MOTHER TRUCKIN’ MAY: BREAKDOWN (1997)
Amidst the foreboding tribal drums and haunting woodwinds of Basil Poledouris’s original score, Amy and Jeff Taylor pull up in front of the world-famous Copacabana nightclub in their 1996 Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo (ZJ). They step out of their scarlet sports utility vehicle, dressed to the nines in Chinos and collared shirts, and Jeff hands his keys to the parking valet along with a hearty gratuity. The eyes of the patrons patiently waiting in line for the hip New York nightspot trail the power couple as they bypass the queue and wide-shouldered bouncers to enter through the Copa’s kitchen clasped hand in hand. Jeff guides Amy through the cozy corridors and bustling scullery, greeting and glad-handing everyone with whom the couple comes in contact. As our betrothed breach the ballroom, a bevy of bussers carry a table and chairs just for them to a conspicuously empty spot in front of the stage where the irascible kidder Henny Youngman quips "Take my wife—please!"
[record scratch]
“No.” Jeff mutters under his breath with fists clenched tight as his steely gaze glares into the perplexed peepers of the startled stand-up comedian. “NO!!” Jeff bellows. At this point you’re probably saying, "No, they didn't. You just combined the Steadicam Copacobana shot from GOODFELLAS (1990) with the shootout with Curly Bill Brocius from TOMBSTONE (1993)! None of that happened in BREAKDOWN (1997)!” No, no, no they didn't. But you could imagine what it'd be like if they did, right?
Written and directed by Jonathan Mostow, BREAKDOWN is a tightly texted throwback trucker thriller starring Kurt Russell and Kathleen Quinlan as a bourgeois Bostonian couple driving across the country to start a new life in San Diego only to run afoul of some semi-trailer shanghaiers in the American Southwest. One could go on but there’s a mystery afoot and the puzzle is very much the pith of the picture. While certain aspects of this flick share a superficial similarity to THE HITCHER (1986) and THE VANISHING (1988) what follows is an expertly paced and superbly acted taut tryst into theatrical truck trailer tension constructed with a creative credo of “keep it simple, stupid” working with a collective commitment towards economical sui generis storytelling.
Born from an attempted additional adaptation of Stephen King’s short story Trucks, previously tackled with King himself in the director’s chair for 1986’s MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE, to be produced by husband and wife power couple Dino and Martha De Laurentiis. Mostow spent a year developing a script and scouting desert locations for filming only to be informed by producers that they couldn’t secure the rights to use Stephen King’s name in the advertising. Without “The King Of Horror” in the branding the project was DOA.
[It eventually became a much-maligned TV movie for the USA Network. See Chris Thomson’s TRUCKS (1997) true believers! Or save yourself some time and just read Alexis M. Collazo’s write-up for Mother Truckin’ May instead, excelsior!]
“What could I do?” Mostow recalls. “I know these locations, and I’ve got trucks on my brain.” So Mostow drafted another script based loosely on a road trip to Las Vegas with his wife and a conversation with a friend working for the FBI about the proliferation of missing persons per capita in states like Arizona and New Mexico. The very states he scouted for filming.
A serious coup occurred for the project with the against type casting of Kurt Russell as our khaki-clad everyman hero, Jeff Taylor, who Russell describes as "slightly comically obnoxious." After a string of successes as a strong-jawed cinematic champion with a corresponding come-at-able charm, Russell was inspired by the versatility the script and character called for and was an easy first choice for Mostow who contends that Kurt is “probably the most underrated movie star of all time.” Supported by a clutch cavalcade of character actors consisting of J.T. Walsh, M.C. Gainey, Kathleen Quinlan, and Jack Noseworthy to cultivate a climate of consternation in concert with a palpable paranoia for our protagonist.
Complimenting this highly capable cast is the combined commitment to candor and clarity with the content. Russell championed a minimalist approach to his character citing his ability to act out salient plot points rather than explicitly vocalizing them. J.T. Walsh (who Russell describes as perhaps his favorite American actor along with the quote "He's flawless. Nothing fake, nothing phony.") approached his opposing role in much the same way. Mostow describes an early meeting where Walsh crossed off pages of his own dialogue arguing "I am a much better villain if I don't need anything from him, just the money. Anytime I need something emotional from him it takes away my own power." There’s a perfect example of this power dynamic delivered with a well-timed face punt circumventing a potentially villainous diatribe.
Director Mostow won a similar battle for brevity. Studio executives were pushing for more dialogue and a prelude that showed Jeff’s tragic origin as a photojournalist in an unnamed war-ravaged nation who witnesses a woman’s death and must carry with him the guilt of not opposing that violence. Russell and Mostow were both against it but agreed to film it last if producers didn’t care for their cut. Luckily, creative conciseness won out and the theatrical cut opens with Jeff and Amy establishing their respective characters organically via conversation with their cross-country car ride already in progress.
Focusing on the tension of the moment without getting bogged down in backstory or spelling all the plot points out keeps the narrative and suspense constantly moving forward. Jeff acts in an almost constant state of panic throughout the 93-minute runtime so the motion picture’s pace reflects that. Running lean and mean narratively allowed audiences to feel Jeff’s escalating emotional encumbrance as it is ratcheted up organically through many minor victories and defeats feeling real and earned as stunts and action set pieces become more elaborate and daunting for our hero. Jeff goes from driving his Jeep into a raging river to evade his pursuers to hanging off a semi-truck in this high-speed High Plains Hitchcockian hijack hoot!
All in, I’d wager $90,000 to 90,000 donuts that BREAKDOWN’s concise substance over style storytelling, strong performances, and steadfast reliance on gritty realism ages a bit better than its big budget Hollywood action flick contemporaries like CON AIR (1997), FACE/OFF (1997), and SPEED 2: CRUISE CONTROL (1997). The whole film is structured to be visually and sonically startling. Unsettling in service of a skillful escalation of drama and urgency in ways not often felt in prototypical popcorn pictures. Now there’s been some talk of this being a forgotten ‘90s cinematic classic. Did this one get away from you, cowboy? If so, watch it ASAP because this is an S-tier serving of spine-chilling semi-trailer hide and seek suspense that long-hauler Red Barr could only describe as “pure tit.”
