The Fast and The Furious at 21 – A Modern Classic?

As I was flicking through my TV’s menus last night, in an aimless attempt to find something to watch I spotted The Fast and The Furious was available. I also noted, as I scanned the information below the icon, that it was released in 2001. I froze for a short moment as I did the mental math about 37 times to confirm that 2001 does indeed mean it’s now 21 years old. I didn’t need Carol Vorderman to work it out, but I did need a significant mental push to get the figure of 21 over the line. How can it be 21 years-old? When did I get old? It seemed like just yesterday 18 year-old me and three chumps were piling into my 2001 Lupo 1.0S to go and see said film. Time, man. It’s a cruel mistress.

But this post isn’t going to be a sharp, wordy descent into my age-related existential crisis. I’ll do that on my own time. Instead, I want to talk about this film, which, if it were indeed a car, would be a modern classic. The cars within its cinematic walls might not be the sort that tickle your pickle, but there is no denying the impact and influence this film had on car culture. Love it or hate it, The Fast and The Furious validated our passions. It brought fellow petrolheads together and it gave birth to a generation of people who would see their cars as more than just transport. For those of us who were already into cars, we jeered at the technical inaccuracies, but deep down we liked seeing a film for car people. It was a welcome change from the usual ‘Nicholas Cage saves the world’ vehicles we were being subjected to at the time.

And while me might scoff at the notion, The Fast and The Furious was indeed based on reality. A real subculture of street racing – of high stakes, high octane gatherings of petrolheads living their lives a quarter of a mile at a time. Director, Rob Cohen, saw the potential for a film after reading an article in Vibe magazine published in 1998. The article, ‘Racer X’ centred around street racing in New York City, and explored the devotion to this world displayed by its occupants. These people lived for this world. Power, speed and ultimately, winning, was everything. Universal soon saw the potential, and so Redline was green-lit. Eventually though, the title became The Fast and The Furious. Paul Walker was cast as the lead protagonist (though Eminem was offered it), with Vin Diesel cast as the movie’s conflicted antagonist.

Originally, the film was to be set in New York City, as per the article. However, after seeing more cultural diversity as well as more vehicular diversity while observing illegal street racing in Los Angels, Cohen opted to base the film there. As for the story itself, we’ll spare you the full synopsis. This isn’t a movie review. But if you’ve not seen it, it’s DVD player (if that doesn’t age the film, nothing will) heists, Honda Civics, undercover cops, three Spoon engines, Hector, nobody likes the tuna here, crashes and Mashimoto ZX tires [sic]. It’s a crime caper, a good cop goes bad but for moral reasons movie. It’s Point Break but with a Supra instead of a surf board.

It was never going to be Oscar fodder, but that doesn’t mean it should quickly be dismissed. It was, after all, a movie with niche appeal, and that niche audience fell in love with it. While I know I wasn’t stealing truckloads of DVD players in 2001, I do know that the bright and colourful automotive backdrop of the film spoke to me and my aspirations. The films worked so hard to satiate everyone, too. You had race cars, lowriders, muscle cars and even some two-wheeled stars, as well. It spoke to a generation because it was in fact based on the very generation and crowd to which it spoke. It wasn’t Hollywood fantasy. And this recognition of a massive automotive scene served to motivate so many people to buy, build and modify their rides. It gave people further impetus to express themselves via their cars.

Yeah, some of the cars (okay, most) were gaudy and silly. Neon lights have never, nor will ever be cool. The body-kits were extravagant, the wheels were huge, the subwoofers were thumping and the size of the rear mounted spoilers on front wheel-drive cars was baffling. Some of what went on was questionable, too. The floorpan falling out of a monocoque car, the danger to the manifold, the explosive nitrous (it doesn’t do that), the Dodge Charger that could simultaneously do a wheelie, while also spinning the wheels, the, the… you get the idea. But so what? It never set out to be a documentary. It’s cinema, and cinema is going to take some liberties.

But this film isn’t to be celebrated because of the individual mods and trends, it’s to be celebrated for what it did to the minds of a generation. It gave us a bank of everlasting quotes, it made stars out of the late Paul Walker and Mr. Potato… Vin Diesel. It was watchable, fun and exciting. This was, as car people, our time to shine in Hollywood. The Fast and The Furious was a vivid, loud, unapologetically flamboyant celebration of expression and of going your own way. Just so long as you ignore the criminal element. Don’t embody that.

I love this film, and I always will. I love the films that followed, too. The billion dollar franchise that emerged from what was basically a high budget B Movie might have moved more into the superhero space (and literal Space in the case of the ninth film) with seemingly immortal human beings and stunts that defy physics at every turn, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that throughout, cars have always been front and centre. This franchise has brought some incredible cars to the silver screen, and it’s served as the foundation on which successive generations have been able to build their motoring passions. It’s a celebration of automotive culture, a franchise in which the car is the star as much as the people.

Here’s to The Fast and The Furious being 21. Old enough to drink, in its native Los Angeles. And as such, it can have any brew it likes, so long as it’s a Corona.