The Hard Corps is the first Jean-Claude Van Damme movie I’ve seen since he was banished to direct-to-video Hell after over-the-top action heroes were no longer seen as a viable source of income by big studios at the tail end of the 90’s. After sitting through it’s inflated running time of almost two hours, I’m not sure if I want to see more. If this is what Van Damme and Steven Seagal have been diminished to, I’d rather stick with such fare as Bloodsport, Under Siege, and Universal Soldier rather than tarnish my memories with such lax, weakly scripted stuff like this. There’s also not nearly enough in the way of “Van Damage” here – he doesn’t even throw a punch until the movie is closing in on the hour mark.

Van Damme plays Phillippe, who is obviously a damaged War veteran due to the fact the movie starts off with some generally pointless slow motion footage of a military hospital as well as some flashbacks to Iraq where things went terribly wrong and he ended up killing some innocents. He still suffers from shell shock but due to his training and past reputation, as well as a little help from one of his closest friends, he ends-up being hired by boxer turned real estate mogul Wayne Barclay (Raz Adoti) who’s being targeted by rap tycoon Terrell (Viv Leacock) – who’s a blatant rip-off of real life “business thug” Suge Knight.

It’s Phillippe’s job to play bodyguard but things get a bit more complicated when Wayne’s sister, Tamara (Vivica A. Fox) becomes interested in him. This leads to way too many scenes of meandering small talk between the two characters as they slowly start falling for each other and her brother gets more are more upset about that fact. Sure, there’s a few attempts by Terrell’s thugs to do some damage but, apart from a scene where a hired gun is fed to the dogs after a failed drive-by, there’s really little here to hold your attention.

Back in Van Damme’s younger days you could be guaranteed he’d end up in some sort of fisticuffs at least every fifteen minutes during his movies. They were certainly the main reason I watched them because it definitely wasn’t for his thespian skills because they’ve gotten no better in the twenty years he’s been making movies. Here we just have to suffer through awkwardly acted “love interest” moments where Van Damme and Fox have absolutely no chemistry before things (sort of) pick-up in the finale when Tamara is kidnapped and Phillippe has to sneak into Terrell’s mansion – and suffer through a poorly staged gangsta shoot-out while generic rap pumps on the soundtrack.

I guess what I’m mostly trying to say is that The Hard Corps is a tiring time. I did find a few moments amusing (like training guns sideways and the paper/rock/scissors scene) but I grew impatient waiting for the action while suffering though shitty romance and a half-baked sub-plot where Van Damme takes in some street hoods to help him fight Terrell. Van Damme’s acting pretty much consists of wooden line delivery and mild acrobatics (he doesn’t even do splits between a chair this time, dammit!) but even he looks good beside Fox’s awkward and generally uncomfortable performance. Only Mark Griffin as Phillippe’s redneck former solider buddy Casey makes a decent impression here but he’s not nearly given enough to do.

The Hard Corps marked the fifth collaboration between Van Damme and co-writer/director Sheldon Lettich and is possibly the least of their efforts. Which is pretty mind-blowing when you consider the pitiful Double Impact is in there. These guys managed to entertain me in the past with Lionheart and Legionnaire but all they’ve delivered here is a bloated, unexciting time. Judging from this and Seagal’s Into the Sun (a DTV effort I recently watched also), I’m going to shift my allegiances over to Dolph Lundgren – because he’s been cranking out consistently watchable flicks like Diamond Dogs and, the quite awesome, The Mechanik. (Chris Hartley, 6/9/09)

Directed By: Sheldon Lettich.
Written By: Sheldon Lettich, George Saunders.

Starring: Jean-Claude Van Damme, Vivica A. Fox, Raz Adoti, Viv Leacock.