A Short Cut Movie Review is normally less than 400 words, but in some cases may go slightly over. This is my attempt to keep writing about as many films as I see without getting bogged down with trying to find more to say. They are meant to be brief snapshots of my reaction to a movie without too much depth.
It’s a result of severely reduced expectations that Ron
Howard’s Rush managed to earn more
than a little critical praise last year. As an example of its kind – the race
car movie – it’s better than you might expect, but as an example of its kind
more broadly – the sports movie – it’s sorely lacking in inspiration and
spiritual uplift. The greatest sports movies draw their spectators in and make
them stand squarely behind the hero so firmly and with such emotional
investment that you can’t help but be overcome with emotion. I think of
examples like Rocky or Breaking Away. Alternatively, they set
up a tragic figure and become more a study of character and loss like in Raging Bull or Million Dollar Baby. Of the two protagonists in Rush – James hunt, the lothario playboy
played by Chris Hemsworth, and Niki Lauda, the cautious and meticulous champion
played by Daniel Brühl – neither one achieves either of those apotheoses
necessary for greatness of character.
Screenwriter Peter Morgan is great at dialogue and plot.
This is a fine example of a Hollywood screenplay, but it lacks nuance and
bounds along through six years of Formula 1 racing in the early 1970s during
which Hunt and Lauda were apparently fierce rivals. But Morgan never makes us
feel that rivalry. He pays a lot of lip service through their mouths to the
competition, but leaves out the elevation. Even after Lauda is severely burned
in a nasty fiery crash and is near death in the hospital, there is never any
kind of interesting moment between the two men acknowledging their respect for
one another. Howard tries to demonstrate it through a few brief actions on
screen. What should have been the big moment – Lauda telling Hunt that he was
the impetus for getting back at the wheel after only seven weeks – fizzles rather
than electrifies.
Howard’s direction of the racing scenes is capable for a
director not traditionally known for this level of action. One plus is that the
film spends relatively little time on the actual racing (perhaps a reflection
of where Howard’s talents lie) and tries to focus more on the drama off the
track, such as Hunt’s failed marriage to Suzy Miller (Olivia Wilde), a woman
Morgan suggests he married in the hope it would settle his fast and hard
lifestyle down.
Hunt could have been made into an interesting near-tragic
character. Here’s a man who partied hard and lived in the fast lane, who was
beautiful and charismatic, but wasn’t disciplined enough to win the
championship more than once (the year Lauda was injured). He died of a heart
attack at forty-two, a fact noted in passing by Lauda in losing narration. Hunt
is the more compelling character. Morgan and Howard should have shifted the
center more in his favor.
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