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Film review: Fast & Furious 6 (12A)


More musclebound meatheads in their mean machines: here's a franchise that shows every sign of living forever, or at least of remaining undead. This sixth instalment cares so little about realism that it brings back to life a character who was murdered before our very eyes in the last one.

Federal agent Dwayne Johnson, playing catch-up with a criminal mastermind (Luke Evans), decides to call in hotrodders-in-exile Vin Diesel and Paul Walker, who in turn reassemble their old crew, or "family", as they're now positioned. Honestly, it's about as much to do with family as Sepp Blatter and his delusional FIFA "football family".

The chase eventually closes in on London, where the film commits its most egregious offence against credibility: a car race that begins at Somerset House and takes the bends at Silverstone velocity around The Strand and Piccadilly. As anyone who has ever been to London will know, the traffic in this city doesn't move, it crawls. Roadworks? Traffic lights? Other cars? They've disappeared for Vin! Perhaps he should run for mayor.

The lame attempts at banter sound as horrible to my ears as the feral growl of souped-up engines, but what do I know? The last F&F made over $600m worldwide, and the seventh, as a sneak preview indicates, is on the way.