Loosely adapted from The Feather Men, an allegedly factional novel by Ranulph Fiennes (rather flatteringly played by Dion Mills in a brief scene) about the assassination of former SAS soldiers by a hit squad employed by a Dubai sheik seeing revenge for his son’s death, and the clandestine organisation that came to Fiennes’ aid, with a cast list headed by Jason Statham. Clive Owen and Robert De Niro this had the potential to be a cracking action-conspiracy yarn.

Unfortunately, despite a punchy opening, it quickly reveals itself to be the movie equivalent of an airport pot boiler. It does the job you buy it for, but you leave it on the seat when your flight’s called. 

Assassins for hire, Statham and mentor De Niro are carrying out a hit in Mexico when, discovering the mark he’s just riddled with bullets had his kid in the car with him, the former decides he’s lost the stomach for the job and takes off to start a new, non killer life in the Australian outback.

However, no sooner has he taken up with attractive but redundant plot device Yvonne Strahovski (who exists solely so she can wonder what’s in his enigmatic past) than he learns his old mate’s been taken hostage by some oil sheik who wants revenge on the SAS squad who killed his three sons. The deal being that Statham hunts them down, takes them out and delivers proof of kill, or De Niro gets wasted.

So with Bobby spending the bulk of the film counting his pay cheque, our Jase sets about tracking down those responsible. Now, former SAS men with a shared connection don’t die in suspicious accidental circumstances without it attracting someone’s attention. In this case, a shadowy organisation of Whitehall suits keen to keep certain things under wraps and protect those involved. Enter Owen sporting a moustache found in the make-up locker of an old British WWII movie, as the organisation’s watchdog tasked with taking Statham out of the equation.

It sounds simple enough, but the script introduces twists and turns that its first time writers are just not capable of handling, piling up layers of misdirection and secret agendas one moment and then tearing gaping holes in the plot the next. Motivation barely gets a look in. And, why on earth can’t De Niro, who would seem to be the dog’s bollocks of assassins, simply extricate himself from what appears to be pretty shoddy security in the first place.

Owen looks understandably perplexed about what’s actually going on, but does a decent enough job with a hugely underwritten character while Statham does precisely what you hire Statham to do.  Even when he’s tied to a chair. But it’s a huge waste of star wattage. Owen and Statham eventually do go one on one, though the film’s almost over by then, and the only time the three leads appear together they just stand around talking. Who pays to see that? Or hear lines like ‘we end this today’. Which may well have been a sigh on relief on the last day of shooting rather than actually in the script.

But, as I say, it does the job of supplying firefights and fisticuffs in assorted global locations while reinforcing cynicism about Western military interests in oil rich countries and how you can’t trust politicians with vested interests outside the corridors of power. But then you already saw Green Zone, right.