The 1980’s were the halcyon days for action films. For me, it was such whimsical nights of watching rented movies that made me into the great man I am today. Guilt-tripping a naive mother into renting the likes of Robocop, Predator, or Die Hard as a seven-year-old was a skill of mine, and I took full advantage of my local corner shop’s extensive collection of over-sized VHS.

But my introduction to the Muscles from Brussels, Jean-Claude Van Damme, came via another member of my family – my cousin

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