Haters Be Damned: Jason Statham Is a Hollywood Treasure

GOOD BUZZ

“The Beekeeper” is getting all the good buzz (heh) that the action star has always deserved.

Jason Statham
Photo Illustration by Luis G. Rendon/The Daily Beast/MGM/Alamy/Universal

They say life has certain inevitabilities—death, taxes, and Jason Statham opening up a can of whoop-ass. But for as long and as consistently as Jason Statham has demolished his enemies in movies, his talents have gone taken for granted by audiences and undersung—or dismissed—by many of his critics, who often see his films as same-y, predictable, or outright bad. With the release of his latest film, The Beekeeper, Statham should put any lingering doubt about his career to rest: He’s not only one of our greatest action heroes, but his ass-kicking skills are a vital joy of modern cinema.

To hear Statham called “underappreciated” may be surprising to you. His filmography has made more than a billion dollars, with Statham starring as the lead in several big action franchises. And he’s incredible in so many of them: In The Transporter, he gets oiled up in a parking garage and beats the crap out of a seemingly infinite array of enemies; in Crank, he fights an assailant while dangling out, and then falling out of, a helicopter, snapping his neck mid-air; and in The Meg, he punches a freaking shark in the face and lives to tell the tale.

But The Beekeeper is Statham’s career at its apex, a fun movie that shows off everything that has made him such a bankable, likable lead in Hollywood. Statham is Adam Clay, a man who (you’ll never guess) keeps bees. He lives a secluded life, renting a space in Eloise’s (Phylicia Rashad) garage so he can tend to his precious bees in peace. He’s very happy to be there: “I just want to thank you for putting up with me… and all of my bees,” Clay tells her. It’s a line that’s completely inane, but Statham delivers it with the confidence of a genuinely grateful man. That’s his M.O. as an actor: He’s always sincere, never above the material, and will always give his all—even in a film that’s hopelessly devoted to bee puns.

When Eloise falls victim to a scam that empties her bank accounts, Clay embarks on a ruthless and relentless revenge scheme to get justice for Eloise. For you see, Clay isn’t just an ordinary beekeeper(!). He’s a former operative for a vicious secret organization called Beekeepers(!!). Let the ass-kicking commence.

When Clay finally speaks to Derek (Josh Hutcherson, having a lot of fun being evil), the leader of the criminal scammers he’s hunting on the phone, he’s struck by Derek’s voice. “You sound young. I bet you don’t have estate planning,” Clay threatens. “I’m 28. Why would I need that?” Derek asks. Clay: “I’m about to show you,” and then he hangs up. It’s deliberately silly and over-the-top, but Statham’s line readings are downright heroic, using something as dorky as freaking estate planning to set up the most savage condemnation you’ve ever heard. It takes a genuine legend to give such corny dialogue a sense of genuine threat, but it feels effortless when Statham delivers it.

Statham also—obviously—has an incredible physicality, which makes all the difference in The Beekeeper. His aggressive stare is enough to make you give up your deepest secrets, and he’s built like a brick house, which gives every heavy punch he delivers an extra oomph. He’s also known for doing his own stunts, which lends a vital authenticity when you watch him in one inexplicable fight scene to the next. The Beekeeper lets him be especially brutal—in one wince-worthy moment, he chokes a man so hard with a gun that his tooth pops out and flies at the camera. In another, he ties a guy to a car, launching it off a bridge all while Derek’s on the phone listening. Watching Statham commit is one of the great pleasures of moviegoing, and in The Beekeeper, he commits so thoroughly that watching him is a genuine marvel.

(L to R): Jason Statham as Clay and Jeremy Irons as Wallace Westwyld in director David Ayer's The Beekeeper.

(L to R): Jason Statham as Clay and Jeremy Irons as Wallace Westwyld in director David Ayer's The Beekeeper.

Daniel Smith

Statham is the definition of committing to the bit, movie-going magic incarnate. He combines the charisma of a leading man while making you buy into the delicious nonsense his films are peddling. As he makes his way through the call center, beating the snot out of these criminals with various office paraphernalia, it feels simultaneously impossible yet like you could maybe do it too, and that’s because he makes it all look so easy.

The Beekeeper wisely leans into Statham’s cipher quality, which allows us to see him as whoever we want him to be. Like many of Staham’s characters, Clay is a man of few words. Besides a few basics—he makes his own orange juice; he likes bees; he can kill people—we don’t know much about him. With limited dialogue, the actor instead creates depth through his body. As he fights, we learn more and more of what he’s capable of, and by extension, we understand who Clay is, while never losing sight of Statham’s relatability.

These qualities make Clay one of Statham’s most interesting characters. A lot of that is because of his brilliant committed performance, but also because Clay is obsessed with taking down a group of scammers that take advantage of old people. If there’s one thing that unites us all in times of massive political division, it’s that scammers are the very worst. Who hasn’t imagined taking them down? Thanks to Statham, that vision is brought to vivid, gory light. Through Clay’s fists, Statham creates a man you love to root for.

Jason Statham stands out for his incredible commitment, remarkable physicality, and everyman stature—and these aspects shine especially bright in The Beekeeper. This is a movie that fully appreciates everything that makes Statham a tremendous action hero, relying on him heavily to get the job done, which he does with ease. For those who doubt what Statham is capable of, The Beekeeper provides undeniable evidence that Statham is an action superstar.

Got a tip? Send it to The Daily Beast here.