Alright, fellow tapeheads, let’s rewind to 1993. Pop the cassette into the VCR, maybe give the tracking knob a little tweak if the picture’s fuzzy, because we're diving headfirst into the chaotic, sun-drenched action of Gunmen. This isn't high art, folks, this is pure, unadulterated early-90s action pulp, the kind of movie you’d grab off the shelf based purely on the promise of explosions and mismatched partners bickering their way through danger. And you know what? Sometimes, that's exactly what the movie doctor ordered.

The setup is classic action-comedy fodder: Cole Parker (Christopher Lambert, bringing his signature gravelly intensity) is a DEA agent whose brother stashed $400 million in drug money somewhere in South America before being killed. Peter Loomis (Mario Van Peebles, oozing charisma fresh off directing and starring in Posse) is a smooth-talking con man who knows where the boat containing the loot is, but not its exact location. Naturally, a ruthless drug lord, Armor O'Malley (played by none other than Patrick Stewart in a gloriously unexpected turn!), also wants the cash and sends his unhinged right-hand man, Danny Servigo (Denis Leary, basically weaponizing his stand-up persona), to retrieve it by any means necessary. Parker and Loomis are forced into an uneasy alliance, dodging bullets and trading insults across vibrant Mexican landscapes (standing in for a fictional South American country). It’s a race against time, loaded with double-crosses and flying lead.

Let's talk action, because Gunmen delivers it in spades, 90s style. This was the era before CGI smoothed over every rough edge. When a car explodes here, you feel the heat. When bullets rip through walls, you see the plaster dust fly. Director Deran Sarafian, who knew his way around gritty action having helmed Van Damme’s Death Warrant (1990), keeps things moving at a relentless pace. Remember those boat chases? They felt genuinely precarious, with real boats skipping over real waves, not green-screen fakery. There’s a raw, tangible quality to the stunt work – guys falling from heights, vehicles flipping – that just hits differently than today’s pixel-perfect sequences. It might look a bit rougher now, sure, but there’s an undeniable authenticity to seeing actual physical feats unfold on screen. Wasn't that part of the thrill back then, knowing real people were pulling off these dangerous maneuvers?
It's fascinating to note that the script was penned by Stephen Sommers, years before he’d strike gold blending action and adventure on a much grander scale with The Mummy (1999) and its sequel. You can see the nascent DNA of his later work here – the treasure hunt element, the blend of action and humor – albeit on a decidedly smaller, rougher scale. Gunmen reportedly had a modest budget and didn’t exactly set the box office ablaze ($5.7 million domestic haul wasn't great even then), making it prime fodder for the burgeoning home video market. This film truly found its legs on VHS shelves, becoming that reliable weekend rental for action junkies.
The dynamic between Lambert and Van Peebles is the core of the film. Lambert plays the stoic, weary professional, while Van Peebles is the flamboyant hustler. Their chemistry isn't exactly electric, but their constant bickering provides much of the film's humor, even if some of the one-liners feel distinctly… well, 1993. It's a pairing that works well enough for this kind of straightforward adventure.
But let's be honest, the scene-stealers are the villains. Denis Leary, just breaking big, is absolutely unleashed as Servigo. He’s sarcastic, volatile, and chews scenery with manic glee. It’s an early glimpse of the edgy persona that would define his career. And then there’s Patrick Stewart. Seeing Captain Picard himself playing a wheelchair-bound drug lord, calmly ordering executions, is a delightful jolt. It’s the kind of surprising casting choice that makes these older action flicks so much fun to revisit. Apparently, Stewart took the role partly because it allowed him to stay seated, offering a physical contrast to his usual commanding presence, which only adds to the character's sinister vibe.
Sure, Gunmen has its share of 90s action tropes. The plot is thin, some dialogue clunks, and the relentless machismo can feel dated. But there's an undeniable energy here. The film commits fully to its premise, delivering non-stop chases, shootouts, and explosions filmed on location in picturesque Puerto Vallarta, giving it a sense of place often missing in studio-bound productions. The pacing rarely flags, propelled by a suitably bombastic score typical of the era. I distinctly remember renting this tape, drawn in by the promise of its tagline: "Two guys. One boat. Forty million dollars. Forty million enemies." It delivered exactly what it promised, a shot of adrenaline perfect for a Friday night viewing.
Is it a lost masterpiece? Absolutely not. But is it a fun, loud, and entertainingly chaotic slice of 90s action cinema powered by practical effects and some memorable performances? You betcha. It embodies that specific flavor of action movie that thrived on video store shelves – maybe not A-list, but reliably entertaining.
Justification: Gunmen earns its score through sheer B-movie energy, relentless practical action, and memorable villain turns from Leary and Stewart. The mismatched leads are serviceable, and the pacing keeps things lively. It loses points for a predictable plot and some dated dialogue, but its commitment to old-school action spectacle makes it a worthwhile trip down memory lane for fans of the genre.
Final Take: A gloriously unsubtle blast of 90s action filmmaking; grab some popcorn, don't overthink it, and enjoy the squibs and the scenery chewing – they just don't make 'em quite like this anymore.