Presumably as retribution for playing second fiddle to Rothrock‘s China O’Brien, Norton steps up to helm this brainless B movie. He is renegade LAPD detective Preston Michaels, new to America after a turgid time Down Under following the death of his cop partner. After unearthing police corruption he is framed as a cop killer – the only link to his innocence caught on a missing videotape. With the cops on his trail, Michaels buddies up with spunky karate instructor Kris Fairfield (Rothrock) who may just happen to share a special connection with the head of the mob responsible for Michaels’ ambush. That would be Conrad Drago (Thompson), a pseudo-British beefcake who smashes ice blocks in his spare time and is often overshadowed by his own mullet. The film forgets to take itself seriously about halfway through (thank goodness) when Drago sends a team of high-heeled super vixens after Kris and Preston. Norton and Rothrock are a charming double act even if the film is a dud.