Critics often shrug the Fast and Furious franchise as bread and circuses for the (how does one say politely?) kids who only got “A”s in gym class. A subset argues that F+F films offer-up some of the most hidden-in-plain-sight homoeroticism in our popular culture. Were I to look for deeper meaning in the franchise I’d say it represented an unflinching expose into our culture’s addiction to foreign oil. The setting of this latest chapter, Fast Five, in Latin America only makes this more evident.
The engine of the franchise, Vin (ahem) Diesel, represents “pure American muscle,” to quote the films themselves. He and his multicultural cadre yearn for that most American dream – the freedom to be left alone with their toys. To do this, they must rob, naturally, but not in a socially sanctioned boardroom, but with their racing skills. Hence, the oil.
Episode five of this deathless series has the American reserves tapped out, so now we give chase in Rio de Janeiro. The Brazilian culture adds a dash of verisimilitude to the outfits seen among the local women in the few street racing scenes.
Vin Diesel , Paul Walker and Jordana Brewster’s characters are just one big score away (again) from Nirvana, and their target is the head of the local mafia. I must’ve blinked at the moment when it was decided he was the worst person in the world, but our team is taking this job as an act of vengeance. To make it all work, they’ll need the side characters from all of the previous F+F films that, offering audiences one of the great “hey, it’s that guy, too!” montages in recent cinema.
With everyone on board, a Topkapi-esque heist is strategized, replete with blueprints, test-runs and Gal Gadot getting her ass pinched for the greater good. (Note: Gadot’s character follows Alice Braga’s in last year’s Predators as another intensely beautiful ass-kicking babe said to’ve been trained by the Mossad. I think we need just another summer before UGO can launch its “Top IDF Hotties in Movies” feature.)
With the planets aligning, there’s just one thing the crew didn’t plan on.
THE FLUFFERNUTTIN’ ROCK!!!!
Dwayne Johnson blasts onto the film with arms so wide he looks like he’s constantly shrugging, and his natural charisma wipes the floor of Diesel, Walker and everyone else in this picture. He's also doing a dead on impersonation of Barack
Obama's voice, so anyone who doesn't agree that these movies have
political subtext are going to have to explain that one away. Also, he’s got a goatee, otherwise in quick flashes he’d be indistinguishable from Diesel in action sequences.
And what action sequences! These two mountains of ground chuck go at each other in the type of brawl we were hoping to see in The Expendables.
With The Rock’s G-Man character throwing a wrench into their plans, they have to fall back on plan B to steal the gold (or whatever the hell it is they are stealing.) Why sneak around and crack a safe when you can smash through a wall and simply drag it out with brute force?
This utterly mindless display of beastly might trumping nerdlinger craftiness aptly sums up the film. The resultant smashing chase is a jaw-dropping celebration of destruction and, quite simply, the most holy shit-worthy vehicular action sequence I’ve ever seen.
The best way, the only way, to approach Fast Five is to take Lennon-McCartney’s advice and to turn off your mind, relax and float downstream. I mean, I’m pretty sure they’re chasing a microchip at one point. But for seeing gigantic men beat the hell out of one another and for leering at sexed-up hotties zipping around on scooters you’ll be hard pressed to find any film that’s its equal – until Fast Six.
