Too much, too ridiculous

When The Fast and The Furious first came out, it was regarded as a disposable, one-dimensional thriller and no-one would have predicted that it would run to five instalments, with a further sequel suggested. It is no surprise though that one of the co-producers in this latest in the franchise is Vin Diesel himself, given that his Hollywood career has been reduced to this rump (not inappropriate given the semi-clad beauties here) and outside of this venture his attempts at broadening himself has crashed and burned in the manner of any of the vehicles trashed in the course of the running time. I imagine each time of these flicks appears, it is a shot at redemption.
I hazarded to enter the cinema for The Fast and the Furious Five (they should have curtailed it to Fast Furious Five), having seen previously only a fragment of the Fast and The Furious: Tokyo Drift, which had (as far as I know) none of the principal characters in this latest one. In the event, had worry over a complicated and contiguous plot from the other outings been a factor, it would have been redundant. Fast Furious Five is good, dumb fun. One doesn’t need to be a petrolhead to appreciate the action scenes, not to mention the stunning women that crop up with rapid-fire consistency. If anything, this is a date movie for guys in a quid pro quo with their ladies who can admire the toned beefcakes on display. Moreover, in its denouement, it resembles a high-octane, bigger-budgeted Hustle, in how the good guys fool everyone else. It is a mammoth sugar rush.
As well as being a showcase for Diesel, Paul Walker (as Bryan – I don’t know him in anything else) and the rapper Ludacris, it also gives a bearded Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson another silver screen chance, in the light of his filmology being less than illustrious. Watching Toretto (Diesel) and elite DEA agent Hobbs (Johnson) knock meathead lumps out of each other is one of the highlights – their wrangling over shattered glass shards would put John McClane to shame.
There are a few unusual touches that most Hollywood thrillers skim over – talking openly about going to church and over religious iconography may play well with a Midwest audience but still is uncommon to avoid scaring the pigeons (characterisation? Goodness me); also, throwing a pregnant woman into several mêlees doesn’t always happen.
Of course, there are cavernous plotholes that wouldn’t been out of place in a supercave, such as a conveniently disused warehouse in Rio de Janeiro – a location we will see more of in the lead up to the 2014 World Cup and 2016 Olympics – that no-one else seems to know about. Hobbs, despite describing himself, in a variety of ways, as incorruptible, isn’t above a little extra-judicial killings in cold blood when it suits him. There is the unexplained tremendous thrust of some of the cars. Then there are the faceless goons who assail our heroes. Toretto and Bryan (what a name for an action figure) are sketched out as much as needs be and Hobbs’ team get similar treatment. Yet they face wave upon wave of criminals and latterly corrupt cops, who for their sins are all fodder to the meat grinder. The Austin Powers’ conundrum that these are real people, with families and friends to match. This could be especially true of the policemen, some of whom may have fallen into the wrong crowd or had some money troubles through no fault of their own. That doesn’t matter – they are treated as universally bad.
All this isn’t the point of Fast Furious Five though and it would be unfair to dwell on these factors. It’s a case of sit back and enjoy the ride.