moody saxophone presides over a drug deal in a dark alley. Perhaps as expected, it all goes wrong, resulting in the recipient of what turns out to be sugar getting doused with gasoline and set alight. The badly burned man (Jason Adams as Francois) lives, but not only has he lost most of his skin, he also may not survive over the next few months – and doesn’t have insurance to pay for the extensive, expensive surgeries required. When the victim’s brother, French Legionnaire Lyon Gaultier (Jean-Claude Van Damme), stationed at Camp Assamo in Djibouti, North Africa, learns of the incident, he insists on leaving his post, much to the chagrin of the commanding officer – who reprimands him sharply before sending him away to be imprisoned inside a metal box in the hot sun. Lyon won’t have any of it, however, promptly roundhouse-kicking his guards and stealing a vehicle to make a getaway into the unforgiving desert.

“There’s no sign of him, sir.” Intent on fleeing the country to get to Los Angeles in America, Lyon sneaks aboard a ship – and is then misidentified as a below-decks coal-shoveler for the boiler room, where he resides for the brunt of the journey. Eventually, he makes it to New York, but he must continue to lay low, since he doesn’t have official paperwork or identification. If he can make it to the other side of the country, he has a chance to meet up with his sister-in-law (Lisa Pelikan); but first, he’ll need a bit of money. And what better way to accrue some quick cash than to participate in underground fight rings?

With a screenplay in part by Van Damme himself, alongside director Sheldon Lettich (in his first of several collaborations with the “muscles from Brussels”), the premise is basically just a flimsy chunk of meat to flesh out the skeleton of pitting the kickboxer against various fighters for heavy-hitting duels. The crowds start as vagrants under bridges, but transition to the ultra-wealthy in the parking lots of private buildings; either way, the people are cruel and vicious, lusting for blood regardless of their wealth or social stature. To offset the static, unfeeling qualities of the combatants and their handlers, Lyon teams up with the fast-talking, wisecracking Joshua (Harrison Page), who means well but isn’t nearly as resourceful and street-smart as he claims to be (humorously, it’s very much akin to the combo in “Midnight Cowboy,” even going so far as to have Joshua limp and yell at some traffic as he crosses the road). And though the “lionheart” warrior doesn’t wish to fight, his brother’s unpaid medical bills provide enough of an incentive to keep at it – which, of course, is exactly what audiences want.

Most of the other details are unimportant; they’re filler to pad the minutes in between face-offs. Still, Van Damme does a decent job of being a sympathetic underdog, while Page helps to navigate the underworld with a hint of genuineness. And supporting brutes like Brian Thompson as a recognizably square-jawed, oversized ruffian is a nice touch. But an aggressive pseudo-love-interest with fight promoter Cynthia Caldera (Deborah Rennard) – complete with “Pretty Woman” shopping spree, sexes reversed (a coincidence, surely, since “Lionheart” debuted overseas just a few months after) – and Gaultier attempting to look after his little niece largely just stretch out the running time. At one point, the eye-rollingly generous ex-soldier gives money to a mother/daughter combo of strangers contending with the loss of their home.

Once the plot returns to battles in unofficial rings – from a racquetball court to a drained swimming pool – it reverts back to an action picture, in which vindictive foreign forces aim to reacquire their deserter, all while an odder and odder collection of martial artists (wearing kilts, swimsuits, and other unlikely gear) throw down against the hero for money. As assumed, Lyon remains upright – both after brawls as the winner and during, when he refuses to let his opponents die. It’s also intermittently realistic, in a weird way, as the scrappers grow tired and stumble around exhaustedly during matches, demonstrating an uncommon fatigable quality (Gaultier’s insistence on scuffling in jeans and work boots is on the other spectrum of believability).

Sensible, that is, until the finale, featuring a high-stakes bout against the goofily macho Attila (Abdel Qissi) – a climactic clash that takes too long to arrive and features a ludicrous number of traded punches and kicks, reminding viewers that the runtime was entirely designed around this final confrontation. Fortunately, it’s mildly amusing and considerably rousing (assisted spectacularly by the score), since Lyon is so outmatched, despite mustering an inexplicable amount of reserve energy for a last-minute overabundance of pummeling and signature roundhouses. Though it crawled to get there, the conclusion is satisfying, even if too neat and tidy and predictable.

– Mike Massie