The Furious review has one simple message for action fans: buckle up, because this nearly two-hour ride barely pauses for five minutes without someone getting punched, kicked or thrown face-first through a table. Director Kenji Tanigaki, better known until now as an action choreographer, has built a film that trusts its fists more than its dialogue, and that decision pays off handsomely.
A familiar plot, but that's not the point
Strip away the punches and the story underneath is a repackaged version of Taken, following a kidnapped daughter and the parent racing to get her back. In The Furious, that parent is a mute father named Wang Wei, played by Xie Miao. Tanigaki clearly knows the plot is secondary here. He lets his characters stay quiet and lets the choreography do the talking, and the result is a relentlessly entertaining slice of Hong Kong martial arts mayhem.
Action that keeps raising the stakes
What stands out is how deliberately the fights escalate. The film opens with Wang Wei's attempt to rescue his kidnapped daughter in a surprisingly blood-light sequence inspired by Jackie Chan, particularly First Strike, with performers throwing themselves in, around and through a truck. From there, the violence keeps climbing, eventually reaching a wall-painting brawl inside a police station that blends wushu, judo and more into an all-out demolition that would not feel out of place in the Raid films.
Sound design plays a big role in making every hit land: the crunch of bone and impact is felt rather than just heard. Tanigaki's camera adds to the effect, weaving through each fight with an energy that feels like it just downed a Red Bull, while an electronic score pushes the whole thing into jaw-dropping, or perhaps jaw-snapping, territory.
Total absurdity, and proud of it
Elsewhere, the film leans fully into the ridiculous. There is a scene where a child rides down a hallway on the back of a motorbike, swinging at henchmen along the way, and that single image sums up the movie's attitude. Everything is delivered with a knowing wink, the kind of over-the-top spectacle that feels like a tribute John Woo himself would raise a glass to.
The Furious clearly is not afraid to go over the top. In true Hong Kong tradition, its emotions run just as high as the number of bodies hitting the floor.
That commitment to spectacle does not always extend smoothly to the quieter scenes. Journalist Navin, played by Joe Taslim, joins Wang Wei on his mission, and the film's attempts to build an emotional bond between them do not land quite as convincingly as the fight scenes do. The child-centred drama around the kidnapped daughter also slows the pacing slightly as the story heads into its final act. Even so, the film's devotion to recreating the feel of classic Hong Kong cinema is easy to admire, and it quickly remembers what the audience actually came for.
The scene that steals the show
The film's biggest highlight arrives in the middle, in a fight built around Brian Le, familiar to audiences from Everything Everywhere All At Once. Here he trades his previous film's props for a sledgehammer, and he dominates the screen, towering over both Xie Miao and Joe Taslim. The three of them tear through a warehouse, exchanging one inventive blow after another as the hammer passes between them, at one point smashing through human-shaped ice sculptures that actually have people frozen inside, as gruesome as that sounds, adding an even bloodier layer to the chaos. For a few minutes, it genuinely feels like this kind of unhinged spectacle is exactly what cinema exists for.
Verdict
The Furious wears its influences openly, from Jackie Chan's stunt work to the brutal efficiency of the Raid films, but Kenji Tanigaki still manages to stamp the film with an identity of its own. It is a bone-crunching, relentlessly entertaining beast, and more of this kind of mayhem would be very welcome.
