By Phil Airson May 2015
Our film fan Phil is tempted to unleash his inner boy-racer after watching the latest offering. Get your guns at the ready.
I am not ashamed to admit that although I had been dubious of the petrol-head car-porn Fast and Furious franchise, I was sucked in by the charm of Fast number five. Since then, I have become giddy at the thought of the new releases.
The films grasp at something childlike in my heart. The adult in me knows they are dumb – the story is insane, and the acting is like watching drunk babies. But every time I walk out wanting to call my friends ‘family,’ buy muscle T-shirts, and drive my crappy car making vrrrum noises.
This film didn’t disappoint, the stunts were awesome and when Paul Walker jumped off a bus I literally yelled: “Oh God! What if he doesn’t make it?”
There was one confusing, awful moment where man-baby Vin Diesel takes his amnesia-stricken girlfriend (who’s really his wife but she doesn’t know it – seriously) to a special surprise which he calls a ‘race war.’ Now, I’m pretty sure he could have googled the term before throwing it around like that, because it’s not what you’re thinking. It was bass music and car racing – not like the bad race wars of history.
Another issue I had was with The Rock. Don’t get me wrong, I, like all men, see The Rock as the pinnacle of what I could achieve in life, even though I’ll never wake up Samoan. He first appears in a great fight seqeunce with protagonist and all around b*stard Jason Statham. Then we don’t see him for almost the entire film, until he just tears off the medical equipment that’s been kept him out of action for the duration, smashes an ambulance into a fighter drone, steals it’s mini-gun and shoots a bag of grenades attached to a helicopter (seriously.)
I’m also assuming sleeves on shirts were banned on set, as the guns were out like an NRA convention. Baby oil sales tripled must have during filming. And I don’t think Michelle Rodriguez should be allowed to attempt emotion in anything ever. Robot roles only from now on, please.
This film captures what is beautiful about the last two: it’s bloody good, nonsensical fun! I imagine if I were American I would have started a USA chant, however I’m British so I just gave it a polite nod and politely tipped my top hat. Although you could make a pretty lethal game drinking at every use of a spin camera, or quick shots over a dance beat, I could still watch these films any day.
The tribute to Paul Walker at the end was touching, though the uncomfortable amount of smiling did make me feel weird. Nonetheless, go buy a vest, shave your head, and see this film!
