LONE WOLF MCQUADE (1983) Three-and-a-half stars
Let’s get the facts straight on Chuck Norris.

That might be impossible at this point, even though I have the book “Chuck Norris vs. Mr. T” by Ian Specter on the shelf below Ray Bradbury and on top Benjamin Franklin. How’s that for strange literary bedfellows?

You might not know Specter by name, but you know his creation “Chuck Norris Facts” that blew up the Internet in the mid-2000s. He’s your typical, pencil-necked geek from an Ivy League school who thought it would be a laugh riot (and smart investment strategy) to parody Norris’ machismo. I thought his facts were a laugh riot and quoted them endlessly in between reciting Charles Bukowski’s “Notes of a Dirty Old Man.”

The humor was on the level of “Chuck Norris does not wear a condom. Because there is no such thing as protection from Chuck Norris.”

Since I technically majored in history in college, I got more of a kick out of the historically-based facts. Donald Trump would probably call them “alternative facts.”

Like, for example, I loved the one “JFK wasn’t killed by a bullet, Chuck Norris ran in and deflected the bullet with his beard … JFK’s head exploded out of sheer amazement.”

That’s the most cogent explanation for JFK’s assassination I’ve ever heard and damn, if they had existed back then, Chuck Norris Facts would have saved me from watching Oliver Stone’s JFK.

Apparently, Norris was in on the joke himself until he sued Mr. Specter late 2007 and early 2008.

Mr. Specter quotes from the suit letter in his “Chuck Norris vs. Mr. T” intro, “Mr. Norris is known as an upright citizen to whom God, country, and values are of paramount importance” and “Mr. Norris also is concerned that the book may conflict with his personal values and thereby tarnish his image and cause him significant personal embarrassment.”

The parties eventually reached a settlement in the spring of 2008.

In a roundabout way, we’re here to discuss LONE WOLF McQUADE, Norris’ best film (along with CODE OF SILENCE) and one of his first successful attempts to break free of the martial arts stranglehold.

The director Steve Carver and Norris worked together previously on EYE FOR AN EYE and here Carver wanted to mess with Norris’ squeaky clean image (critic Dave Kehr called Norris “a Boy Scout Clint Eastwood”), insisting that Norris grow a beard and drink beer. Norris, of course, was hesitant. You’ve not lived until you have seen Norris roll around in the mud with Barbara Carrera.

When I found this movie was rated PG by the Motion Picture Association of America, I thought it must have been a mistake. Did we see the same movie?

No, apparently not, and the MPAA pencil necks saw the light due to Norris persuasion. Just think they were all scared of that Norris roundhouse.

Norris said, “This is the second time I’ve appealed. They gave GOOD GUYS WEAR BLACK an R, but I persuaded them to make it a PG. My argument was the strong, positive image I project on the screen. The word karate, unfortunately, connotes violence to many people. Actually, it’s a means of avoiding violent situations, and a form of defense if you have no choice and you’re backed into a corner. … My films are very similar to the John Wayne movies of the ’40s. He’d go in a bar and Jack Palance would pick a fight with him, and then Wayne would take out half the saloon. It’s the same theme: A man is pushed into a situation where he has to resort to violence.”

What a bunch of hooey.

Norris avoided violence like I avoid metaphors.

I mean, seriously, why else would we watch a Norris action spectacular?

LONE WOLF McQUADE gives us a few more reasons to watch than the average Norris action spectacular.

Carver wanted to recreate the atmosphere of a Sergio Leone film, to put the viewer in that mythic, larger-than-life mindset.

L.Q. Jones and R.G. Armstrong are in the cast and just a year before LONE WOLF, they were seen together in THE BEAST WITHIN. The brief plot summary of that one: “A young woman gets raped by a mysterious man-creature, and years later her son begins a horrific transformation into a similar beast.” That beast would be a cicada.

Jones, who turned 91 in August, appeared in 163 movies and TV shows ranging from HANG ‘EM HIGH and Sam Peckinpah epics (Jones and Armstrong were both in PAT GARRETT AND BILLY THE KID) to CASINO and THE MASK OF ZORRO.

Armstrong (1917-2012), whose ‘G’ in his name stands for “Golden,” had memorable roles in PREDATOR, DICK TRACY (Pruneface), and CHILDREN OF THE CORN among his nearly 200 credits. In fact, I still cannot believe that he did not survive those Gatlin, Nebraska upstarts in the latter film. No respect for their elders. Damn kids.

I nearly always enjoy seeing Jones and Armstrong.

I love it, for example, when Armstrong’s superior officer leans on Norris’ J.J. McQuade to change his slovenly, “lone wolf” ways. McQuade’s a blemish on the wholesome, upstanding Texas Ranger image.

This is a scene that we’ve seen in many, many films involving cops, I mean you can guess what happens when a superior officer calls the protagonist or protagonists into his office. Sometimes, it’s fun to watch. More often, it’s a pain in the neck.

This one works, because of Armstrong. He’s one of the greats in crotchety, and it’s also enjoyable watching somebody dish it out to Norris for a change.

Dana Kimmell plays Norris’ daughter in the movie and she went from surviving Jason Voorhees to surviving being Norris’ daughter.

Of course, it’s rough on her in that macho, macho, macho world.

David Carradine (1936-2009) gives the flick a legitimate villain, not some candy ass pushover. Unlike Norris, Carradine played both good guy and bad guy roles throughout his career, and he’s credible at both. (Norris made a great villain in Bruce Lee’s WAY OF THE DRAGON, but he turned hero after that. Yawn.) Of course, we’re all waiting for Norris and Carradine to have their final showdown.

There’s one legendary scene in LONE WOLF McQUADE.

It’s relatively late in the proceedings.

McQuade is captured and beaten by Carradine’s Wilkes, and Wilkes orders his men to put McQuade in his customized Dodge truck and bury him alive.

You don’t bury McQuade alive, especially not in his Dodge.

McQuade finally comes to, opens up a beer and pours it over his head, and starts up his souped-up truck, which plows through the dirt en route to reality.

You can’t bury McQuade alive, you fools.

Outside his truck, McQuade then dispenses some anonymous henchmen and, in a heap on the ground, our exhausted Ranger tells his young Latino partner, “Get me a beer, kid.”

McQuade’s truck deserved a movie of its own.