RED LINE 7000 (1965)

After a film or two every year back to 1926 (and one of the best commercial success rates in the biz*), Howard Hawks took four years off to figure out what went wrong when he face-planted on his first WideScreen epic, 1955's Ancient Egypt LAND OF THE PHARAOHS.  The problem?  Dialogue!  Not knowing how ancient people spoke, thought Hawks, kept him from finding the right words to move his characters beyond empty spectacle.  But while this might have explained the pitfalls of PHARAOHS, it does little to explain what the heck went so risibly wrong with the dialogue for the contemporary characters of RED LINE 7000, three young race car drivers (The Natural; The Hothead; The Star) and the girls they love.  Probably a moot point.  With acting this bad, any dialogue would sound like Egyptian doggerel.  (The film generally considered Hawks’ nadir, though RIO LOBO, a misbegotten rehash/last-gasp Western for John Wayne, with a good prologue directed by the second unit, also in the running.)  There is some impressive (real) crash footage in 7000, but poorly wedged in visually or plotwise.  And while James Caan got a chance to redeem himself in Hawks’ surprising rebound (EL DORADO/’67), the other two drivers offer zero screen  presence (one never worked again); while the three all but undifferentiated girls (‘sexy’ French accent included) suffocate & suffer on airless soundstage sets behind lacquered mid-60s Playboy Pin-Up facials.  Strict Hawksians comfort themselves picking up on signature themes, but they’re not doing Hawks, his fans or newcomers to his work any favors.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: *Hawks critical standing lagging far behind box-office, ironically coming on strong with the French New Wave reevaluation just as he started to slip commercially.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: The four films that top Hawks’ IMDb page are RED RIVER; RIO BRAVO; HATARI; and RED LINE 7000.  So much for classics with Bogart, Grant & Cooper.

WATCH THIS, NOT THAT: While not without its own major dramatic liabilities, the technical leap from 7000 to John Frankenheimer’s GRAND PRIX/’66 is like Outer Space’s leap in 2001.  (The movie, not the year.)