An unfortunate, misjudged and misunderstood film that could have been something great but only clings to the bottom-rung of respectability. For a start, it has an unashamedly awful and truly despicable villain who oozes evil from every stinking orifice. When eccentric bad guys are not hammy, they are Ramon Cota (a sickening performance by villain's villain of choice and villain of the week Billy Drago).
Cota is a Columbian drug lord, who ships massive amounts of cocaine into America. He kills DEA agents with unnatural glee, murders pregnant women, tortures people to death in a gas chamber, rapes women, murders their husbands, murders sick babies and uses their bodies to smuggle cocaine - you get the picture, this guy is lower than minus infinity.
In a rare opportunity to catch him, Colonel Scott McCoy (the ever-bearded Chuck Norris) kidnaps Cota in mid-air and drags him into court only to watch him leave with virtually no charge. More DEA agents are kidnapped and it's up to Chuck to rescue them from death. So he heads off to the fictional South American country of San Carlos for some mighty kicking-of-ass. Killing Cota is not his mission, rescuing the DEA agents is, but you know that Cota is going to get what he deserves (with a little bit of slightly unsubtle philosophy from Norris).
The script is generic and by numbers. Never before has a movie been so strictly routine, but there are some real cool action scenes and so much melodrama that it could fuel EastEnders for a decade. The direction leaves a lot to be desired. If someone other than Chuck's brother had made this, we would have a hugely enjoyable film on our hands. Instead plot holes, illogical moments and a general feel of immaturity bog it down.
The action ranges from Norris flying through the sky, swinging through the jungle, falling off cliffs and dodging rockets. The main problem with the direction is that Aaron Norris uses the logic, "If it is in slow motion, then it is cool." He wants to drag out every bloody detail, every death dance and every penetration of every bullet. It's a shame Delta Force 2 isn't hyper-kinetic, because the slo-mo becomes very noticeable.
Chuck Norris' methods are also highly questionable. For a man who moves at 48 frames per second he sure does lay waste to thousands of Drago's henchman very well. And beating up the new Delta Force recruits to train them in the deadly arts is just bizarre.
General Taylor (John P. Ryan), a character so relentless gung-ho and over-the-top that he really should be in a pantomime, is McCoy's boss and he enjoys himself way too much when he tags along on the mission to blow away zillions of nameless henchman from a helicopter that is so indestructible and equipped with a never-ending supply of ammo you wonder why the REAL Delta Force doesn't use this thing over in Afghanistan. Ryan certainly did wrap himself in the American flag for this character. But hey, it worked for Stallone with John Rambo.
The single spot-on aspect of the whole movie has to be the strong and rousing musical score by Frederick Talgorn. If the rest of the movie was as good as this, then everything would be different. Instead Delta Force 2 is a mixed bag. There is a good film here, desperate to get out, but you have to claw your way through to find it.
