His Name’s Rambo. John Rambo.
I have to admit to a secret: I am a Rambo virgin. Sure, I experimented a bit with a few snippets of the later sequels, but I never really had a first time where I sat down and really delved into it. I blame it on Schwarzenegger, who probably ruined it all for me when I saw The Terminator and cringed in a corner, afraid that the person next to me will peel their face off and reveal a metal carapace within. Ever since then, the 80’s-render of cheesy FX has given me the fear of all things burly and muscular: proof that these movies really do teach lessons to children worth knowing, like how jocks are dangerous and/or robots. Anyway, come May 15 will be the re-release of First Blood in the theaters, along with its variant ending.
If you never had the chance to see Stallone in action on the big screen when you were too young to enjoy it properly, consider this your second chance to see the movie in all its adrenaline-gulping glory. Of course, if that’s not your thing, then feel free to check out the “sequel” still in theaters: Son of Rambow, which lacks the testosterone but more than makes up for it with sweet-hearted sentiment, humor, and the lack of guilt you get from admitting you watched a blockbuster movie you’ve already seen the rehashed plot of (not as though this movie’s much more original, but I digress).
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