Let’s get something straight: if you name your movie Lion Strike, you’re making a promise. A promise of danger. Of fury. Of unstoppable, claw-swinging action. You’re invoking the king of the jungle mid-sucker punch. What you are notsupposed to deliver is a made-for-video yawn-fest starring Don “The Dragon” Wilson, plodding through yet another generic martial arts plot like a guy showing up late to his own birthday party.
This isn’t a strike. It’s a limp paw swipe. A feline flop. A housecat rolling off the couch and hoping nobody noticed.
The Plot (Or, A Collection of Events That Technically Happen)
Don Wilson plays—wait for it—Jake. Or maybe Jack. Possibly John. It doesn’t matter, because his name could be Generic Martial Arts Hero #12 and it would still be more memorable than what’s on screen.
The plot involves the mob. Or maybe terrorists. Possibly drug dealers. Again, it doesn’t really matter, because the script throws out bad guys like a dartboard full of clichés. Someone gets kidnapped. Somebody else double-crosses someone. At one point, there’s a shipment of something illegal. Could be drugs. Could be weapons. Could be VHS copies of Lion Strike. Who knows?
Jake/Jack/John gets dragged back into action—because of course he’s “retired”—and he reluctantly agrees to roundhouse his way through the problem. Cue 85 minutes of forced grunting, bad lighting, and inexplicably frequent shirtless scenes.
Don “The Dragon” Wilson: More Housecat Than Lion
Don Wilson has the charisma of a beige filing cabinet. He’s not the worst martial artist to ever grace the screen—far from it—but the man delivers lines like he’s reading Ikea instructions translated from Latvian.
And the action? Let’s just say if you’ve seen one Don Wilson fight scene, you’ve seen this entire movie. Every fight has the same rhythm: punch, pause, kick, dramatic stare. It’s like watching a stage play where the actors are afraid to actually make contact.
He never really looks angry. Or excited. Or… conscious. It’s like someone plugged him into a wall socket marked “mild disapproval” and let him charge for 30%.
The Villains: Rejects from a JC Penney Catalog
The bad guys in Lion Strike have all the menace of discount cologne. Slicked-back hair, bad suits, and accents that come and go like radio static. There’s the “main villain,” whose defining characteristic is that he shows up more than once, and the henchmen, who look like they were pulled from a Gold’s Gym in Reseda and promised a free protein shake.
They’re the kind of villains who hold their guns sideways but couldn’t hit a refrigerator from six feet away. They get kicked through glass tables like it’s part of the choreography in a dinner theater production of Die Hard: The Musical.
The Dialogue: Written By Someone Who’s Heard of Human Speech
Here are some actual lines you could easily believe came from Lion Strike:
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“We’ve got to stop them—before it’s too late.”
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“You don’t know what you’re dealing with!”
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“I’m not in the game anymore.” (Proceeds to play the game.)
The script reads like it was written during a Red Bull-fueled lunch break by someone who skimmed a Lethal Weaponscreenplay once in 1989 and thought, “Yeah, I got this.” No wit. No tension. Just monotone exposition and plot-driving threats delivered with all the passion of a DMV clerk.
Production Value: A Strike to the Eyes
This is peak ‘90s direct-to-video aesthetics: washed-out color palette, awkward zooms, and action sequences that feel like they were choreographed by a middle school PE teacher. You half expect someone to yell “Cut!” and a boom mic to dip into frame.
The “music” sounds like a rejected Sega Genesis soundtrack. Repetitive synth stabs. Drum machines that feel like they’re apologizing. It never rises to tension—it just kind of… loops. Like elevator music for a building you’re trying to escape.
Missed Opportunities (AKA: Where’s the Lion?)
There is no lion. No strike. Nothing even remotely resembling a feline-themed plot point. Not even a metaphorical roar. The closest we get is a growl from Don Wilson when he gets punched. It’s not majestic. It’s not fearsome. It’s indigestion.
Imagine titling your film Lion Strike and not including a single jungle reference. No claw metaphors. No flashbacks to Africa. Not even a motivational “You’re the lion now!” pep talk from a supporting character. Missed opportunity doesn’t even begin to cover it. It’s like naming your film Shark Punch and then setting it in the desert.
Final Verdict: Stick to Housecats
Lion Strike is a masterclass in mediocrity. Not bad enough to be entertaining. Not good enough to be memorable. It just exists. A floating turd in the great toilet bowl of forgotten action films. There’s no roar here—just a dull meow and a gentle reminder that not every martial arts star needs 47 direct-to-video releases.
Rating: 1 out of 5 declawed felines. Not even the ghost of Bruce Lee could’ve saved this hairball.
