Action movies have never been about muscle displays.

They are a romantic rebellion against the laws of physics by ordinary people.
Every additional shot they take is telling you: limits can be tested, conventions can be broken, you can learn to fly a helicopter at sixty, and reshape your abs at seventy.
Those voices telling you "Stop messing around" suddenly become very laughable.
What ultimately stays in the audience's memory is never how many bullets were fired.
It's that unwavering silhouette in the rain of gunfire.
It's not that muscles haven't atrophied, but that spirit hasn't bowed.