, the global reach of its sequels, and then the escalating mania unleashed by the Rambo trilogy (1982, 1985, 1988). The enormity of his 1980s fame went hand-in-hand with the jingoism. America thrilled to the spectacle of him basically relitigating the Vietnam War to come out on top: no wonder Ronald Reagan buddied up with him, and quipped about craving a third term as full-on as Rambo III. In many ways, though, Stallone had already met his match, in the blocky shape of the Austrian bodybuilder whose run of box-office hits from Conan the Barbarian (1982) through Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991) seemed invincible. Before the Planet Hollywood days, the personal riva){kind=link}
Remember when heroes were identifiable by their first names? Nick de Semlyen’s entertaining book romps through a Golden Age of screen chaos
It was a simpler time. Sinew, firepower and muscle mass would save the day, whatever day needed saving. Forget “Iron Man” or “Captain Marvel”: heroes could be identified by their first names – Sly, Arnie, Bruce – regardless of what roles they took. In the 1980s and ’90s, these men and their rivals pummelled their way through legions of wrong ‘uns with whatever arsenal came to hand.
As the story goes, and is retold in Nick de Semlyen’s new book, The Last Action Heroes, Arnold Schwarzenegger had a lifelong dream of cutting off somebody’s arm on screen then using it as an assault weapon. The fantasy was denied him in his famously profligate 1985 shoot-’em-up Commando, but we’re told he’ll get to do it in this autumn’s forthcoming action-comedy Kung Fury 2, in which he plays none other than the US President.
The Last Action Heroes is a romp through the heyday of the action movie – the pre-CGI, pre-Marvel heyday, that is, which stands tall as a kind of Golden Age for the trashy purity of the form. De Semlyen, the current editor of Empire, is well-placed to recount the ups and downs of these burly titans, having interviewed almost all of them – save one: “Stallone remains sly” – in his 18 years writing for the film magazine.
Sly, in fact, was the first one off the mark, with the overnight success of Rocky (1976), the global reach of its sequels, and then the escalating mania unleashed by the Rambo trilogy (1982, 1985, 1988). The enormity of his 1980s fame went hand-in-hand with the jingoism. America thrilled to the spectacle of him basically relitigating the Vietnam War to come out on top: no wonder Ronald Reagan buddied up with him, and quipped about craving a third term as full-on as Rambo III.