Review: Death Race

On a for-profit prison located at the end of a long causeway, men in cars—customized with 30mm machine guns and napalm—race around vacant docks and decaying warehouses. Winners are promised their freedom. Seventy million subscribers watch the three-day race via a live stream on the Internet. In the year 2012 this costs subscribers $99 per day, but you can pay less to view “Death Race.” Back in the year 2000, when the 1975 film “Death Race 2000” was set, fans watched for free. Both showcased a star racer named Frankenstein whose multiple injuries and surgeries necessitated a mask. David Carradine played the original. Back in that day, the racers were not prisoners. They crossed the country, scoring points for hitting the unwary on foot. Now Jason Statham plays a new incarnation of Frankenstein. Once a NASCAR champ, he’s laid off from a blue-collar rustbelt job. That very night a masked intruder slays his wife. The out-of-work ex-driver is framed and imprisoned so he can keep alive the franchise. Paul W. S. Anderson (“Mortal Kombat,” Resident Evil,” “AVP: Alien vs. Predator”) writes and directs this loud, blunt, macho pulp ride without a trace of the wit that executive producer Roger Corman laced the original. With Tyrese Gibson, Ian McShane, Joan Allen and Natalie Martinez. 97m. (Bill Stamets)