Most every story being put to film today has been
put to film before: this is a gloomy fact. However,
Anthony Hopkins’ dynamite performance in The World’s
Fastest Indian as Burt Munro, an old-aged New
Zealander who dreams of testing his bare-bones Indian
Motorcycle on the Boneville Salt Flats, makes the
statement seem far less unfortunate. This “Based on a
True Story” is an old-fashioned, conventional
tear-jerker in the purest sense, but it is so
convincingly made that even the most cynical of viewers
won’t have an ounce of trouble becoming involved in its
story and characters.
Roger Donaldson’s writing and
direction serve as perfect representations of how to
lovingly bring a clichéd tale to life. If professors
were to require its viewing in film school, then perhaps
moviegoers wouldn’t have to sit through as many poorly
executed stories of this sort made by graduates who find
themselves working in Hollywood with no apparent
purpose. By merely taking a look at The World’s
Fastest Indian’s synopsis before seeing it, any
viewer would be able to guess that Burt gets together
the money to venture from New Zealand to America,
experiences his fair share of bumps in the road in
getting to Utah once there, and eventually ends up
successfully testing his motorcycle on the Salt Flats.
However, when watching the film, no such predictions
arose in my mind. I was so immersed in the engaging
material that I never stopped to think about where it
was headed; I was merely there to enjoy the ride.
I say this all with only brief
mention of just how good Anthony Hopkins is in the film;
this is probably his best performance since that in
1997’s Amistad. Within merely five minutes of the
film’s start, the actor finds the audience’s sympathies
and runs with them. Whether Burt is cooling self-made
pistons in his water-supply, burning his knee-high lawn
in order to comply with neighborhood-policy, or being
belittled by overpriced American cab drivers, Hopkins
always has the audience entirely drawn into both his
performance and the film as a whole.
Critic Roger Ebert points
something out worthy of notice: “Bonneville involves not
racing but time trials.” This is certainly a
distinguishing quality. When Burt heads out to race on
the flats, he and his motorcycle speed over the barren
land by themselves, but somehow the movie captures the
illusion of speed and competition better than any racing
film in recent memory. Sure, in the film’s first
testing-scene, the viewer does get to see the normal
cars following Burt bite his dust, but because of the
audience’s belief in its protagonist, this is hardly a
match from the start. Every time Burt mounts himself on
his prized Indian and reaches for the gas, The
World’s Fastest Indian exhilaratingly captures pure
movie-magic.
There’s something to be said
about the fact that The World’s Fastest Indian is
one of the few uplifting movies of late that works on
its own terms. Because the audience commits their
sympathies to Burt wholeheartedly, the film has no
problem indulging in his personality and achievements.
One might enter The World’s Fastest Indian with
the preconception that its seemingly tried-and-true
formula might void it of any thematic or emotional
resonance, but they couldn’t be more wrong. It is a
jolly, grin-provoking little movie.
-Danny, Bucket Reviews