The Fate of the Furious (2017) - Vehicular Theatre
Here we are at the eighth instalment. How many other franchises not based on a pre-existing idea have made it this far? Even Rocky stopped at five (for a while). Yet Dom and family keep rolling along. They still have things to say about storytelling, and things to teach us about maintaining an audience.
If the early films are myth and Furious 7 is fairy tale, The Fate of the Furious is (obviously) theatre. No, seriously. And if the theme of Furious 7 is flying, then the theme of The Fate of the Furious is falling (and not just the raining cars we see in the trailer).
A little Shakespeare should help:
The quality of mercy is not strain’d.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes
‘Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown.
When F8 (get it?) came out, many fans were more than a little upset. Jason Statham, once you have him, is an actor you want to keep if you can, sure. But did they really have to forgive Deckard Shaw, the man responsible for killing Han? And not only that, but make the guy part of the Family too? What most people missed is that the idea of forgiveness and redemption is seeded throughout the entire movie, from the very opening to the closing scene.
Dom (Vin Diesel) and Letty (Michelle Rodriguez) are honeymooning in Cuba, when they get word that Dom’s cousin Fernando (Janmarco Santiago) is in trouble. He made a deal, wasn’t able to keep it, and as a consequence is losing his car to local tough Raldo (Celestino Cornielle). At first Dom tells Fernando that he has to accept the outcome, but when Raldo rubs his face in it, Dom takes offence. The man needs to be taught a lesson in mercy.
Naturally, this leads to a street race, with cars on the line (literally and figuratively). Dom wins the race and has every right to claim Raldo’s car. Yet having made his point, he doesn’t. Later he’s asked why in an exchange with the movie’s villainess, Cipher (Charlize Theron).
Cipher: When I was in Cuba I heard about a guy who almost killed you with a motorcycle and you… let him keep his car?
Dom: Oh, that confused you? Of course I could’ve taken his car, but it’s about something bigger. This way, I changed him.
Cipher: That’s not your responsibility.
Dom: That’s who I am.
Considering this in light of Shakespear’s observations, Dom is the mightiest. From the start he’s fulfilled the role of monarch and king, and here he further solidifies his place. By showing mercy, bestowing a blessing, when Raldo comes to his aid later in the film, he receives a blessing. Twice blessed.
Thus far in the series we’ve seen great significance given to worthiness, codes, ritual, and family. Here in F8 we add forgiveness. In 2017 cancel culture was already on the horizon and we were losing the idea of mercy. Now, here’s our leader extending it to a man who had murdered a member of his Family in cold blood as an act of vengeance. But throughout the series Dom’s character has been very consistent in his desire to bring people to his table despite their flaws and shortcomings. Perhaps by forgiving Shaw, he can change him too.
What Shaw did was wrong, inarguably evil, but in Dom’s world the cardinal sin is betrayal. Shaw was many things, but he never betrayed Family.
This is also a story of Dom being forced into a position where he has to betray one part of his Family to protect another. It’s melodrama, of course, but the beauty of melodrama is that it’s clear who is good, who is bad, and celebrates the values held by average people. This more than anything may be the key to the franchise’s enduring success.
Forgiveness is good. Loyalty is good. Betrayal is bad, and manipulating someone into it is evil. I’m not saying that F8 is on the same level as Othello, but Shakespear’s plays were written for the same kind of average, ordinary people that the Fast movies are made for today. Nothing is subtle in melodrama, and nothing is subtle here. The first time Dom encounters his team after betraying them, they surround his car with harpoon guns and nearly tear him apart, symbolising the tension he feels. Later, they again surround him, this time as a protective wall to shield him from danger.
If that’s not a summary of Family, I don’t know what is.
To be honest, F8 is not one of my favorites. It’s episodic, lacks a clear vision, and the worthwhile elements are buried by the car-toony (get it?) set pieces that are never quite as imaginative or thrilling as those in the previous films. However, it does have one of my favorite moments that had me laughing out loud in the theater.
It’s the climax of the movie. Dom has yet to be reunited with his team, who is trying to stop Cipher from stealing a submarine filled with nukes, by outrunning it on a frozen lake (just go with it). Outgunned and having used up all their resources, Hobbs (Dwayne Johnson) announces to everyone that they’re out of tricks. “What do we do now?” they ask.
“We start praying,” Hobbs says.
And suddenly Dom, in his trademark black car, drops from the heavens to save the day. It’s a literal deus ex machina, the god out of a machine, solving the unsolvable problem with supernatural force. Though often criticized for being too convenient or simplistic, it’s supposed to create an emotional response. To that end, it works. The plot device originated in ancient Greece so it’s almost as old as theater itself. Aeschylus invented it. Aristotle wrote about it. Shakespear used it. And Vin Diesel embodied it.
Like I said, The Fate of the Furious is theatre.
