Just a Movie Standing in Front of an Audience Asking Them to Think It’s Dope and Hilarious, or, Fate of the Furious 

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For your consideration.

Fate of the Furious is an exercise in the absence of subtext. Or at least intentional subtext.

You can watch F8 and try to look beyond Vin Diesel driving an immolated car in reverse so the flames make it go faster. You can search for meaning in The Rock curling a concrete bench while mean-mugging The Stath. You can stare at an empty page and try to will a thought-provoking blog post on the eighth Fast and Furious film into existence, but that way madness lies.

I could try my damnedest to gnaw meat off of a bare skeleton and wax poetic about F8’s exploration of the conflict between the technology of freedom (cars, Coronas) versus the technology of oppression (surveillance, automation, white dreads), about how Dominic Toretto and fam’s real battle is one for the autonomy of motion in a world that is increasingly capable of pinpointing the individual, but it wouldn’t ring true.

There are no political, philosophical or spiritual strings controlling the action and events of Fate of the Furious. There is only one agenda in this film: convince you that these people are so, so cool and that Tyrese Gibson is so, so funny.

Perhaps what NPR fails to grasp about Fate of the Furious is that it isn’t that Tyrese Gibson is so, so funny (he is) and that these people are so, so cool (I mean…) that drove (right? Because cars?) Fate of the Furious to the highest global opening weekend of all time, it’s that the pursuit of that cool and that humor is so genuine, so unencumbered by agenda.

Sometimes, The Rock hanging out of a jeep to kick a missile shot by the nuclear submarine that’s chasing him across a Russian ice shelf is just The Rock hanging out of a jeep to kick a missile shot by the nuclear submarine that’s chasing him across a Russian ice shelf.

Fate of the Furious was never going to be for everyone. It was always going to require us to watch with what can only be referred to as “Vin goggles.” This is a movie, and a franchise, that isn’t trying to trick, or wink at, or subvert. It’s a movie that pulls out all the stops, or at least $250 million worth of stops, to get you to say “boy those people are so, so cool and Tyrese Gibson is so, so funny.” And there’s something utterly delightful about someone spending $250 million dollars just to get you to think they are so, so cool and so, so funny.

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