Fast Five, the latest showcase of fast cars, big guns, and trophy women from the Fast and Furious franchise, isn’t as bad as most “fives,” but isn’t as balls-to-the-wall fun as it could be, either. Vin Diesel, Paul Walker and company are all present and all do variations of okay with the given material, but it’s series newcomer Dwayne Johnson’s Luke Hobbs, a headstrong, wiseass agent so cut he could make a moo-moo look like it came from the newborn table at Baby Gap, that adds any real fuel to the fire. His snappy, Bruce-Willis-as-Anton-Chigurh-on-steroids performance is the only thing invigorating about the bloated, exposition-heavy lulls. When Fast Five moves from a sluggish purr to a growl, you won’t want to take your eyes off of the mayhem. It’s bookended by two gleefully reckless and surprisingly innovating set pieces, but there’s not much else on the shelf. Clocking in at 130 minutes, a little script control would have done wonders for pacing, but for the fifth Fast and Furious flick, it’ll do.