At this moment, however, it’s a tiresome concept, whose targeted barrage below the border against a mini population of faceless sex traffickers is not only unseemly, but frightening. Beyond Ted Kotcheff’s 1982 classic, whose grain of astuteness may never expire, the several proceeding Rambo adventures can still be appreciated as relics of those varying positions in politics and world affairs. With that said, there was a time for these popcorn flicks. Adrian Grunberg’s latest film continues to exploit the character’s comical killing abilities, somehow managing to up their brutality and in return, shredding any glimmer of intelligence and substance left standing in the decaying saga. Over the last 40 years, the Stallone staple has devolved from a mental martyr of the Vietnam War and an unreceptive welcoming party homeland into the barbaric, machine-gun-toting action “hero” we now recognize him as. Watching Rambo: Last Blood makes the fact that John Rambo ever had an audience a shameful one.
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