1. Furious 7 has a scene I have been waiting a long, long time to see in a movie, and it happens twice. Two cars facing each other from opposite sides of the street. Two men, nostrils flaring, glowering, revving their engines, respective erect penises in hand. They shift into gear. They floor it. They speed directly toward one another, smoke angrily spewing out of their engines, tires melting, the back wheels shooting upward. It's straight-up, old-school chicken: two motherfuckers going at it, head-on. One of these men is Vin Diesel. The other is Jason Statham. Who will back down? Who will blink first? Who's gonna bitch out? The resolution of this battle of wills, this measuring of male organs, is both inevitable and perfect: It goes down exactly as it had to. It is the logical extension of everything that came before it. The first time it's a giddy surprise. The second time, I dare argue, it approaches the sublime.
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