BY TODD GARBARINI
Kurt Russell and the late great character
actor J.T. Walsh have shared the screen multiples times together, specifically
in Robert Towne’s Tequila Sunrise (1989), Ron Howard’s Backdraft
(1991), and Stuart Baird’s Executive Decision (1994). In the Spring of 1997,
I saw the trailer for a new film called Breakdown, also featuring these
two fine actors. I groaned - it looked like just another run-of-the-mill,
headache-inducing, over-the-top testosterone action fest with very little basis
in reality. Foolishly, I avoided it until I found myself at the Glendale 9, an
Arizona multiplex drive-in while in Phoenix on a business trip. Breakdown
was just about the only movie on the marquee that looked remotely interesting,
though I still had serious doubts. Reluctantly, I paid the admission, fearing
the worst. For the first time in a long time, I was wrong. Completely wrong.
My initial reservations about Breakdown were totally erased halfway
through the story. Years of suffering through uninteresting action films with empty,
amusement park-like “thrills†almost prevented me from seeing one of the best
films of the 1990s and a movie that easily lends itself to repeat viewings. I
watched Breakdown while reclining on the hood of my rental car. To say
that I was absolutely riveted would be a huge understatement. I thought the
paint would permanently adhere to my sweaty palms.
For
me, Breakdown is a near masterpiece. To disclose the plot would destroy what
I found to be an utterly nail-biting motion picture experience, which is
something I do not think I have ever truly experienced. There are some spoilers
ahead, so non-viewers please tread lightly. There is such an overwhelming sense
of menace and peril in Breakdown that it almost becomes a cruel
experiment in fear. For a first-time directing job by Jonathan Mostow, who
previously scripted the Michael Douglas/David Fincher film The Game
(1997), Breakdown is awe-inspiring. The opening credits sequence alone
is imaginative and appropriate to the story, utilizing animation to simultaneously
represent a mesh of cartographic interstates and what could also be construed
as cerebral arteries. The film’s title is a double meaning. Kurt Russell and
Kathleen Quinlan are Jeff and Amy Taylor, a forty-something married couple
moving from New England to San Diego in a brand-new Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo
SUV. On their way driving through the empty plains of the Midwest, Jeff is
momentarily distracted reaching for his thermos and just misses crashing into a
mud caked Ford F150 pick-up driven by a large man who shouts obscenities. An
unfortunate encounter ensues later when the man castigates Jeff while refueling.
Speeding away, the new Jeep suffers an electrical difficulty and Jeff and Amy
find themselves stranded in a place befitting of an Alfred Hitchcock thriller. The
Ford truck speeds by, cheerfully acknowledging the couple’s plight with a long
horn blow leading to a brief and tense stand-off which is alleviated by the
arrival of Red Barr, a truck driver (the late great J.T. Walsh) who offers to
give Amy a ride to Belle’s Diner some miles down the road to call road service
(his CB blew a fuse earlier and is non-functioning). When she accepts, Jeff
waits…and waits…and discovers an unplugged wire in the Jeep’s undercarriage.
Normally,
I would call out Amy’s foolishness for accepting such a ride as a woman her age
should know the dangers of hitch-hiking, however New Englanders routinely give
rides to one another and this plot point helps explain her action. Jeff makes
his way to the diner and all the patrons and owner (a terrific turn by
character actor Jack McGee) do not recall seeing her, except for a mildly slow
co-worker in the parking lot. This puts into motion a high level of suspense as
Jeff’s cell phone fails to get decent service while he rushes to find his wife.
It turns out that Jeff and Amy have been pegged for financial embezzlement by
Red, Earl (M.C. Gainey as the Ford driver), Billy (Jack Noseworthy, the “slowâ€
diner worker), and Al (the late Rich Brinkley), a husky accomplice. Rex Linn of
TV’s Better Call Saul is also on hand as a police officer who offers
Jeff some recourse.
Breakdown, which opened on Friday, May 2, 1997, might
appear to be an action film, but it is more of a thriller with some action
sequences. It has been a longtime indeed since this level of suspense has seen
the light of day on the silver screen. It is so good, in fact, that it feels
like a Seventies film made in the Nineties. It is amazing that it was not the
blockbuster that it deserved to be. Poor marketing perhaps?
Shooting
in the 2.35:1 Panavision ratio, Mr. Mostow has created a plausible scenario
replete with four of the most frightening villains seen of late. They certainly
give Bill McKinney and Herbert "Cowboy" Coward, the mountain men in Deliverance
(1972), a run for their money. J. T. Walsh, who unfortunately passed away not
too long after this film was released (his death is a real loss to the film
world), appears in one of the best performances of his sterling and memorable career:
a purely evil man who doubles as an everyday Joe who loves his wife and son (Moira
Harris and Vincent Berry, respectively) but commits terrible acts for money. You
get the feeling that these monsters have been doing what they do for a long
time, although there were moments wherein I thought a double-cross would
transpire among them. They all appear to be loyal to one another, making me
wonder how these guys ended up together in the first place. The supporting cast
all do a phenomenal job as well.
Breakdown’s plot is by no means original. This type of
story depicting a person who goes missing has been told over many decades: Robert
Fuest's And Soon the Darkness (1970), Philip Leacock's television film Dying
Room Only (1973), and, in particular, George Sluizer’s icy 1988 Dutch/French
character study Spoorloos, known in the States as The Vanishing. Breakdown
succeeds for the same reason that Steven Spielberg's Duel (1971) does
(though Duel is more cinematic): it takes two ordinary human beings and
thrusts them into a horrendous situation they would never have any reason to
suspect they would ever be a part of. That is not to say that the film does not
have a few convenient plot devices, but even when it does, they can be
forgiven.