...Yes, you did read that correctly. I thought I'd quit writing this blog due to work commitments, but Mr. B knew better - knew, in fact, that all it would take to get me back on board would be a suitably stupid challenge. If he'd told me to just review one of the Fast and Furiouses, I'd have told him to piss off. Seven in a weekend, though? That sounded temptingly like masochism.
Look, I won't pretend I gave all of them my full attention, okay? You know that thing where people can read words no matter how jumbled they are provided the first and last letter are in the right place? I figured that would probably apply. I focused fully on the first one and the last one, but everything in between? A merciful blur, except for Tokyo Drift (#3?), which was genuinely, irredeemably shit.
It was interesting to watch the shifts in scale and tone, at least, as the original's low-key street racing action gradually gave way to guns, girls, more guns, more girls and finally full-on Bond-style stunt impossibilities.
At the heart of it all, though, almost inevitably, these films are a love story, a tribute to the unforgettable romance between former cop Brian (Paul Walker) and rough diamond Dom (Vin Diesel). Yes, it's made abundantly clear from the very first scenes that these guys would cheerfully fuck their cars given half a chance (or one another's cars, for that matter), but this is as nothing compared to the protracted longing looks they exchange each and every time one of them overtakes the other. True, Brian does eventually hook up with Dom's sister, but it's pretty obvious that he's decided to settle.
What all the films have in common is some seriously tasty stuntwork, which goes a long way towards mitigating the casting director's predilection for using movie stars over actors. I'm not sure Diesel utters a single convincing line, but he has a near-unsurpassable talent for combining toughness with tenderness, and I'm not sure more than that is ever required. True, to quote Mr B, he looks like the Iron Man Mk. 1 suit to the Rock's Iron Man Mk. 42, but when Dwayne Johnson finally does show up ( in #5?), he definitely lacks Diesel's bloodhound sweetness. As for the late Mr. Walker? He's as earnestly blonde a hero as you're ever likely to need.
I feel as though there's more I should be saying here, so I'll point out that I liked the first one best. It was simple, it was understated, relatively, and it actually took the time to create likeable, relatable female characters. I cared about the protagonists at that stage, and the climactic action scene had a genuine, nail-biting tension that I really enjoyed.
I liked the 7th instalment, too, because the stunts were so delightfully overblown, although it did cause a moment of worry when I realised I'd spent so long marinating in testosterone sweat that I was starting to find Jason Statham mildly sexy.
If you're the sort of person who likes these you'll probably have seen them already, and fair play to you - there's definitely worse viewing out there, although I've not seen any of it in a while. If you're the sort of person who doesn't, then there's no need to worry you've missed out.
Signing off for now, but hopefully I'll be back with some thoughts on the Guardians of the Galaxy sequel. Just don't blame me if those thoughts turn out to be a 4-page transcription of assorted delighted squealing noises, okay?
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