Schwarzenegger’s recidivist grunt-flick returns him to Amazonian Commando territory, but with fewer firearms and a greater predilection through despite taking himself seriously. As LA firefighter and contented family man Gordy Brewer, he’s an unassumingly daring Joe, until Colombian thug El Lobo (Curtis) parks a explosive close to his wife and child and leaves him a brooding widower. Finding no redress from the US authorities, he plunges lost into the Colombian jungle to administer some expense of his own. The film’s less knee-wriggle than it could have been. Brewer may think he’s stony trigger on revenge, but an encounter with a wandering mother (Neri) and her son in the liable to be zone give pause as thought. That said, it’s often daft, whether unveiling the fireman’s involuntary explosive-improvising skills, or showing a unfettering leader’s penchant for shoving snakes down flunkies’ throats. Yet a populist American movie that acknowledges a troubled world beyond US borders forced to be benefit flagging, even though the roles and responsibilities of Colombia’s guerillas, paramilitaries, army and US ‘advisers’, and the hierarchy of drugs and politics in its public war, are all firmly fudged.
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