Or: “How to Weaponize a Semi-Truck and Still Bore an Audience”
The Thunder That Whimpers
You’d think a movie about an old Vietnam vet driving a bomb-rigged semi-truck through the desert while being chased by domestic terrorists would be fun. Hell, it sounds like a glorious slab of drive-in chaos. Guns! Explosions! Gritty one-liners! Instead, Thunder Run is the cinematic equivalent of a diesel engine that never quite turns over. It coughs, it wheezes, and then it just… idles for 90 minutes while you slowly lose the will to live.
Plot? Sure. But Don’t Look Too Closely.
Here’s the pitch: ex-CIA tough guy Charles Sampson (played by Forrest Tucker, looking like he’s doing this to pay off a boat loan) is hired to transport a shipment of plutonium across the Nevada desert. Simple enough. Until, of course, he’s attacked by a gang of vaguely defined bad guys who look like a cross between Mad Max extras and the stoners who hang out behind AutoZone.
Charles does what any patriotic senior citizen would do: he armor-plates his rig, straps machine guns to the hood, and goes full redneck Rambo.
Sounds awesome, right? You should be halfway through your second beer just reading that. But somehow Thunder Runmanages to take this setup and render it as thrilling as a tax seminar. The movie has all the urgency of an oil change and none of the payoff.
Forrest Tucker: Grit Meets Glacial Pace
Tucker, best known for F Troop, spends most of the film grumbling into a CB radio, driving in straight lines, and looking mildly irritated that he’s still alive. He’s supposed to be the hero, but he moves with the speed and enthusiasm of someone browsing the bulk section at Costco.
The movie tries to sell him as a badass, but every time he lumbers up a hill or awkwardly wrestles a machine gun, you get the sense the real villain is his cholesterol level. Action star? More like action adjacent.
Villains by Dollar Store
The bad guys are a random assortment of dudes with mullets, dirt bikes, and a shared hatred for narrative coherence. They shoot at things, yell “Let’s get him!” a lot, and explode with the frequency of disposable henchmen in a video game. None of them have names you’ll remember. Hell, none of them have faces you’ll remember. These guys could rob a gas station and the security footage would just read “generic.”
And their plan? Hijack a truck full of radioactive material by chasing it through the desert and getting blown up one by one like they’ve never heard of tactics, teamwork, or basic survival instincts.
The Action Is Technically There
To the film’s credit, stuff does explode. Cars flip. Things catch fire. And at one point, the truck drives through a barricade like it’s auditioning for Smokey and the Bandit: Nuclear Edition. But the problem is that everything feels so slow. The editing is clunky, the stunts are shot from 200 yards away, and half the chase scenes look like they were directed by someone whose only exposure to action was watching CHiPs reruns on mute.
You’ll find more tension in a Sunday lawnmower race.
The Dialogue: Pure Lead
The script is a mix of Cold War buzzwords, half-assed patriotism, and one-liners that land like bricks. Every conversation feels like it was pulled from a CB radio tutorial. Lines like “They won’t get my rig!” are delivered with the emotional range of a truck stop mannequin.
You want Charles Bronson. You get your uncle Earl who yells at squirrels.
The High School Subplot Nobody Asked For
Just when you think the film might find its groove, it wastes 20 minutes on a completely unnecessary subplot involving the hero’s teenage grandson and his girlfriend. It’s like Footloose wandered onto the wrong set. They ride motorcycles. They flirt. They contribute nothing. And then they vanish, probably to avoid being associated with the final act.
Final Thoughts
1.5 out of 5 flaming chassis
Thunder Run had potential. An old-timer in a killer truck battling desert bandits while hauling weapons-grade plutonium? That could’ve been a cult classic with the right direction and pacing. Instead, it’s a flat tire of a film—puffed-up premise, zero traction.
It’s not fun-bad. It’s not crazy-bad. It’s just kind of there, revving its engine and going nowhere. If you’re looking for high-octane thrills, look elsewhere. This truck doesn’t thunder. It backfires and stalls.
And you’re the one left pushing it.
