Let me make one thing very, very clear: I am not a gear-head. I have absolutely no interest in cars. I couldn't care less about what kind of car I drive, its motor, its manufacturer, its year, etc, etc...But after watching Richard C. Sarafian's Vanishing Point, I can honestly say that I have fallen in love with the 1970 Dodge Challenger R/T 440 Magnum. Something about watching that car draw pictures in the desert sands with its tire tracks mesmerized me. Of course, this was largely due to Sarafian's phenomenal directing and vision. Vanishing Point is more than just a muscle car movie. It is a cross-section of the post-60s American zeitgeist with a pinch of highway mysticism. A weary driver simply named Kowalski is hired to deliver a 1970 Dodge Challenger R/T 440 Magnum from Denver, Colorado to San Francisco. What ensues is a road trip into nothing less than the scorched soul of America. Hopped up on Benzedrine, Kowalski's reckless driving attracts the attention of the police. However, Kowalski manages to escape from them time and again. As he progresses, he soon gains supporters in the form of friendly motorcycle-driving hippies, a black radio disc jockey, and even a desert snake-wrangler. He encounters detritus from generations of American dreamers: shells of old cars, Christian communes, and racist cops. The cinematography, courtesy of the legendary John A. Alonzo, is achingly beautiful. Rarely before or since has the American desert and highways seemed so vibrant and promising. Vanishing Point is nothing less than an American treasure. It helps that that Dodge Challenger is one hell of a car, too.
9/10
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