For better and worse, the Fast and Furious franchise- spanning from the delirious high-speed heights of Fast Five to nadirs like, well, take your pick- has always been fueled by empty calories. Originating as modest action capers following a group of rag-tag drag racers (the one with automobiles and not kitschy wigs and heels, unfortunately), the series has somehow evolved into a sprawling saga- including 10 entries and a spinoff- of the team and its exploits in globe-trotting espionage, led by the intrepid Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) as his fleet of muscle cars and muscly men (and some women) protect the worldwide milieu one mile at a time as impossibly dire stakes hang in the balance. I won’t parse through further overarching plot details, not only since they’ve become rather convoluted but also because they’re simply a means to an end and what has become the franchise’s marquee element: bombastic and mind-numbingly ridiculous set pieces involving cars that are as fast as the physics are practically nonexistent.
These movies have jumped the shark so many times and to such an astronomical degree that they’ve reached the stratosphere; no, literally, the previous entry F9 rather infamously featured series regulars Tej (Ludacris) and Roman (Tyrese Gibson) rocketing into space with a heavily modified Pontiac Fiero and destroying a satellite conceived by nefarious forces, all before the entire crew reconvenes for a picnic full of quips, Coronas and reflecting on the cloying notion of “family” (a motif that’s been stretched detrimentally and comically thin by this point) after saving the day once more. To say that they are voraciously silly would be an understatement, one laced with such a piercing irony that these doltish films probably wouldn’t even be able to grasp it, as evidenced by their increasingly outlandish stylings.
However, one does need some candy once in a while to counterbalance a more nutritional cinematic intake, but are those saccharine flavors ultimately worth it? If I violate my diet, which, come one, we all must do occasionally to remain sane, you bet I’ll treat myself to something satiable enough to make that caloric expenditure go down smoothly. Built in the image of confections coursing with motor oil and Taco Bell that burns rubber on gravel, the best Fast and Furious movies can package and sell their indulgences entertainingly enough that you don’t feel them going straight to your thighs. As the franchise proper reaches double digits with Fast X, which is slated to serve as the opening of a multi-part finale to the series, it really feels like it’s running on the noxious fumes of its worst installments and not that delicious gas of the best ones, all at such a crucial moment that seeks to generate some sort of finality.
Believe it or not, Dom and the gang find themselves embroiled in yet another treacherous journey, and there’s ostensibly more at stake than ever as Dom and his wife Letty (Michelle Rodriguez) are settled into domestic bliss with his son Brian, or “Little Brian.” The startling arrival of a previous and wounded adversary Cipher (Charlize Theron, wildly overqualified) bears an ominous warning to Dom and the entire clan: the rise of a brutal fresh foe, Dante Reyes (a game Jason Mamoa), who seeks to avenge the death of his drug lord father from Fast Five against those he deems responsible. This portent is delivered too late, though, and the mission in Rome the rest of the crew thought they were assigned by the Agency (a narrative trapping that’s even too generic for this franchise) is actually a set-up by the devious Dante. With Dom and Letty unable to thwart this mysterious figure and the first part of his sinister plan, calamity and devastating destruction ensue at the Vatican, and the entire crew is directly implicated. They splinter in several different directions, with Dante and the Agency’s calculating new leader Agent Aimes (Alan Ritchson) both doggedly pursuing them across the globe.
If that baseline synopsis is any indication, the best possible outcome is a piece of disposable, low-brow fun, but Fast X cannot properly shift into gear after that inciting incident, drifting into some of its predecessor’s worst tendencies. It turns out there aren’t many roads off the grid for tires to tread on, and as this “family” goes on the lamb, the movie often grinds to a halt with stultifying tedious, repetitive plotting in place of gonzo, death-defying cars that go vroom vroom. Dom returns to Brazil to confront Dante; Letty is imprisoned and makes an unlikely ally; Dom’s once-estranged brother Jakob (John Cena) rescues Little Brian from detainment; and Tej, Roman, Ramsey (Nathalie Emmanuel) and Han (Sung Kang) flee to London. These threads already vary erratically between deathly somber and breezily comedic, but I hope you’re still with me, since new additions to this overstuffed plot include Tess (the talented Brie Larson, still unevenly utilized by the blockbuster arena), a remaining and secret liaison in the Agency, and Isabel (Daniela Melchior, breakout star of 2021’s The Suicide Squad), a remnant of Dom’s tortured past.
A movie like this should be lean and mean like a sleek, cutting-edge sports car, but the narrative structure here isn’t conducive to the unabashedly inane action set pieces. For a picture that presumably prides itself on high-octane theatrics, Fast X still registers as painfully inert with that bloated story, despite the gratuitous amount of hand-to-hand fight scenes that ultimately leave you desensitized to one human trying to pummel another one to death. Another problem area is that Diesel continues to impose dour, misplaced human drama onto an otherwise zany enterprise. The franchise’s star and producer does understand his limitations and surrounds himself with Oscar-winning actresses like Theron, Larson, Helen Mirren and Rita Moreno to shoulder the weight of nondescript ruminations on family, atonement and grief, but they still are tonally dissonant to a dizzying degree. Diesel’s insistence that Dom is some sort of tragic hero is completely hokey, and the grandiosity there and in the plot not only undermine the movie’s best asset but also render it almost unjustifiable.
Trading in his scaly superhero spandex for Euro chic, punk-colored nail polish and spiky jewelry, franchise newcomer Jason Mamoa, so frenzied in his giddy cheekiness and diabolical antics that he almost pops off the screen, fares substantially better and is one of the endeavor’s truly worthwhile elements. His scenes are like an energizing gasp of fresh air after drowning in so much gasoline (or a lack thereof), and seeing him send the film into campy overdrive was admittedly a blast. He’s a dastardly Bugs Bunny on Adderall, a manic live-action cartoon on wheels: I desperately wished the rest of the movie was uniformly on his wavelength.
The Fast films are infamous for big egos behind the camera that bluster like the engines at their center, and after citing conflict and creative differences with [redacted for professionalism, but your best guess is likely correct], veteran series director Justin Lin departed and was replaced with Louis Leterrier, known for B-movies like The Transporter and the black sheep of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Incredible Hulk (Remember that one?). He marginally improves over some preceding entries by often embracing the absurdity in the action instead of tinging it with grounded self-seriousness, and this is most evident in the electrifying set piece in Rome as Dom, Letty and the gang frantically chase a flaming bomb down the narrow streets of Rome before it detonates. This entire extended sequence exhibits true ingenuity in the use of space, scale and intercut threads, but no matter how many explosions, bullets and half-hearted attempts at yuks and pathos the movie attempts after, it all becomes rather amorphous, no real identity beyond “summer studio tent pole.”
Fast X is certainly slick and loud, but it too often lacks any actual panache. Where is the verve, the genuine excitement and creativity that makes movie-going a beloved pastime and wondrous means of escape? It’s difficult to fathom how a series about revving automobiles and gusty spectacle could not only become so routine but also incredibly dull. The Fast saga has always been defined by relentlessly stomping on the gas, even haphazardly so, but maybe it’s finally time to step on the brake.
Grade: C-
Fast X is now in theaters.
Photo Credit/Universal Studios
