It's exactly what it's supposed to be

In a Hollywood landscape where spectacle reigns supreme, the latest installment of the Fast and Furious franchise delivers on its brand promise: a thrilling rollercoaster ride that plunges us into a world beyond the reach of reality, just as we recline with a bucket of popcorn and disengage from the mundane constraints of our everyday existence.

The introduction of Jason Momoa in an antagonistic role initially stirred ambivalence in me, a testament to his familiar portrayal of more heroic characters. His performance, while not exactly masterful, nonetheless takes an intriguing trajectory on screen. Momoa manages to convey the erratic nuances of a true psychopath, sufficiently contributing to the film's ensemble cast. Over time, I found myself appreciating his character's evolution, which was a decent portrayal, albeit not extraordinary.

Staying true to its franchise roots, the movie embodies a whirlwind of high-octane action, convoluted plot turns, and a pace that leaves you barely catching your breath. It's a testament to the franchise's unwavering commitment to keep its audience on the edge of their seats.

Regarding the perception of 'wokeness', it is critical to draw the line between genuine attempts at inclusivity and the mere stretching of our disbelief for the sake of entertainment. The movie unabashedly embraces the latter. For instance, the spectacle of a lightweight female protagonist overcoming multiple male adversaries with brute force is a trope that predates the current discussions around representation and diversity. Think Elektra, Ultraviolet, and The Fifth Element; these movies weren't making a socio-political statement - they were capitalizing on the sheer exhilaration of seeing the improbable. It's a feature that has been ingrained in Hollywood long before the discourse of wokeness, and Fast and Furious, with its flamboyantly exaggerated reality, is an ardent subscriber to this tradition.

I posit that the filmmakers were not consciously propelling a female-centric or feminist agenda in this narrative. Even if such an undercurrent existed, it never infringed upon or compromised the film's palpable masculinity. The Fast and Furious franchise has perpetually reveled in its flamboyance, distancing itself from the boundaries of plausible reality. This deliberate deviation from the conventional, far from undermining the quintessence of masculinity, serves to amplify it, orchestrating a cinematic spectacle that, while perhaps not vying for accolades, provides an undeniable sense of enjoyment for its audience.

The appearance of Brie Larson was a bit of a jarring note in the symphony, though I suspect her minor role is an introductory platform for more substantial involvement in the impending trilogy.

In summary, the film lives up to the Fast and Furious identity: action-soaked, exuberantly-paced, and a feast for the imagination of those who appreciate cinema as an escape from reality. It's not a film for the critical eye seeking meticulous authenticity; it's an adrenaline-filled joyride for those ready to throw reality out the window and get lost in the sheer spectacle of it all.