Jason Statham gets beaten black and blue, as a homeless ex-commando on London's streets - and stumbles into the unoccupied apartment of a wealthy photographer, away in NYC for the next 6 months. He showers, changes into nice clothes, eats, and decides to grab the chance (and the unaware host's luxury car) and do something with his life. In a manner that smacks of hypocrisy, he helps peddle drugs for the Chinese ganglords, while getting the city rid of the scums who peddle drugs and women. He distributes his ill-gotten wealth among the poor and homeless, and to his ex-wife and daughter, and makes love to a nun. And six months later, when the photographer returns back to his apartment, he melts away back onto the streets. Like the Hummingbird UAVs in Afghanistan - silent, deadly, unnoticed. Like the Hummingbird in London that finally catches up to him.
Yes, there are some subtle messages. There is an admirable attempt by Statham to try something different. There is a brave attempt to project a pitifully thin and sick-looking woman in a nun's uniform as the love interest. But sitting through 100 painfully slow minutes, hoping the pace will pick up, and instead, watching him take a shower and get dressed... that is no fun.
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