Fast & Phooey

The first movie I reviewed for The Lakeville Journal was “Fast & Furious” — the oddly titled fourth installment of the Fast and the Furious franchise — in 2009. The Compass editor at the time knew I had a degree in cinema and was expecting something along the lines of Andrew Sarris or Pauline Kael. Instead she got a minor league Joe Bob Briggs. 

I set the bar nice and low with that first review by becoming the first and only Journal movie reviewer to complain of insufficient nudity. And I’ve been shoving that bar lower ever since.

This exciting look at literary history comes to you because there is a new movie in the series with an alliterative title — “The Fate of the Furious,” which sounds better than “Fast and Furious 8.”

Vin Diesel returns as Dom Toretto, all-around grunting dude in a tight shirt. He’s in Havana on his honeymoon with Letty (Michelle Rodriguez) but they have to get into a car race. The car has some kind of special nitrous oxide engine, which means it runs on laughing gas.

It would be pleasant to report that this was funny. Never mind.

Then Dom and the gang have to go help a secret agent, but Dom startles everybody by stealing the super electronic death bomb thing to give to international terrorist Cipher.

So now Dom has to go to New York and swipe some nuclear thing, but he’s got an old girlfriend now, and a kid, and boy is this going to be hard to explain to Letty, who is still annoyed about the honeymoon.

I have only hinted at how much plot there is in this movie. But since there is no story to get in the way of, it doesn’t really matter.

Trying to make sense of “F8” is probably easier than figuring out who is fighting whom in the Middle East, but not by much.

Dwayne Johnson is here, as “The Rock.” No, wait — he is The Rock, and is playing secret agent Luke Hobbes.

Kurt Russell is here, as a black ops guy who models himself after Pat Riley. Charlize Theron is here as Cipher, your basic hot evil psycho cyberterrorist babe.

Clint Eastwood’s son Scott is here as Blinky Cataract, the near-sighted movie critic who hates bad action movies, and Helen Mirren pops in, possibly because she needs the money.

And let’s not forget Ludacris and that other guy.

The only thing I have to say about nudity is there isn’t any, and that’s a good thing. (Although the filmmakers seem to think that life in Havana is one big spring break video.)

There are a lot of cars, however. They appear in unexpected places and in large quantities.

We’ve got Cars. Explosions. Cars exploding. Plummeting cars. The dangers of self-driving cars. Girls soccer. Fun with submarines. Magic computers that always work. Sinister plots to rule the world. Complicated family relationships. An Academy Award nomination for Vin Diesel, for trying (and failing) to pronounce “family.”

“The Fate of the Furious” is fun as long as you’re not expecting anything intelligent, if you like cars, and if you liked the other Fast and Furious movies.

For anyone else, “F8” is loud, long and boring. And no nekkidity. Phooey. 

 

“The Fate of the Furious” is rated PG-13 for prolonged sequences of violence and destruction, suggestive content and language.

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