Death Race

Jason Statham can make any movie better. Imagine Jason Statham in The Dark Knight, or Jason Statham in The Departed. I might even be willing to go see Jason Statham in Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 3. Maybe.

Statham stars as Jensen Ames – a decent dude framed for murder. He has been sentenced to Terminal Island, where prisoners are forced to race to the death by the evil warden (Joan “look at the facelift this paycheck bought” Allen), who works for a corporation that happens to broadcast these gore-filled races for profit. And, guess who used to be a race car driver!

Can Jensen win his freedom by winning the race?

Will he be able to survive?

Will the ratings go up?

Death Race is like Shawshank Redemption meets Days of Thunder meets a demented 11-year old boy’s fantasy dreamed up while sitting in his therapist’s office. Even Statham can’t save the dreadful writing and writer/director Paul W.S. Anderson’s desire to make a movie all about the firepower, explosions, decapitations and sexy, big breasted women walking around in slow motion like they are in a Ludacris video.

Of course, it is completely predictable. Of course, the plot is extremely simple. Of course, Statham makes it mildly watchable. Of course, none of this matters because Death Race is made for that dude down near the front of the theater who screams out, “DAAAAAMN,” every time a character meets his untimely demise. Either you're that guy or you are not.

I am not.

Death Race is Rated R for strong violence and language.