WARNING: Spoilers ahead!
On a superficial level, it’s fair to call the The Fast and the Furious franchise just another action movie franchise. Indeed, it has grossed over $3 billion at the box office, and the several sequels have ridiculous, incongruous titles (why did they go from Fast Five to Fast & Furious 6 to Furious 7??). The latest installment, Furious 7, has made a record breaking $801 million since it’s release just two short weeks ago. So if ticket sales and sheer longevity are good indicators, The Fast & Furious franchise is certainly a hit.
But there’s more to these films than just the mindless explosions; indeed, at their heart, these are street racing films, centered around unadulterated vehicular chaos. Furious 7 continues in this vein, with a new slew of cars that range in quality from American muscle to Japanese agility to… I guess we can call it a tank.
The film opens up with a nostalgic nod to The Fast and the Furious‘s “Race Wars,” which seems to be the Burning Man of quarter-mile races. Positioned in the middle of the desert, it’s almost exactly what it sounds like. There are women in bikinis, men with too many tattoos, and, of course, a diverse and jaw-dropping ensemble of gorgeous cars. And Iggy Azealea, because this is actually the type of place she would hang out.