At a time of overwhelming entertainment bloat – budget, length, content, discussion – a ride back to the summer of 1994 and the brisk, brilliant economy of Speed feels like the satisfying small-screen vacation we all deserve right now.
Dutch cinematographer turned director Jan de Bont’s breath-stealing action movie hasn’t gained any extra depth or allegorical meaning when rewatched 30 years later (it’s mercifully thinkpiece-proof in its earnest straightforwardness) but it has benefited from a bleak comparison with where Hollywood is at this precarious moment. It’s been a mostly bummer summer at the box office with a panic over expensive big-bet films like The Fall Guy and Furiosa stumbling while the majority who choose streaming instead having to settle for murky, poorly made dreck like Atlas, a much-watched yet much-loathed Netflix night-ruiner. We have a movie star problem both in quantitative and qualitative terms, too few A-listers under 50 still packing ’em in and those who somewhat sometimes do, too often struggling to convince with their charisma credentials (see: Anyone But You). Action has gone from very bad to way worse with a lazy overreliance on the alienation of digital over the immersion of physical and even bigger budgeted films are still lacking that crackle and texture of real film. Industry fear has also increased the number of reboots, remakes and legacy sequels, all sleepwalking on fumes from years prior, zombies roaming the cinemas where humans used to be.
