So far Fast Five, a steroid male-attitude robot fantasy about muscles and possessions and whale-sized physiques and high-octane flamboyance and studly one-upsmanship, has an 81% Rotten Tomatoes rating. It is what it is (blah, blah, blah) and I’m not suggesting that Universal executives or director Justin Lin be indicted for a felony, but I’m going to rip it a new asshole tomorrow morning anyway.
Along with the smart critics who know better but have given it a pass because they know that the regular-guy mob is into it and they don’t want to seem too fickle or prissy or metrosexual if they don’t take off their shirt and jump into the passenger seat and shout “hell, yeah…a good time!” In other words I, Jeffrey Wells, am man enough to pan this thing.
