Despite a possibly confusing title, The Furious, a pan-Asian martial arts action-thriller helmed by stunt-choreographer-turned-director Kenji Tanigaki (Enter the Fat Dragon), bears zero connection to the Fast & Furious series. Chances are, The Furious won’t turn into a multi-billion-dollar, multi-film juggernaut, but it also didn’t cost $350M to produce like the already forgotten Fast X from the popular franchise.
The worst, first; the best, last: The four credited screenwriters, Mak Tin-shu, Lei Zhilong, Shum Kwan-sin, and Frank Hui lean hard on tired genre tropes in The Furious, beginning with a mute protagonist, Wang Wei (Xie Miao). He’s an undocumented immigrant living in an unnamed Southeast Asian country. There’s also his resentful preteen daughter, Rainy (Yang Enyou) and a freelance journalist, Navin (Joe Taslim), who investigates the disappearance of his wife and writing partner, Matia (JeeJa Yanin, seen all-too-briefly in a tone-setting prologue).
When Rainy also disappears, Wang and Navin’s separate stories converge. Initially antagonistic and understandably distrustful, Wang and Navin simultaneously find themselves in a nightclub owned and operated by one of the human traffickers. To survive the night, they have to fight the usual assortment of thugs, henchmen, and underlings. In time, they become begrudging allies by necessity and comrades-in-arms by the shared experience of pursuing the human traffickers.
So far, so predictable, and sometimes painfully so. However, that set-up has nothing on paper-thin characterizations, sub-functional dialogue, and, worse, cringe-worthy dubbing that, intentionally or not, recalls to the halcyon days of Asian martial arts films hastily dubbed into English by the same three or four actors. Too often, the mouths don’t sync with the dialogue, or the words appear to originate from anywhere except the characters’ mouths. A minor distraction, certainly, but still too noticeable.
The plot proper involves an Epstein-inspired human trafficking organization with a specialty in preteens. Corruption infects every level of civil, commercial, and political society, including the upper echelons of the local police force. All the better, of course, for Wang and Navin, pursuing a righteous rampage of revenge and retribution, to tenderize, mutilate, and execute in satisfyingly gory and gruesome ways.
Although The Furious periodically stumbles or even outright fails story-wise, character-wise, and dialogue-wise, it’s not why martial arts/action enthusiasts will drop their hard-earned cash or credit for a ticket: It’s everything in between the story beats–the jaw-droppingly choreographed action scenes, some lasting five to ten minutes–that make The Furious a must-see experience.
Even as the action advances the plot (such as it is), Tanigaki places a premium on keeping his performers, Xie Miao and Joe Taslim, front and centre. Both martial artists in their own right, Miao and Taslim handle everything Tanigaki and his stunt team throw at them. In an early scene that would double as the climax in any other film, an indomitable Miao relentlessly pursues Rainy’s kidnappers, running across a warehouse at breakneck speed, jumping into and out of a moving truck, and otherwise making the lives of the kidnappers incredibly difficult. He even runs on literal broken glass to save his daughter.
Every subsequent action scene tops the last. Wang and Navin’s trip to the nightclub takes them into several different levels, an office, and an octagon. Echoing Bruce Lee’s breakout performance in The Big Boss, another sequence inside an icehouse pits Wang and Navin against a nearly unstoppable enforcer, Ho (Brian Le). It’s as dynamic, kinetic, and wildly inventive as anything that follows and everything that precedes it.
Refusing to leave any idea unused, what would otherwise serve as the climax, a two-against-everybody fight inside an abandoned tenement building, isn’t. It’s only the first part of a two-part fight sequence. The second part unfolds inside a semi-abandoned police station, this time putting Wang and Navin against Ho (again), a tracksuit-wearing, grinning psychopath, Tak (Yayan Ruhian), and the film’s “big boss,” Paklung (Joey Iwanaga). Seemingly innocuous in a business suit, tie, and glasses, Paklung proves to be the deadliest fighter. With his bow-and-arrow and knife-work, Tak is no slouch either.
The Furious doesn’t necessarily qualify as a “check your brain at the door” exploitation flick, as it’s too slickly produced for that, but it’s close. The story doesn’t come first or even second. It comes last. The human/child trafficking tale doubles as scaffolding for the elaborate, close-quarters combat scenes and an excuse to justify the high body count. Given their status as irredeemable villains, the human traffickers don’t deserve mercy. To the applause of the audience on the other side of the screen, neither Wang nor Navin gives them any.
