Eight films deep in this franchise, you best believe you know what you’re in for. Every insightful, reasoned criticism of this film can be easily brushed aside by yelling the word “CARS!” directly in the face of the critic saying it.
Head honcho car boy Dom Toretto (Vin Diesel) is enjoying his honeymoon in Cuba when he is made an offer he can’t refuse by the mysterious Cipher (Charlize Theron). Days later, on a high-stakes mission with the team, Dom goes rogue, presenting his makeshift ‘family’ with their greatest challenge yet – their own man turned against them.
(Full disclosure: this critic’s only previous encounter with the Fast And The Furious saga is 2006’s Tokyo Drift – huge thanks to F&F historian Tom Hogan for his insight into the mythology of the franchise. Having said that, knowledge of callback gags is hardly a necessity for this kind of film.)
F8 sees F. Gary Gray (of Straight Outta Compton fame) take the wheel from our boy James Wan, and Gray brings much of the polish of his last outing along with him. I could debate just how vital characterisation is for such a film, but… CARS! Diesel’s a big fan of the word ‘family’ when it comes to the crew, and it’s not hard to see why – the series regulars form a tight-knit team offered no introduction, and the audience instantly gets on board. It’s hard not to, considering they’re literally pursued by a wrecking ball within minutes of first appearing on screen.
Is there any problem that can’t be resolved by Dwayne Johnson doing a punch on it? Can torpedoes truly be redirected by hand?
After seven films together, these people don’t need excessive development. Nor do the cameo roles need much dialogue, with Helen Mirren’s cheeky appearance being a particular gem. It must be said that the franchise’s great strength is in its unspoken diversity, true of both cast and crew. There are no Power Rangers-esque nods to how progressive the filmmakers are; just a bunch of different people blowing shit up as a family.
Subtlety is not in F&F’s wheelhouse, nor should it be. In fact, F8’s appeal is in its total lack of adherence to anything resembling nuance, or even the laws of physics. Cipher is your classic ’90s hacker depiction, whose touch-typing skills can give her total control over every car in New York City within seconds, leading to one of the film’s most exciting action set pieces.
Unfortunately, despite Theron’s chilling, ice-eyed turn as Cipher, her villain lacks real motivation. The globe-trotting hacktivist could have been so much more, but is instead a glorified hostage taker. What surprised this critic most is just how many on-screen deaths there are; these former illegal street racers commit so many murders, you’d second guess Man Of Steel’s record for collateral body count. The only real tragedy is the occasional wasted opportunity for a post-murder action movie quip.
But this is a big, silly action movie not designed for asking tough questions, and the tough questions will surely provide hilarious conversation fuel for the more probing cinemagoer. Will Jason Statham’s late-game shootout have any long-term effects on the baby he’s carrying around? Is there any problem that can’t be resolved by Dwayne Johnson doing a punch on it? Can torpedoes truly be redirected by hand? And could this series possibly get any more ridiculous than the moment Tyrese Gibson takes out five Russian separatists with a Lamborghini car door?
One can only hope – with the fate of the furious determined, the future remains endless possibility.
The Fate Of The Furious is in cinemas now.
