PLOT: In 1962, an eccentric old New Zealand grease monkey named Bert Munro brings his jury-rigged 1920s Indian motorcycle halfway around the world to the famed Bonneville Salt Flats to set an improbable speed record. Along the way, he meets myriad oddball characters who are charmed by his whimsy and determination.
Dame Judi (Mrs. Henderson Presents) wasn't the only esteemed British thespian to twinkle shamelessly in a feature at last year's Film Festival. The World's Fastest Indian was Anthony Hopkins' own bid for the crown of Most Adorable Brit.
To be sure, Bert Munro -- the New Zealand grandfather whose jury-rigged 1920s Indian motorcycle set a world speed record for its class in 1962 -- had to have been a charmer and a rascal. They bent the rules for him every step of the way as surely as he bent scrap metal into cylinders.
But as close as director Roger Donaldson gets to conveying such pluck is to have Hopkins grin good-naturedly at adversity and opportunity alike. The grin must be a powerful totem indeed, because it melts hearts from Wellington to the Bonneville Salt Flats, and makes feisty senior ladies fall into bed with him from one side of the world to the other.
We're talking Rosalind-Russell-in-the-'60s adorable.
As The World's Fastest Indian opens, we meet Bert, the eccentric, junk-collecting neighbour who entertains a tow-headed boy with his workshop expertise, while the boy's parents fret over bad influences. It's a good life for Bert, roaring around his small town, bedding lovely older lady friends. But a heart condition flares up, forcefully reminding him of his mortality and his dream of setting a land speed record at Bonneville.
So it is that, with an entire town cheering him on (including a respectful bunch of young motorcycle gang members), he sails off to Los Angeles, there to trek cross-country to Utah.
Bert has no apparent plan, and believes he can just walk into Bonneville and sign up -- in much the same way that he walks up to the front desk of a seedy Hollywood motel and becomes best pals with Tina, the transvestite desk clerk (Chris Washington). Indeed, like any other immigrant, Bert finds doors open to him at every turn. He walks up to a used car lot, where the owner (Paul Rodriguez) hires him as a mechanic to help finance a vehicle to get him across the desert.
Halfway to Utah, he finds his rig needing more repair work, and is taken in by a handy old widow (Diane Ladd) with a hankerin' for some male company. A little lovin' later, and another cameo in the can, Bert's off to Bonneville.
By then, the "Sorry, old fella, can't be done" that has greeted him at every turn has lost its drama. You know that Bert will talk the Bonneville brass into bending the rules, and the screen will again erupt in smiles.
In a movie otherwise devoid of tension, the record run is fairly compelling. Bert bleeds and suffers burns to keep his bike running, and Hopkins gets to dip into the well of pained emotion for the first time in nearly two hours.
But it's a long way to go to get there.
BOTTOM LINE: Sweet to the point of treacle. Anthony Hopkins twinkles shamelessly in this airbrushed tale of a codger-with-a-dream. Hopkins' sweet-faced Munro turns bikers, drag-queens, car salesmen and randy old ranchgirls alike into puddles of softhearted goo a la Disney. There's a compelling last act, with Munro burning his hands and bleeding to keep his bike alive for a record run. But it's a long wait 'til then.
(This film is rated PG)
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