I saw not just one young kid at my screening of "Rambo: Last Blood," a film that truly earns its hard R rating, but many- one even hollered at the sole sight of an exploding truck! They had a blast, and so did I, thought that's perhaps because I saw the first Rambo film, "First Blood," and then the second, on television when I was small. I can't praise the acting, script, or direction, hell, I'm not really sure if I can condone the exploitative bloodshed, but I was on board the second I heard that familiar Jerry Goldsmith theme (composed this time around by Brian Tyler). If what you want is an angry testosterone sandwich with a trim runtime of eighty nine minutes, you won't leave hungry.
The plot is "Taken," "Death Wish," "Commando," or pretty much any movie where something happens to the daughter and the dad is not happy about it. Though its level of gruesome mayhem lies it closer to the clones of those movies, and "Rambo," that were pumped out directly to VHS in the 80's, I'm not really sure if that's a complaint- I mean, it's "Rambo," and it's on the big screen! (I saw it on the biggest screen I could.) This time a family friend's daughter Gabrielle (Yvette Monreal), who he affectionately refers to as his niece, gets kidnapped into a sex slavery ring in Mexico, and, you guessed it, Rambo heads across the border to get her.
Rambo beats some people up, then gets beat up, then rescues his niece, then kills one of the two gang leaders, and then heads stateside to booby traps his ranch (and underground tunnels) ala "Home Alone" and kills the other brother. The end. It's a plot as basic as action film plots come, with the only surprise being just how good of shape Stallone still is in. But there needed to be something memorable here, and that would be its lurid carnage; in one scene, Rambo shoves his fingers under a man's skin and tears a bone out! And you see everything! And once the climax happens underground, in the cramp, narrow dirt walls, it is a nonstop trainwreck of blood, gore, and dismemberment.
Director Adrian Grunberg's has a few nice touches in making Rambo's Arizona ranch look like an old Western, like a murky, gradient sun shining over the barren sands, though he has the nasty habit of stereotyping Mexico and those who live there; honestly, I think my rusted 2002 Mitsubishi Galant looked better than any car shown in the Mexican streets.
But he understands that by this point both Stallone and Rambo are such presences, and lusts over not just his bulging body but also his gravel-smooth face, as if his dialogue was anything more eloquent than "I'm gonna hurt you real bad." He understands that Stallone has always been an actor who talks better through facial expressions than by his script, and here, he hasn't much to do except be sullen. He also lusts over the complete over-the-top violence, but hey, at least he has a soft spot.
There are some minor plot variances that crop up but all are forgotten as soon as they're said, such as when a doctor says Rambo, who is in a coma, will suffer from light and sound sensitivity. Right, the man looked in pain with all the loud "bangs"from his sawed off shotgun not twenty minutes later (rest-in-peace nameless henchmen #5).
But logic, narrative, and all common sense are not what I came to the megaplex for. I came to see one of the all-time action greats kickass again, and "Last Blood" offered that. And in a world where he spends his time flexing his acting chops in the "Creed" movies, it's nice to see he still has muscles to flex as well. (Note to self, do not kidnap Stallone's family.)