Cinemavenger

   The funniest, nastiest movie reviews anywhere.

Furious 7

Sometimes you just get lucky.  A sexylicious, way-out-of-your-league dream girl decides to fuck you porn star-style to get back at her cheating boyfriend and winds up falling in love with you.  Some selfish douche eats up two green-lights blocking the intersection, and you just miss playing the metal accordion in the middle of 10-car pileup a few minutes later. 

Or, if you're the creators and stars of The Fast and the Furious, you make a cheap knockoff of the Keanu Reeves/Patrick Swayze action classic, Point Break, idiot audiences eat your warmed over, secondhand shit up, and 14 years later you're still banking mad moola off of its sixth utterly unnecessary yet wildly popular sequel, Furious 7.

And in the process, you kill Paul Walker.  You bastards!

Now hold on there, rage-filled reader.  It's not like ol' Cinemavenger made a "How many dead Paul Walkers does it take to [blank]?" joke.  Ease off the emotional throttle for a second and realize that if it wasn't for The Fast and the Furious, Walker would've been stuck slaving away in bit parts on soap operas and sitcoms - or maybe slingin' sneakers at Foot Locker.  He never would have had the millions of dollars it takes to indulge in owning and racing performance automobiles, and he wouldn't have ended up dead in a totaled Porsche at the age of 40.

Besides, if you want to hit the NOS on your pissedoffedness, how about you take your lynch mob over to Universal Pictures?  After your beloved movie star died mid-production, they're the ones who used his two body-double brothers and a bunch of CGI to finish a movie filled with fiery car crashes instead of shelving it out of respect for Walker's death . . . in a fiery fucking car crash!  They're the ones who turned Furious 7 into a sick game of "Is this the scene where Walker's character dies?" by doing everything from hanging him off of cliffs to shooting hails of bullets, tossing grenades and firing goram missiles at him a dozen different times.

And for what?  To pad director James "An Edit Per Second" Wan's resume?  To give Nathalie "Missandei from GoT" Emmanuel a chance for big screen stardom at the price of a slow-mo, tits-a-bouncin' bikini scene?  To see if Tony "Ong-bak Off, Mothefucker" Jaa can cross over to Hollywood and be the the next Bruce Lee?  To let true friends Vin Diesel and Michelle Rodriguez say an onscreen goodbye to their fallen friend?

Nope.  It was all just so Universal could pocket a few more shekels.  End of fucking story.

Still, if you're a fan of the series, you'll get what you're paying them for.  More vehicle-on-vehicle and man-on-man action than you can shake a stick shift at.  Enough muscle cars and hot rods to make a gearhead cream his Carhartts.  Plenty of PG-13, nudity-free upskirt and downblouse shots.  So many references to "family" that if you drank every time someone said the word you'd die of alcohol poisoning.

Call me Dominic Tourette's-o, because Furious 7 can ass-balls-shit-fuck right off.

April 5, 2015