Try Fatburger from now on. Get yourself a Double Cheese with fries for $2.95, faggot.
A core entry in the y2k cinematic canon, but also the antithesis to other cult classics like Hackers; where the latter's counterculture camp has aged into a timeless social critique, The Fast And The Furious has become an exhausting exercise in bad dialogue, bright lights and agonizing heterosexuality. Twenty years on, when people like Brian have bodycam footage and people like Dom have the most insufferable Instagram account you can imagine, The Fast And The Furious's underground, antihero vibes are anything but, the cinematic equivalent of finding out the kid from high school you smoked pot with at a System Of The Down concert now drives an F-150 and thinks that feminists ruined his marriage. For other millennials like me who found this film to be such a dismal watch after a lifetime away, perhaps the problem is not with the film, but with us, and perhaps Nostalgia's rose-tinted glasses are really just us seeing what we were too naive, or too optimistic, to see before. Was the kid you smoked pot with really that cool, or did you just overlook the awkward gay jokes because everyone else was making them too? Was a film about a morally indecisive cop and a VCR thief really that generation-defining, or were we just all in our teens and rock-hard for car crashes and Michelle Rodriguez's see-through top?