Will it be a giant pearl necklace today, or shark’s teeth on a string? Metallic snakeskin or mauve silk? He’s basically Dennis Hopper in Speed meets Liberace. He giggles and whoops, wears his hair in double man buns, and paints the toenails of the dead. Momoa is what these films have been missing forever: a flamboyant supervillain and all-round chaos merchant, who likes to perch on the tallest landmarks and dial in carnage. When Dwayne Johnson came in, before a head-clonking feud with Vin Diesel soured things, they called him “franchise Viagra”. Who knew that Jason Momoa’s character, a drug lord’s deranged scion named Dante Reyes, was present on the scene, and has therefore been plotting revenge for the past decade? No one, until they lined him up last year.īy now, we know exactly what all the series’ stalwarts have to give. Anyone who misses the peak shenanigans of the nifty Fast Five (2011), when a bank vault was dragged through the streets of Rio, will be reminded of that heist by a recapping prologue – a good way to show where the bar was set, then start leaping over it left and right. In recent instalments, there’s been a danger of bloated earnestness, nicely curbed by the lunacy this time.
The series pursues no logic except what’s new, who’s available, and how to pack out the multiplex screens.
Characters return and arbitrarily switch sides, introduce themselves out of nowhere as the peeved relations of major baddies who died 10 years ago, or try rolling a spherical megaton bomb into the Vatican, just for the hell of it. This time, all bets are off in terms of plausibility. From its inception in 2001, the series has long since devolved from hot-rod street races into a kind of globe-trotting demolition derby, doing for explosive pile-ups on stretches of highway what Twister did for tornadoes. To call Fast X one of the most ludicrous action films ever made would be a borderline tautology for any instalment in the Fast and Furious franchise.
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