Sylvester Stallone

Certainly a bad film. But darn it, it ain't a half-bad movie.

A bizarrely appealing movie, Tango & Cash is the essence of camp: it's bad and knows it's bad, so therefore, it's...good?

For everything else that's come down the road, nothing has been better to Stallone than his baby, Rocky.

As preposterous as this "Die Hard on a mountain" flick is, Cliffhanger remains one of the zestier big-budget action pictures of the nineties.

It's all here: the famous Bill Conti fanfare, the 'Gonna Fly Now' training montage, the inevitable 'David and Goliath' climax.

Dated and unintentionally laughable, Cobra will always be best known for the catchphrase 'You're a disease and I'm the cure.' Ironically, any audience foolhardy enough to brave this ugly movie is liable to stagger out feeling mighty sick.

By the time Rath and Bain have it out in a ramshackle, condemned motel with floors that keep giving away under them, we realize this final setting is a metaphor for the film itself.

Everyone knows that kitties love homicidal mercenary explosives experts. But for those who don't, there's The Specialist, another Sylvester Stallone action picture that's as dumb as a bag of hammers.

Doesn't quite go far enough, instead settling for cheap gags and cheap thrills, but it tickles fairly well for a couple of hours of crashes and fireballs.

It's a bit like watching old friends drunkenly mud wrestle: it's good to see them, but not like this.

Questionable as a film (sparring with formula), good as a movie, and brilliant as a franchise-extender. It’s shameless, near-surgically effective cross-generational corn for guys.

The pivotal realization--that, in the end, using your heart beats using your head--works as a pithy instruction manual for this diverting but disposable adventure.

Well shot, but it doesn’t really go anywhere interesting—a wafer-thin plot, simplistic, and repetitive. It’s all theatrics and no theater.