Fast and Furious 5

Normally when a franchise gets to its 5th entry things start to go a bit droopy. You can see the wrinkles, they stop making sense and they micturate liberally over any fond memories you had about earlier versions. Hellraiser for instance. The first 2 entries are bloody terrifying, but 800 entries later Pinhead was hassling people through the internet like a dirty old homicidal sex pest.

It’s with absolute glee then, that we can report that Fast and Furious 5 is the best yet in the race-driving, muscle flexing, homoerotic butt slapping franchise.

Fast 5 sees a bit of a genre transplant for the series. The first 4 had something of a (large) niche appeal, appealing to the kind of people who get moist at the thought of manual gearboxes, horsepower and Jeremy Clarkson’s bald patch. No more though. Fast 5 sees the whole shebang turn into a full on audience friendly heist flick, but with the customary car porn and exploding shit intact. It’s like Ocean’s 11 on white Christmas and monkey juice, if it dispensed with the smug coffee table ‘coolness.’

Vin Diesel’s back as terrifying thug with heart of gold Dominic Toretto, and he’s just been busted out of pokey by Brian O Connor (played with customary anti-enthusiasm by Paul Walker) and his sister Mia. They’re on the run from the filth, taking refuge with a friend in Rio De Janeiro. As is always the way, a job goes tits up and they’re framed for murder. They’ve got a megalomaniacal crime baron after them, as well as (drum roll) Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson as FBI Agent Hobbs, who’s been tasked to bring them to justice.

The Rock wasn’t bullshitting. He probably could stake a claim to being the most electrifying man in all of entertainment. The despicable bastard could turn up in Requiem for a Dream and make it the most fun and entertaining film about crippling heroin abuse ever. He fares excellently in the movie, his loudmouthed bravado an excellent foil for Diesel’s booming monosyllabic charm. The bit where they punch the living shit out of each other nearly caused the TV to explode, such was the insane sexual tension. It was like the Bennett/Matrix face off in Commando without the Freddie Mercury ‘tache. The Rock starts the fight by deliberately ramming into Vin Diesel’s vehicle, so if you’re any good at spotting subtext you’ll find yourself in some kind of wild analytical heaven at this point.

Shit goes down, a team is assembled (featuring characters from other entries in the series that we’re 2 dumb 2 ignorant 2 remember) and a set piece that makes Bad Boys 2 look like a primary school nativity takes place. God it’s brilliant. The 2 hours fly by and you’ll come out of the movie feeling so goddamn macho and invigorated you’ll want to knock the fuck out of a giraffe. There are plot inconsistencies everywhere and some shonky acting, but did you come to nitpick at that kind of stuff? No you did not. You came to see this film to watch shit blow up, gratuitous booty shots and and 2 tank like slapheads nut each other. It’s the Citizen Kane of dumb films.

It’s also ace to see Diesel appearing in consistently good sequels, so we can’t wait now for Fast and Furious 6, xXx 3 and Chronicles of Riddick 3. Fuck, we’re looking forward to Babylon AD 2 at the rate he’s going at the minute.