Meet Frank Martin. Martin (Jason Statham) is a retired British Special Forces officer currently enjoying retirement in France. Well, sort of retirement. Frank actually makes his living by transporting goods or people from one location to another. His services have made him a millionaire many times over, evidenced by his oceanview palace. The two-tower structure comes complete with fancy gates, a brick driveway, a garden, two kitchens and even an elevator. In his pristine garage resides the only love of his life, a perfect BMW. His services come with three rules: the deal never changes, no names, and never look in the package.
The movie begins when Martin arrives with perfect punctuality outside of the world's richest bank. He is to whisk three robbers to safety, but four emerge. Citing rule number one, Martin refuses to leave and calmly explains why he cannot carry four men. The lead robber puts a gun to his head, but without the ignition code, he cannot drive. Checkmate. The panicking leader executes the fourth man.
Martin starts the car and is pursued by police in a wild chase through busy streets and narrow alleyways. Dodging and swerving his way to safety, Martin outsmarts the police in the film's high point. This car pursuit has drawn comparisons to a similar scene in The Bourne Identity.
The movie only rests for little while, and then it is on to his next job. His contact explains the job, then says, "It is for a man named..." "No names," Martin interrupts, reiterating his strict adherence to the rules. The client's name is Wall Street, I suppose, since he is only addressed with pronouns. The cargo is large bag to be fit in his trunk.
While tending to a flat tire on the way, he notices his "cargo" squirming. Curiosity gets the best of him, and he discovers a hopelessly bound girl (Qi Shu) with her mouth sealed shut as well. He has no sympathy and completes the deal, but when his customers double cross him, he enacts revenge and the hostage ends up in his home.
The girl, Lai, is grateful for the help and stays with him though she is free to leave. However, her former captors are not too happy with her current quarters. 5,000 bullets later, she informs Martin that she was smuggled in from China as part of a human slavery operation and many more will follow.
Up until this point, the film is performing admirably, but once it's second half commences, the wheels begin to fall off one by one. The chemistry existing between Statham and Shu in the first act quickly evaporates. Not even the discovery of Martin's conscience works.
We are led to believe that Lai's father (Ric Young) is one of the slaves, but we later find out that he is the mastermind behind the operation. This new discovery throws into question why Lai was in the bag in the first place, and raises many other questions as well. The film never gives its audience the courtesy of answering those questions, and it feels as if Luc Besson is making it up as he goes.
The action also goes down the toilet. It mostly consists of Frank being confronted by a group of ruffians and knocking them to the floor. Each man rises up to fight again, and every time he has them beaten more henchmen appear and join the fray. His reluctance to use lethal force is astounding. The invulnerability of every character completely undermines the effectiveness of everything the film wants to do, and reduces it to the level of Beverly Hills Ninja. The climax involves Frank parachuting onto to a semi-truck in an attempt to commandeer it. It is boring, and reminded me of how much more I enjoyed the semi-truck chase in License to Kill.
Statham flourishes as the amoral Martin and Qi Shu fares well as the confused and vulnerable young girl in strange surroundings. Francois Berleand is satisfactory as a friendly but suspicious detective, but has no interesting material. Matt Schulze falls flat in embarrassing fashion with his lifeless treatment of Wall Street. Ric Young is equally bad. Even Shu, who probably set the record for time being bound on camera, becomes a drone in the second half.
Cory Yuen is better than this. Luc Besson is better than this. Moviegoers deserve more than an action film that slowly destroys itself. The first half warrants a good score, but what follows is so putrid that The Transporter rates only a four out of ten.
The movie begins when Martin arrives with perfect punctuality outside of the world's richest bank. He is to whisk three robbers to safety, but four emerge. Citing rule number one, Martin refuses to leave and calmly explains why he cannot carry four men. The lead robber puts a gun to his head, but without the ignition code, he cannot drive. Checkmate. The panicking leader executes the fourth man.
Martin starts the car and is pursued by police in a wild chase through busy streets and narrow alleyways. Dodging and swerving his way to safety, Martin outsmarts the police in the film's high point. This car pursuit has drawn comparisons to a similar scene in The Bourne Identity.
The movie only rests for little while, and then it is on to his next job. His contact explains the job, then says, "It is for a man named..." "No names," Martin interrupts, reiterating his strict adherence to the rules. The client's name is Wall Street, I suppose, since he is only addressed with pronouns. The cargo is large bag to be fit in his trunk.
While tending to a flat tire on the way, he notices his "cargo" squirming. Curiosity gets the best of him, and he discovers a hopelessly bound girl (Qi Shu) with her mouth sealed shut as well. He has no sympathy and completes the deal, but when his customers double cross him, he enacts revenge and the hostage ends up in his home.
The girl, Lai, is grateful for the help and stays with him though she is free to leave. However, her former captors are not too happy with her current quarters. 5,000 bullets later, she informs Martin that she was smuggled in from China as part of a human slavery operation and many more will follow.
Up until this point, the film is performing admirably, but once it's second half commences, the wheels begin to fall off one by one. The chemistry existing between Statham and Shu in the first act quickly evaporates. Not even the discovery of Martin's conscience works.
We are led to believe that Lai's father (Ric Young) is one of the slaves, but we later find out that he is the mastermind behind the operation. This new discovery throws into question why Lai was in the bag in the first place, and raises many other questions as well. The film never gives its audience the courtesy of answering those questions, and it feels as if Luc Besson is making it up as he goes.
The action also goes down the toilet. It mostly consists of Frank being confronted by a group of ruffians and knocking them to the floor. Each man rises up to fight again, and every time he has them beaten more henchmen appear and join the fray. His reluctance to use lethal force is astounding. The invulnerability of every character completely undermines the effectiveness of everything the film wants to do, and reduces it to the level of Beverly Hills Ninja. The climax involves Frank parachuting onto to a semi-truck in an attempt to commandeer it. It is boring, and reminded me of how much more I enjoyed the semi-truck chase in License to Kill.
Statham flourishes as the amoral Martin and Qi Shu fares well as the confused and vulnerable young girl in strange surroundings. Francois Berleand is satisfactory as a friendly but suspicious detective, but has no interesting material. Matt Schulze falls flat in embarrassing fashion with his lifeless treatment of Wall Street. Ric Young is equally bad. Even Shu, who probably set the record for time being bound on camera, becomes a drone in the second half.
Cory Yuen is better than this. Luc Besson is better than this. Moviegoers deserve more than an action film that slowly destroys itself. The first half warrants a good score, but what follows is so putrid that The Transporter rates only a four out of ten.