It's an oid-y world out there. Tabloids run factoids about humanoids on steroids. In a world gone synthetic, why should movies offer something as organic as a hero? Welcome, then, to the age of the heroid. In the old days, a - hero like Bogart had brains and guts but also a nagging heart and the seductive scowl of obsession. Often he failed; sometimes he died. He was real: us, with muscles. A heroid, though, is just the muscles. He owes more to comic strips than to romantic or detective fiction. Never really alive, a heroid cannot die; he must be...
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