For the characters living
in them, it clearly sucks. Racecar-driver-turned-mill-worker Jason Statham not
only loses his job before the end of the first reel, he loses his wife, gets
framed for her murder, and winds up in a prison where warden/network executive
Joan Allen rules with a frown and a severe pantsuit. (Yes, that Joan Allen, clearly
having fun taking a profane break.) Turns out that Allen's prison doubles as
the set of the pricey pay-per-view entertainment Death Race, wherein prisoners race
in armored cars for the chance to win their freedom or die trying. Allen has
lost her most popular driver, a masked man known only as "Frankenstein" (and
voiced in the opening scene by Death Race 2000 star David Carradine), but
she thinks Statham can wear the mask just fine, especially with some help from
sage veteran Ian McShane (also clearly enjoying himself).
What follows owes as much
to the Twisted Metal videogame series as any movie, with some hints that the film
might turn into a smart exploration of violence and media saturation in the
vein of Starship Troopers. It never happens. What does happen involves a
lot of gray cars racing around a poorly defined gray environment beneath gray
skies, leaving piles of spent casings in their wake. Director Paul W.S.
Anderson (Resident Evil, Alien Vs. Predator, and a lot of films like those two) shoots for
the sensory overload of a Michael Bay movie and falls short. Which, oddly
enough, makes this far more tolerable than any Michael Bay movie, ideal for
those who want to watch a bunch of cars blow each other up, without having to,
you know, think about it all that much. It's the perfect end-of-summer film,
and a sign that summer needs to end soon.
