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Toronto Star, Canada
April 15 2007
All roads lead back to speed demon Kowalski
REAR VIEW | Drugged-up vet and muscle car star in 1971 existential
classic. By Geoff Pevere
Apr 15, 2007 02:30 AM
Geoff Pevere
VANISHING POINT (1971, 20th
Century Fox Home Entertainment)
Who made it?
Richard C. Sarafian was born in New York City of Armenian descent.
After establishing himself in television, he began making mostly
low-budget films in 1960. Specializing in movies that unfold in open
spaces (Man in the Wilderness, Run Wild Run Free), Sarafian's output
as a director slowed down in the late 1970s, when he established
himself as a capable character actor (Bugsy, Don Juan DeMarco). He
remains best known for his 1971 existential muscle-car classic
Vanishing Point.
What's it about?
After picking up a spiffy white 1970 Dodge Challenger, the ex-cop,
ex-racer and Vietnam vet Kowalski (Barry Newman) bets his amphetamine
dealer double the cost of the next bag of bennies that he can make
the run from Denver to San Francisco in 15 hours. Burning rubber
across half the country, Kowalski becomes sort of a national
countercultural hero for his ability to leave a blazing trail of
crashed cops and smashed roadblocks. Egged on by the blind DJ Super
Soul (Cleavon Little), Kowalski becomes a symbol of existential
freedom, eventually sacrificing himself in order to, as Jim Morrison
once sang, "break on through to the other side."
What's the context?
In 1970, studios were looking for their Easy Rider: a hip, low-budget
road movie that would click with the kids. Made in mere weeks on a
budget of less than $2 million (U.S.), Vanishing Point was intended
for that market. It helped that Dodge had just introduced the sleek
Challenger and was willing to provide 20th Century Fox with free cars
provided they were used prominently in a movie. Sarafian was asked if
he could make a cheap film that would showcase the Challenger, and
Vanishing Point was born. Scripted by the future Cuban novelist G.
Cabrera Infante (billed as Guillermo Cain) the movie was originally
intended by Sarafian to star Gene Hackman as Kowalski, but the studio
insisted on newcomer Newman. Due to an abrupt regime change during
production, it was under-promoted and had a limited release, but
ended up as one of the decade's more enduring cult items. If you've
seen Death Proof, Quentin Tarantino's half of the mock-retro double
bill Grindhouse, you've heard Vanishing Point being invoked like
something holy.
How was it received?
Reviews were mixed and, given the movie's scant visibility, fairly
scarce. Often dismissed for its turbocharged minimalism or its
hippie-dippy pretensions, it took time for Vanishing Point to develop
its current rep as the ultimate transcendental speed demon movie.
Roger Greenspun's comments in Penthouse were pretty much par for the
course: "It must have seemed like a sure-fire idea. So many dumb
movies have been saved by an exciting automobile chase in the last
few minutes - why not make a dumb movie that is nothing but an
automobile chase?"
So what's the big deal?
Like its now-legendary car, Vanishing Point is compact, unadorned and
built for one thing: speed. At once a breathless non-stop chase movie
and a metaphor for transcendent experience (a big theme of the day),
the movie uses speed as both a visceral thrill and a means to an
alternate consciousness. Set largely in high desert country, the
movie uses physical locations beautifully and stages chases with
stunning economy and immediacy. Along with Bullitt and The French
Connection, it forever changed the way cars were seen on screen. Plus
the car is dead fricking cool.
Most endlessly quotable dialogue?
"And there goes the Challenger, being chased by the blue, blue
meanies on wheels. The vicious traffic squad cars are after our lone
driver, the last American hero, the electric centaur, the, the
demi-god, the super driver of the golden west!"
Most endlessly watchable scene?
There are many, but Kowalski's final act of flaming automotive
kamikaze self-sacrifice is a definite keeper.
Most cogent critical appreciation?
"Kowalski would be a contemporary Lone Ranger but for one thing: he
forgets to do anything heroic." (Danny Peary)
April 15 2007
All roads lead back to speed demon Kowalski
REAR VIEW | Drugged-up vet and muscle car star in 1971 existential
classic. By Geoff Pevere
Apr 15, 2007 02:30 AM
Geoff Pevere
VANISHING POINT (1971, 20th
Century Fox Home Entertainment)
Who made it?
Richard C. Sarafian was born in New York City of Armenian descent.
After establishing himself in television, he began making mostly
low-budget films in 1960. Specializing in movies that unfold in open
spaces (Man in the Wilderness, Run Wild Run Free), Sarafian's output
as a director slowed down in the late 1970s, when he established
himself as a capable character actor (Bugsy, Don Juan DeMarco). He
remains best known for his 1971 existential muscle-car classic
Vanishing Point.
What's it about?
After picking up a spiffy white 1970 Dodge Challenger, the ex-cop,
ex-racer and Vietnam vet Kowalski (Barry Newman) bets his amphetamine
dealer double the cost of the next bag of bennies that he can make
the run from Denver to San Francisco in 15 hours. Burning rubber
across half the country, Kowalski becomes sort of a national
countercultural hero for his ability to leave a blazing trail of
crashed cops and smashed roadblocks. Egged on by the blind DJ Super
Soul (Cleavon Little), Kowalski becomes a symbol of existential
freedom, eventually sacrificing himself in order to, as Jim Morrison
once sang, "break on through to the other side."
What's the context?
In 1970, studios were looking for their Easy Rider: a hip, low-budget
road movie that would click with the kids. Made in mere weeks on a
budget of less than $2 million (U.S.), Vanishing Point was intended
for that market. It helped that Dodge had just introduced the sleek
Challenger and was willing to provide 20th Century Fox with free cars
provided they were used prominently in a movie. Sarafian was asked if
he could make a cheap film that would showcase the Challenger, and
Vanishing Point was born. Scripted by the future Cuban novelist G.
Cabrera Infante (billed as Guillermo Cain) the movie was originally
intended by Sarafian to star Gene Hackman as Kowalski, but the studio
insisted on newcomer Newman. Due to an abrupt regime change during
production, it was under-promoted and had a limited release, but
ended up as one of the decade's more enduring cult items. If you've
seen Death Proof, Quentin Tarantino's half of the mock-retro double
bill Grindhouse, you've heard Vanishing Point being invoked like
something holy.
How was it received?
Reviews were mixed and, given the movie's scant visibility, fairly
scarce. Often dismissed for its turbocharged minimalism or its
hippie-dippy pretensions, it took time for Vanishing Point to develop
its current rep as the ultimate transcendental speed demon movie.
Roger Greenspun's comments in Penthouse were pretty much par for the
course: "It must have seemed like a sure-fire idea. So many dumb
movies have been saved by an exciting automobile chase in the last
few minutes - why not make a dumb movie that is nothing but an
automobile chase?"
So what's the big deal?
Like its now-legendary car, Vanishing Point is compact, unadorned and
built for one thing: speed. At once a breathless non-stop chase movie
and a metaphor for transcendent experience (a big theme of the day),
the movie uses speed as both a visceral thrill and a means to an
alternate consciousness. Set largely in high desert country, the
movie uses physical locations beautifully and stages chases with
stunning economy and immediacy. Along with Bullitt and The French
Connection, it forever changed the way cars were seen on screen. Plus
the car is dead fricking cool.
Most endlessly quotable dialogue?
"And there goes the Challenger, being chased by the blue, blue
meanies on wheels. The vicious traffic squad cars are after our lone
driver, the last American hero, the electric centaur, the, the
demi-god, the super driver of the golden west!"
Most endlessly watchable scene?
There are many, but Kowalski's final act of flaming automotive
kamikaze self-sacrifice is a definite keeper.
Most cogent critical appreciation?
"Kowalski would be a contemporary Lone Ranger but for one thing: he
forgets to do anything heroic." (Danny Peary)