Furies Review: Netflix’s Bonkers French Action Extravaganza

Buckle up and brace yourself for one hell of an adrenaline-fueled joyride through the gritty streets of Paris. Netflix’s new French series Furies delivers that electrifying rush you crave from an intense action flick – a non-stop barrage of blazing bullets and flying bodies that’ll have you gripping the edge of your seat. This kinetic crime thriller is about to take you on a white-knuckle thrill ride like no other.

From the very first scene, which kicks off with a gun-toting femme fatale storming into a restaurant to clean house, you know you’re in for a deliciously gritty, no-holds-barred crime thriller. The basic premise? A young woman named Lyna reluctantly gets swept into the city’s vicious criminal underworld after her accountant father is abruptly murdered. Her quest for vengeance leads her straight into the crosshairs of the mysterious “Fury” – a ruthless enforcer who maintains order amidst the warring mafia families.

What ensues is an exhilarating game of cat-and-mouse, with sleek action set pieces contrasted against the luxurious backdrop of the City of Lights. Lyna’s transformation from a wide-eyed civilian into a lethal ass-kicker is nothing short of captivating. Get ready for elaborately choreographed fight sequences, balletic gunplay, and one hell of an adrenaline rush – this merciless maverick of a series pulls no punches.

Badass Belles and Brutal Bosses: Sizing Up Furies’ Killer Character Lineup

At the core of Furies’ exhilarating ride stands Lyna Guerrab, played with raw intensity by Lina El Arabi. This young woman oozes relatability from the get-go as just an ordinary student, totally out of her element in the crime world tied to her family’s shady dealings. But when her accountant father is brutally assassinated, an unbreakable spirit ignites within Lyna that’s simply magnetic to watch unfurl. You can’t help but get invested as she sheds her naivety, taking a masterclass in the brutal badassery required to infiltrate the city’s criminal elite on her torturous quest for vengeance.

Of course, every heroic rise demands a formidable antagonist to overcome, and boy does Selma (played by the fierce Marina Foïs) deliver as the enigmatic “Fury.” This cold-blooded criminal queenpin commands fear and obedience as the underworld’s enforcer, meticulously trained to regulate the hierarchies and feuds between Paris’ reigning mafia clans. Yet there’s an alluring mystique surrounding Selma that goes beyond her lethally sculpted fighting skills. Just what intriguing secrets lurk beneath that inscrutable facade?

The gripping dynamics don’t end there, with the strong supporting cast packing powerful personality punches of their own. You can’t help feeling for Lyna’s boyfriend Elie, the naive but well-intentioned cop hopelessly out of his depth. The cavalier high-roller Orso adds a casually roguish flair. And Lyna’s own family, from her anmesic-stricken mother to the doomed father, cultivate compelling shades of moral greyness amid the stylish carnage.

While some backstories could use more fleshing out, the core characters continually captivate through their deftly intertwined arcs and clashing motivations. Just when you think you’ve figured out where a persona’s loyalties lie, Furies deftly dolesouts searing rug-pulls that radically recontextualize allegiances. These intricate character complexities are what elevate the series beyond just another slick actioner into an engrossing, sordidly human crime saga.

Poetry in Brutality: Furies’ Ferocious Fight Fest

If you’re an action junkie riding that insatiable high from the John Wick saga, get ready to fix your next vice – Furies is here to blow you away with its downright intoxicating displays of choreographed chaos. From the very first episode, the bone-crunching, gun-blazing action hits you like a sucker punch to the senses.

While the narrative pacing may stumble at times, Furies absolutely snaps into electrifying focus whenever fists and bullets start flying. The fight choreography is nothing short of mesmerizing, exhibiting a rare kinetic grace reminiscent of blood-soaked ballet. Bodies twist and contort through intricate physicality as our ruthlessly trained leads dish out poetically brutal punishment.

Lyna’s visceral transformation from meek civilian to merciless asskicker is put on full display through these exhilarating setpieces. One moment she’s hopelessly flailing, the next she’s deftly cracking bones and dishing out death with calculated precision. You can practically feel the raw fury radiating from Lina El Arabi’s physicality as she embodies Lyna’s emotional metamorphosis.

But she’s not the only one packing serious punch. The seasoned Selma and her elite squad of Furies enforcers deal out intensity in spades, dispatching foes with a chillingly casual lethality. Watching these women dismantle adversaries through harrowing brutality in simple, unbroken shots is nothing short of breathtaking.

Highlights includes Lyna’s climactic truck heist showdown, an outrageous casino brawl that must be seen to be believed, and the jaw-dropping opening church massacre that instantly pulls you into the deliriously violent world of the Parisian underworld. While the action may lean exaggerated at times, it leans so far into the indulgent madness that you can’t help but be swept up in the sensational adrenaline rush.

Sleek, hard-hitting, and dripping with style – the fight choreography alone makes Furies a worthy indulgence for hardcore action aficionados. Just tighten those seatbelts and get ready for your adrenaline fix.

Peeling Back the Curtain on Paris’ Deliciously Sordid Criminal High Society

While Furies certainly doesn’t reinvent the crime thriller genre, it does take wicked delight in immersing viewers in the salaciously twisted hierarchies and obscenely lavish indulgences of Paris’ underworld high society. This ain’t your average street-level drug den or turf war – we’re talking straight-up mob royalty and larger-than-life criminal legends.

At the crooked zenith presides the ominous Olymp, an elite syndicate of mafia overlords that have divvied up the City of Lights into their own hedonistic playgrounds. These bosses live a life of unchecked extravagance and brutality, their opulent manors hosting gambling dens where lowly poker debts are settled through delightfully depraved acts of self-mutilation.

Strutting through this cesspool of immorality as judge, jury and if needed, ruthless executioner is the mythical Fury – a matriarchal lineage of elite female enforcers tasked with maintaining the “peace” and hierarchy of the underworld chessboard. Part avenging angel, part mercenary overlord, the Fury commands unwavering fear and obedience through sheer, blatant domination.

It’s all deliciously wicked stuff that lovingly leans into the guilty pleasure tropes of elevated criminal society showcased in the likes of John Wick’s Continental hotel. The world-building finds the sweet spot between overindulgent ludicrousness and captivating mystique, constantly dangling new tantalizing reveals to pull you deeper into the sundered Paris demimonde.

That said, Furies can’t quite attain the masterful execution and layered textures of its underworld crime saga inspirations. The headier mythological elements, from the shrouded legacies of the Fury bloodline to the elaborate codes and rituals of the Olymp, never achieve the gravitas and cohesion they deserve amidst all the hammy twists and melodrama. It’s a compelling criminal cosmos in broad strokes, but one that largely neglects to establish its own unique fingerprint.

Still, what Furies may lack in finesse it eagerly makes up for with shamelessly pandering, guilty pleasure indulgence. This is world-building for adrenaline junkies who just want to soak in the stylishly sordid thrills – a ferociously visceral crash course into Paris’ sumptuously depraved criminal elite. You may forget the tangly nuances, but the lurid broad strokes will undoubtedly stick.

Buckle Up for a Wildly Uneven Ride: Furies’ Narrative Rollercoaster

While Furies absolutely brings the cinematic goods when it comes to its bone-crunchingly brutal action setpieces, the series’ writing and plot pacing is a bit more of a mixed bag. One minute you’re gripped by the taut forward momentum, the next you’re scratching your head at some bafflingly convoluted twist that raises more questions than answers.

On the plus side, Furies’ narrative core – a young woman seeking vengeance against her father’s killer by infiltrating Paris’ criminal elite – provides fertile ground for all manner of deliciously pulpy thrills. The hook sinks in deep early as Lyna’s life irrevocably shatters, her quest for payback compounding into an increasingly tangled web of shady allegiances and shocking betrayals.

And oh, what a twisted web it weaves. Furies gleefully piles on a dizzying succession of rug-pulls and eleventh-hour reveals, each one more devilishly sordid than the last. Just when you think you’ve got a tenuous grip on the convoluted underworld dynamics, some juicy new secret surfaces to turn all presumed truths upside down. It’s overcomplicated in the most gratuitously trashy of ways.

The issue, however, is that amidst all the indulgent shock value, Furies struggles to establish a coherent narrative backbone to anchor the viewer. The constant onslaught of reveals often prioritizes short-term spectacle over long-term substance, leaving gaping plot holes and convenient lapses in logic that niggle at you hours after the credits roll. Whiplash-inducing pacing lurches between kinetic and glacial from episode to episode.

While the patchwork plotting may be part of Furies’ soapy, anything-goes charm for some, it gradually devolves into a tangled mess of loose threads even the most forgiving of viewers will struggle to make sense of. The series simply tries to juggle too many wildly overcomplicated arcs and twists, losing itself in its own delirious ambitions.

In the end, Furies is one of those sinfully indulgent thrill rides you can’t help but surrender to – an audaciously frenetic saga that’s equal parts brilliant schlock and incoherent mess. Just settle into that craving for adrenaline-fueled mayhem and ignore any prolonged bursts of sense and reason. The ride is donkey bonkers, but oh what a violently visceral rush.

Lavish Parisian Pulp: Furies’ Slick Style Over Substance Splendor

While the scripts may falter into gloriously trashy excess, there’s no denying Furies is an absolute knockout when it comes to production values and visual panache. From the moment those sweeping Parisian skyline shots sear across the screen, you’re seduced by the series’ intoxicating sense of place and bravura stylistic flair.

Directors Cedric Nicolas-Troyan, Samuel Bodin, and Laura Weaver clearly meant for Furies to be a feast for the senses, indulging in lurid genre excess at every delectable turn. The camera hungrily drinks in the opulent Parisian backdrops, leering over the unapologetic decadence and grandiose criminality like a lecherous voyeur. Each new underground lair or mob-owned chateau introduction feels like a tantalizing striptease revealing more sordid delights.

Lurid lighting schemes drench the action in sumptuous neon chiaroscuro, heightening every vicious brawl and bone-crunching impact with delirious comic book spectacle. The cinematography snaps and slithers through the intricately choreographed fight sequences with a balletic ferocity that borders on arthouse avant-garde at times. And let’s not understate the sheer electricity of those slomo money shots – Furies understands the primal thrill of seeing shattered glass and sprayed blood suspended in visceral, hyper-stylized clarity.

While the sumptuous style does paradoxically undermine some of the grittier authenticity at times, drifting into gaudy territory, you can’t accuse Furies of not fully committing to its deliriously heightened ambitions. This is unabashed indulgence in the best pulpy sense, a fever dream of Paris’ shattered, neon-drenched underbelly brought to rapturous life through images alone.

It may not be enough to salvage the messier narrative flaws, but Furies understands one key tenet – if you’re gonna showboat, put on one hell of a ferociously flamboyant production. And on that delectable level of decadent eye candy, it more than delivers the sleazily tantalizing goods. When image is this lavishly intoxicating, who even needs coherent substance?

The Bottom Line: Furies Won’t Blow You Away, But It’ll Slake That Trashy Action Thirst

Let’s be real – Furies is far from a prestige masterpiece that’ll be studied in film classes for its layered brilliance. What it absolutely excels at, however, is scratching that utterly primal itch for batspit crazy action spectacle and deliriously sordid thrills. This is uncut pulp adrenaline in its most lurid and indulgent form.

While the writing deserves flack for its convoluted incoherence and tangled logic stumbles, you can’t deny the sheer manic bravura it musters in constantly piling on salacious twists and jaw-dropping reveals. Just when you think you’ve gotten a tenuous grip on Furies’ baroque criminal mythos, some devilish new wrinkle arises to pull the rug out yet again. It’s messy as hell but you can’t accuse it of skimping on the tawdry explosiveness.

Similarly, the action direction represents an apex of sorts, ferociously leaning into every sweaty bone-crunch and bullet blast with sadomasochistic glee. While the grounded coherence may buckle at times, Furies is consistent in its mission to titillate and visually overwhelm through sheer kinetic intensity.

And on that stylistic front, this is Paris crime pulp of the highest pedigree – lavish to the point of delirious gaudy farce, drenched in the sort of neon-hued debauchery you can’t help but gawk at with morbid fascination. Even when the storytelling underwhelms, Furies at the very least understands the core appeal of bone-deep style and sensation.

Look, this is no cinematic masterwork and could definitely benefit from a more disciplined approach to smooth out the choppier narrative wrinkles. But dammit, Furies undeniably slakes that primal jones for trashy action thrills and lurid criminal eye-candy in spades. It’s not for the faint of heart or those seeking depth and restraint, but any adrenaline junkie fiending for their next serialized fix won’t be disappointed by this ferociously feisty fever dream. Just buckle up and surrender to the delirium.

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