“Driven” Review

Not that we can resist having a dig at all the unrealistic moments, so let's get them out of the way first. For a start, isn't a character such as a humourless, arrogant, champion German dating a Corinna Betsch-lookalike and wearing a red race suit somewhat familiar? So too a wheelchair-bound team boss? And a team owner by the name of Carl Henry and a driver called Memo Moreno? For those who realise the not-so-subtle art imitating life references, it can be a bit distracting watching the film!

Then of course there's the fact that this German champ, Beau Brandenburg, is meant to be driving Juan Pablo Montoya's car from last year and is wearing the Colombian's helmet, yet race footage often shows Jimmy Vasser's other Target Chip Ganassi car instead. Also, the on-location shots jump all over the place, as could be expected, and much of the grand finale was shot at the Gilles Villeneuve track in Montreal, whereas the helicopter shots were of Belle Isle in Detroit.

When Champ Cars crash they always roll over. (The commentator kept saying "Unbelievable!" whenever there was a big crash, and there were plenty of 'em. We said the same ... minus the exclamation mark.) When methanol burns, supposedly you can see the flame. Cars fly off into nearby lakes (I thought only Mercedes sports cars at Le Mans came close to doing that), and other drivers stop to help (I somehow doubt Stallone is enough of an anorak to think of David Purley's brave but unsuccessful attempt to rescue Roger Williamson in the 1973 Dutch GP).

All you have to do to pass someone is change gears and step on the accelerator, even when you're already both flat out on an oval! When rain falls, what a driver sees are blobs of gooey rain slapping against the visor in slow motion. The PacWest cars were actually competitive in season 2000. The Nurburgring is on the Champ Car calendar. Drivers go to nightclubs the night before a race. Cars use superspeedway wings on road courses. And Champ Cars fight for the 'World Championship', or so were led to believe.

The technical gripes can go on, but to do so would be to forget Stallone's motivation behind the film. He found a subject he liked (racing cars), saw that it was a good example of a theme he liked (professional obsession versus having a perspective on life's priorities), and he put two and two together. If he wanted to make a genuine two-hour racing flick, he might as well have shown last weekend's Hungarian GP. And few of us want to see that race again.

And, indeed, there's been some effort to get a couple of details right. Pardue's character, Jimmy Bly (who in some scenes doesn't look unlike Heinz-Harald Frentzen (is there something behind the woman-stealing subplot after all???), wears Mark Blundell's helmet and drives his car from last year. Blundell has a trademark MB on the top of his helmet, which was cleverly changed to JB. Blundell was also a good choice because his personal motto, which he has always carried on his helmet, is 'The Will to Win'.

The film also makes an adequate attempt to depict the pressures on a modern-day racing driver: the sponsors commitments, and the inordinate, sometimes pushy demands of managers, press and public alike, all of which turn today's stars into automatons. The contrast it makes with the carefree racing characters of yesteryear is a pertinent one, and it's a shame that it wasn't explored further.

[Warren performs totally non-plot related swimming routine]
Jimmy: "Where did you learn to swim like that?"
Sophia: "I was raised by frogs ... ribbit, ribbit, ribbit."
Jimmy: "Well I'm glad you escaped."

All the women meanwhile are accessories, as is Cristian de la Fuente who plays Memo Moreno, whose involvement in this film is close to pointless. Demonstrating nil motivation as a character, his role is simply to serve the plot by having a big crash and having Bly and Brandenburg save him. The stand-outs acting-wise are probably Pardue, and Robert Sean Leonard as Bly's brother and manager.

In summary, as an advertisement for realistic Champ Car racing, Driven is cringe-worthy. It makes you want to thank Bernie Ecclestone for not allowing Stallone to film F1, knowing that it would have given the general public a horrendously warped view of Grand Prix racing. But, as two hours worth of brain-in-neutral fun, it does its job quite adequately. Motor racing films are rare, and it's satisfying to see one regardless.

Forget you're a race fan, forgive the mistakes, and you'll find it's nowhere near as execrable as it's been said to be.