A bulky, galumphing, preposterously outsized all-action franchise with the steroid quotient of the average wrestling convention
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There’s an amusing disclaimer in the credits for Fast & Furious 6, along the lines that the stunts in the film are dangerous and shouldn’t be tried at home. Even the most fanatical petrol-head might struggle to recreate the bit where Vin Diesel shoots out through the nose-cone of a burning cargo plane, so the advice can only prompt guffaws.
In its way, though, this absurdity demonstrates just how far the series has come — from The Fast and The Furious, a $38m-budgeted, definite-article-encumbered 2001 B-movie about devil-may-care street racers, to a bulky, galumphing, preposterously outsized all-action franchise with the steroid quotient of the average wrestling convention.
There’s an impressive commitment to male-pattern baldness among the key cast — not only do Vin Diesel and Dwayne Johnson square off again like sizzling 6ft bratwursts, but an end-credits kicker reveals yet another follically-untroubled action star is to be added to the mix next time. Hair is for girls. Well, girls and Paul Walker.
Justin Lin has now directed four of these, and has a flair for digital showmanship which comes alive twice in lavish set-pieces — first on a suspended stretch of highway in the Canary Islands, then on that plane, which gathers speed for 15 minutes, on what has to be the world’s longest runway, while about a dozen good guys try to stop it in their hot-rods.
Fast & furious 6 (U/a)
Director: Justin Lin
Cast: Vin Diesel, Dwayne Johnson, Michelle Rodriguez, Luke Evans
Running time: 130 minutes
Before, after, and between these sequences, even by the paltry standard of previous scripts, it’s slow-witted and won’t shut up. We’re mistaken for caring about this crew as “family”, when their only function for any sentient audience is the crazy driving. Jordana Brewster, as Walker’s stay-at-home partner (who, it’s thoroughly easy to forget, is also Diesel’s sister), might as well be wearing a placard saying, “Third act hostage, or why am I even here?”
Luke Evans at least brings some fresh charisma as the villain, a former Special Forces agent called Owen Shaw, who’s heading up a fearsome continent-hopping cartel of heist drivers and, as any such character should, secretly owns a tank. Still, given that the plotting’s as random and generic as it is, there’s an awful lot of it to meander through.
Michelle Rodriguez, who’s been allegedly-dead-but-blatantly-not since the fourth film (2009), returns as Shaw’s amnesiac deputy, who needs to remember what a hot time she had with Diesel before she switches to the nominally correct side. First, the ex-lovers take to the streets of London, in a roaring if narratively redundant one-on-one chase around Piccadilly. All the scenes in Evans’s nefarious workshop, meanwhile, are set in the new development area behind King’s Cross: so that’s what they’ve been doing.
All commotion, clashes and crashes
Muscle cars square off against hulking army tanks and a cargo plane the size of a small planet. Demolition abounds. When the vehicular mayhem subsides, brawling and gunshots take over — aboard a plane, in a metro station, around buildings and open lots. This sixth instalment is all commotion, clashes and crashes all the time.
When the familiar squadron of outlaw racers needs to catch its breath, out pops a cliched phrase, a puerile comment or maybe just an enthusiastic “Yeah!” Here’s a movie that could easily have been dialogue-free. And probably would have been better for it. But the volume is a key element, especially for those who find the sound of revved-up engines evocative.
Plotwise, the previous Fast and Furious, in Brazil, was superior. This ultra-formulaic entry definitely has a few exciting stunts — a car hurtling out of a flaming airplane, two bodies flying through the air and landing safely in a clutch (of the hug variety, not a car component). But the story is standard-issue. The racing crew of international criminals globe-trots, as in past films, though much of the action takes place in London. Amazingly, the British capital’s busy streets are wide open for racing — except for the occasional double-decker bus that nearly gets toppled.
Brawny US Agent Hobbs (Dwayne Johnson) is seeking the help of the car-crazy crew to take down the evil Shaw (Luke Evans), a mercenary terrorist/crime lord who has gotten his hands on top-secret military equipment. In exchange, they will be given amnesty for previous crimes. And the world will avoid annihilation. It’s a pretty sweet deal.
But their old compatriot Letty (Michelle Rodriguez), thought dead, has resurfaced as one of of Shaw’s henchmen. The ever-loyal lug nut Dom (Vin Diesel) insists she be rescued. Dom loves Letty. We know this because he drag-races with her and then proclaims throatily: “Show me how you drive, and I’ll show you who you are.”
In a particularly inane story arc, Brian (Paul Walker) spends 24 hours in a California prison to extract information from a prisoner. Inexplicably, he gets sprung just in time to join his pals back in Europe for the climactic race against the villainous Shaw.
The quips generally fall flat, and Diesel’s delivery is the worst. But he’s a brawny one, and that’s all that really counts, since the actors are more like action figures than humans. On the plus side, women get to play as rough as the men. Rodriguez, who made her screen debut in 2000’s Girlfight, takes part in an extended smackfest with Gina Carano, who plays Interpol officer Riley.
After laying waste to a couple dozen cars, seemingly oblivious to the loss of innocent lives, they end up at a modest house in LA. Holding hands, they say grace, thanking God for their family and, “most of all, for fast cars.”
For a hint about this speedy coalition’s next stop, be sure to sit through the credits. Better yet, hightail it home and fire up 2011’s fresher Fast Five.
