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All of the screenplays that wound up at Cannon Films’ headquarters were allegedly first divided into two piles for the company’s two main stars, Chuck Norris and Charles Bronson. The accuracy of this story is evidenced by promotional materials for unmade movies, as well as films in which someone entirely different played the given role (Norris was thus announced as the star of American Ninja and Fifty Fifty, for example). In this context, Hero and the Terror comes across as the result of a mix-up or the collapse and resultant blending of the two piles. Norris appears here in a role that rather typically fits Bronson’s Cannon image, which is apparent not only in the fact that the film contains practically no action or martial-arts sequences. Another drawback of the film is the fact that the role requires at least some basic acting talent, which indeed is not really one of Norris’s strengths. However, the film’s problems are not due solely to the bungled casting. Perhaps the film was originally supposed to be a slasher flick in the style of Friday the 13th about a homicidal hulk, but partly because of the inclusion of a few demonstrations with Chuck and, primarily, the completely moronic premise that the tough guy kills by breaking necks, there is no excitement here. If we add to that the absurd idea that the killer lives in the ventilation system of an old theatre and disposes of women in the toilets, the exercise in futility is complete. As in a number of other Cannon productions, the only memorable thing about Hero and the Terror is the excellent Steve James, who with his charisma, energy and ability to enthral the camera, draws attention to himself in every scene in which he appears. It’s a shame that he was an African-American in the 1980s, when the era of commercially lucrative blaxploitation was a thing of the past – otherwise, he would have been a star instead of merely a sidekick. (16.08.2015)