The Expendables was the last Jason Statham movie I watched. As you can imagine, it was hard to come back from that. For days afterward I would weep at the sight of a theater and cry openly when I smelled popcorn. The misery felt eternal, unfathomable, all consuming.

Eventually, after a great deal of rehabilitation (Don Coscarelli movies, mostly) I was able to return to the theater, though I still winced at the sound of cinematic machine-gun fire.

My restored constitution and the lack of new releases in the local theaters conspired to get me out of the house to watch the Mechanic today. The good news is, I’m still standing. I’m okay.

Let me start by saying that it isn’t a catastrophe. As action flicks go, it’s entertaining. The plot is fast paced, leaving almost no down time, and you don’t need me to tell you that Jason Statham makes a fine action star – you already know that, I’m sure; it seems everyone in the world has seen the Transporter movies but me.

The thing about movies like The Mechanic – or The Expendables, for that matter – is that those that pay to see them generally understand what they’re getting in to. If you pay to see The Mechanic, you’ll get your money’s worth. You’ll get dudes shooting other dudes, blowing things up, doing kung-fu, and doing all manner of violent dudely activities; it’ll be everything you want and need. No person will ever walk out of The Mechanic saying “It just didn’t make me consider the medium of film as much as I had hoped.” And if they do, they meant to see another movie.

Having said all of this, there is still one thought-provoking thing we can draw from The Mechanic, and from action movies in general. Let my explain by painting you a mental picture of the hero (Statham’s character) in The Mechanic. Behold the following bullet-points:

• The Mechanic works as a professional killer.
• The Mechanic murders his mentor, with whom he was very close.
• The Mechanic threatens a man’s family (wife and child) for information at one point.
• The Mechanic murders a great deal of people – even those he’s not paid to murder.

Call me crazy, but the question with which I’m left after examining the personality traits of the Mechanic is this: In what universe is this fruitcake considered a hero?

I’m not naïve. I understand that he’s not meant to be a knight in shining armor; but this is the person for whom the movie asks us to cheer. How does it not feel odd while we’re strapping the label of hero on a character that’s essentially a mass-murderer? And we’re asked to do this an awful lot when you really think about it.

The bottom line is that many of our movies love to romanticize things that aren’t really that romantic. Whether it’s murderous heroes or prostitutes turned princesses, Hollywood certainly has an interesting perspective on what makes for a decent protagonist. I’m not complaining, exactly, but more observing; I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve allowed myself – and will allow myself again in the future - to be fooled into buying these characters; but I think it’s important to recognize the lie for what it is.

So, as you sit in the darkened theater watching The Mechanic turn some poor lackey’s head into a cloud of red mist, or toss some henchman into the path of an oncoming car, or kick some random schlub to death with his feet of fury, just keep in mind the fact that he’s probably a dink, and you most likely wouldn’t want to hang out with him, even for a few minutes.