“Genocide schmenocide,” says cybernetic villain Brixton (Idris Elba), channeling the absurdly irreverent dialogue of Groucho Marx. Indeed, for a majority of its 137-minute running time, Hobbs & Shaw is like Fast & Furious reimagined as a Marx brothers movie. The tone is primarily comical from the start, as director David Leitch presents montages of the two main characters, Luke Hobbs (Dwayne Johnson) and Deckard Shaw (Jason Statham), doing everything differently: fitness, breakfast, beating the crap out of people. The constant visual juxtaposition, as representative of a neverending male pissing contest, is an effective and fun running joke that represents a much different approach to filmmaking than that of the mainline franchise.
The Fast & Furious series began as an ode to souped-up cars and irresponsible, douchebaggy behavior, but the last handful of sequels transformed the franchise into a saga of increasingly impossible stunts and sincere multiracial brotherhood. Hobbs & Shaw appears to make a U-turn. Despite making immediate reference to Hobbs’ status as a father, Hobbs & Shaw doesn’t care about evoking cultural values, as time after time the film derails its plot with silly nonsense in a manner that recalls the anarchic nature of Duck Soup, Horse Feathers, and other Marx brothers classics.
Why else have the perpetually unserious Ryan Reynolds, as CIA agent Victor Locke, interrupt a meal between Hobbs and his daughter and eventually unbutton the top of his shirt to prove that Hobbs and Locke got the same ink as previous best buds? In the same scene, Locke hands Hobbs information about the workings of a vile plot that must be undermined, all the while implying that Hobbs’ child, who is only 9, is ready for the world of violent conflict. Locke can’t even finish giving Hobbs all of the mission details because he, while keeping eye contact with the little girl, babbles about how a particular villainess managed to kill a person by stabbing them in a chest with a brick. “Get to the point,” orders Hobbs, only to receive this elaboration: “The point is there’s no sharp edge. How did she get an entire brick into another person’s chest? She either had to be really strong or the other person had to have been like born without, like, bones.”
Later, a character played by comedian Kevin Hart turns an already unnecessary scene into an extended tangent as Hobbs & Shaw further thumbs its nose at the very notion of pacing.
Then, for roughly the final third of the movie, Hobbs & Shaw decides to be more of a drama and attaches itself to themes of ethnicity and family, just like the larger series. Hobbs and Shaw must visit the former’s childhood home of Samoa, where Hobbs attempts to re-establish a bond with his brother. Here, Hobbs’ family and friends, using traditional weapons, must defeat a group of soldiers armed to the teeth with technology. Hobbs himself announces the newfound message of the story: “Brother, you may believe in machines, but we believe in people.”
It’s a fascinating twist, especially considering that Samoa as a country and Dwayne Johnson’s specific ethnic roots rarely get attention in the mainstream. But the change in direction sucks the humor out of Hobbs & Shaw, not to mention that it diminishes the fundamental rivalry between the titular duo. At one point, Shaw utters, “If we work together, we can hurt him [Brixton].”
The line clangs. Hobbs & Shaw, in trying to fit the conventions of the main series, abandons the kooky identity that it wore so well and becomes a corny reminder that we’re all in it together.
Film Quarantine 