Vault

The matte-painted cars gun their engines in the parking garage of the police station and the torque is enough to rip the vault they’re tied to out of its mounting. It slides slowly at first, sparks flying as it picks up speed, and in a few moments the cars are roaring down the street, vault in tow, and it’s bouncing from side to side, colliding with buildings, streetlights, and pursuing vehicles as the streets of Rio seem to flow with a chaotic kind of joy, a quick-cut river of Dionysian delights, wanton destruction and endless smashed vehicles laughed away, and underneath the quips and spectacle is there really something deeply terrifying about the sheer pleasure of it all?