When FedEx just won’t do, monied euro gangsters contract Frank Martin (Jason Statham) a button-down, by-the-rules uber courier who cartwheels his tricked out BMW through delirious chase sequences as if he’s high above center ring at Ringling Bros. You know, the strong, silent type. Sure, we’ve beheld Mr. Statham’s reluctant hero COUNTLESS times before, yet never quite like THIS! Sort of the rough-hewn elegance of Eddie Woodward‘s "Equalizer" gene-spliced with the whirling mayhem of Hong Kong Phooey. Except while saving his distressed damsel, he’s far more likely to yank off his Armani duds to dispatch Thug Numbers 1 through 100 in a motor oil-slathered kung fu fest, or if he’s in an extra big rush, he’ll just two-fist a couple 9 mms in each of their kneecaps. But, of course, they DESERVE it!!! Give this shirtless badass a better bullet-riddled S-T-O-R-Y and producer Luc Besson & Pals could score another action classic with the sequel. (Overdue the MOMENT this one hit theaters). Hip-hopper CineSchlockers will also recall Statham’s equally square-jawed, but less-than-heroic meat-slicer interrogation technique from Turn It Up with Pras and Ja Rule. No breasts. 16 corpses. Puking. Rocket rampage. Bitch slapping. Post-near-death-experience diddling. Multiple high-dollar explosions. Gratuitous Missy Elliot soundtrack. Racking. Axe attack. All hail Ms. Qi Shu for speaking less English than a cocker spaniel, yet somehow managing to deliver the proper emotive weight to the climatic line, "He was a BASTARD, but he was still MY FATHER!!!"
