Bill Gibron is a veteran film critic from Tampa, Florida.Jason Statham is the perfect post post-modern action hero. No clever catch phrases. No attempt to celebrate or mythologize. Like the tightly wound sinew of his superhero physique, he's all lean, mean, fighting...and indeed a bit mechanical. His standard starring role just doesn't scream complex characterization or knotty narrative depth. So in some ways it's refreshing that his latest vehicle, an adaptation of Sir Ranulph Fiennes's spy thriller The Feather Men, takes a more slowed down and cerebral approach. While it doesn't always deliver the slam-bang action we've come to expect from the intense Englishman, it's still a solid, serious work of intrigue.
Danny Bryce (Statham) and his mentor/buddy Hunter (Robert DeNiro) are soldiers for hire, working with whomever has the money to do whatever job is necessary -- legal or illegal. Getting their orders from someone known as The Agent (Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje), no mission is too big...or dangerous. After an Arab sheik kidnaps Hunter, he demands that Danny perform a series of assassinations. Seems that three of the old man's sons died at the hands of some rogue British Special Air Service members and he wants them all dead. Gathering together a team including a bit of muscle (Dominic Purcell) and a surveillance expert (Aden Young), Danny begins his task. Unfortunately, the Brits have a secret society known as The Feather Men protecting them. Led by a driven ex-SAS specialist named Spike (Clive Owen), they will stop at nothing to secure their fellow officers.If all you want is Jason Statham kicking butt and chewing gun -- and he almost never has any Doublemint to spare -- you'll be slightly disappointed with Killer Elite. Like a '70s spy game laced with late '90s stunt work, it's an awkward combination of conceits that doesn't always gel. In the hands of a better filmmaker, the various location shifts and slow burn subterfuge might work better. But this is writer/director Gary McKendry's first feature film, and it shows. Granted, he can deliver a certain set of suspense cues, and often finds a refreshing way of highlighting the inevitable fisticuffs. Yet Killer Elite (not to be confused with the same named Sam Peckinpah film from 1975) lacks true narrative spark. The plot points seem to arrive just in time to let Statham and the weapons specialists do their stuff.
The acting is uniformly good. Statham, not known for his depth, manages to find a bit of remorse in his harried hitman, while DeNiro drops much of his late career mannerisms to play Hunter as likeable and dependable. While he has to match his costars in intensity, Owen is better when stripped of his supposed psychotic tendencies and simply plays its straight. He's the perfect contrast to Statham, who apparently never misses a trip to the gym and can't find a straight razor to save his stubble. As we bounce around from country to country, trying to figure out how these men will meet up and murder each other, Killer Elite builds a bit of tension. But then McKendry's still flowering skills as an artist show up to stop things cold.
In truth, much of Killer Elite is flummoxed by its own make-up. We expect more sparks from Statham -- more broken bones, beaten bodies, and bloody remnants -- and shots of DeNiro unloading an automatic weapon at the camera suggest something more epic. Instead, this is a movie that's massive in star power but actually rather small in scope. Sure, our characters race around the globe in a deadly game of cat and mouse, but the stakes remain personal. Naturally, Statham and his genre status survive it all, even if audiences may want something a bit more...explosive. And engaging.
