What do you do when a ninja breaks into your home, frames you for the murder of your wife and taunts you with a finger-gun motion?

For Jensen (Jason Statham), the answer is obvious.

Enter the prison-sponsored, pay-per-view demolition derby, kill the ninja during one of the races -- confirming it's him when he once again taunts you with the finger-gun -- and win your freedom.

Because in the future, racing skill trumps a life sentence.

In a way you've got to respect a movie that keeps a straight face and tosses out a line like "I want you to be Frankenstein," expecting the audience to nod accordingly and grip the armrests.

You've also got to respect a studio for daring to remake the brilliantly awful "Death Race 2000," which is as tough a prospect as redoing "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" or "Freaks." You're setting yourself up for failure.

And failure is what "Death Race" is greased with.

Failure courses through the pistons, pumps through the engine and out the exhaust pipe. The movie plays like it's based on a video game that wasn't good enough to have been made.

So many illogical things occur that when something that makes sense happens, it throws you off.

Thankfully, that's rarely an issue. So you're OK with Jensen, agreeing to assume the identity of the deceased fan-favorite driver Frankenstein, gleefully driving with a navigator who admitted to have helped kill the old Frankenstein.

The racing action is intense and dramatic, and a post-film message informs you not to repeat the stunts you've seen. I'll be sure to keep that in mind next time I'm swerving my armored mini-tank into a 180-degree turn in the middle of the street, aiming my rocket-propelled grenades at a tailgater who's blasting me with a machine gun.

Remember, kids -- of all the life lessons you glean from "Death Race," be sure to filter out its driving instruction.