Review: 'Transporter' reboot burns out hard

One doesn’t make Jurassic Park without dinosaurs or Fast & Furious without racing cars, so why would anyone in their right mind do a Transporter film without Jason Statham?

Even the British star’s iconic action moves may not have helped The Transporter Refueled (*½ out of four; rated PG-13; opens Friday nationwide), a mostly dreadful reboot by director Camille Delamarre (Brick Mansions) that casts English youngster Ed Skrein in Statham's role as well-dressed driver-for-hire Frank Martin.

It’s not a step in the right direction: Skrein may share Statham’s Cockney accent, but that’s about it. Subsequently, Refueled is akin to a Broadway musical forgetting to hire actual singers and instead settling for a dude who belts Free Bird in the shower.

As in writer/producer Luc Besson’s three prior Transporter movies, Frank is a mercenary guy who will transport anything for anybody for a price. Refueled puts Skrein’s version in the underworld of the French Riviera, where a Russian crime lord named Karasov (Radivoje Bukvic) runs a prostitution ring, making some serious bank.

Frank plans some downtime with his newly retired dad (Ray Stevenson), a former spy who may have turned in his license to kill but still has a way with the ladies. Their guys’ time is interrupted when Frank is hired to help a quartet of female criminals tied to Karasov — led by the seductive Anna (Loan Chabanol) — pull off a huge bank heist.

Father and son get caught up in the crime drama and the high jinks of the lady foursome, and Frank’s sense of right is tested, as are his fight skills and driving acumen.

The first Transporter in 2002 made an instant action star out of Statham, whose bruiser appearance was backed up with graceful martial-arts moves and high-impact, bone-breaking hits and kicks. Skrein can’t compare in terms of look or fights — he comes off as more robotic than fluid taking on multiple thugs at a time. (In his defense, his Frank is very adept at utilizing life preservers in a boat-bound brawl.)

There's an interesting chemistry between Skrein and Stevenson that makes their scenes together pop — perhaps it’s the way the elder Martin calls his son “Junior,” reminiscent of Harrison Ford and Sean Connery’s relationship in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

But folks don’t come to Transporter movies for conversation or complex plots; they want fast luxury cars (Frank tools around in a sweet Audi S8 L) and jaw-dropping fisticuffs. What Refueled brings instead — in addition to hackneyed dialogue — is ridiculous set pieces that even James Bond would think were too over the top and an utterly forgettable climax.

If this is what accounts for a Transporter movie nowadays, this franchise might finally be out of gas.