Review

Review Date: 12-February-06
Spoiler Rating: Low
Juju Judgment: Junk

The World's Fastest Indian (2005)

Let me state right off that I do not kick puppies, topple sandcastles, or mistreat old people on a regular basis and, No, I don't have anything against kiwis. I feel obliged to defend my decency before tearing into "The World's Fastest Indian" because the movie so clearly intends to give its audience warm fuzzies and people who enjoy it will certainly tell their friends it's a heartwarming gem about a dear fellow who accomplished Something Meaningful in his golden years. The advertising promises a film "based on one hell of a true story," and I take no major issue with that. What I quibble with is that "The World's Fastest Indian" is ineptly told and only musters a modicum of honest feeling towards the end.

The movie is written and directed by Roger Donaldson, a purveyor of macho fare ("No Way Out," "Dante's Peak," "The Recruit"), and it strives to loose a masculine roar while acknowledging the softening effects of age. It opens circa 1960 upon a puttering eccentric named Burt Munro (Anthony Hopkins), who inhabits a filthy concrete shed in a southern New Zealand town and lives for his antique Indian, a 40-year-old motorcycle. Establishing an unfortunate pattern early, Donaldson forgoes any significant definition of character or context and immediately throws up road signs to steer viewers where he wants to go. Burt's red-haired, freckle-faced, preternaturally adorable young neighbor (Aaron Murphy) alerts us that the hero is gentle (along with the story); the boy's exasperated parents reflect him in a codgerish light (humor will temper the mush); and the sexy grandma at the bank assures us that his fire's still stoked (hence the "one hell of a true story" claim). When Burt's birthday party is invaded by a gang of thugs, the film tries to convey his status as a popular dreamer, but the main message of this god-awful scene is that drive-through emotions are "Indian"'s order of the day.

After this the movie piles up vignettes like offerings to the Feel-Good Gods at the altar of the Kodak Moment. (Underlined, of course, by a glaring soundtrack.) Burt and his bike sail to the U.S. and wend their way to Utah's salt flats, where men congregate to revel in the freedom of speed. On the way he meets a cross-section of Americans (immigrant taxi drivers, benevolent transvestites, Vietnam vets), gets laid again (I guess I know why Hopkins took the role), and runs into a series of snags (red herrings all) before finally ... well, you know exactly where this contraption is headed. "The World's Fastest Indian" means to tell us to follow our dreams, stay young in our hearts, trust in the kindness of strangers, never say die, pip, pip, etc., etc. But what it tells me is that when a vehicle runs on sap, its engine dies pretty quickly.

Copyright © 2006 The Jujube (M. I. Kim). All rights reserved.