Jason Statham just turned 47. In 1998, at age 31, he made his screen debut in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, in which he and three pals were identified as tyros, novices, all clearly too young to handle a weighty issue of any kind. And this August, Jason was identified in a group of overripe, aged battle warriors who Barney (Sylvester Stallone) has let go to protect their golden years. This has to be among the shortest (male) runs between theoretic “noob” and “has been” in Hollywood history. I wonder if this is how actresses feel. Calling Amanda Bynes … Miss Amanda Bynes, where are you?
Something that rarely gets passed around the Hollywood rules table is the fact that, generally, youngsters play heroes, elder statesmen play villains. I think that’s one of the keys to The Expendables success – Stallone has collected a generous number of ancient relics to fill his museum of action history, but crossed convention by keeping them all in “hero” status. (‘Sly and the Antique Bones?’) This way, we can continue to root for Harrison Ford, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Wesley Snipes, Antonio Banderas, Jet Li, and other random pieces of expensive furniture in the Hollywood lawn sale.
Well, except for one guy – somebody has to be a bad guy. Mel Gibson has so successfully transformed from hero to villain, one wonders if his anti-Semitism and “Sugar tits” comments were carefully planned for the next stage in his acting career. He shows up in a helicopter at the end of action sequence #2 [read: ten minutes in]. And our collection of vintage trigger-happy hooligans actually takes a 
moment to relax and watch Stonebanks (Gibson) plug Terry Crews while everybody watches as if ammo and cover are foreign terms to mercenaries.
And then, the strangest thing happens – in a film which has seen at least fifty deaths already, Terry Crews taking a bullet to the chest is treated as a tragedy. No, really. There’s mourning; there’s weeping; there are bedside vigils. And Sly even disbands the A-ging Team in favor of fresh meat, because he can’t have the deaths of veteran killers on his hands.
NOW WAIT. Just wait. Are you trying to tell me that, contrary to titular belief, Terry Crews, is not, in fact “Expendable?” Doesn’t that contradict the entire premise? In fact, it seems to do so thrice-fold, no? I mean, this is Expendables THREE, suggesting the participants within are three times more expendabler than when we labeled them “Expendable” in the first place. In all seriousness — when you dispatch dozens of bad guys, presumably human beings as well, in one five-minute action sequence an in the very next scene mourn the non-fatal shooting of a mercenary? That only makes sense if you wrote the screenplay.
It’s hard to take any of this seriously. Of course, what did I expect? The opening has the gang busting Wesley Snipes out of a prison encased within a moving train. Wesley wants some revenge, and thus refuses the escape copter. But, and this is rich, truly rich – in this five car train that has seen death by copter, a steel clothesline trap, an armed encroachment, breakout and a few explosions in the rescue effort, there are still guys on car #2 who are keeping their posts (just so they can be killed by Snipes, of course).
What did I enjoy here? Antonio Banderas as a cloying motor-mouth wanting desperately to live a fulfilling life of killing dudes while babbling on. I also did enjoy the switch to noobs. No, I didn’t recognize them; maybe that was what I enjoyed about it. Oh, and a woman! Ronda Rousey was introduced to me by beating up a quartet of drunk morons in a nightclub. She did this while wearing a tight party dress and four-inch heels. I don’t care if it was a stuntman, or 100% fake (and, of course, it wasn’t). You try even line dancing in four-inch heels; it’s darn near impossible, much less beating up dudes. Enjoy the laud while you’ve got it, E3; there aren’t many here.
Look, if you’re old and, I dunno, a firm believer the 2nd amendment means you’re entitled to open carry in church or you truly believe Red Dawn is some sort of future documentary, this film will probably get you erect. Otherwise, this is yet another homage to cartoon violence in an already tired franchise.
A preponderance of “stars” who realize no ends
Blowin’ up shit bonding ‘cuz they’re dear old friends
To get satisfaction
Through wall-to-wall action
Make sure to bring bullets and Depends.
Rated PG-13, 126 Minutes
D: Patrick Hughes
W: Sylvester Stallone, Creighton Rothenberger & Katrin Benedikt
Genre: The anti-Bechdel
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: Do you like to pretend your gun is your penis?
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: Jane Austen
