Every once in a while - like a persistent guilty pleasure - I feel the need to be overwhelmed by masculinity and testosterone. In this blockbuster-filled summer, between sequels, small romances, and meaningful art pictures, I was hard put to find that man-sweat I’d been longing for. Lanky or beefy, it didn’t matter. All I wanted was to see some guy saving the world from mega-disaster and tossing off memorable macho movie lines. Maybe it has something to do with being...