fat back so hard he may as well be trying to slam it through him. If someone has the audacity to die slowly in front of him of a snake bite, thereby sincerely inconveniencing him, he's going to step on the corpse-to-be's chest and growl, "I'll fuck you, and then I'll eat you" before suggesting that his men "die quieter." And if, near the end, Fouchon realizes that he's losing control over "the game," he's not just going to react in anger—he's going to spin disjointedly, surrounded by flames, bellowing at the wall, screaming indecipherably, grunting like an uncaged animal following years of vicious abuse. Saliva will spatter from his mouth as he screams primal threats into the air surrounding them all, pure ferocity emanating from his every fiber. "There isn't a country in the world I haven't fired a bullet in!" he screams. "You can't kill me! I'm on every battlefield!" Castor Troy was a cartoon villain, as was Andrew Scott and Manny Fraker before him. But Emil Fouchon feels dangerous, and the mythos of his character is deeply unsettling. As he makes it known in the film, Fouchon and co. have traveled throughout not just Louisiana, and not just the United States, but the entire world, setting up games of ritualized murder for the super rich. He's become super rich by selling not just men, but the opportunity to kill those men, to the wealthiest of sociopaths—people so bored with their vast fortunes that it takes controlled-setting murder to feel alive again. And in one particular scene when his client shows hesitation about satisfying their contract—shows immense unease at the mere idea of taking another man's life—Fouchon becomes incensed, ordering him to finish the job before walking away and muttering, "God, why didn't he just go fishing?" This is all because Fouchon feels nothing, no empathy whatsoever toward his fellow man. He's not just disappointed that his client won't take advantage of his delivered prey, but it actually enrages him, as if "the game" were just another everyday activity. His entire being is predicated on selling lives, and the notion that other people aren't as enthusiastic about such a thing doesn't just confound him, but infuriates him.
There's nothing ironically good about Henriksen's performance. Every seemingly silly thing is not a happy accident, nor is it going for one thing but inadvertently achieving something different. Henriksen's performance is by careful, distinctive design. For once, the actor playing the villain is fully in on the joke and embraces it to maximum effect.
In a move similar to that of Steven Seagal's during the post-production on Out for Justice, it was at Van Damme's orders that Henriksen's scenes be reduced in the final cut, as he was likely concerned about being upstaged in the very film where he played the lead role. This longer cut—known as the "John Woo workprint version"—has become long sought-after in the bootleg market and sadly has never materialized anywhere in any legitimate form.
From Wiki:
Van Damme went with his own editor to make his own edit of the film. Van Damme's version excises whole characters to insert more scenes and close-ups of his character Chance. When asked about this edit, Van Damme replied that, "People pay their money to see me, not to see Lance Henriksen."
While Van Damme's presence will always guarantee a certain attraction, Hard Target could have only benefited from further pure and unfiltered Lance Henriksen. Simply put, there's praise, there's hyperbole, and then there's truth: no one in the world could have played the role of Emil Fouchon with the same gravitas, the same bombastic approach, and lastly, the same sincerity.
Pik van Cleef. Number two of Emil Fouchon. Literal ear-lowerer. Scissors stabber. Heffer hater. Feelings considerer. Potential Irishman.
Arnold Vosloo was Mummy.
THE CASUALTIES
The Bad Guys
One motorcyclist shoots a gas can thrown at him (?) and turns into a full-on conflagration. One getaway driver and one motorcyclist receive bullets into their person. One motorcyclist gets his neck broken by an almighty boot. One motorcyclist takes several bullets before getting slammed head-on by another motorcycle. One henchman gets blown up by some exploding moonshine. One henchman gets pulverized by a shotgun...while in a helicopter...which was fired from a horse. One motorcyclist catches a gas can tossed his way before it's shotgunned, blowing him into beautiful smithereens and his motorcycle through a window. Two henchmen are literally shotgunned INTO fire. One henchman gets choked out with the butt of a shotgun before receiving a tremendous spin-kick to the face and is later shot nine times with a handgun. Another motorcyclist receives more of the same. One henchman gets an arrow through the neck. One leather-clad misogynist gets shot pointblank in the chest. One cowboy-clad henchman gets a dose of hot lead. Two more henchmen get double-handgunned. Three henchmen get riddled with bullets, the last of them falling down the stairs. Thee more henchmen, one of whom drops a grenade, get red holes blown in them. One henchman gets whipped in the face with a grenade wrapped in a shirt and killed by the shotgun stolen from his startled hands. van Cleef gets shot so many times even the NRA cringed from the excess and closed their Twitter account.
The Good Guys
One homeless man (a cameo from the film's screenwriter) and father to our damsel in distress is shot with painful looking arrows before drowning in a river. One corrupt doctor (the sheriff from Friday the 13th: Part 5—A New Beginning who says "it's Jason Voorhees!" and gets an ashtray thrown at him) gets shot in the eye through his door's peephole. One Vietnam veteran is hunted through the graveyard, but actually manages to take out the hunter who paid to kill him, before being executed in the street with an automatic weapon (during which a few innocent bystanders may or may not meet their ends.) One very obese games arranger gets the top of his head blown off at pointblank range via shotgun. Detective Mitchell (Candyman's Kasi Lemmons) gets sheared by a shotgun blast before taking several more MP4 shots to the chest.
THE BEST KILL
No contest. Boudreaux standing entirely up on a motorcycle leaking gasoline and heading straight for a Bronco full of bad guys, and then LEAPING over the entire vehicle in time to shoot them from behind and blow them the fuck up, not only takes the cake for best kill, but frankly, should be in every movie in existence.
Runner up goes to Boudreaux shooting Sven-Ole Thorsen far more times than the clip of his upside handgun allows—29 shots, to be exact—before delivering a completely unnecessary roundhouse kick to the face of the man whom, at that point, is quite obviously very dead.
THE DAMAGE
Boudreaux gets manhandled during the first act while doing some investigatory work. He's later punched in the face, cut on the arm, and beaten with a fiery 2x4. He also ends up in front of several explosions, none of which seem to faze him in any way beyond propelling him nearer to the next man he needs to shoot.
And in case you're wondering, Uncle Douvet (Wilford Brimley) gets stabbed with an arrow, but no one really gives a shit about this character, do they?
THE BAD GUY'S COMEUPPANCE
Boudreaux fires a pretty gnarly shotgun into Fouchon's shoulder, sending him flipping backwards across the room before rushing at him, delivering the most bad-ass jump kick of the film, followed by an array of kicks to the chest, punches to the face, and one grenade dropped down his pants. To his credit, Henriksen manages to upstage his own death sentence by at first laughing at what he assumes to be a dud of a grenade before seeing its spark ignite to blow him to confetti, punctuating his life with "oop!"
THE LINE
"Hunting season is over."
THE VERDICT
A parody of Hard Target would look exactly like Hard Target, and that's why it rules as hard as it does. What may not have been ludicrous in 1993 is very ludicrous now, and it only adds to the enjoyment. Van Damme delivers his most satisfying film in the sub-genre of absurd action, Henriksen provides an award-winning performance as the ultimate unhinged villain, and John Woo somehow manages to create spectacle that's even more absurd than that other film he made about the two men who switch faces, live, and spend two hours trying to kill each other with broken glass. Hard Target's original incarnation may have been sullied by the ego of one particular mullet-sporting high-kicker, but there's no denying that the finished product was a full-on bull's-eye.
