RUSH

You cannot accuse Ron Howard’s Rush of being dull: despite having no interest in Formula One, I found myself white-knuckled at several moments during the thrilling recreations of the races between rival drivers James Hunt and Niki Lauda. Watching the road from their perspective, you witness the utter recklessness a racing driver has in repeatedly risking his life. Chris Hemsworth seems to be the poster boy for the film, and very pretty he is too, looking as though he was born in his open-necked seventies shirt. But when we are shown the real footage of Hunt, who has a bashful, unassuming air, you can’t help but feel Hemsworth got it ever so slightly wrong. Perhaps the English accent and a thorough characterisation were too much to grapple with: he got the accent spot on, but his air of confidence was too close to smugness to be a fair portrayal of Hunt. Therefore it was Daniel Bruhl as Niki Lauda who stole the show, despite having been placed behind Hemsworth’s muscly silhouette in all the posters. His icy cool portrayal of a very complex and obsessive man was believable, and he made the most of the rather bare script. Olivia Wilde showed that it is possible to shine in small roles, playing Hunt’s model wife with self-conscious vanity.

 

The film is well-made, each frame full of nostalgia for the seventies, which is wonderfully recreated on screen. The exhilaratingly filmed races and the spiky chemistry between Hemsworth and Bruhl make up for the meagre screenplay, making it a very enjoyable film to watch.