Rush

Ron Howard’s film was sold as a racing picture, yet most of its hundred and twenty three minutes sit in the paddock and bedroom, not on the circuit. The racing is short and fragmented: a shortfall if you hoped to follow an unbroken lap, the actual material if you came to watch a rivalry assembled. Niki Lauda consulted on it, thought at an early screening that he had been drawn too negatively, then changed his mind and called it very accurate, not bent toward Hollywood. His one objection on set was a prop: he said he had never worn a wedding ring. Daniel Brühl’s protruding prosthetic teeth are no invention either: Lauda’s rat nickname came from them. The prosthetics for the burn scarring took six or seven hours to apply. Before accepting, Brühl was called to Vienna, where Lauda told him to bring hand luggage only, in case they did not get on. The Nürburgring crash was restaged at the actual site. The two were in fact friendly before the accident, a closeness the film sets aside to let the rivalry drive. Worth it if you want a two hander that keeps both men defensible without picking one. Skip it if a thirty eight million dollar production owes you sustained racing and strategy.