Directed by:
Adrian GrunbergCinematography:
Brendan GalvinComposer:
Brian TylerCast:
Sylvester Stallone, Paz Vega, Joaquín Cosio, Yvette Monreal, Óscar Jaenada, Sheila Shah, Sergio Peris-Mencheta, Adriana Barraza, Jessica Madsen, Owen Davis (more)VOD (3)
Plots(1)
Almost four decades after he drew first blood, John Rambo is back. Now, Rambo must confront his past and unearth his ruthless combat skills to exact revenge in a final mission. (Lionsgate US)
Videos (2)
Reviews (12)
Eighty minutes of tired old-man melancholy without a drop of action and fifteen minutes of a sped-up Home Alone ripoff. This is, in short, Rambo: Last Blood. Did anyone actually want that? After a high-quality, action-packed and especially ballbusting fourth movie, which should have ended the series with all its dignity intact, came this practically unjustifiable lullaby, built on a banal script and forced emotions for one-dimensional supporting character shoehorned into an established series, who the audience is expected to feel for. A forgettable sequel with ugly CGI effects and a picture undeserving of the character John Rambo.
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Rambo has changed in the last two episodes and it's understandable because Stallone has changed, too. While the first three episodes show Rambo as essentially a good guy cornered by the political system and other people's prejudices, the last two episodes refer very well to current issues in the world today and the inability to systematically address them effectively enough. It doesn't matter if it's tribal wars in Burma or hunting prostituted girls in Mexico. Both are and have been more or less topical, and both Stallone and Grunberg are keeping within identical intentions and boundaries. So the last episode is still a relatively dark, raw carnage, only that it moves from the natural jungle to the urban jungle, with similar results and message – it is there, you just need to find among the clichés that surrounds it. Because yes, somehow a simple revenge story has to be grafted onto that core in order to even make it to the cinemas and at least be somewhat appealing to those viewers who only see the peripheral attributes of explicit violence, cool weapons and an iconic hero. The objections are that it's not quite the same, but when compared to the original films, which had a completely different focus and defined 1980s action. You have to take into account that this is still the same hero at the core, just living in a different time, in a different world. It doesn't reach the high-octane carnage of the previous episode, but I take the melancholic first half as well as the second one any day.
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The story is simple as a Justin Bieber fan, but surprisingly it does makes sense. Like the previous episodes, this is a prime Republican flick, where even the Bulgarian production background doesn't matter. And Stallone, even though he's over seventy, is still badass, he doesn't come across as over-the-top in his iconic position, and it never occurred to me while watching that he should call it a day. And many thanks for the lack of political correctness, Sly never gave a toss about that.
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It’s not too surprising that Stallone has never been able to understand that he simply cannot replicate one of the greatest successes of his career. The name Rambo has very little significance in relation to one fictional character. Its cultural capital and iconic nature are derived solely from Rambo: First Blood Part II and its association with the waning days of the Cold War. Stallone’s tenacious effort to continue the franchise’s box-office success was still endearingly entertaining in the third instalment thanks to the camp dimension of that film. The fourth one was just tiresome and toxic with it old man’s stubbornness and toxic conservativeness. Because Stallone doesn’t have any sense of humour or self-reflection, the title of the parody flick Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping describes his career. Like Sly, unfortunately, some of his viewers still hope to at least dip a toe into the old waters. To this day, I still remember the wearying disappointment creeping through the screening room at the cinema. It’s true that the particular screening was on the day of the premiere as part of a double feature with the iconic First Blood Part II at the Aero cinema in Prague. The futile digital effects and the drawn-out ideologically focused melodrama about the need to protect the US southern border were downright off-putting for the viewers looking forward to bombastic action, which finally came after 90 gruelling minutes with truly devastating sadistic explicitness, so the irritated audience welcomed it with a clamorous roar of relief. However, that doesn’t change the fact that all of the other sequels only diminish the legacy and significance of Rambo: First Blood Part II as a pop-culture milestone. On the other hand, that’s a good thing, because we now live in a different era and a different world. It’s just a shame that Stallone still doesn’t understand that.
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Rambo could actually choose between two genres. Either following in the footsteps of the first installment, it could have been a drama about war trauma or the godless action carnage of an unbreakable machine along the lines of all the other installments. Except it doesn't have a second option because of the protagonist's limitations, and it's too stupid for the first one. Because of the protagonist's limitations. Sylvester Stallone is one of Hollywood's most annoying stars. His incessant need for self-presentation, dabbling in scripting and production, grandiose declarations and the gloriola of his own supposed wise old man's modesty twisted the entirety of Rambo: Last Blood into a very agonizingly twisted corpse that is incapable of meeting even the simplest expectations of an action movie. The first twenty minutes are a celebration of honest work, in which we watch a sweaty Stallone exercise a horse, a sweaty Stallone hammer a nail, a sweaty Stallone spin some wheels, or a sweaty Stallone forge an iron bar. There are no action scenes in the film, just a bunch of shots of the protagonist hitting someone with a hammer or a knife. The final confusion, where we watch fifty people casually walking down identical corridors and randomly falling into some traps, is the most disturbing film finale of the year. Most importantly, please make this 'old-school and honest' spectacle all animated next time. Who's supposed to watch those digital flames and funny pools of blood?
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