A Working Man

It’s not more than 10 minutes into A Working Man before Jason Statham is dispatching about a half-dozen random hooligans with a pickaxe.

Of course, as Statham’s latest action vehicle proceeds, there are plenty more bad guys to bludgeon and plenty more weapons to employ. Yet even with those modest expectations in mind, this vigilante thriller feels particularly lazy and uninspired.

Every character and scenario comes right off the assembly line in this ultraviolent saga co-written by Sylvester Stallone and directed by David Ayer (Suicide Squad), from its kidnapping plot to its barrage of cartoonish villains.

Statham plays Levon, a Chicago construction foreman and former military man still dealing with the effects of PTSD. His contemptuous father-in-law (Richard Heap) is restricting visitation with Levon’s young daughter (Isla Gie) after Levon’s wife committed suicide.

His job provides an outlet until Jenny (Arianna Rivas), the teenage daughter of his boss (Michael Pena), is abducted, prompting a plea for him to spring into action. “I’m gonna bring her home,” Levon pledges.

Forced to confront his past, he proceeds to infiltrate a human trafficking ring tied to the Russian Mafia, exposing organized criminal conspiracies and corrupt cops along the way. After knocking off the sons of a ruthless kingpin (Andrej Kaminsky), the resourceful Levon becomes a target.

A Working Man lacks subtlety and surprise, yet it’s also missing any underlying suspense, compelling twists, or emotional depth regarding its timely theme or Levon’s path to personal redemption.

The story merely moves from one confrontation to the next with considerably more brawn than brains, and any rooting interest stemming from Levon’s adversaries resembling cardboard cutouts with no other function or motive other than just being a creepy sleazebag.

From a visual standpoint, the film’s use of Canadian locales to stand in for Chicago are particularly sloppy and unconvincing.

Statham brings his usual brooding charisma and physical bravado to a character well within his comfort zone, in a film that could be positioned unfortunately as a franchise launchpad.

Stallone presumably adapted the 2014 novel by comic-book writer Chuck Dixon originally for himself to star. Hopefully the reason that never came to fruition was not due to age, but common sense.

Rated R, 116 minutes.