The Furious has one simple goal: to deliver a definitive and all-time great action film, featuring some of the best genre actors working in the business. It is an unconditional, brilliant success.

This is a film that operates on a primal level, the kind where lines are clearly drawn and everyone plays their part in a grand, operatic scale. If Cecil B. Demille ever broke free of his biblical epics to direct action, he'd make something like The Furious. It carries the same energy and vision as Mad Max: Fury Road, and fills the theater with that same high-octane, "I can't believe I'm seeing this" energy as George Miller's masterpiece.

The plot works in grand, sweeping beats. A father (Miao Xie) hunts her kidnapped daughter (Enyou Yang). A husband (Joe Taslim) searches for his missing wife (JeeJa Yanin). Their paths converge during their respective hunts, and they join forces like two tornadoes.

The villains, a nefarious mix of wild, larger-than-life bad guys like Brian Le and Yayan Ruhian, are so deliciously evil that every minute they're on screen, you can't help but smile. Ruhian is already one of the greatest screen bad guys ever, and his presence elevates the picture with manic energy. But it's Brian Le who steals the show with incredible physicality and charm. Here's a character that could easily have become a tacky punchline; instead, Le fills him with so much life you can't help but cheer. This is the kind of film that elicits a genuine, joyous reaction on every level – even when it goes to dark places.

The genre familiarity allows for The Furious to focus on its strengths. We understand the why and how of everything, so there's little reason to bog anything down in exposition. Within three minutes, we're already into the first fight sequence with the immeasurably gifted Yanin, and things only escalate from there.

Happily, the incredible action sequences never feel superfluous. Each one drives the story forward, as each fighter informs of who they are through their unique combat styles. There's a spectacular five-way brawl in the third act so stunning that it defies belief. Every minute of it is a joyous explosion of action nirvana. Most importantly, you can see all of it. The camera always stays far enough to capture the entire brutal tapestry at hand. The hugely charismatic Xie and Taslim act with their whole bodies, delivering compelling performances even mid-combat with their expressive faces. You could watch the entire film without subtitles and understand everything you need to.

Director Kenji Tanigaki is an industry veteran with a long career as a stuntman, stunt and fight coordinator, and director. He's the action director behind one of my favorite films of last year, Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In, which, like The Furious, features dizzying acrobatics and character-driven action.

Here, Tanigaki takes an entire career's worth of knowledge and bottles it into perfection. The Furious delivers a spectacle unlike anything you've seen in at least a decade. From fights with hammers, knives, bows and arrows to ladders and even bicycles, The Furious brandishes the same inventive energy of yesteryear Jackie Chan epics. Tanigaki beautifully stages each sequence with sweeping opening shots that give the audience the tools to understand everything that's coming.

Like a great musical number, by the time we as viewers put the pieces together, they're already in motion. It is smart and breathtaking movie magic, the kind I almost feared had died out.

At almost two hours in length, The Furious tests the boundaries of how long an action movie should last. By the end, like the stars, we as an audience are breathless from the sheer amount of combat. Luckily, though the film is opulent by design, Tanigaki and company know when there's too much of a good thing.

The Furious is an instant masterpiece. Its most fitting comparisons are Hong Kong action legends of the 70s, 80s, and 90s. In the years to come, it will be regarded as a watershed moment for the genre. See it on the biggest screen possible.