There’s a new Rambo movie coming out this weekend, and I, for one, am excited. There’s just something about big, dumb, brutish muscle-movies that makes me grin. Sure, I like art films, and experimental cinema, and Godard movies. I must have spent three hours watching the Dada shorts when the exhibit came to the National Gallery in 2005.
But as much as that sort of thing is near and dear to me, the reason I became a film fan wasn’t because of highbrow cinema. Now, the Rambo films don’t even really count as genuinely great popcorn films (the original Die Hard is still far and away the best straightforward action flick), but, like their protagonist, they’re gruff, quiet, sturdy, and grimly effective. And from the looks of things, that’s how the new one turned out too.
Rambo is not screening for DC critics, but this, from Harry Knowles, is pretty much exactly what I want to hear about a new Rambo movie:
So basically – you know the story. Missionaries are fucked – Rambo and the mercs go to save them… the plan gets fucked… and then the screen turns into a bloody fourth of July. You remember Sam Mendes’ JARHEAD? Remember where they have everyone watching the Flight of the Valkyries sequence of APOCALYPSE NOW? Well – the last 50 minutes or so of this film are the sort of thing – that no amount of First Person Shooter game playing can give you. It’s an adrenal orgasm. It makes you want to fire fireworks and scream, “FUCK YEAH!”
And then there’s this amazing, amazing red-band trailer (warning: violent, NSFW, etc.):