A Review by Phil Calabro
2005, 20th Century Fox, Dir. Steve Boyum - Starring Steve Howey, Eric Vogel, Cameron Richardson, Sophia Bush, Aaron Carter, Channing Tatum, Robert Patrick, Robert Carradine, Carolina Garcia, Ryan Locke, JD Pardo, David Castillo, Erin Bates, David Pingree
I don't know anything about motocross, much less motorcycles themselves. The closest I've ever gotten to that sport was when I hopped on a moped a few years ago and drove right into the closest car. Since then, I've been petrified to ride anything sort of cycle of the sort. So that properly eliminates me from the 'motocross' fan base that this movie is trying to attract, along with the action buffs. But the writers and director fail on both levels anyway - but not through means of predictability. I knew the movie was predictable when I saw the trailer, but the script is so horrendous you'd think someone actually let their tires tread across the pages. Action is the mere saving grace of 'Supercross', but the acting jobs and writing are as laughable as they get. To those easily persuaded: it has hot biker women in it.
K.C. Carlyle (Howey) and Trip Carlyle (Vogel) are brothers whose lifelong pursuits have been to be motorcycling champions - but they still remain 'chopper trash' to this day, still swabbing swimming pools as a day job. Although competitive and completely different from one another, they're still close friends and companions in the sport, always looking out for one another. When K.C. is offered to be the wingman for legend Rowdy Sparks (Tatum), the son of motorcycle mogul Clay Sparks (Carradine), Carlyle takes the job with much enthusiasm. Meanwhile, a jealous Trip uses his relationship with biker girl Piper Cole (Richardson) to join the league through another biking company, in competition with his brother. But when K.C. learns that he's becoming the permanent guard for Rowdy in the races, he breaks off from the Sparks crew and joins his brother in the final race to prove themselves - Supercross.
This casting director can not be forgiven - his motley crew of actors and actresses is the most pitiful of the cinematic year, with an undeniable lack of skill. Howey and Vogel are important characters, with potential in emphasizing their fraternal natures, to show a real contrast between them without a silly loud feud to show its "guts". These two characters are as undeveloped and raw as an undercooked slab of beef. Instead of bringing the least bit of emotion to their characters, they're materialistic playboys with carved bodies and brains of stone. I've heard Jessica Simpson say more intelligent remarks than these two combined. Cameron Richardson and Sophia Bush - two attractive women who belong in a local beauty pageant and not on the silver screen. Richardson has lines that sound like they were pulled from a late-night Cinemax feature. Say...maybe she's got a career set ahead for her! Robert Patrick and Robert Carradine are boring and gimmicky - find new agents, get better roles.
The movie is entitled 'Supercross' after the final race that summarizes the movie - an annual and non-fictional race that exists to this day. But the transition to the race is so abrupt and inappropriate, that it makes you wonder if they wanted you to care about it anyway. When the title card appeared for the last laps, I was stunned - that's it? No buildup to the race? No serious competition except for some silly 'villainous' cyclists who have more tattoos than brain cells and acting talent combined? What a waste. Camera angles and silly stylistic features dilute the real action. Every five minutes, we have to use the slow-motion technique. The movie may be short enough at an hour and 30 minutes, but this could've easily been a TV special with all the effects cut out. Heck, it would've been a lot more exciting as well. And who plays softy acoustic rock when the two lovers are out cycling in the fields? Nobody.
This is more like 'Stupidcross'. There's some genuine action packed into this movie, but the writing is as dismal as it gets. Fans might enjoy this more, but I can't say I did. If you like cycles, women in short shorts, loud rock music by indeterminable musicians, and people saying the word 'gnarly' every ten minutes, you've got a weekend pass to the movies.
