Review: Speed Racer (2008)

A few years ago, I caught a late flight back to New York after visiting home for the holidays. As is often the case with air travel, the journey was a series of small disasters: takeoff was delayed several times, turbulence made it impossible to get any shuteye, and my seat had a malfunctioning headphone port. For the sake of my sanity, I decided to occupy my mind by browsing the available DIRECTV channels. I eventually settled on The Matrix Revolutions (specifically the climactic battle to defend Zion) sans sound—whereupon I experienced something akin to a religious awakening. In the past, I had (regrettably) kind of internalized the negative critical consensus surrounding the film, taking for granted that the plot was clunky, that the pseudo-philosophical subtext was muddled. Without the “benefit” of audible dialogue to provide that context, I could only judge the movie by the quality of its imagery—which was actually elevated by silence. This, I discovered, was spectacle of the highest caliber: as meticulously choreographed as ballet, as dazzlingly maximalist as opera, as nimbly spontaneous as jazz.

Revisiting the recent 4K remaster of the Wachowskis’ Speed Racer was similarly enlightening. When it initially released back in 2008, I was in college, studying such auteurs as Kurosawa, Fellini, and Godard; I considered my palate too sophisticated for the empty calories of Hollywood blockbusters. Since graduating, however, I have matured enough to acquire a taste for colorful camp—Adam West’s Batman, Roger Moore’s Bond, The Monkees’ Head, Godzilla vs. Hedorah—and can therefore admire the directors’ ambitious vision of a live-action cartoon. Indeed, I’d venture as far as describing the siblings’ distinctive cinematic language—the nonlinear narrative structure (replete with overlapping flashbacks), the relentlessly kinetic camerawork, the rapid-fire rhythm of the editing, the hyper-stylized CGI (which deliberately makes no effort to appear naturalistic)—as borderline revolutionary in its outright rejection of the industry’s conventional vocabulary.

Despite these avant-garde adjacent flourishes, Speed Racer is most definitely not “abstract” or “surreal”. It tells a very concrete story: a cautionary tale about the corruptive, corrosive influence of commercialism, consumerism, and capitalism; a meditation on a family’s grief, trauma, and ultimate perseverance; and a celebration of the creative spirit triumphing over corporate greed. Naysayers might accuse this thematic foundation of being unsubtle, sentimental, and even emotionally manipulative—but it’s undeniably effective at keeping the audience invested in the melodrama, earning every tear and cheer. I’m ashamed to confess that I once doubted the Wachowskis; this latest reevaluation has converted me into a true believer—what transcendental bliss!