I saw ‘The Fast and the Furious’ when it originally came out in 2001, and watching it now it feels like a collision between ‘Bullitt’, ‘Rebel Without a Cause’ and, most obviously, ‘Point Break’. There are young men proving themselves through dangerously fast cars, robberies involving DVD players, and an undercover cop who becomes increasingly seduced by the criminal world he is supposed to be investigating.

Paul Walker plays Brian, the policeman sent undercover to discover which street-racing gang is hijacking trucks. Like Keanu Reeves in ‘Point Break’, the deeper he infiltrates this subculture, the more intoxicated he becomes by it. It doesn’t help, of course, that he falls for the sister of Dominic Toretto, played by the wonderfully appropriately named Vin Diesel.

Dominic is the charismatic centre of this world, a man who lives according to his own code of loyalty, family and respect. Brian is supposed to expose him but gradually comes to admire him.

Considering the ethnic diversity of the street-racing community, there is something slightly amusing about sending in a striking white guy with piercing blue eyes and expecting him to blend inconspicuously into the background. But Brian earns acceptance not by disappearing into the crowd but by proving himself.

That’s where ‘Rebel Without a Cause’ comes in as street racing becomes the equivalent of the chicken run: young men demonstrate their courage and masculinity by risking their lives. Trust isn’t earned through conversation but by showing what you’re prepared to do behind the wheel.

The women in this movie are not particularly well served. Although they’re part of this world, they tend to function more as eye candy surrounding the overwhelmingly male rituals of cars, competition and loyalty, while the robberies themselves are gloriously ridiculous. If you really wanted to steal DVD players from a truck, surely there must be an easier method than attacking it while it’s travelling at high speed. Why not simply wait until it stops?

But applying too much logic to ‘The Fast and the Furious’ rather misses the point. This is a drag race of a movie, and, simply, if you like fast cars, you’re probably going to like it.

Yet there is something more interesting underneath the surface. Dominic tells Brian that he lives his life ‘a quarter mile at a time’ because for those few seconds he feels free. There’s almost a touch of ‘Heat’ in the idea of a criminal constructing a personal code through which he makes sense of his life.

Speed therefore becomes a form of escape. For those few seconds there is no responsibility, law or future – only the road.

It’s also interesting that the film originated from a magazine article about illegal street racing. Beneath the Hollywood exaggeration is a recognisable subculture built around cars, status, ethnicity and belonging.

The later franchise would become vastly bigger and increasingly preposterous, but this first film is surprisingly contained: an undercover cop, a gang, some stolen DVD players and a group of men trying to work out who they can trust.

‘The Fast and the Furious’ doesn’t worry too much about where it’s going. For, like Dominic Toretto, it lives a quarter mile at a time – and for those few seconds, it’s free.