This is a motorbike movie. That's motorbikes as in streamlined, pumped-up tarmac-bruisers. The plot? A tissue-thin excuse to burn rubber - something to do with gangs, chicks, Feds, drugs, frame-ups, true love and Ice Cube's perma-sneer; bring on wet T-shirts at the biker meet, the fetishising of machines, and a line of 20 designer Hell's Angels urinating over a cliff. First time director Kahn lobs in quotations from Duel and lifts two fingers in the direction of The Fast and the Furious, but the chase on, through and in front of a Trans-Am train isn't believable for a second, and the effects in the climactic pursuit have Cheap Video Game written all over them.