Alain Delon is a man with a mission. An ex-cop ('the best'), his wife and daughter murdered, he returns from playing great white god among the cheery savages of the Congo to avenge his family and rid Lyons of a vigilante group who, dressed like Ninjas, go round town killing petty criminals under orders from a mysterious Mr Big. Not so mysterious, actually, since everything in this atrocious movie is predictable. The women are disposable love objects, the dialogue risible, and the acting wooden in the extreme. Most notable is the appalling sound-track: disco for the sweaty workout, heavy metal for the action, a totally irrelevant use of Tristan and Isolde for a car stunt, and Delon himself crooning the end-credits pap. Delon has no excuse; after all, besides 'acting' and 'singing', he also exec produced and had a hand in the script.