In the south of France, former special-ops mercenary Frank Martin enters into a game of chess with a femme-fatale and her three sidekicks who are looking for revenge against a sinister Russian kingpin.
Frank Martin puts the driving gloves on to deliver Valentina, the kidnapped daughter of a Ukrainian government official, from Marseilles to Odessa on the Black Sea. En route, he has to contend with thugs who want to intercept Valentina's safe delivery and not let his personal feelings get in the way of his dangerous objective.
A gun-for-hire known only as Agent 47 hired by a group known only as 'The Organization' is ensnared in a political conspiracy, which finds him pursued by both Interpol and the Russian military as he treks across Russia and Eastern Europe.
Mei, a young girl whose memory holds a priceless numerical code, finds herself pursued by the Triads, the Russian mob, and corrupt NYC cops. Coming to her aid is an ex-cage fighter whose life was destroyed by the gangsters on Mei's trail.
Barney augments his team with new blood for a personal battle: to take down Conrad Stonebanks, the Expendables co-founder and notorious arms trader who is hell bent on wiping out Barney and every single one of his associates.
A thief with a unique code of professional ethics is double-crossed by his crew and left for dead. Assuming a new disguise and forming an unlikely alliance with a woman on the inside, he looks to hijack the score of the crew's latest heist.
Frank Martin, played by newcomer Ed Skrein, a former special-ops mercenary, is now living a less perilous life - or so he thinks - transporting classified packages for questionable people. When Frank's father (Ray Stevenson) pays him a visit in the south of France, their father-son bonding weekend takes a turn for the worse when Frank is engaged by a cunning femme-fatale, Anna (Loan Chabanol), and her three seductive sidekicks to orchestrate the bank heist of the century. Frank must use his covert expertise and knowledge of fast cars, fast driving and fast women to outrun a sinister Russian kingpin, and worse than that, he is thrust into a dangerous game of chess with a team of gorgeous women out for revenge. From the producers of LUCY and the TAKEN trilogy, THE TRANSPORTER REFUELED is a fresh personification of the iconic role of Frank Martin, that launches the high-octane franchise into the present-day and introduces it to the next generation of thrill-seekers.Written by
Written by Frank Sark
Kosinus / K Musik See more »
Refueled is the type of garbage that not even a hungry hobo would risk touching.
One man's trash, another man's treasure and all that, scavengers rummaging through garbage are always optimistic about finding something of value. Not here. Before I begin to hack this film to pieces (to find anything of value of course), let's start with an old school adage – Point blame at someone and there's always three fingers pointing back at you. In relating that saying to this fourth installment of The Transporter franchise, as long as cinema goers are dumb enough to pay hard earned money to watch just about anything, then absolute junk will be recycled over and over again. For The Transporter Refueled, that's just the outer layer of decomposition.
With none of the cast and crew from the previous films, Refueled runs on fumes even before it goes into first gear. Replacing Jason Statham as the titular protagonist, Ed Skrein's Frank Martin often says "buckle up". Problem is, the film doesn't budge past the first gear and neither does the Audi A8 that replaces the BMW 7-series, the Mercedes S-class or the Lamborghini Murciélago from the previous films. Very early in the film, the Audi does a cool trick until it immediately dawns on you that a Pontiac Trans Am called "Kitt" did this trick over thirty years ago. And while the previous films were an exhibition of brawn over brain, this pathetic excuse of an action film has neither, nor does it seem to care. Somewhere between an elaborate plan where prostitutes revolt against their pimps, the so called action consists of hand-to-hand combat and three car chases. Blink and you'll miss the third chase – Martin on a jetski versus the villain in a Mercedes G-class on land! Equally cringe worthy is the father-son bonding (Ray Stevens as Martin's dad) which is as effective as securing a square peg in a round hole. Dig deeper and you'll find that Refueled is not only poorly scripted, acted and directed to such an appalling extent, it's very making is a blatant insult to anyone paying to watch this film. But if you do watch this garbage, don't say I didn't warn you.
If you can sit through it, the stench of vomit lasts about 90 minutes. Unfortunately, cinemas don't come with barf bags like airplanes do, so passing your popcorn bucket to the next person is the only way viewers can relieve themselves of nausea. On the positive side, it must be noted that there's hope for film school rejects. If anything, Refueled is a classic example that any Tom, Dick and Harriet can make a movie. I can just imagine the hiring notice for the fifth film - Apply within, no skill required.
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