Once upon a time, almost a half century ago, in a ramshackle pastry shop outside a small village in rural France, a muscular baby boy was birthed from an even more muscular vagina. His parents, being big fans of cinema, christened him after their seventeenth favorite actor, and no one was surprised when the boy became a young man and the man became a movie director. His passion was for action films — usually ones with a number in the title — and his name was Olivier Megaton.
Well, his name still is Oliver Megaton, and when someone with a name like Oliver Megaton makes an action movie it feels like the kind of perfectly inspired pairing that only comes along once in a millennium. Like if someone named Fanny Shytles grew up to make Adam Sandler comedies. How do you turn a...
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