The 1970s have dominated our household for the last few weeks, mainly thanks to the Offspring and repeated questions about aspects of life as a Seventies child. So, an apt end to all this is the UK release of Ron Howard’s Rush (in cinemas, today).
Opinion about the film is divided. One reviewer dislikes the film’s approach to the truth. Another, finds this irrelevent.
And perhaps it is.
In a story about people and relationships, every standpoint creates a different view, a different interpretation of events, a different memory. People there at the time will remember things differently. And who can say what’s definitively right after the passage of years? Add to this, the fact that this is a film, made for entertainment, not a documentary. I’m hoping I’ll come away knowing what it feels like to drive a 1976 McLaren M23. I’m not too worried if the car’s logos are in the wrong place.
At the heart of this film, is the relationship between two extraordinary individuals, circling each other in a battle for supremacy on the race track.
So, who are these super-beings, grappling with physics and defying death on every circuit the Nüburgring?
In pole-position, the man with the calulator, Austria’s Niki Lauda. With a 1975 Nüburgring lap time of 6:58.6, this man knows how to drive.
His rival? James Hunt. British playboy, blessed with a lethal combination of animal magnetism and good looks. Risk taker. Party guy.
Not interested in Formula One? Go see it for the cinematography (Anthony Dod Mantle) which looks stunning on the clips I’ve seen. Or the clothes. Gucci finally makes the Seventies look sexy.
Want to take a look?