Track 29 (1988)

This movie was so-so. It had it's moments, but wasn't the greatest.

This is one of the few movies I've ever seen where the whole audience broke into spontaneous, loud applause a third of the way in.

Blistering performances.

Like the great film, it's made with a great deal of visible affection both in front of and behind the camera.

I tried to watch this for the great Gary Oldman, but this movie is completely unwatchable. The lead actress is wooden, horrible, and has the worst southern accent you could possibly imagine. There are an incredible number of bad 80s films, and this one falls right on the same track (pun intended). Watching Gary Oldman suck a tampon and talk with a diaphragm in his mouth is not something I would wish on my worst enemy.If only Christopher Lloyd had yelled out "1.21 Gigawatts" - I might have given this movie a higher rating.Some other review talked about the scene in which Lloyd's character, Henry, gets spanked by Sarah Barnhard in red gloves. It's very difficult to remove that image from your mind once you see it. This movie was a train wreck from beginning to end.

In a small southern American town, housewife Linda Henry lives a unsatisfied life and wants a child to fulfil that gap, but her husband Henry seems more concerned about his model trains and receiving his fetish spanking from nurse Stein. One day in a diner, an odd and mysterious young English lad Martin approaches Linda and her friend. He seems to appear where she is, so when another confrontation eventuates. He admits to being her son, which he was taken from her at birth when she was a teenager, due to the reasoning of his conception. This newfound responsibility is bittersweet for Linda, but has it come at a price for her well-being. Bizarre, extremely bizarre… and sultry! Nicholas Roeg's "Track 29" is really hard to fathom, which can make it quite frustrating, due to the fact the pieces of this hysterically traumatic psychological puzzle never come to be one. Maybe that was on purpose, as the dysfunctional characters (usually lurking in small town settings) we follow seem rather disconnected, never quite sure of themselves and longing for something which could lead to an emotional breakdown. This exploration into the protagonists' wavering consciousness brings out many facets, like revelations of the past and those things that matter most for them to feel anything. The obsessive nature takes hold, where torment and frustration develops with neurotic results, which could finally lose out to fantasy, because reality and their situation is just to hard to come to grips with. Because of that, Dennis Potter's unbalanced, warped screenplay really does put you on the spot and throws around plenty of eye-boggling surreal passages. Symbolic clues feature thickly throughout and the themes that drown the moody, but complex script leave a strong imprint. While I don't think it's all-successful in conveying its ideas, it's still very interesting to watch. Building it up is the unusual kinky charge, perversely pitch-black humour and a terror-away performance by the nutty Gary Oldman. Boy, Oldman annoys with his infantile portrayal, but that peculiar intensity he generates and his edgy rapport with co-star Theresa Russell has you hypnotised. The two have some curious exchanges. Russell projects a fully realised performance, that bubbles, but you also feel her growing pain and uncertainty of her fragile character. Too bad about the southern accent though. Christopher Lloyd goes offbeat too, but more so in an understated and controlled turn. Sandra Bernhard's Nurse Stein makes an impression. Roeg's leisurely paced direction might not be as beautifully visceral, but winning out is a very gleeful and excessive approach that's high quality. Like Oldman's character, Roeg lets it play out like a kooky tantrum with a lingering mean-streak. The leering camera-work seems to hover on its shots awkwardly, or give it a smothering feeling, and the simmering music score is been kept under-wraps. Another original and provocative piece of work into the realm of surrealistic ambiguity combined with expressive allegories and a sensually twisted flavour. This one really challenges the viewer (like most of Roeg's work), then highly entertains.

As one of screenwriter Dennis Potter's few feature films, this is definitely worth seeing for fans of his work. Potter incorporates a grab-bag of typical themes (and a couple of familiar jokes) into a surrealistic erotic thriller. Oldman and Russell have a smoldering chemistry, and many of their scenes together are very well done.But ultimately, as a movie, Track 29 gets hung up on a couple of points. First of all, as everyone has pointed out, the southern accents are really, really bad in this movie. Oh what a difference a good language coach would have made. Given Potter's interest in accents, and social class, I can't help but think that the juxtaposition of the characters' strong East London and North Carolina accents was probably specified in the script, but the utter ineptitude of Russell and her co-stars to sound like they're actually from *anywhere* in the South keeps destroying the viewer's suspension of disbelief. The other stumbling block, is the director's style. Potter's writing, bred at the BBC, seems to work better when filmed in an understated, realistic style. He's a writer who really packs a lot into every line, and his material doesn't generally need to be "played up" at all in order to carry the intended impact; all the power is right there in the script. Unfortunately, Roeg comes out with both guns blazing, and while his over-the-top visual style works really well in some sequences (as when Oldman destroys the train set), the overall effect was one of "more is less". I couldn't help wondering as the movie ended how differently the script could have been handled by a director like Jonathan Demme, who not only has an ear for accents and an understated visual style, but also a more subtle understanding of class in rural America than any director I can think of. In the end, an enjoyably campy B-movie with unfulfilled potential for greatness.

Oldman's intense performance and an obvious effort to make a surreal, metaphysical statement weren't enough to pull the weight of this film. Long, drawn out scenes reminded me of the guy who goes "Get it? Get it yet? Get it now?" long after the joke has been made. Also irritating were Russell and Camps' performances, which were hard to pinpoint as whiny scripting or whiny acting.