Universal’s Fast & Furious franchise of action films has been one of 21st century Hollywood’s greatest success stories. As the series celebrates 25 years, it is worth skipping back a quarter-century and revisiting Rob Cohen’s original 2001 feature The Fast and the Furious.

In retrospect it feels so modestly composed. This is Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) before nine sequels transform him and his beloved ‘family’ of car thieves into a super-human, self-aware parody of the action genre. It is not even really Toretto’s film: The Fast and the Furious is instead a story of undercover FBI agent Brian O’Conner (Paul Walker) infiltrating the Los Angeles street racing scene.

There is no avoiding the fact that, whatever its other merits, The Fast and the Furious has a story that has been liberally cribbed – intentionally or by accident – from Kathryn Bigelow’s superior 1991 action film Point Break. Where one film followed an undercover FBI agent infiltrating a criminal gang of surfers, so the other follows an undercover LAPD officer infiltrating a criminal gang of street racers. In both films the protagonist grows close to the villain, threatening their perspective. In both films the protagonist romances someone close to that villain; in Point Break an ex-girlfriend, in Fast a sister. In every respect, the latter film suffers in comparison to the former.

That is rather a shame, as in other respects it is a wholly decent and broadly entertaining action film. The street racing sequences are well shot, and edited with a focus on geography – where the competing cars are in relation to each other – over kinetic motion. Paul Walker is a solid and enjoyable lead actor. Vin Diesel brings a tremendous amount of gravitas to his role as antagonist Dominic Toretto; it is easy to forget the sort of power he brought to the screen in these early roles, before subsequent sequels and his other franchise films pushed him toward self-parody.

The film does underserve its female characters. Jordana Brewster is stuck looking earnest and concerned as Dom’s sister Mia. Michelle Rodriguez exudes star power as Dom’s girlfriend and fellow racer Letty Ortiz, but in this instalment at least is given very little to do. The film also trades in fairly blunt cultural stereotypes: Hispanic and Asian street gangs compete for supremacy, while all of the white people exist in a sort of hegemonic bubble.

The soundtrack is an unintentional comic highlight, switching from one popular hit to another in rapid-fire bursts so sudden that they are distracting. The genre of music shifts oddly as well, from a predominantly hip-hop-inspired set during early scenes to wall-to-wall electronica during the climax.

The Fast and the Furious may be derivative, and it’s honestly difficult to see the future billion-dollar franchise lurking inside, but at the same time it is cleanly made, unpretentious, and competently staged. Compared to the ridiculous excesses of the later sequels, it honestly feels relieving to revisit it.