After the horrors of Simply Irresistible, I turned to this one, which looked pretty much like an excuse to film a shitload of Supercross footage where dreamy-eyed, hard-abbed men climb onto motorcycles and hit dirt courses while their Maxim-ready girlfriends wring their hands on the sidelines. I figured it would make Simply Irresistible look like Citizen Kane in comparison. I figured that I’d have to take a shower after subtitling the thing.
I figured wrong.
I mean, I was right about the excuse. The plot is a paper-thin bit of phyllo crust on the filthy piston of Supercross footage, but the leads are decent, the good guy wins and holy shit, is that Channing Tatum as bad-boy biker Rowdy Sparks? It sure as hell is, and he plays up the thick-headed throttle jockey role as well as he possibly could. It was a harmless movie, easy to work on, and no one’s having orgasms after eating an éclair.
I used to ride a motorcycle. It was a dirtbike. I was thirteen. We’d ride around the housing development in Santa Fe. One time I tried to go up a steep, little hill and the bike fell back on me. I wasn’t hurt. I just felt like an ass. And I told my brother, “Do NOT tell Mom and Dad!” First thing he says when we get back home. “Will wrecked the bike.” Which I didn’t. But I probably tried to hit him anyway for breaking a promise.