Killer Elite

Rated: R (some nudity and sexuality, language, and assassin-related violence)

“Killer Elite’’ is based on a true story and about a half-dozen Jason Statham movies. Conveniently, it stars Statham as a man-for-hire who drives mysterious cargo across Europe in the trunk of a sedan.

Wait, that’s him in “The Transporter.’’ Let me see. Oh. Yes. Here he’s Danny Bryce, an assassin-for-hire who wants out of the assassin-for-hire business but is dragged back in for One More Job after an Omani sheik kidnaps his old buddy and partner in vigilantism (Robert De Niro). The ailing sheik (Rodney Afif, badly made up) bears a passing resemblance to Osama bin Laden and insists that Statham hunt down the agents in the clandestine British Special Forces that killed his sons.

Honestly, from here it’s all a blur, and not one to be entirely confused with Sam Peckinpah’s “The Killer Elite,’’ another tale of agents and death. The “true story’’ of the new film remains in dispute. The source material is “The Feather Men’’ by the British soldier and explorer Sir Ranulph Fiennes. Fiennes has described his literary mode as “factional.’’ The movie, written by Matt Sherring, goes out of its way to insist on the truth while conjuring an element of government-agent intrigue. In doing so, Sherring closes the gap between reality and such Statham adventures as “Death Race’’ and “Crank: High Voltage.’’

As a Statham character is wont to do, Danny daydreams about the woman he left behind and rejoins some former teammates - Aden Young and an enjoyably greasy Dominic Purcell, who’s better here than he is as the town dimwit in the current “Straw Dogs’’ remake. Statham does some driving and has a couple of decently choreographed fights with Clive Owen, whose comrades Danny’s been picking off. But he often looks bored or baffled. Both are understandable. It’s impossible to keep track of who’s who and why what’s happening is happening. With some assassin exercises that’s to be expected. Then, however, the film has to give you something in exchange for your confusion. Bravura, lunacy, the sense that someone in front of the camera or somewhere behind it is having a good time.

Gary McKendry hadn’t directed a feature before this one, and you feel it. Any scene that fails to involve the revving of motors or the breaking of bones is dead.