The best things that can be said about Sylvester Stallone’s new Rambo is that it’s a sequel that doesn’t rely on an audience’s prior knowledge of the previous action trilogy, and, for those who like their screen violence rare like their steaks, it provides plenty of blood and explosions.

Back in the ‘80s John Rambo was an ideological icon of resurgent American pride that accompanied the Reagan administration’s assertive foreign policy. The Rambos marked a shift within the U.S. population as Americans finally put the Vietnam experience in the past, associating it with a sense of honor instead of disgrace and shame. The last we saw of Rambo was in 1988’s Rambo III, when he successfully rescued his former Green Beret commander, Col. Trautman, from a prison in Russian controlled Afghanistan.

Whereas the previous Rambo films had a heart of revenge and theme of solid, exaggerated patriotism, the latest Rambo, produced, co-scripted and directed by Stallone, is a blood fest of violence for violence sake that lacks any soul. Its plot is a simple rescue mission. From a small Thai village a much older, but still physically fit, John Rambo lives hunting poisonous snakes and fishing the streams with bow and arrow. He is approached by a church leader of an American Christian aid group to find some of their members who Rambo escorted into the Burmese jungles months earlier. Burma, not Myanmar as it has been called since 1989, is besieged by a horrifying civil war, as brutal forces of a rebel militia routinely terrorize local villages torturing and executing both women and children. Stallone’s camera captures much of this violence with zestful, video-like special effects and stunts.

All along the silent and stoic Stallone blasts away stereotypic Asian villains with a minimalist acting style which typifies much of career, despite his passionate and effective performance in last year’s revival of Rocky Balboa. Only the strong at heart will stomach and enjoy this action.