While the original First Blood had its far-fetched moments, it was at least exciting in parts. In Rambo: First Blood, Part II the emphasis is shifted very much onto comic-book action. Plausibility is totally rejected; logic nose-dives; Stallone becomes so impregnable that there can be no doubt he will succeed in his mission. Just like any other wish-fulfilment actioner of that time (e.g. Invasion USA, Commando, Red Scorpion), Rambo: First Blood, Part II cancels out its own opportunities for real excitement by presenting a hero too invulnerable to fear for. If you can tell from the word go that Rambo is going to wipe out hundreds of enemy soldiers, what is left to get excited about?
Imprisoned after the events of the first movie, John J Rambo (Sylvester Stallone) is offered a pardon if he will join a covert operation in the Far East. The year is 1985, and a mission is being arranged to find out if there are any American PoWs still trapped in the jungles of Vietnam. Rambo is encouraged to take the job by his old mentor Colonel Trautman (Richard Crenna), but the assignment is actually the brainchild of a government outfit fronted by Marshall Murdock (Charles Napier). Rambo's job is merely to head for a prison camp in the jungle and check out if it contains any American PoWs if it doesn't, he is to rendezvous with a chopper; if it does, he is to get photographic evidence of their existence so that they can be rescued at a later date. Aiding him in his quest is a lady soldier with local knowledge, the beautiful and resourceful Co Bao (Julia Nickson). Sure enough, Rambo discovers that there are PoWs in the camp, but he exceeds his orders by rescuing one of them
when he reaches the rendezvous point, the rescue chopper abandons him on the orders of Murdock who, it seems, doesn't really want to find any PoWs because of the political and military implications. Rambo is captured by the enemy and tortured, but following an explosive escape he sets out to free the PoWs and get his revenge on the treacherous Murdock.
The few good points of the film come from Jack Cardiff's polished photography, Jerry Goldsmith's exhilarating score, and the sheer professionalism of the stunt team in performing various action antics. Beyond these scant pickings, the film is a failure. The actors are reduced to macho posturing, the plot rings false, the action sequences are soulless and suspenseless, the dialogue is absurd
even the violence becomes numbingly predictable. At the time of its release America was under the presidency of Ronald Reagan, a man with simplistic and near-hysterical anti-communist sentiments. For this reason, contemporary audiences lapped up this Commie-bashing shooting-fest as if it was the greatest movie of all-time, transforming it into an undeserved box office success. Thankfully times have changed nowadays we can look upon it as a simple-minded action flick with a ludicrously high body count, ludicrously dumb politics, and a ludicrous hero.