I don’t get all excited (or “pop a Hordak” as the kids say these days) over European actors. Of the entire continent, I think Jean Reno is the only one I can attest to actually seeking out movies he’s starred in. However, when I saw Snatch, I discovered a new personal favorite actor from across the pond: Jason Statham. He was the only redeeming factor of Ghosts of Mars, he helped keep my interest in The One and he showed me just how much ass he can knock off the toes of his fancy leather shoes in 90s minutes with Crank. Before the latter though, he did a little two movie deal called The Transporter which some people enjoyed and others, well, they pan-pizza-ed the shit out of it. Where do I stand? I could go for a few slices with ham, souls and black olives right now myself…
Statham plays Frank Martin (if you googled “generic hero name”, a hundred links for “Frank Martin” would come up, I guarantee it!), a retired (i.e. “balding”) military special-ops macho man type of guy who has decided to parlay his skills into a successful career as a transporter of less-than-legal goods and people for whomever can find his phone number and pay his price. The movie’s opening segment introduces us to Frank as he does just that, playing driver to a group of bumbling bank robbers and getting their sorry bacon away from the hot skillet of justice and to a designated meeting place. This is just an introductory scene to show us just what kind of anti-hero superman we’re dealing with though, and has no bearing on the rest of the movie. No, because the remainder of the flick centers on Frank’s next job: a kidnapped Taiwanese slave girl named Lai (pronounced “lie”, as in “what I do whenever anyone asks me if I like the gifts they give me”) whom he breaks his personal rules for and gets involved with. Before the end of the movie he’ll save her from gun-toting assassins and axe-wielding dickheads ten times over, sacrificing his beloved car and French villa to help her rescue a crate full of black market slaves from a wanker named “Wall Street”… I shit you not.
Statham simply kicks ass and doesn’t even bother wasting time to take the names. Such is his role in life and such is his role in this movie. He’s an action guy and he plays the stereotype too damn well not to be that type of mofo in real life. I’d be frightened and disturbed if I ever saw him as a sensitive type in a chick flick and I’d probably have to renounce all instances of divine existence, mine own included. This much has been established and as long as he plays this very same role again and again, I will never have a problem with the job he does. Statham’s a given, so let’s look at the rest of the movie now.
Watching Qi Shu (Lai) act and deliver lines entirely in English is the equivalent of regurgitating a handful of caltrops. I don’t know why I’d eat a handful of caltrops in the first place, but I’ve done stranger things when I’m drunk on the blood of a hundred virgins, so that’s besides the point. The woman must be talented in some form other than her looks, as she’s been in a number of flicks from her native land, but when she’s blubbering out English words, it’s makes me want to put the business end of a lit cigar in my ears. On the other hand, penultimate Asian bad guy Ric Young (the man played Mao Tse-Tung in Nixon for fuck’s sake!) was great as Lai’s deviant father! So much so, it would’ve been nice if he’d gotten more than 12 minutes of face time for the entire damn movie. Beyond Young, main villain Wall Street was so enjoyably manic and sinister, that Matt Schulze has finally given me an excuse to rent 7 Mummies!... beyond Danny Trejo, of course. Sadly though, I have to say that listening to Shu grated my nerves like government cheddar and I just can’t give her a pass on that one, no matter how boner-inducing she is in wet underwear…
The music for the movie was all generic hip-hip stuff that worked well for the majority of the action sequences, but just stands as a nuisance for everything else. Even as far as the action sequences are concerned, the big bus garage fight seemed to hurt because of the slow-paced "dramatic" music laid over it and didn't fit nearly as "super model ass" smooth as the rest, giving what should have been one of the movie's best moments a somewhat awkward "Huh?" stutter. It's like someone farting during sex: everyone pauses just long enough to fathom what happened and the entire rhythm is ruined as a result. Damn it movie, take some Bean-O why don't ya!
As for the rest of the movie, the action sequences themselves were fun to watch. Whether Statham’s beating up cops, schooling hired goons or just slicking himself up in motor oil and kicking guys in the face with bicycle peddles, the punches and kicks hit hard and they hit loud and Statham puts a touch of brutish class into every one of ‘em. The explosions are plentiful and the bullets are… well… cgi. Yeah, that pissed me off. Quite a bit actually. Now I remember why this movie pissed me off!... well, that wasn’t nearly as bad as the “action movie logic” moments with which we’re time and again bludgeoned until our logic centers burn out and our basic gray matter turns a pulped and viscous crimson…
Yeah, I can forgive the occasional “YEAH, RIGHT!” moment in a movie. Arnold Schwarzenegger gets an entire building dropped on his head and walks away with little more than a bloody lip and a hangnail. Okay, fine. Jean Claude Van-Damme falls 15 stories and lands on his feet, walking away unscathed. Sure. Sylvester Stallone beat not one but two different black guys for the World Heavyweight Title. Whatever you say. The Transporter abuses my tolerance in this level and for that I refuse to forgive. If Frank’s car gets cornered by the cops, he has nothing to fear because a transport truck full of cars will pass under the bridge he’s trapped on… and not only will he land on said truck, but there just happens to be a spot open on the top row of the truck for his car to fit into perfectly, especially with this impeccable aim. If there’s a bomb in Frank’s car and he doesn’t know about it, he’ll just happen to stop off at a vending machine for a can of Orangina while it explodes. If Frank steals a car to catch up with the bad guys and it’s engine blows on him, there’ll be a guy with a prop plane nearby for Frank to take and catch up with the thugs… then parachute down onto the top of a moving tractor trailer with ease so as to defeat said thugs… ARGH! And wait, Luc Besson wrote this crap?! Well, that was my last brain cell exploding, time to end the review…
