Statham stars as an ex-con and ex-race car driver who's framed for a grisly murder in order to be sent to Terminal Island, where the Death Race is held, and don the mask of fan-fave Frankenstein who just secretly died in his last race so the warden (Joan Allen, yes, the Academy Award nominee Joan Allen) can boost ratings. Fast cars, tons of explosions, dudes fighting, and chicks in tiny outfits round out the usual action fare. Producer, writer, and director Paul W.S. Anderson (not the other Paul Anderson, mind you) gives audiences a quick and easy end-of-summer flick where you can get in, watch some shit explode (and some Statham abs flex!), and get out. Bing, bam, boom. Nothin' to it. Statham does what Statham does best. He growls, he punches, he flexes. Done and done. Ain't nothing too hard to swallow here, ain't nothing going to rewrite film history either. Although, make sure to leave young'uns and the elderly at home because Death Race isn't for the squeamish. Heads are lopped off and blood spews everywhere. Wouldn't be a Statham movie otherwise, but here it seems a wee bit gratuitous....