Okay, fellow travelers of the magnetic tape, let's dim the lights and adjust the tracking. Tonight, we're pulling a slightly newer box off the shelf, one that might have landed in your VCR right around the time DVD players were starting to look suspiciously affordable. I’m talking about The President's Man from 2000, a slice of pure, uncut Chuck Norris action delivered straight to your living room via the magic of network television. While technically hitting the millennium mark, this CBS TV movie feels spiritually bonded to the action ethos of the late 80s and early 90s, a throwback served up just as the decade turned.
Remember the feeling of flipping channels on a Saturday night and landing on the action movie? The President's Man perfectly captures that vibe. It wasn't something you necessarily planned to watch, but once Chuck Norris appeared on screen, radiating that stoic intensity, you were locked in. Here, he’s Joshua McCord, a college professor by day (sure, Chuck, why not?) and a top-secret operative answering only to the President by night. Think a less suave, more roundhouse-kick-oriented James Bond, operating completely off the books. It’s the kind of high-concept, low-drag premise that fueled countless hours of action entertainment back in the day.
### Passing the Torch, Norris Style
The core plot revolves around McCord realizing that, even for Chuck Norris, time marches on. At 60 years old during filming, McCord (and perhaps Norris himself) needs a successor for the ultra-classified "President's Man" gig. Enter Dylan Neal as Sergeant Deke Slater, a capable but wrongly imprisoned Army operative. McCord springs him from military prison and begins the rigorous training process. There's a definite "passing the torch" energy here, a classic trope handled with the kind of straightforward sincerity you expect from a Norris production. Dylan Neal holds his own reasonably well, bringing a younger, slightly more modern energy to counter Norris's seasoned gravitas. He needed to be believable as someone who could eventually fill those legendary boots, and he mostly pulls it off within the film's scope.
Adding some flair is Jennifer Tung as McCord's daughter, Que, who is also conveniently skilled in martial arts and helps train Slater. She adds a dynamic presence, though the script doesn't give her quite as much to chew on as you might hope. Still, her fight scenes are a welcome addition.
### Made-for-TV Mayhem
Let's be clear: this isn't Missing in Action (1984) or Invasion U.S.A. (1985) in terms of scale or budget. Co-directed by Eric Norris (Chuck's son, keeping it in the family!) and veteran TV director Michael Preece (who helmed countless episodes of Walker, Texas Ranger and even Dallas), The President's Man has the distinct look and feel of a polished television movie. The cinematography is clean, the editing is efficient, but it lacks the cinematic grit of Norris's big-screen heyday.
However, where it does deliver is in the action, specifically the hand-to-hand combat. This is Chuck Norris territory, after all, and even with a TV budget, the fight choreography is solid. It relies heavily on practical stunts and martial arts prowess, not flashy CGI. Remember how impactful those kicks and blocks felt back then, even on a fuzzy CRT screen? There’s a satisfying thud to the impacts here, a directness that feels refreshingly grounded compared to today’s often physics-defying digital stunt work. It's less about massive explosions (though there are a few modest ones) and more about controlled, decisive takedowns. Norris, who also co-wrote the teleplay with Bob Gookin, clearly knew his strengths and played to them. It’s fascinating that even at this stage in his career, Norris had such direct creative input, ensuring the action aligned with his personal brand.
### That Cozy, Predictable Feeling
Part of the charm of The President's Man, especially viewed through a nostalgic lens, is its earnest simplicity. The plot involves rescuing a First Lady kidnapped by South American terrorists (a classic 80s/90s action movie trope if ever there was one), and it unfolds exactly how you'd expect. The villains are suitably sneering, the stakes feel appropriately high within the TV movie context, and you know McCord and Slater are going to save the day. There's a certain comfort in that predictability, like slipping on a favorite old jacket. It doesn't aim to reinvent the wheel; it aims to be a reliable Chuck Norris action vehicle, and in that, it succeeds.
It proved successful enough for CBS to order a sequel, The President's Man: A Line in the Sand, which aired in 2002, bringing back Norris, Tung, and Neal. Clearly, audiences at the time were still hungry for this brand of straightforward heroism.
***
Rating: 6/10
Justification: The President's Man is undeniably a product of its time and format – a solid, if unspectacular, made-for-TV action flick. It scores points for Chuck Norris doing what he does best, decent martial arts choreography, and delivering exactly the kind of uncomplicated good-vs-evil story fans expected. Dylan Neal is a capable co-lead, and the "passing the torch" narrative works well enough. However, the TV budget limitations are apparent, the plot is fairly predictable, and it lacks the raw energy and scale of Norris's prime cinematic output. It sits comfortably above average for TV action movies of the era, offering nostalgic fun for fans, but doesn't quite reach the heights of essential action classics.
Final Thought: It may not have the budget of Bond or the grit of Die Hard, but for a dose of turn-of-the-millennium Chuck Norris comfort viewing, The President's Man delivers a satisfying roundhouse kick of nostalgia straight from the era when TV movies still felt like mini-events. It’s a reminder of a time when action heroes didn't need superpowers, just steely resolve and really good kicking technique.