"God, I love the French," bellows the American ambassador to France (Richard Durden) to his assistant, James Reece (Jonathan Rhys Meyers), unaware that Reece is moonlighting as an undercover agent — or something. After watching the latest action thriller from Pierre Morel (Taken), I'm still not sure.
A mysterious voice on a phone (who?) delivers orders to Reece, the latest of which sends him to spring Charlie Wax (John Travolta: bald, fat, goateed and looking like a gay biker) out of customs, where he's spewing variations on the word "mothuhfuckuh." Free at last, Charlie proclaims his love for France — but only if you're Caucasian, since America's "top operative" gleefully shoots, stabs, or blows up every Chinese or Pakistani minority member in sight.
Blame scenarist/producer Luc Besson, whose women are either whores or terrorists. Besson may be from Paris, but his idea of love is laced with bile.
