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“Death Race” is boring.

In fact, compared to “Death Race 2000″ — which starred David Carradine and Sylvester Stallone as two of the baddest bastards to chew pavement — it’s downright dull.

Instead of a coast-to-coast race across America, the schlubs in “Death Race” are competing on a closed course. Instead of a fearsome hero with “a one hundred percent red-blooded American sense of humor,” we get some bald, British dude.

Where the 1975 original was schlocky fun at its finest, this remake is surprisingly milquetoast.

Jason Statham plays Jensen Ames, a retired race car driver whose crappy life is about to get a little crappier.

After mysterious masked strangers invade his home and knock him out, Ames wakes up to find his wife murdered and infant daughter missing. (He was framed, of course!)

Forget due process or a fair trial. Ames heads straight to Terminal Prison, where prisoners compete in pay-per-view “death races” in armored muscle cars.

Survive the race and you win your freedom. Lose, and you lose your life.

The whole thing is overseen by Warden Hennessey (Joan Allen), who — when she’s not condemning men to death — seems to spend a lot of time stomping around in tailored suits and stilettos.

Turns out, Ames isn’t there by accident. Hennessey needs someone to take up the mantle of popular racer Frankenstein, and Ames — who just happens to be a former NASCAR superstar — fits the bill.

His steed? The Monster, a converted Ford Mustang with James Bond-style gadgets and a wicked set of wheels. His co-pilot? A cleavage-baring Latina (Natalie Martinez).

Ames’ toughest foes are also the stuff of stereotypes: “Tokyo Drift”-style racers, Russians, Arabs and Machine Gun Joe, a homicidal gang banger who happens to be gay (Tyrese Gibson, reprising his role from “2 Fast 2 Furious”) .

We know Joe is gay because somebody mentions this fact in EVERY STINKIN’ SCENE. Plot points aren’t hinted at in “Death Race”; they’re sent by semaphore.

“Death Race” comes to us courtesy of Paul W.S. Anderson, the guy behind “Mortal Kombat,” “Event Horizon” and the “Resident Evil” movies.

As you’d expect from such a pedigree, Anderson favors flashy action over plot exposition and dialog. That might be a good thing where alien uglies and martial arts fighters are involved. But when you’re dealing with a movie that brushes against such social issues as modern entertainment standards and the penal system, some introspection might be nice.

The cast isn’t much help, either.

Joan Allen spends the movie in brainless bitch mode, her lipsticked mouth in a permanent pursed scowl. Statham spends more time flexing than acting. Not even Ian McShane, the mean ol’ cuss from “Deadwood,” can bring much bite to “Death Race.”

Worst of all, for a R-rated movie produced by Roger Corman, there’s surprisingly little gore — only a couple unpleasant car accidents. Whatever happened to running down pedestrians for 20 points a pop?

I want to see luckless convicts spattered on the pavement. Mangled bodies. Blood. Twisted hunks of metal.

This ain’t no “Death Race.” This is a stroll through through the frikkin’ park.

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Photo courtesy of MovieWeb.com.