After about 15 minutes of The Last Mercenary, though, even if you can't do splits like Van Damme the temptation is to split -- and to paraphrase "Scarface," say goodbye to him and his little friends.
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The quality of the fight sequences, the main criterion by which we judge a Van Damme picture, tops out at competency; only a showdown incorporating a whipped wet towel recalls the inventive creativity of his strongest work.
The fight scenes have wit and Van Damme delivers his lines with just the right amount of weary good humor.
The plot chugs along with no surprises, but that’s beside the point. While it’s not exactly a laugh riot, the film’s humor tends to land.
Van Damme is in on the joke, and never for a second lets us see that he’s in on it. That’s what’s the most fun about The Last Mercenary.
The Last Mercenary is Van Damme at his best: his comedic timing is precise (likely because he's acting in his native tongue), and the movie's action set pieces are deeply satisfying.
It’s nice to see that the Muscles from Brussels is not only self-aware, but also sharp enough whenever he has to take a baby step or two beyond his own shadow.