The Hitman (1991)

The Hitman is Chuck Norris stepping into a darker, more shadowed corner of his persona, and the film leans into that shift with a gritty, film-noir sheen that makes Seattle’s criminal underworld feel clammy and close. What really sells it is the cat-and-mouse tension of an undercover identity built on reputation, where every conversation has the hum of danger and every alliance feels like it could snap. Norris brings a stern, lived-in presence, and Michael Parks is a terrific foil—slick, venomous, and just grounded enough to make the betrayal sting. It’s not for viewers who want a clean, quippy action ride—the violence is harsh and the language is rough—but if you’re in the mood for a meaner, moodier early-’90s crime thriller with an old-school revenge engine, this one scratches that itch.

The Hitman wants to be a gritty undercover-cop revenge thriller, with Chuck Norris playing a dead-to-the-world detective who infiltrates Seattle’s mob scene and cleans house from the inside. The problem is it runs on a thin, familiar plot and a “shoot first, ask never” rhythm that can feel repetitive, illogical, and more exhausting than exciting as the body count climbs. If you’re looking for smart cat-and-mouse tension, stylish crime filmmaking, or characters with much shading beyond “corrupt” and “righteous,” this likely won’t satisfy. But if you can tolerate heavy, nasty violence and just want a straightforward early-’90s Norris vehicle with a few earnest emotional beats and occasional punchy set pieces, it does deliver that much.