It was a late January evening, and Netflix had just dropped a batch of “new” movies. One of its top recommendations? Fast & Furious 6. I threw it on as background noise while falling asleep, thinking nothing of it.
The next morning, I wasn’t sure how much of what I remembered about Fast & Furious 6 was real and how much was some bizarre fever dream. Did Dominic Toretto actually deliver a flying headbutt while an airplane tried—and failed—to take off for 12 straight minutes?
I used to love these movies. I still own the first eight of them (digitally, at least), but this groggy flashback made me realize two things.
First, I couldn’t remember the last time I actually watched any of these movies. And second, I had no idea when this franchise went from street racing to full-blown superhero antics.
So, I decided to find out. This month, I committed to marathoning all ten Fast & Furious films—plus Hobbs & Shaw, if time allowed—to pinpoint exactly when things went off the rails and why, despite everything, I still have a soft spot for them.
Did I need to cram all of this into four weeks? Not really. But once the phrase Fast February popped into my head, there was no turning back. You know, for all the screaming fans desperate for meaning in my completely arbitrary viewing habits.
At first, this was just about watching the movies. But the deeper I got—the faster and the more furious-er I became—I started to realize something unexpected. It wasn’t just about the absurd action sequences, the ridiculous one-liners, or even the cars.
It was about who I used to watch Fast & Furious with. And why they don’t hit the same way anymore.
The Early Days: When Fast & Furious Was About Racing (and Friendship)
I didn’t grow up with these movies—I had really only seen Tokyo Drift on TV once and nothing else. But some friends I made after high school loved the Fast & Furious franchise, so it was on pretty frequently when I hung out with them.
They were the reason I really got into the series—I had to know why they were so obsessed. I found that the later movies feature fight choreography not unlike that of the WWE, which couldn’t have been coincidental because I used to hang with them for wrestling pay-per-views, too.
Plus, they always joined me on my Marvel escapades (including a Marvel-themed trivia bar crawl in Chicago and our 2-day, non-stop MCU marathon leading up to Avengers: Endgame), so it couldn’t always be Marvel movies.
We never took Fast & Furious that seriously, but we held the franchise in high regard as something we all enjoyed together.
The franchise was changing then, too, but so was I. And back then, watching Fast & Furious was less about the movies themselves and more about being part of the group.
From Racing to Global Heists: The Franchise Loses Its Grip on Reality (and I Start to Lose Interest)
The early Fast & Furious movies actually focused on cars, racing, and street culture (The Fast and the Furious, 2 Fast 2 Furious, Tokyo Drift). It was a super fun element that not a lot of mainstream action movies explored.
Then things started shifting (Fast &
Furious 2009)—more action, less racing. Not bad, but not necessarily better, either.
By Fast Five, the franchise had fully transformed into a high-octane heist series, and the characters were gaining near-superhuman abilities.
A running joke with my friends was trying to pinpoint the exact moment these characters became Avengers. Was it when Dom lifted an engine with one hand? When The Rock flexed his way out of a cast?
Despite all of this, I stayed engaged—because it was fun to watch with my friends. And even now, watching with an analytical eye, I still enjoy these movies more than I should, simply because I think about the family I made along the way.
The Meme of “Family”—And What I Didn’t Realize Until Now
The Fast & Furious franchise loves talking about family. It’s the cornerstone of Dom’s character and has become a meme at this point.
But watching the last two movies in the franchise by myself, rather than with friends, made me realize something—the real key to enjoying these movies wasn’t just the action, it was the people.
We used to laugh, cheer, and groan at these ridiculous movies together. I remember going to see Hobbs & Shaw during its opening weekend with some of the guys. There was a ton of buzz due to The Rock bringing in another WWE personality in Roman Reigns. That movie opened the door to some truly Avengers-level fight sequences, which was a lot of fun to see on the big screen with a bunch of guys who loved nothing more than seeing Dwayne Johnson strong-arm an in-flight helicopter.
When the next two Fast & Furious movies came out, though—F9 and Fast X—I waited for each of them to be released on disc, rented them, and watched them by myself. Not exactly the same environment as how I was introduced to previous installments. And as a result, I wanted to turn each of them off halfway through.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that maybe the franchise didn’t get worse over time; less about the cars and more about the absurdity. Maybe I just miss my friends.
Or maybe two things can be true.
The Big Realization: Fast & Furious Was Never Really About the Movies
What started as a fun challenge ended with an unexpected emotional realization: these movies were always kind of ridiculous, but they were ridiculously fun when I had the right people around me.
Turns out, Dom was right about one thing: it really is all about family. Just… not in the way I expected.
