Movie Review: Fast X
Having conquered every conceivable terrain on planet Earth — from the neon-lit streets of Tokyo to the frozen lakes of Russia — and even made an inexplicable detour into the vacuum of space “for the culture,” the Fast & Furious franchise finds itself with nowhere left to go but backward. Ten installments deep into a series that should have concluded at least five entries ago, “Fast X” represents the desperate circling of a once-formidable vehicle now running dangerously low on creative fuel.
This tenth chapter returns the series to terra firma after its increasingly stratospheric adventures, specifically rewinding the timeline to examine events from a decade ago — when the franchise first shifted from street-racing cult phenomenon into the hyper-budgeted, physics-defying, globe-trotting spectacle it has since become.
With a reported production budget of $340 million — making it one of the most expensive films ever produced — one might reasonably expect a certain level of narrative coherence to accompany the inevitable visual spectacle. Instead, it appears that only a couple hundred dollars were allocated to developing a screenplay, resulting in what can only be described as a threadbare excuse for storytelling that exists solely to connect increasingly preposterous set pieces.
The narrative engineering here is as shoddy as a salvage yard transmission. Apparently recognizing that its creative gas tank had long since hit empty, “Fast X” attempts to refuel by siphoning nostalgia from the franchise’s fifth installment — widely acknowledged as the entry that transformed the series from street-racing drama to international heist thriller. This transparent attempt to recapture former glory through recycled parts sees the introduction of a previously unmentioned son of Brazilian drug lord Hernan Reyes, the villain dispatched during the climactic bridge sequence in “Fast Five.”
This mysterious offspring, despite his father’s death occurring over a decade ago in the franchise timeline, has inexplicably waited through several world-threatening events to suddenly emerge seeking vengeance against Dominic Toretto and his “familia” of street racers turned improbable CIA consultants. The contrivance of this premise would be laughable if the film displayed any self-awareness about its own ridiculousness, but “Fast X” presents this retcon with the deadly seriousness of a mid-engine inspection.
Having laid down this implausible narrative track, the film shifts its gears from N for Nonsense-Neutral to D for Dumb-Dumber-Dumbest-Drive, unleashing a cavalcade of increasingly desperate action sequences. Director Louis Leterrier orchestrates a parade of high-octane stunts that grow progressively more detached from both physics and logic, culminating in set pieces that even the most forgiving audience member would struggle to accept.
Most egregiously, “Fast X” shamelessly recycles stunt concepts and plot twists from previous installments, apparently operating under the assumption that viewers won’t notice — or perhaps won’t care — that they’re witnessing the automotive equivalent of a greatest hits compilation performed by a cover band. The franchise that once prided itself on pushing boundaries now seems content to drive in circles, revisiting familiar territory with diminishing returns.
To compensate for this creative bankruptcy, the film overloads itself with pointless comedic gags, inexplicable character resurrections that undermine what little emotional stakes the franchise ever established, and dialogue so cheesy it could stock a dairy farm. The script — if one can dignify it with such a term — delivers eye-rolling one-liners and family platitudes with the mechanical precision of an assembly line producing defective parts.
In its frantic attempt to justify its existence (and astronomical budget), “Fast X” throws everything at the screen — including the proverbial kitchen sink and, bizarrely, several bottles of rosé champagne. The resulting concoction feels less like a coherent film and more like a desperate attempt to distract viewers from the fundamental emptiness at its core.
Despite the sensory overload of extended chase sequences and pyrotechnic spectacles, the Fast ride has clearly lost its thrill. The franchise that once delivered genuine excitement through practical stunts and character-driven narrative has devolved into a joyless exercise in CGI excess. The furious rev of its engine has been replaced by the mechanical whine of a vehicle overdue for retirement.
Perhaps the most disheartening aspect of “Fast X” is the knowledge that it represents merely the first half of a two-part conclusion to the saga. This revelation lands with all the enthusiasm of discovering your mechanic needs another week with your car. The franchise has long since forgotten the art of knowing when to leave the race, and the “X” that should have marked the final spot on this ridiculous road trip instead merely indicates a mandatory pit stop before one final, unnecessary lap.
For a series that began with the relatively modest ambitions of exploring underground street racing culture and found family bonds, the “Fast & Furious” franchise has transformed into a bloated, self-important monument to excess. “Fast X” represents the logical endpoint of this evolution — a $340 million spectacle signifying nothing beyond the financial imperative to continue extracting value from a brand long past its expiration date.
“Fast X” is the automotive equivalent of watching a once-proud vehicle being driven well past the point of mechanical failure — its engine knocking, transmission slipping, and frame creaking under the strain of one journey too many. What began as an exciting ride has devolved into a tedious slog, with each new installment diminishing rather than enhancing the legacy of its predecessors.
For the sake of whatever goodwill remains toward this once-enjoyable franchise, one can only hope that the promised eleventh entry will finally bring this interminable journey to a merciful conclusion. Until then, viewers are left with this overpriced, underwritten exercise in franchise fatigue — a film that, like its automotive inspiration, proves that sometimes the most impressive feat isn’t how fast you can go, but knowing when to apply the brakes.
Rating: Enough Already!/10
