In 2005, Transporter 2 director Louis Leterrier suggested that the main character of the Transporter series, Frank Martin (Jason Statham), is gay. Homophobic action-movie fans nearly wet their little pink panties over the suggestion—many pointing out that Martin made out with a woman in the first film, as though gay men have never swapped spit with ladies under duress. With the third installment of the series, the sexuality question is beaten to death: Freckly Ukrainian sexpot/plot device Valentina (Natalya Rudakova, beautiful and occasionally lifelike) outright asks Martin if he's "the gay," and he categorically denies it. And then, as if to provide breeder credibility, he falls madly in love with the pouty redhead.
Even if Martin wasn't the first gay action hero, he was at least the first OCD one, and Statham always portrayed a certain fussy joy in the way he would pick at his pristine and perfectly fitted suits and shiny black Audi. That personality is part of why Transporter 2 was a pretty good dumb action movie and far superior to the first film. Moments of 3 recall that earlier glory.
The premise—that Martin and Valentina have bracelets that will explode if they wander more than 75 feet from their car—is so stupid as to be completely likable. And a few sequences are pure dumb action heroin, especially one that finds Martin chasing after the car on a bicycle and a later underwater scene that's so implausible it must've been written by a coke-addled three-year-old. But Robert Knepper's bad guy, who wants to kill us all with toxic waste or something, isn't worth building a movie around. And the beginning and end lag terribly. By the time Statham trades out his natty suit for a comfy, ugly fleece, his character has lost all his endearing tics and imperfections. He's become just another generic action hero, and there's no reason on earth why anyone—straight or gay—should care.