Machismo with schmaltz. Stallone plays some dumb trucker, into arm-wrestling, whose cab is a mobile gym. Twelve years ago - for some never-explained reason - he deserted his wife and kid, and now that his spouse is dying, he comes to collect his son from a military academy. An evil plutocratic grandfather doesn't like it; neither does the stuck-up cadet, but gradually his stand-offishness turns to love. Pop-promo tactics are resorted to only some of the time, and this enables the persistent humour and compassion of the script to shine through. Inevitably there is a bicep-bursting climax in Vegas, and even though he does wear clip-on ties, it is impossible not to root for the New Yorkie Bar man. What next, caber-tossing?