Furious 7, as directed by James Wan from Chris Morgan’s screenplay, is pretty much 137 minutes of insane explosions, muscle cars flying through the air, wonderfully stupid dialogue, balancing on an overturned bus on the edge of a cliff, flipped cars, scrunched metal, fistfights, fights with tire irons, Los Angeles shelled by missiles and, oh, yeah, lots of talk about loyalty and love of family.
The movie picks up where the 2013 installment left off and has something or other to do with Vin Diesel, Paul Walker and the rest of the gang hunting down Jason Statham’s character before he slaughters them. So, enter Kurt Russell (playing it off as a goof, as well he should), who convinces the crew to locate a surveillance device that will make it a breeze to find Statham, whether he’s in Abu Dhabi, Azerbaijan, or downtown L.A. That’s it. Forget plot, logic, or great performances, this thing is about street racing and macho raised to the level of gonzo cartoon opera. It’s bananas – a loud, crackpot joyride and you’ll love every messed-up minute of it. And as a poignant and moving tribute to the good guy charm and charisma of the late Paul Walker, who died in a car crash before completing his role, it’s a hell of a sendoff. There won’t be a dry eye in the house.***