The Transporter

What can be said about The Transporter? That it’s a sensitive recreation of one of the most important historical events of the last century? That it’s the textbook definition of stunning dialogue, simultaneously and effortlessly balancing Shakespearean language with the wit of Woody Allen? That it’s a heartfelt character-driven indie film which will make you think, make you cry, make your spirit soar? Well...not even close. The Transporter is none of the above. What it is, however, is a bloody good ride.

Frank Martin (Statham) used to be in the Special Forces and now seems like your average British ex-pat living a nice little life in the South of France where the bread is fresh and the locals actually make the effort to speak to him in English. Oh, and he’s got a nice car. A car he uses in his job as a “transporter.” He does exactly that - transports packages to and from various destinations, all the while adhering to his self-imposed rules... taking special note of rule number 3 - Never look in the package.

When Frank opens up his car boot to get his spare tyre, he sees his latest package... and it’s moving. Breaking sacred rule number 3, he opens the “package” and discovers a beautiful girl... who complicates his life more than he ever could have imagined. After she tells Frank that people from her country are being smuggled into the country in containers to be sold as slaves, Frank takes it upon himself to try to solve the problem, and the normally mild-mannered Mr. Cool turns into a new breed of action hero. The thinking girl’s Bruce Willis - and with a haircut to match.

What little plot there is isn’t fleshed out at all, but the film certainly keeps you interested and the set pieces - specifically a quite frankly genius fight involving oil and bicycle pedals that will probably have you crying with laughter and a car chase at the beginning that just might have the audience applauding - are just what you want to see on a Monday night.

Laura Watson