Even though Delamarre's film is as absurd a spectacle as McCarthy's pratfall-heavy comedy, it takes itself too seriously, with a stiff upper lip – just as its British lead is wont to do. In truth, The Transporter Refueled could take a cue from Spy and learn to lighten up. This is the fourth in the improbably long Transporter series, with Skrein replacing Jason Statham, who still has skin in the action-movie game, having recently played a lovable doofus alongside Melissa McCarthy in Spy. But for all its high-speed car chases and extravagant stunts, director Camille Delamarre's reboot of the Transporter franchise is as punctilious as Frank himself – glossy in finish but a little uptight. Being on time is Frank's raison d'être and an occupational necessity: He is a "transporter," the discreet guy you get to move your precious (contraband) goods from point A to point B along the French Riviera. Dapper in a crisp black suit and sleek watch, Frank Martin (Ed Skrein) keeps company with criminals, MI6 agents and prostitution kingpins, but he gets his thrills from watching the clock.
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