In the Flesh: The Fast and the Furious 3: Tokyo Drift (Patreon)

It’s incredible how going from two total visual incompetents to Justin Lin, a guy who basically knows where to point a camera, makes Tokyo Drift feel like it was shot by Kubrick in comparison to its predecessors. On its own it’s a competent little fish-out-of-water action movie, a little Orientalist, a little sexist, but that’s basically par for the course in mid-2000s blockbuster filmmaking. Set against the preceding films it’s a giant-sized step up for the series which moves it firmly out of the realm of complete garbage and into its neighboring kingdom: fun garbage. Even the boring white guy at its center, Sean Boswell (Lucas Black), is a country mile better than Paul Walker, a backwoods racer whose mouth is bigger than his motor. The supporting cast is strong as well, with Sung Kang’s philosophical, easygoing Han and Brian Tee’s brutal but emotionally tremulous D.K. providing a set of foils to Sean’s directionless anger and desire to prove himself and fit in among the other racers.

The film’s interpersonal elements are more or less peripheral, and they feel it. Some chatter between Sean and Neela (Nathalie Kelley) about being gaijin in Tokyo, a sprinkle of alcoholism and masculine friction between Sean and his navy hardass father (Brian Goodman), and a little bit of frightened deference from D.K. to his uncle Kamata (Sonny Chiba) elevated above the rest by the strong chemistry between the two actors, even if Chiba is costumed like a Dick Tracy villain. It’s just enough story to support framework for the races around which the film revolves, and of which Lin makes a satisfying meal. It’s all burning rubber and screeching metal, the sense of speed not quite immersive but certainly entertaining. You can really feel the weight of the cars in motion, and the titular maneuver is great for building up a visual sense of tension.

Color is the other big step forward here, with Lin’s crew grading the film richly, all blues and neon pinks and velvety black. There’s no sense of suspended reality here, and the extremely low stakes and small scale lend it all a feel of believability. The lighting is decent, too. There’s evident thought behind the distribution, color, and intensity of light sources in any given scene. No gadgets, no spy hijinks, just a hick trying to prove himself to the local city-slickers and a spoiled rich kid flaming out at being challenged. Is there anything particularly special about Tokyo Drift? Not really, but it knows all its lines and hits its marks, and sometimes that’s all you need for a good time at the movies.