If you’re going to see a movie starring Jason Statham, you should already expect the mental workout. Hence, Homefront made me speed-eat popcorn and refuse a bathroom trip until the end. But… BUT, when you also cast him as the loving dad in a worn out baseball cap who just happens to have a secret skill in military-grade hand-to-hand combat, Homefront becomes something of a stunner.
Okay, before I go any farther, I have to reveal to those that don’t know… Sylvester Stallone wrote this screenplay. As an advocate for not watching trailers beforehand, I honestly didn’t know this until it came up on the opening credits. At that point, I couldn’t reign in my verbal outburst and set myself up for a laughable disappointment.
His version of the story (which, I will redeem by saying it is based on a novel) is about an undercover drug raid gone bad (and Statham with the nastiest long hair I’ve ever seen). The DEA relocates him to the bayou where he hopes to disappear with his daughter into a simpler life of home renovation and horseback riding. Unfortunately, the town he’s chosen (Rayville, LA) isn’t necessarily off the meth grid. In fact, it’s pretty much the worst place he could have gone. Inevitably, small town feuds lead to secrets coming out, people coming after Statham and fists coming hard, to his face—not to mention the rebar, the two-by-fours and whatever else “these rednecks” can use as a weapon in the swamp.
There are no life-changing performances in this one (despite a fun cast of a creepy meth lord Franco, a strung-out, potty-mouth version of Kate Bosworth and the usual witchy Winona Ryder) but it’s a fun watch. In fact, it’s what every Oscar-nom binger out there needs to stay cinematically humble. Plus, if you’ve got a pulse, Statham is worth watching do anything.