Cars

It seems altogether churlish to criticise Pixar for producing a movie that isn’t quite as good as Finding Nemo and The Incredibles, but with Cars, you just can’t help it. A long cherished project for Toy Story creator and race-geek John Lasseter, the film lovingly recreates gorgeous Fordian Americana as reflected in shiny chrome surfaces. It’s splendid. It’s breathtaking. But here’s the thing – it’s about cars. Bugs can be cute. Superheroes can hit mid-life crisis. Monsters can be cuddly. Cars are a much tougher sell.
Mind you, it works terrifically hard at anthropomorphising its metallic heroes. Easily the most sentimental release from the Pixar stable to date, Cars certainly has more heart than thrust. Indeed, this elegiac offering never actually revs up, preferring a leisurely Sunday drive pace to the instant gratification of the fast lane. Relocating the plot of Doc Hollywood into an alternative universe where winged insects are VW Beetles and cows are lumbering tractors, Owen Wilson’s hotshot hotrod finds himself unexpectedly stranded in the dusty rural town of Radiator Springs just off Route 66. Befriended by a sleek lady Porsche (Hunt) and a wise old Hornet (Paul Newman), the young upstart soon learns hoary old life lessons – the journey really is more important than the destination and you don’t need million dollar sponsorship deals when you have a nice view.
But where previous efforts from Lasseter’s stable have really sucked you in – I still wonder about gender politics in ladybird society – the discordant aesthetic never really wins you over. Motor vehicles are scholarly reproduced as if right off the assembly line then given big blinking windscreen eyes. You just can’t have it both ways. Watching them race through a grandly photo-realistic backdrop only adds to the confusion.
One also wonders how a film so utterly enchanted by all things Stars ‘n Stripes will play in Europe. Cars is an unabashed celebration of Nascar racing and red rock highways that ought to be soundtracked by Simon Bonney (alas, we’re treated to Sheryl Crowe covering ‘Life Is A Highway’ instead) – few films not made by Wim Wenders have so heavily romanticised the USA.
Still, even for someone who can’t master a car radio let alone drive – namely, me – Lasseter’s boyish passion for cars and roads less travelled is infectious. Proof then, if any were needed, that a poor Pixar product still makes everything else look fit for the junkyard.
121mins
Cert – gen
Opens july 28 2006