In a sequence from Jason Statham’s The Beekeper, the actor walks into a shady call centre that has fleeced old retired people out of their life’s savings. His intention is to singlehandedly bust and penalise the racket. When the employees of this crooked operation don’t pay heed to his first warning, Statham snatches the receiver of a phone from one of them and beats his forehead purple with it. Those watching, immediately flip to acknowledge the message in hilarious turning of the tables. It’s typical strongman shtick and it works in the hands of someone who has made a living out of paying such characters. A consummate action star who has been around for roughly two decades, this is maybe one of Statham’s bloodiest films. And if you aren’t looking for something particularly deep or meaningful, it’s enjoyably deranged.
Statham plays Adam Clay, a literal beekeeper living on an estate owned by a lonely widow played by Phylicia Rashad. In true ’90s action movie spirit Clay lives an understated, hidden life in a daft attempt to stay out of the public eye. His methodical demeanour though hints at a complicated previous life. It’s impossible at this point to imagine the actor in anything other than the bare-knuckle embodiment of a human killing machine. After Clay’s estate owner, a lonesome woman, is robbed of her life savings by a syndicate of shady call centres, she commits suicide. As a direct response Clay dives back into the suppressed prologue of his life to exact a bloody trail of revenge, brutality and some comically choreographed violence.
Directed by David Ayer, The Beekeeper is, you could argue, Statham’s stab at something John Wick-like. There are more guns, grunts and blood we’ve probably ever seen the actor spill on screen. For a ferociously consistent action hero, Statham has always operated within the limits of modesty. His does with acrobatics and choreography that which the Wick franchise gleans from metallic weaponry. The Beekeeper, however, feels somewhere in between. A film that comes close to blowing that lid of conservatism open with the kind of lustful gaze for gore that has made the John Wick franchise stylishly unique. Statham doesn’t quite dress up in bespoke suits but he does deliver justice with an equally muted air of eminence.
For the first thirty minutes at least, the film actually feels like a distant cousin of ’90s action franchises. It reprises tropes like menial jobs that hide violent histories, vengeful motivations and a casual disdain for just about any arm of the law. The Beekeeper has it all but once it begins to dispense with the action, it labours towards predictable spins and set-pieces. Clay follows the money trail to the most secure and impenetrable institution in America, represented in no small matter by the impeccable Jeremy Irons and the likeable Josh Hutcherson. But for all the guns and armoury on display, it’s still Statham’s hand-to-hand combat that offers the film’s best sequences. A fist fight with a tattooed mercenary, is wicked and savage.
Statham’s films require bits of digestive assistance. They aren’t exactly fibrous and rich in detail and they look restless and substandard holding back a punch or a kick. Statham can actually act but he is rarely asked to do anything other than offer bursts of belligerence. If his version of action, its totalitarian worship of his own bodily edge mixed with a sprinkling of British wit is not your thing then no amount of Bee puns including the ridiculous ‘To Bee or not to Bee’ will keep you hooked. But if you are in for the rambunctious ride of watching Statham, adroitly rid the planet of some type A and type B baddies then The Beekeeper is just about the kind of elementary jaunt that you watch, enjoy bits of and ultimately forget.
There is no denying action star’s mercurial screen presence and prolificacy. As someone who is part of several action franchises, Statham remains this inimitable force of nature who looks both impossible to imitate and suppress. So much so that for all of the flakiness of The Beekeeper, it will more likely than not to consequence in a sequel. It echoes the actor’s staying power, his eerie longevity and uncanny dynamism. He still looks as young and spirited as he did 20 years ago. And for all of that improbable athleticism, he probably still deserves another shot at serious acting. Until then his films will continue to play out like theme park rides, where he has fun thwacking men, collecting bodies and large cheques that follow. You can’t hope to invest or extract a lot of analytical honey from them but then that’s not the hive they are trying to build anyway.