For every action flick, the sweeping formula is for audience to teeter on the
edge of danger. With the Mission Impossible trilogy, we've seen air crafts gloom the skies with horror while cars overturn on the road. But the ultimate show is the two-wheel drive. It focuses more on the stunt's flexibility and captivating sequence shots. It has become a bad boy apparel and accessory for Hollywood hunks and a sure formula hit for moviegoers on the look for a wild goose chase.
If there's one lousy motorbike movie, it has to be the "
BikerBoyz". I agree with critics when they say that the father-son drama doesn't mesh with the motorcycle speed in racing. And Lawrence Fishburne in leather and tight pants? Now I don't see him as a cool daddy either!
Even if it flopped to my sense of appeal, I will have to say that I learned something new about racing. Nix off the teenage boy angst and the cool father trauma. I'd rather dwell more on its racing feeds. When Lawrence Fishburne raced, he thought of nothing but the road. He's oblivious of the cheering crowd and all he saw was what lies ahead. He's the king and he moved like one with his motor bike. Every skid equaled to every sway of his body and every speed equaled the courage and determination in him.
I think it's one of the best tricks in racing. Never mind your opponent, never mind the swerve. You are in control and you dictate the flow. Listen to nothing else but your instinct for riding. At least that would be the movie's clincher! For a minute, I saw Fishburne soften up when he trailed the wind on his own visceral feat.
