Please know that I agonized over this - or at least pretended to - but what it ultimately came down to was that renowned chanteuse Edith Piaf has never taken out a helicopter in mid-air with her car. If she had, I would totally be reviewing "La Vie En Rose"; I promise. Instead I made a beeline for the fourth chapter of my favorite action franchise, "Live Free or Die Hard," brazenly risking the last lingering bits of my indie cred.Popcorn? Check. Candy? Duh. Brain? At home, probably getting skully juices all over its precious Terrence Malick DVDs.

Twelve years have passed since Bruce Willis last shouldered the iconic mantle of NYPD Detective John McClane, and the intervening seasons have chiseled that mug, pilfered that hair, and... well, at least McClane's cynicism remains intact. As "Live Free or Die Hard" opens the eternally grouchy McClane is trying to save his resentful teenage daughter from an overheated frat boy, family drama that's punctuated by an assignment for McClane to corral a hacker named Matt (Justin Long, the friendly kid from the Mac ads) and bring him to the FBI for questioning. But no pickup is ever routine for McClane, leading to the first of many spectacular firefights involving our laughably indestructible hero and his new boy wonder.

Following in the greedy footsteps of Alan Rickman and Jeremy Irons is Timothy Olyphant ("Deadwood") as McClane's latest nemesis, a fallen Department of Defense angel named Gabriel whose cyber-pouting has brilliantly escalated into what's called a "fire sale," meaning everything must go: the transportation systems, the economic data, the power grid, etc. Gabriel's goals are strictly financial in nature, and as his tech-savvy minions thwap the computer keys that bring the nation to an anxious standstill, the geeky Matt puzzles out their adversary's next move while McClane kills henchpeople and the aforementioned helicopter. Plus lots of vehicles and buildings. Oh, and in one outrageous set piece that drove tiny fingernail parentheses into my palms, a still-airborne F-35 fighter jet.

Based on a 1997 piece in Wired magazine about the US's vulnerability to virtual terrorism, "Live Free or Die Hard" might actually provoke some scary questions about the likelihood of this scenario if reality and logic had been included in the film's budget. This is a good, old-fashioned action movie, with collateral damage on a massive scale, sarcastic quips at the appropriate moments, a damsel in distress, and the occasional rousing speech on right vs. wrong. Director Len Wiseman (he did the "Underworld" films) doesn't fix what ain't broken and employs some amazing photography to best appreciate all the carefully choreographed mayhem.

Entertainment Weekly recently selected "Die Hard" as the greatest action movie ever (no quibble here) and attributed much of its appeal to the everyman qualities of Bruce Willis: not the buffest guy around, wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time luck, and always bitching about something. But after three sequels of trying to top what came before, the now-middle-aged McClane has become somewhat of a superhero. Yeah, he still bleeds, but he weathers explosions, tumbles stories, and takes a pummeling like the rest of us handle tickling. Yet despite the blessing of space-age bones, McClane just won't stop whining; in fact, nearly all of his lines are complaints. Sounds like somebody needs a nap, a woman, or retirement.

Long is adorable in what could have easily been the irritating sidekick role (Netflix him in the nifty horror flick "Jeepers Creepers"), while Olyphant's elegant menace - first used to charismatic effect in 1999's "Go" - makes for a perfect bad guy. Watch for director Kevin Smith in the there-but-for-the-grace-of-Miramax-goes-he role of a basement-dwelling nerd, and that leaping goon is Cyril Raffaelli from "District B-13," one of cinema's leading practitioners of the breathtaking French martial sport of parkour, in which traceurs soar from surface to surface like gravity is merely a suggestion.

"Live Free or Die Hard" is the first in the lucrative series to pander to a PG-13 rating, which means that the final syllables of the formerly profane McClane's signature line are drowned out by a well-timed gunshot, as in "Yippee-ki-yay, mother... blam!" So as we celebrate the 231st anniversary of our nation's independence, be happy for far-fetched escapism done right, but pause and reflect how privileged we are to live in a country where the MPAA would rather our littlest citizens witness sadomasochistic comeuppance than have to hear one naughty word. And to that I say, Happy fucking birthday, America!

"Live Free or Die Hard" (PG-13), directed by Len Wiseman, is now playing in area theaters.