The Beekeeper is one of those instances where the true limitation of the star ratings system becomes glaringly apparent. By any normal standard it is a pretty woeful movie: poorly-written, ludicrously plotted, unfeasibly dumb. And it’s an absolute blast. What’s a critic to do?

Jason Statham is Adam Clay, a beekeeper living a solitary life on the farm of Eloise (Phylicia Rashad). When Eloise dies by suicide Clay discovers that she was the victim of a ruthless phishing scam. It turns out that the unassuming Clay is actually a former operative of an ultra-secret organisation know as the ‘Beekeepers’. As he works his way up the chain of those responsible for the scam, he discovers it goes higher than he could have possibly have imagined.

It’s difficult to describe just how stupid The Beekeeper is. But given those involved (Statham, and director David Ayer of the excellent End of Watch and Fury), you can only assume that there’s more than a little self-awareness at work. Because it’s surely not possible that makes so little sense was not on purpose.

The silliness is endless. The ex-‘beekeeper’ being an actual beekeeper is a ludicrous premise for a start, Eloise’s daughter Verona (Emmy Raver-Lampman) is coincidentally an FBI agent, then she’s allowed to investigate the case. Josh Hutcherson shows up as the hammiest villain since Eddie Redmayne in Jupiter Ascending as the tech bro billionaire behind the phishing scams Not only that, it turns out he has familial links to the highest echelons of government. Oh, and he’s also being aided by the ex-director of the CIA, Jeremy Irons. And this is solidly House of Gucci Irons, not Dead Ringers Irons.

And here’s the crux. All of that is terrible. And it’s also brilliant. Statham going through the motions is still a treat – and this is far more fun than the equally daft, but unforgivably dull The Meg 2. The fight scenes are genuinely brutal and well-handled, because David Ayer is very adept at intimate, gnarly action. There is one of the funniest deaths you’ll ever see. There are comedy South African mercenaries. Irons’ advice to Hutcherson consists of endless plummy variations of, ‘Well, you’re fucked.’ There’s another operative of the – we’re told – top-secret Beekeepers, who decides to attack Clay with a minigun at a petrol station. It’s surely not possible to judge it at face value.

As daft takes on the one-man army genre that Arnie on which Arnie used to have the monopoly, it’s done with a tongue-in-cheek flair and a cheeky grin. In Liverpool, they’ve been known to use the phrase, ‘Shit boss’ as a succinct label for something so bad it’s good. That just about sums it up as nicely as anything else in the 500 words of this review. Frankly, The Beekeeper is as resistant to serious criticism as its protagonist is to bullets. Leave your brain at the door, and enjoy.

In selected cinemas from Fri 12 Jan 2024