The ladies have their own special three-hanky corner of the multiplex, a magical place of good cries, fogged-up camera lenses and dialogue about feelings. They've even got a name for these estrogen epics: the chick flick. But gents, don't go feeling too sorry for yourselves. Though there is no clever phrase to cover them all, the adrenaline-fueled, white (hairy)-knuckled and testosterone-soaked "bro show" has been a staple of the American cinema since D.W. Griffith let loose with his first "roll 'em." Which brings us to "Red Dawn." A Russians-are-coming shoot-'em-up that serves as a time capsule for the beginning of the end of the Cold War, the 1984 Patrick Swayze vehicle,...
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