The fact that Furious 7 is messier than any of the past installments is more than mitigated by its grandeur. "Dom, cars don't fly! Cars don't fly!" Brian yells before its biggest stunt. Furious 7 makes you believe they can.
The director, James Wan, sends cars repeatedly airborne and seems himself to marvel at the results; the movie's real subject is the stunt work, but its stars' authentic chemistry lends melody to its relentless beat.
As zippy, playful and amiably preposterous as the best of the previous models.
"Furious 7" could have come across as ghoulish, but it's not until the very end that we're reminded of Walker's fate, and the filmmakers handle it with taste and respect.
Who would have thought that a series addicted to the high of movement could also summon a solemnity that leaves you moved?
The only grace note in this otherwise determinedly graceless movie is the classy way Walker's exit is handled. To say more is to say too much.
Furious 7 kicks the biggest and hardest, but it's far from the best.
This is an immensely entertaining movie, and if the filmmakers are wise, they'll quit on this high note.
It's all entertaining enough, I suppose. But there's a twisted coldness under the action that's anxiously concealed by the characters' refrains of the importance of "family" and sticking together and other ostensibly nice stuff.