Here's a quintessentially rough'n'tumble early 80's high testosterone macho-posturing men being men gruntfest that John Milius would have been proud to make. Overconfident garage mechanic Steve (solid Harry Hamlin), engagingly impudent aspiring songwriter Buddy (the ever-puckish Joseph Bottoms), and stuffy junior record company executive Roger (essayed with utmost gravity by Richard Cox) are three longtime buddies who regularly engage in car races on the steep, winding and highly perilous mountainside roads of L.A.'s Mulholland Falls in order to alleviate the grim, unrewarding tedium of their everyday lives and inject some much-needed excitement into their otherwise second-rate existences. Steve's cockiness and unbeatable status as the current King of the Mountain raises the intense ire and fiery jealousy of scraggly, burnt-out, washed-up, pony-tailed hippie and former champ Cal (a deliciously wacky Dennis Hopper in one of his patented moody loony parts). Cal challenges Steve to a big high stakes race so he can regain his title and status. Sultry go-getter would-be singer Tina (a superbly sparky turn by the tantalizing Deborah Van Valkenburgh of "The Warriors" fame, who belts out a couple of songs in a terrifically tart'n'torchy blues wail) gets caught in the middle of this fierce competition.
H.R. Christian's rugged, no-kidding sinewy script, heavily suffused with manly man deep-think introspection and inspired by David Barry's "Thunder Road" article in "New West" magazine, trenchantly examines the many intriguing facets of male obsessiveness: the obdurate refusal to grow up, pushing yourself to the limit ("Ya gotta ride the edge in order to win"), not compromising your values, succeeding in life on your own terms, the deep-seated desire to amount to something in life and achieve a certain lofty stature, hyper-masculine competitiveness, and even knowing when you're beat and just learning to accept your losses, especially when said losses may very well mean the possible untimely end of your life. Donald Peterman's garishly bright, glowing, neon-hued cinematography vividly captures the steamy and crackling California night life. The thrillingly quick and dangerous no-holds-barred car race scenes are handled cinema verite style: no music, short, snappy edits, and unfancy ground level camera-work. Nice bits by Seymour Cassel as an obnoxious hipster record company president, Dan Haggerty as a gruff mechanic, Cassandra "Elvira" Peterson as an annoying neighbor, and the late, great Steve James as a meddlesome cop. Director Noel Nosseck treats the potentially silly subject matter with laudable seriousness, injecting a strong sense of underlying despair, a feeling of going nowhere fast and wanting something more out of life which transcends the mundane and explicable, which makes this mighty fine and satisfying unsung sleeper one hell of an excellent car race drama.
H.R. Christian's rugged, no-kidding sinewy script, heavily suffused with manly man deep-think introspection and inspired by David Barry's "Thunder Road" article in "New West" magazine, trenchantly examines the many intriguing facets of male obsessiveness: the obdurate refusal to grow up, pushing yourself to the limit ("Ya gotta ride the edge in order to win"), not compromising your values, succeeding in life on your own terms, the deep-seated desire to amount to something in life and achieve a certain lofty stature, hyper-masculine competitiveness, and even knowing when you're beat and just learning to accept your losses, especially when said losses may very well mean the possible untimely end of your life. Donald Peterman's garishly bright, glowing, neon-hued cinematography vividly captures the steamy and crackling California night life. The thrillingly quick and dangerous no-holds-barred car race scenes are handled cinema verite style: no music, short, snappy edits, and unfancy ground level camera-work. Nice bits by Seymour Cassel as an obnoxious hipster record company president, Dan Haggerty as a gruff mechanic, Cassandra "Elvira" Peterson as an annoying neighbor, and the late, great Steve James as a meddlesome cop. Director Noel Nosseck treats the potentially silly subject matter with laudable seriousness, injecting a strong sense of underlying despair, a feeling of going nowhere fast and wanting something more out of life which transcends the mundane and explicable, which makes this mighty fine and satisfying unsung sleeper one hell of an excellent car race drama.