GOING, GOING, GONAD

This is a film that roars at brash volumes: you can pretty much hear bones crunching during the closequarter fight scenes, although the combatants keep slugging away at one another for hours, clearly oblivious to their internal injuries.

In addition to dealing with a psychopath pursuing them from across the Atlantic, the team is assembled to rescue an enigmatic hacker named “Ramsey”. Ramsey turns out to be a charming young woman, and is allowed to be appreciated simply for her extraordinary intellect for all of five minutes, a minor feminist triumph, before being fated to gambol at the cusp of the sand and the sea, Bond-girl style, in black swimwear.

As the journey rolls across the planet, the same formula applies to each country: blare of bass-heavy electro, a splurge of underclad females paraded across the screen, glittering images of wealth and status, and some choreographed car-based carnage.

Hurtling past the two hour mark, with a trail of urban destruction left in its wake, Furious 7 is inclined to motion sickness. — Kavish Chetty