With all this wishful talk of Idris Elba making a great next Bond, who knew, he would be even more suited to taking the mantle of Jason Statham? Bastille Day offers adequate evidence of this, casting Elba’s towering, hulking physique in a punchy, if not particularly ambitious, showcase while slipping him pithy one-liners to offset how scary he can actually be.
It’s the sort of unremarkable, by-the- numbers, borderline-DTV fare that Luc Besson’s EuropaCorp are fond of cranking out, but there’s also something comforting in its utter absence of narrative surprise. The film functions as an agreeable between-tentpoles tonic for anyone who fears low-to- mid-budget actioners have now been completely crowded out from the big screen.
The plot is hilariously stupid, a terror-themed, torturously elaborate contrivance from the 24/Homeland playbook that would fall apart the minute you think about it (there’s even a Mr Robot-style subplot involving riot incitement via hashtags). Fortunately, director James Watkins (The Woman in Black) — who still has a long way to go to shooting spatially coherent setpieces — paces the film with a swift purposefulness, never allowing things to quieten down too much until the next time we see Elba shoot or bash someone in the face.
Late Stark brother Richard Madden, as the wrong-place- at-the- wrong time pickpocket whom Elba’s CIA operative is buddied up with, struggles to match his co-star’s charisma. Their repartee, often trading quips about their respective rogue methods, strains for comic relief. A serviceable-enough vehicle for Elba, but now he’s more than proven his action chops, let’s put him in the next Mad Max or something.
