Review: Fast & Furious (2009)

Fast & Furious is a poor man’s action movie, glossed up with shiny cars and even shinier actors. It’s one of those movies where the mind occupies itself with meaningless thoughts and distractions in order to avoid paying attention to the screen. My mind drifted to all those seemingly inconsequential action movies from the early ‘90s. Sure, those films may seem somewhat clumsy and hackneyed now, but today’s brood of action films—geared to prepubescent boys desperately wanting to appear older than their intellect will allow—commit a worse sin. Despite the benefit of correcting the mistakes of the past, modern action films remain just as vacuous—only now they cost infinitely more. Which brings us back to the fourth film of this unnecessary franchise.

Fast & Furious is so cliché-ridden a synopsis is irrelevant, but I’ll try it regardless. The story reunites the original cast to tell a simple tale of good guys versus bad guys. After Dominic Toretto’s (Vin Diesel) girlfriend, Letty (Michelle Rodriguez), is killed by a group of Mexican drug runners, he comes out of hiding and infiltrates the cartel who killed her by landing a job as one of their elite drivers. Apparently, he’s got revenge on the brain, but judging from Diesel’s dim performance, it’s difficult to be sure. Also on the case is F.B.I. man Brian O’Conner (Paul Walker playing…Paul Walker), who also conveniently nabs a spot as one of the cartel’s drivers. This cartel, lead by henchman Campos (John Ortiz) and his sidekick Fenix (Laz Alonzo), has the slackest security detail on the planet; how they ever managed a cartel is beyond me, but I digress. No, wait, that’s it. That’s the whole story: O’Conner and Toretto pretend to be drivers, take part in a couple of confusing car chases, and then nab the bad guy.

With a story this thin, the film can only be redeemed via its action scenes. Unfortunately, Justin Lin’s direction is as aimless as an out-of-control 1969 Dodge Charger. Lin chooses to ignore suspense as a worthwhile addition to action filmmaking, and instead takes the Michael Bay approach: mindless spectacle. The opening sequence, for example, literally involves a highway robbery as four cars attempt to steal one of the oil tanks being hauled by a semi truck. The decent start of the sequence is wasted when Lin turns it into a CGI cartoon. The tanker flips on its side, does a couple of cartwheels and explodes as Toretto’s car drives underneath it. It’s pretty ridiculous but you knew that already. You saw it in the trailer. To reiterate, the movie’s best sequence can be seen, almost in its entirety, in the trailer. Suppose you weren’t living under a rock prior to film’s release, the opening sequence serves no purpose other than to keep you eating your popcorn. Later in the film, Lin uses what appears to be an animated GPS map to keep the audience clued into what’s happening during a street race. Even with this fancy tracker, the sequence is still confusing. Much more importantly, however, is the absence of any sense of danger or suspense generated in the scene. Lin gets lazy and telegraphs all the information the audience needs to know via an on board, talking GPS system.

However, all of this pales in comparison to the disappointing and dull finale. Just when the audience is lead to believe Lin will deliver at least one major sequence, he chooses an underground tunnel as the staging ground for the climax. Shot in the dark and with little regard to any sense or coherence, the climax fizzles and makes one ache for the beauty and simplicity of Tarantino’s climactic chase in Death Proof. On it’s own, Lin’s tunnel chase is a major letdown, but what makes it even worse is how similar it is to another tunnel sequence that occurs in the middle of the film. The ending is practically a carbon copy of the chase sequence that occurs at the midpoint of the film, with the same cast, in the same cars, going around the same twists and turns. Lazy and uninspired don’t begin to describe Fast & Furious. Car porn is a more apt description.

Richard Saad
© Cinephile Magazine, 2009