text: I don't see much reason to get into this movie in much detail. Sylvester Stallone is once again John Rambo, author and survivor of "A Season in Hell", recruited from prison by his only friend, Major Richard Crenna, to secretly return to Vietnam, take photos of the American prisoners believed to be still held in horrible camps, and return without engaging the enemy.<br /><br />Fat chance. What if he actually DID nothing more than sneak in, take pics, and sneak out? Who would come to see the movie? <br /><br />It's essentially a celebration of Stallone's muscles. Preparing for his mission, we see his well-oiled muscles bulging. (They are oiled and bulging throughout.) There is the ritual strapping on of black leather, ugly guns, and even uglier knives. The black guns are cleaned, assembled with loud clacks, and almost as oiled as Stallone's muscles. The bow is tested and, yes, it has enough poundage to drive a bolt through an enemy's forehead. The knife is sharpened with slick snicks.<br /><br />Stallone and one of his POWs are betrayed by one or two of the suits from Washington, cynical politicians who, you can bet, were never even in a fist fight in grammar school. No guts, you know? Just sit around with their feet on the desk and drink foreign beer.<br /><br />The movie does what it set out to do, but what it set out to do is meretricious. It deliberately cashes in on the myth popular in the mid-1980s that there were uncountable numbers of MIAs quietly kept in wretched camps by the North Vietnamese. The bumper stickers were ubiquitous. (Free Our MIAs.) Why would they keep them? It was never quite reasoned out but perhaps to turn the POWs into a slave labor force -- in a country that has absolutely no resource other than labor. Or maybe for their propaganda value as an instrument to humiliate the United States -- a propaganda weapon that the Vietnamese kept secret from the world.<br /><br />As a captive, Rambo is treated in a Medieval fashion by the North Vietnamese. Dipped to his neck in pig excrement and then hauled out of it by his wrists, his muscles still on display. Then, not content with subhuman Vietnamese, a Russian officer is brought in to play the part of the Gestapo officer -- "Vee haff vays of MAKING you remember." A high-tech type, the Russian uses psychology and electricity, not just pig dump.<br /><br />Rambo returns and declares that he intends to drift aimlessly until "this country loves us as much as we love it," bringing up another myth that Vets returning from Vietnam were uniformly spat upon and cursed, which is why I guess we elected so many to the Congress and appointed others to high-echelon positions. The last three losing presidential candidates were among that despised group. At least Rambo's aimless drifting left room open for a sequel, which arrived apace.<br /><br />The action movies with Schwarzenegger and Willis and others were leavened by wisecracks but Rambo is humorless. It marches dully through it's phantasmal ideological swamp, killing without mercy, barely speaking, barely able to speak. To speak is a sign of weakness.