A fine example of how a film can portray everything that happens in the book, without portraying anything that happens in the book.
Rating: 3/5
Saturday 21 September 2013
Sunday 15 September 2013
Rush (2013)
Ron Howard delivers another broad slice of muscular, high-tension biographical melodrama (see previous CV entries: Apollo 13, and Frost/Nixon, both of which are touchstones for some of the thematic elements here), with the retelling of the professional rivalry between 1970s Formula One racing legends, Niki Lauda and James Hunt.
Chris Hemsworth tackles the more showy, but actually rather tricky task of essaying Hunt: A cocky, risk-taking, rock-star playboy, who could have been frankly repugnant in less skilled hands, but is handsomely (in every sense of the word) fleshed out by the God of Thunder. Meanwhile Daniel Brühl quietly stamps his authority over the drama with a disciplined take on Lauda's acerbic, neurotic Austrian. The script trowels on the stereotypes a tad thick at times, but both leads deliver, pulling off the not inconsiderable feat of making the audience root for both sides in during their battles.
Meanwhile Howard, and his DOP, the brilliant Anthony Dod Mantle, find all manner of extraordinary places to stick their cameras, wedging us into the cockpit in ways that give each race a distinct personality, as well as a tremendous vitality and urgency, and then matching this with a glorious, cacophonous sound design that places one deep inside the action.
It ain't subtle. True or not, Hunt's team of amateur Hooray-Henrys appear to have been culled from the Four Weddings understudies list, and the leads' almost comically contrary character traits are perhaps spelled out rather too frequently. But nonetheless, this tale grips like a Brabham, convincingly delivering the thrills and excitement of an era when Formula One was a perilous and free-spirited enterprise.
Rating: 4/5
Chris Hemsworth tackles the more showy, but actually rather tricky task of essaying Hunt: A cocky, risk-taking, rock-star playboy, who could have been frankly repugnant in less skilled hands, but is handsomely (in every sense of the word) fleshed out by the God of Thunder. Meanwhile Daniel Brühl quietly stamps his authority over the drama with a disciplined take on Lauda's acerbic, neurotic Austrian. The script trowels on the stereotypes a tad thick at times, but both leads deliver, pulling off the not inconsiderable feat of making the audience root for both sides in during their battles.
Meanwhile Howard, and his DOP, the brilliant Anthony Dod Mantle, find all manner of extraordinary places to stick their cameras, wedging us into the cockpit in ways that give each race a distinct personality, as well as a tremendous vitality and urgency, and then matching this with a glorious, cacophonous sound design that places one deep inside the action.
It ain't subtle. True or not, Hunt's team of amateur Hooray-Henrys appear to have been culled from the Four Weddings understudies list, and the leads' almost comically contrary character traits are perhaps spelled out rather too frequently. But nonetheless, this tale grips like a Brabham, convincingly delivering the thrills and excitement of an era when Formula One was a perilous and free-spirited enterprise.
Rating: 4/5
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