The Wachowski Brothers (The Matrix) direct Emile Hirsch as the title character in Speed Racer, a mix of live action and animation, based on a 1960s animated Saturday morning TV show. Speed is a natural racer whose only competition is the memory of his brother Rex Racer, whose untimely death in a race left a legacy Speed is determined to fulfill. (135 min.)
Glen As I sat in the theater watching the kaleidoscopic disaster that is Speed Racer, I tried to remember the ’60s cartoon. I vaguely recall sitting in my PJs with a bowl of Count Chocula swimming in milk, watching cars go vroom as I settled into a comfortable Saturday morning sugar high. For this movie, I tried to tap into my inner 5-year-old (the series debuted in 1967). I tried to figure out who this new Wachowski Brothers’ movie is aimed at, who would enjoy it, and, more importantly, why it was made. I got nothing. The story itself is so obvious and ham-fisted that it could only appeal to a kid, yet so convoluted that most kids wouldn’t be able to (or bother to) follow it. Maybe a 10-year-old hopped up on $4 boxes of movie candy might enjoy the visually arresting, hyper colorful, semi-psychedelic nature of the film, but at two-plus hours, I can’t imagine kids’ attention spans could bear it. I know mine couldn’t. While I enjoyed the plastic sheen of the mise-en-scène—even the actors, well scrubbed and heavily made up, looked like they were sculpted of Plasticine—the story didn’t hold my interest. At all.
Steve Ahh yes, to be 10 again. I fondly remember waking up at 6 a.m. on Saturday mornings ready to watch five hours of nonstop cartoons. I used to make this gigantic glass of hot chocolate and let my eyes glaze with a sugar rush while letting my brain rot on Warner Bros. visual crack. I, too, vaguely remember Speed Racer, and I could have sworn I liked it before I saw this movie, but I don’t think I liked it back then either. I was ready about 10 minutes into this movie to walk out. The beginning sequence of flashbacks and garish visuals was stunningly awful. Poor Emile. Into the Wild was a masterpiece! He now has his own “Into the Toilet” movie on par with Gigli. Did he even read the script? How many people wrote this trash anyway? I think they must have been high on something, and maybe the movie would have been better if the viewer was on some sort of psychotropic drugs, but I doubt it.
Glen Sorry, but you can’t blame this mess on an unnamed bunch of writers. It was all Andy and Larry Wachowski, based on Tatsuo Yoshida’s animated series. The plain, awful truth is this: The Wachowski Brothers are way overrated. They wrote and directed Bound, which was a pretty cool sexed-up thriller, and on the strength of that they got green-lighted to make their best film, The Matrix. But the two Matrix sequels were exercises in excess—crushed under the weight of their own self-importance. They wrote but didn’t direct V for Vendetta, a still extremely topical film considering the slide into fascism our government has taken under George W. Bush and the film’s astute exploration of the rationale behind terrorism. And now we have Speed Racer. The film works hard to inject big idealistic ideas into the story: Speed must decide between continuing to drive for his father’s underdog racing team or signing with racing’s big dog Royalton Industries; Speed is chasing the ghost of his older brother Rex, trying to live up to his legacy; Speed is confronting the awful truth that professional racing is rigged. All these big ideas limp along like a moped with a flat tire while the rest of the film swirls around them like a surreal acid trip, occasionally interjected by a poop-tossing monkey named Chim Chim. It’s that stupid.
Steve Yeah, okay, it was the Wachowskis’ fault. Maybe they should have just thrown in the towel after the Matrix series—I happened to like all three movies. It rarely happens in the art world where a band, movie director, writer, et cetera recognizes that they have accomplished all that they can and gracefully exits the scene, leaving only good memories of what they did. I might write a letter to the Wachowskis and try to convince them to throw in the towel. Perhaps if there had been more racing action and less preachy lovey dovey crap, the flick would have been better. The highway chase scene in the second Matrix movie blows away all the race nonsense in this movie, and this one’s supposed to be about racing! Don’t even get me started about Speed’s little brother and his chimp (chimpanzees are apes, Glen, not monkeys)—absolutely useless characters who only serve to make the film even more stupid. I did hear a few laughs in the audience of 20 people in the theater with us, and they were laughs coming from the kids. When we left, three kids with a family in front of me seemed very happy with the whole film. Maybe I’m just out of touch with the new cartoon generation.
Glen Oh, you’re out of touch all right … with reality! The Matrix sequels were trash. As for the “lovey dovey crap,” the film tries hard to hedge those scenes by having, at one point, Speed’s little brother Spritle (Paulie Litt) break the fourth wall to directly warn the audience that Speed and his girl Trixie (Christina Ricci) are about to kiss. Speaking of Ricci, she’s a good actor, as is Susan Sarandon, who plays Speed’s mom. It was so sad watching these two talents mugging cartoonishly for the camera in several action scenes. And John Goodman, who’s frequently good in dramatic roles, wasn’t even bothering to try here. He seemed like the only one involved who realized what a horrible pile of dreck they were excreting.
Steve Ricci, Sarandon, and Goodman must all need the dough. Gas prices and all, you know. My reality, which in the afternoons does not include you in the office, Glen (thank God!), is quite in touch. The scene in the car you refer to was amazingly sexually tinged, considering the movie is aimed at kids. Hedge smedge. At least we can agree that this movie is a monumental pile of graphic trash! I bet that if they had not made this movie, the electricity saved from not using the graphics server rendering farms could have provided enough power to run our office for 10 years or so. One hundred, thirty-five minutes wasted. I could have been playing Call of Duty instead!
Glen Starkey is a New Times staff writer and Steve Miller is New Times’ staff photographer. Comment at
gstarkey@newtimesslo.com and
semiller@newtimesslo.com.
