In today’s topsy-turvy modern times, now more than ever, we need a ‘Nam vet madman to show us the way forward. Sadly, Oliver Stone is busy preparing for his biopic of George W. Bush so we’ll just have to make do with Rambo, Sylvester Stallone’s iconic military aggressor.
Having waged successful campaigns against Vietnam, a small town in Washington State and Soviet Afghanistan, our titular hero has now retreated to a rural Thai village and a simple life of fishing and cobra wrangling. Soon enough, his voluntary alpha male isolation is disrupted by a group of idealistic American churchgoers seeking passage to Burma on a mission to aid the persecuted Christian minority.
Burma, we are told, is a country beside Thailand where terrible things occur. A whirling montage of newsreels fills in the blanks; the hard line military regime crushes dissent, ethnic groups are repressed and beheaded; rape and torture are daily occurrences.
Always the lone wolf, our favourite indiscriminate killing machine is reluctant to take up arms. “What is is what is,” he muses philosophically. “But we’re here to make a difference,” cry the visiting do-gooders. Finally, after a visit from a nice Christian girl in a wet t-shirt on a monsoon evening, he relents and drops them to their destination exterminating some rapist pirates along the way. Do the Christians get into bother? Of course they do. Does Rambo charge off to rescue them? Only in the finest throat-ripping, limb-hacking, arse-kicking display since Rambo III.
It hardly needs to be said that the dialogue is entertainingly moronic and the narrative trajectory is disconcertingly fascistic. Then again, if you’re going to the fourth Rambo film seeking an education in geopolitics, more fool you. John Rambo may be a beast but he’s no political animal. His agenda is one of black hats and white hats, cowboys and injuns. Rambo beats out the classic western dichotomy – decent folks need a man of violence to do their dirty work and he, in turn, needs an outlet.
For all the critical muttering about right-wing propaganda, for all the hand wringing over Burma’s Karen minority, Mr. Stallone’s enterprise is driven by far more popcorn-friendly considerations – brand recognition, foreign box-office and explosively visceral cinematography.