What sinks The Transporter Refueled is its utter lack of fresh imagination, starting with a script seemingly written the night before shooting commenced.

(The Martin character famously does not pack a gun or knife as part of his work attire.) It’s a performance that doesn’t sink the film, but one that doesn’t (and to be fair, cannot) redeem it either. With those high cheekbones and lean physique (not to mention an ever-present, slightly pissed-off facial expression), Skrein looks like he just walked off the runway at Milan, though the guy is pretty good when it comes to registering his hands as deadly weapons. While Skrein is not a disaster on a George Lazenby scale, he comes off as someone trying extremely hard to affect a specific personality simply through imitation. It’s all deadly serious, down to the last raspy bit of dialogue and blow to the groin. But there’s no retro goofing on a bygone genre here. In a fashion, the character is a throwback to James Bond, with his classic black suit, propensity for fast cars, and irresistible ladies’ charm. This time around, newbie Ed Skrein sits behind the wheel as mercenary driver-for-hire Frank Martin, a man of few words who will transport any goods (material and human alike) for a significant fee, no questions asked. The gas gauge rests on empty in The Transporter Refueled, a pitiful attempt to reboot a relatively successful Aughts franchise without the high-octane action star Jason Statham, who kicked and punched his way through the first three installments.

Transporter refueled movie review