Sylvester Stallone and his admittedly awesome band of old crows take some major missteps in this one, an unfortunate leap backward for the aging action star franchise. For No. 3, Stallone and company jettison the smarmy Bruce Willis in favor of the growly Harrison Ford, and this is a cool change. It also adds Wesley Snipes as Doctor Death, Antonio Banderas as fast-talking comic relief and, most notably, Mel Gibson playing himself (translation: The World’s Biggest Asshole). Stallone and director Patrick Hughes should’ve stopped right there as far as casting, and given the group—which also includes Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jason Statham, Dolph Lundgren and many others—a decent script to go by. This is a sufficient enough cast for any action movie, so get cracking with the pyrotechnics and focus in on a story that makes sense. Instead, and probably because the production could only afford the big guys for a minimal amount of shooting time, the script has Stallone’s Barney Ross putting the old guys on ice after the first 30 minutes in favor of a new, mostly younger crew. Most of the new crew is, in short, completely uninteresting and lacking the charisma of their older counterparts. Too much screen time is given to the likes of mixed martial arts superstar Ronda Rousey, who can most certainly kick the shit out of most men but can’t act for squat.

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