Taking a breather from the imperiling of Gerard Butler — their latest collaboration “Greenland 2: Migration” opened just three weeks ago — director Ric Roman Waugh puts Jason Statham through a similar action wringer in “Shelter.” This mix of espionage intrigue, shoot-outs and rather rote sentimentality has the star as a recluse revealed as a fugitive, who then must flee an army of deadly pursuers while protecting a teenaged innocent (Bodhi Rae Breathnach from “Hamnet”). None of these elements feel very fresh, least of all in Ward Parry’s formulaic screenplay. But they’re executed with sufficient slick professionalism to make for a passable if unmemorable diversion.
A man we eventually learn is called Mason (Statham) lives alone on an otherwise uninhabited small island in the Outer Hebrides off Scotland’s west coast. His presence is a mystery; the lighthouse one initially assumes he maintains has been inoperable for years. All he seems to do is drink, play chess with himself, and accept weekly deliveries of supplies (mostly booze) from the owner of a fishing trawler (Michael Shaeffer) and his orphaned niece Jessie (Breathnach). She grows irked that this surly, stand-offish stranger refuses any overture of friendliness. Yet they’re thrown together soon enough, when she and her uncle get caught in a storm. Mason has to rescue the girl, then tell her that her only remaining relative has drowned. At first she fears she is now some creep’s captive, as her host is evasive about returning to the mainland. But he has other reasons for that wariness.
Forced to visit a pharmacy himself in order to treat her wounds, Mason is spotted by the pervasive hidden spyware that’s just gotten the Prime Minister (Harriet Walter) and current MI6 chief Manafort (Bill Nighy) in hot water with Parliament. To quell that scandal around governmental invasion of public privacy, Manafort agrees to “retire.” Nonetheless, he orders a full assault team to track and exterminate this newly-found “most wanted” criminal, a purported international terrorist. Heavy armed hordes sporting night-vision gear invade the island — only to find it booby-trapped, their prey quite capable of dispatching the lot single-handedly. However, surviving that immediate crisis only means Mason must flee with the now equally-imperiled Jessie, trying to stay one step ahead of various hunting parties.
They include both legit law enforcement and “rogue” units under Manafort’s direction. It doesn’t take long for two of his more principled subordinates (Naomi Ackie, Celine Buckens) to realize Mason is no terrorist, but a onetime M16 agent framed by former colleagues for the offense of refusing some particularly dastardly commands. Now of course those ex-allies want him — and anyone unlucky enough to cross his path — dead in order to keep their own past misdeeds covered up.
This “Bourne”-like premise, hinging on a near-unkillable protagonist whose existence incriminates corrupt state officials, doesn’t develop much intricacy in Parry’s script. Instead, it simply provides an excuse to lunge from one action setpiece to another. Everywhere man and child seek safety becomes the scene of a siege: A farmhouse, a former colleague’s (Daniel Mays) rural home, eventually a private London nightclub.
Heavy on bullets, knives, miscellaneous household items (not excluding a nailgun) and punches thrown, these violent sequences are vigorous and stunt-filled. But they lack the conceptual or staging novelty to linger in the mind. And between melees, we’re stuck trying to believe in or care about the evolving bond between brusque loner Mason and needy adolescent Jessie, which does not benefit from pedestrian dialogue or flat character psychology.
Statham, as ever, has scant trouble convincing us he’d be able to thwart an endless line of lethal assailants. Waugh keeps the tone sober enough to prevent that from growing ludicrous, however short on credibility this story may be in general. But the cocksure authority that makes this actor so effective an action figure does little to sell the glibly penned “parental” dynamic between leads. Breathnach, who played ill-fated Hamnet’s older sister and here resembles adolescent Saoirse Ronan, is trapped by a part that requires little more than cowering and whining. The highly capable support cast (also featuring Bryan Vigier as Manafort’s most dogged hitman) likewise can’t do much to elevate routinely conceived roles, with Nighy punching the clock as a stock villain.
Still, “Shelter” has energy, good pacing, and solid production values…even if neither style or content achieve the distinguishing personality that might make you remember this generically-titled entertainment a week later. Irish locations stand in for some purported Scottish ones in Martin Ahlgren’s widescreen cinematography. (Closing credits thank 1970s celebrity psychic Uri Geller for “filming at Lamb Island,” the tiny land mass he owns, and has claimed hides buried ancient Egyptian treasure.) David Buckley, composer for Waugh’s last several films, contributes a score that’s functional if nondescript until it moves into thumping techno terrain for the last reel.
English (US) ·