Since 1982 and the Sylvester Stallone film First Blood, people have been using the expression “going Rambo” to describe, in the words of Wikipedia, “someone who thoughtlessly charges into a fight with no regard for personal safety or careful planning.”

Appropriately, Stallone has gone Rambo yet again with the making of this fourth instalment in his popular action-hero series, charging headfirst into the roles of writer, director and star of the film, not to mention dragging hundreds of cast and crew members into the steaming jungles of Myanmar (formerly Burma) with the objective of setting as many things on fire as possible.

The result is a movie that, on one hand, boasts tons of solid action sequences, but on the other hand includes a script that sounds very much like it was written not just by Rambo, but Rambo after a heavy meal, a round of steroids and a few tokes of something else.

Take the following:

“We believe all lives are special,” says Christian missionary Sarah (Julie Benz, of Dexter), in an effort to convince Rambo to take her, her sissy hubby and the rest of their gang up the river to help the citizens of Karen, who are being tortured by the Burmese military.

“Trying to save a life isn’t wasting your life … is it?” Sarah adds, rambling on about how the world needs him.

His response?

“F*** the world.” Cue close-up of Stallone’s meaty, 61-year-old lower lip…aaand cut.

Wicked.

It’s the kind of dialogue that must be accepted with bandana-clad irony, the kind that has so little substance or value it just goes straight through the audience’s system without any need for digestion, like the screenplay equivalent of a Twinkie.

This can be a good thing, however, as it allows for the action to take centre stage.

The predominant theme here is decapitation: At least 80 per cent of the characters who die get their heads blown off by a grenade, shot off by a machine gun or chopped off by a knife. One of the best sequences, in a slight variation on this theme, involves a villain getting shot through the face with an arrow, then tripping and falling onto a land mine before exploding in a mess of blood, guts and swampy stuff.

Right after this transpires, one of the mercenaries who’s turned up on the scene looks over at Rambo and, in a whisper, says, “Who are you, boatman?”

The answer, as fans will know, is John Rambo, a Vietnam War veteran with a chip on his shoulder and a thousand-mile stare, who may be puttering around in river boats and cursing the world now but has spent the past few decades running between Bangkok and Afghanistan, kicking ass, looking tough and generally putting the hard in hardcore.

After decades of this, he’s actually in pretty decent shape. It’s hard to tell if there’s been any dalliances with tanning beds or Botox injections, but regardless, there’s a lot of muscle under that strategically tattered shirt and he appears to be able to jump, kick, dive and roll just as readily as the twentysomethings alongside him.

Artistically, Stallone isn’t quite up there with the likes of Francis Ford Coppola, but there are nods to Apocalypse Now with, for example, the shot of a burning landscape reflected in Major Tint’s aviators, or that of the billowing clouds of red smoke emerging quietly from the windows of a mess hall.

Speaking of mess, this is what the film turns into by the last half hour. The entire cast, it seems, is running around, shooting at everyone and everything, bamboo stretchers are miraculously constructed in 10 seconds or less and Rambo, in a last-ditch attempt at something poetic, is uttering ultimatums like, “Live for nothing, or die for something.”

But, in a way, it’s an organized mess, and once all the baddies have been killed off, we know it’s time for the good guys to wrap things up with some weary hugs and a let’s-go-home montage. In fact, this is probably what audiences will be doing, too, because as fun as Rambo may be, there comes a time when the bandana just needs to come off.

Rambo

Forest Glade, Lakeshore, Palace, SilverCity

(18A)

Rating: Two stars out of five