Life of a Downhill Racer

Redford as David Chappellet.

My favorite sport in the Winter Olympics has been downhill racing ever since I saw Downhill Racer (1969) on network television as a teenager. The high speeds, the sound of the skis whooshing across the snow, and the images of skiers sailing over bumps in the course...what's not to like?

I recently watched Downhill Racer for the first time in several decades and, while its impact has diminished, it still held my interest and the skiing chases (of which they're not enough) were as enthralling as ever.

Hackman as the coach.

Robert Redford plays David Chappellet, an alternate on the U.S. national men's skiing team, who joins the squad when one of its members is injured. Chappellet lacks international experience, but overflows with arrogance and confidence, a combination that creates an immediate rift with his teammates and coach (Gene Hackman). The catch, though, is that Chappellet is a sensational downhill skier and he rises quickly through the ranks to become the U.S. team's best hope for a Winter Olympics gold medal.

The theme here is a universal one: You don't have to be a nice person to become great at something. Indeed, Chappellet isn't an ugly individual and the screenplay tries to justify some of his behavior by showing his awkward relationship with his father. In one scene, his father asks why Chappellet is skiing and his son replies that he wants to be a champion. His father's response: The world is full of champions.

By the same token, Chappellet has little interest in anyone but himself. On a trip home, he has sex with an old girlfriend, but ignores her when she begins talking about her future. Later, he slams on a car's horn when his Swedish girlfriend tells him about Christmas with her family. He is peeved because she didn't spend the holidays with him. He could care less about her family. In the end, the only person that has a true connection with Chappellet is his rival on the U.S. skiing team. They share a passion for downhill racing and the risk-taking that's an integral part of it. They may never be friends, but it's as close as Chappellet may ever get.

Redford sheds his good-guy image to paint a nuanced portrait of his aloof, self-centered protagonist. Gene Hackman is equally good as the team's coach, who has to balance his time between fund-raising, coordinating travel, and keeping the team together.

While director Michael Ritchie could have tightened the story considerably, he excels in other areas. The skiing sequences, which sometimes incorporate a first-person perspective, draw the viewer into the thrills of downhill racing. Ritchie balances those exciting scenes with the bland life that surrounds the races. The hotels all look the same. The team passes time by playing table tennis and giving interviews to people that know little about the sport. The coach gives speeches to raise money and dines with sponsors to get free equipment. It's a seemingly dull existence--except for when the skiers are on the slopes.

Ritchie went on to make two other films that also pulled back the curtain to reveal the inner workings of a political race (The Candidate, again with Redford) and a beauty pageant (Smile). Neither of those movies are as compelling as Downhill Racer, which overcomes its shortcomings to function effectively as a character study and an above-average sports film.

The Price of Political Ambition in "Posse" and "The Candidate"

This month's focus on politics in movies continues with two films from the 1970s, each a labor of love for its star: Posse and The Candidate.

Kirk Douglas produced, directed, and starred in Posse, an ambitious political Western about Texas marshal Howard Nightingale, a candidate for the U.S. Senate. Nightingale has built his campaign around capturing the notorious railroad-robbing outlaw Jack Strawhorn (Bruce Dern). Unfortunately, with the election approaching quickly, Strawhorn's capture has proven difficult--even for Nightengale's posse of six highly-paid professionals. However, when a payoff reveals Strawhorn's whereabouts, Nightingale and his posse burn down the barn containing Strawhorn's men and the $40,000 loot obtained from their latest robbery. To the marshal's extreme displeasure, Strawhorn manages to escape...though not for long.

If Posse was intended as a cynical editorial on the politically-turbulent 1970s, it never quite reaches that goal. Its message is ultimately muted, but there are still pleasures along the way. Douglas and company nicely convey that political strategies have changed little over the last 120 years. Nightingale's campaign speeches consist of vague promises like being tough on crime. He fights with a local newspaper editor played by James Stacey. He employs his own photographer to make sure that no photo opportunities are missed (even when he poses solemnly after burying one of his posse). Nightingale even travels in a luxurious train car, courtesy of the railroad--it's no coincidence that his populist rhetoric stresses the importance of railroads in building the country's future.

Yet, while Nightingale's future looks promising, the same can't be said for his posse. Their boss proudly informs the gunmen that he has secured them jobs as security guards for the railroad for $100 a month. Their response: We make more than that now. When a Native American member of the posse notes that the railroad doesn't hire Indians, Douglas replies with an offhand: "We'll have to work that out." Yes, trouble is brewing within the ranks of the posse.

Kirk Douglas directs with a sure hand, though at the expense of fleshing out what really makes Nightingale tick. Bruce Dern fares much better as the charming and crafty Strawhorn. Remarkably restrained, it may be my favorite Dern performance.

An unnecessary death mars what could have been one of cinema's all-time great endings--but it's still very good. In the end, Posse is a satisfying, offbeat portrait of political ambition and its consequences.

The same theme gets a very different treatment in The Candidate, Robert Redford's inconsistent tale of a young California lawyer's rise from small-time crusader to the U.S. Senate. Redford stars as Bill McKay, the son of a popular former governor, who has no political aspirations--until an astute campaign manager (wonderfully played by Peter Boyle) seeks him out. McKay is reluctant to agree to run for office. He wants a guarantee that he can "say what I want, do what I want, go where I please." Boyle's character agrees, noting that it means McKay will lose the election.

The campaign gets off to a promising start, with the press embracing McKay's frank views. But when his message fails to click with the public, his campaign team shifts to vague rhetoric and (amusingly) empty TV spots that capitalize on the candidate's looks while saying nothing of substance. McKay starts to rise in the polls and suddenly seems capable of unseating his three-term incumbent opponent.

It's easy to see what Redford and director Michael Ritchie wanted to do with The Candidate. Three years earlier, they had teamed for Downhill Racer, a sharp portrait of an inconsiderate human being who also happened to be a great skier. Unfortunately, the lead character in The Candidate simply lacks interest. We should feel something when McKay realizes--quite belatedly--that he has sold out. Instead, it means little because we never really got to know McKay in the first place. He is a bland enigma at the start of the film and remains so at the end.

To his credit, Ritchie provides an absorbing insider look at the campaign trail, from the musty hallways of the hotels to the camera crew following the candidate around, hoping for a snippet that can be used in a TV spot. His use of handheld cameras is effective at first, but quickly grows weary.

Despite its shortcomings, The Candidate was a boxoffice hit. Redford was on the verge of superstar status and the film was certainly timely (it was released during the 1972 Presidential primaries). However, if you're seeking an original political picture from the 1970s, then I recommend you ride along with Kirk Douglas's Posse.