Introduction: Rambo’s Second Cousin Twice Removed
Every now and then, a movie comes along that clearly wants to ride the coattails of something bigger, better, and far more coherent. Ruckus, released in 1980, is that movie. It’s what you’d get if First Blood were written by someone who just skimmed a Vietnam article in Reader’s Digest while waiting for their tires to be rotated.
Starring Dirk Benedict (yes, Face from The A-Team) and Linda Blair (still trying to escape the shadow of demonic possession and roller skates), Ruckus is a small-town action flick that has all the hallmarks of a patriotic PTSD drama—minus the nuance, credibility, or functioning logic.
Plot: War Vet vs. Rednecklandia
Benedict plays Kyle Hanson, a shell-shocked Vietnam vet who drifts into a town so cartoonishly hostile to outsiders, it makes Deliverance look like a welcome party. The townsfolk immediately decide Kyle’s existence is an act of war, and proceed to treat him like he just walked in wearing a Viet Cong T-shirt and spitting on apple pie.
He’s got no dialogue for the first third of the film. Just twitchy stares, dirt-smudged flashbacks, and the acting range of a man trying to remember if he left the stove on. Before long, the town’s redneck militia—including some guys who clearly think mullets are a lifestyle—start chasing him through the woods with the enthusiasm of drunk uncles on a four-wheeler.
What follows is 90 minutes of backwoods bumbling, gas station explosions, bootleg fireworks, and chase scenes so slow they make Benny Hill look like Mad Max.
Dirk Benedict: Silent but Definitely Not Deadly
Dirk Benedict spends most of the film looking like he accidentally wandered off the set of a better movie. His Kyle Hanson is equal parts misunderstood war hero and undercooked ham sandwich. The film tries to build him up as a tragic figure—haunted by war, rejected by society—but the emotional depth doesn’t go any further than a sad harmonica riff and a couple of badly lit flashbacks.
He doesn’t talk. He broods. He scowls. He eats beans out of a can. He McGyvers a few traps that would make Wile E. Coyote blush. In one glorious moment, he covers himself in mud to hide—though you wonder if it’s camouflage or just because the movie ran out of budget for showers.
Linda Blair: From Demon Child to Damsel in Denim
Poor Linda Blair. She plays Jenny, the kind-hearted widow with a kid, a lot of denim, and apparently zero dating standards. She takes in Kyle after he breaks into her barn and eats all her cornflakes. Within days, she’s washing his hair like they’re in a Pantene commercial directed by Ted Nugent.
Her romantic arc with Kyle is so baffling it feels like Stockholm syndrome with a side of instant grits. One minute she’s afraid of him, the next she’s giving him a bubble bath. It’s a leap so fast it gives the plot whiplash—and not the good kind.
Villains: Looney Toons with Shotguns
The townspeople are less characters and more bad caricatures of 70s southern paranoia. Think Dukes of Hazzard meets Lord of the Flies, only with worse aim. They’re constantly yelling, missing with firearms, and destroying more of their own town than Kyle ever does.
At one point, they launch a boat chase that seems to last forever but goes absolutely nowhere—kind of like this movie. They’re not menacing. They’re just sweaty. Every scene they’re in feels like a deleted scene from Hee Haw where everyone forgot their lines but brought plenty of beer.
The Action: Budget Booms and Boredom
Ruckus wants to be an action movie. It really does. But the explosions feel like they were borrowed from a July 4th sale at K-Mart, and the fight scenes have all the intensity of a parking lot scuffle at a Walmart Black Friday sale.
There are more slow chases than real tension. More awkward standoffs than satisfying showdowns. It’s the kind of film where a character throws a Molotov cocktail and you can actually hear the crew offscreen whisper, “Okay now, duck.”
Tone: Patriotic Exploitation Meets Comedy of Errors
This movie walks the line between action and unintentional comedy like a man with one boot and a head injury. It wants to say something about how America treats its veterans—but the message is buried under 15 scenes of rednecks falling off motorcycles.
Instead of making a poignant statement about PTSD, the film accidentally makes a stronger case for better zoning laws and firearm safety. If it were any more confused, it’d be holding a “Support the Troops” sign while spray-painting “Outsider Go Home” on its own truck.
Dark Humor Highlights: Accidental Comedy Gold
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Kyle evades armed townsfolk by riding a child’s dirt bike through the woods like Evel Knievel on antidepressants.
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A police officer literally falls out of a tree trying to ambush Kyle. You know, like tactically.
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The town’s idea of law enforcement is mostly yelling and shooting blindly into the air, which actually explains a lot.
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The sheriff (played by Ben Johnson) delivers lines like he’s reading them off a Waffle House menu.
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And let’s not forget the climactic confrontation—if you can call two men awkwardly flailing in a shallow river “climactic.”
Conclusion: Less Ruckus, More Ruck-Us-Through-It
Ruckus is a movie that should have been titled Snoozeus or Yawn of the Vet. It tries to be First Blood but ends up more like Last Straw. The action is weak, the drama is laughable, and the only thing that keeps it from being a complete disaster is that it’s short—and even that feels long.
If you’ve got a soft spot for low-budget action flicks with muddled messages, a former A-Team member, and the kind of slow-mo chase scenes that belong in a retirement home, then Ruckus might be your cup of stale beer. For everyone else: skip it, salute a real vet, and maybe go rewatch Rambo.
Final Verdict: 1.5 out of 5 Bubble Baths for Battle-Hardened Drifters
