For years now, every breakout martial arts action film has arrived carrying the same burden: being declared "the next The Raid." It's become such a reflexive comparison that it barely means anything anymore. The truth is that plenty of incredible action movies have emerged since Gareth Evans permanently altered the genre's DNA in 2011, yet, for all the imitators, very few have genuinely pushed fight choreography somewhere excitingly new. The Furious does.
Directed by Kenji Tanigaki (Enter the Fat Dragon, Rurouni Kenshin) with action choreography from Kensuke Sonomura, The Furious isn't merely another showcase for hard-hitting martial arts combat. It's one of the most inventive action films in years, a movie that constantly finds fresh ways to move bodies through space and across the frame. It’s an experience so exhilarating and visceral that its narrative shortcomings ultimately feel insignificant compared to the sheer spectacle unfolding on screen.
The story itself is straightforward. Wushu champion Xie Miao stars as Wang Wei, a deaf handyman and single father whose life revolves around his young daughter Rainy (Yang Enyou). Though the two share a loving relationship, Wang isn't quite ready to fully step up and be the devoted father that Rainy needs him to be. Before they can work through those complications, terror strikes when Rainy is kidnapped by a child trafficking operation that has been terrorizing the area.
Wang immediately launches himself into pursuit, chasing the kidnappers barefoot through the streets with a level of determination that borders on self-destruction. When the police prove useless (and potentially corrupt) he decides to wage war against the trafficking network himself, with his one and only ally being an equally as vengeful journalist named Navim (Joe Taslim).
It's a familiar and easy setup, and The Furious wastes absolutely no time getting to what audiences came for. The action begins almost immediately, and from the opening fight sequence onward it's clear that something special is happening. Sonomura has always been a talented choreographer (Ghost Killer, Hydra), but this feels like a genuine evolution of his work. The way fighters move through these encounters is unlike anything I've seen before. Combatants don't simply exchange punches and kicks. They collide, fold and contort into one another, tumble across environments, and constantly reshape the geometry of the fight itself.
At times, entire groups of fighters seem to merge into a single living organism before breaking apart again. Bodies stack, slide, roll, and rebound with astonishing fluidity while still never losing the brutality of every hit. Watching these sequences feels less like observing martial arts choreography and more like witnessing somebody discover an entirely new physical language. It's exhilarating.
One standout sequence unfolds inside a nightclub that features an MMA octagon placed right in the middle. What begins as a classic chaotic brawl escalates into one of the year's best action scenes, particularly once Wang gets his hands on a hammer. The escalating sequence somehow manages to be violently creative, funny, and nerve-shreddingly tense all at once. And the film only keeps topping itself from there.
Whether Wang and Navin are battling Brian Le's imposing, scene-stealing henchman or squaring off against multiple opponents in cramped corridors, every fight feels designed around thrillingly fresh ideas rather than recycled choreography. The first confrontation between Wang and Navin alone would be the highlight of most action movies before the film casually moves on to something even better.
Just as important is the work of cinematographer Meteor Chung (In Broad Daylight, Time Still Turns the Pages), who understands the cardinal rule of great action filmmaking: let the audience actually see what's happening. The camera remains remarkably clear and controlled as it glides throughout the chaos, allowing viewers to appreciate every movement, throw, impact, and acrobatic maneuver without resorting to the frantic cutting that plagues so many action-heavy productions.
Not everything else works quite as well. The police subplot is easily the weakest aspect of the film, and several performances feel awkward, largely due to English dialogue being spoken by performers who aren't entirely comfortable with the language, and noticeably uneven ADR that doesn't help matters. There's also a strange commitment to interrupt the main story late in the film to focus on two antagonists (played by Joey Iwanaga & Yayan Ruhian) that previously felt incidental.
After what appears to be a natural conclusion, the final act of The Furious feels a bit disconnected from the earlier plot. The shift is a bit jarring, even if it leads to yet another phenomenal fight sequence that escalates into an absolutely mesmerizing five-person brawl. The finale earns its dues in spectacularly bruising and bloody fashion, and that’s ultimately all that matters by the film’s end. The Furious isn't perfect, but its astounding highs by and large make up for its lows. The action is simply too good. This is the rare film that repeatedly inspires cheers, gasps, winces, and laughter from its audience within the span of a single fight scene.
Most action movies are content to refine what already exists. The Furious feels like it's inventing something new. When all is said and done, the flaws fade into the background while the images remain burned into memory: bodies moving in impossible ways, fights unfolding with breathtaking creativity, and a filmmaker pushing action choreography somewhere it hasn't been before.
'The Furious' is now playing in theaters.
