Movie Review: Hell on Wheels (2005)
Rating: 4/4 water bottles
(German with English subtitles)
If your idea of a perfect July morning is putting rubber to road and hammering out a half century at first light so you can get home to watch the end of that day's Tour de France stage live — or if you just like watching the Tour and always wonder when the riders pee — you need to put "Hell on Wheels" (Höllentour, or "Hell Tour" in the original German) at the top of your Netflix queue.
The movie's billing as a documentary tracking the German Team Telekom through the 2003 Tour de France does it an injustice by not hinting at its powerful visceral impact. As the centennial celebration of the Tour, the entire 2003 race took place inside the borders of France. The cinematography features the stunning French landscape as the ideal backdrop for the extreme drama of that year's tour. But for every wondrous aerial shot of the Alps we also see bikes being scrubbed, tender bodies being massaged, butt gel being applied to shorts, road rash being "scraped" off skin, and an ambitious domestique stuffing seven water bottles down the back of his jersey. Realizing that the Tour is holy, the filmmakers also know that God is in the details.
The focus of "Hell on Wheels," is on the journey, not the destination. Unless you already know that Lance Armstrong collected Tour victory number five, you won't even know who won the race, which was one of the most eventful in recent years. But you will be enveloped by the majesty of the Tour in ways you hadn't imagined.
At the center of the movie is long-time champion German sprinter Erik Zabel, just beginning his descent from glory, and his more workmanlike friend and teammate, Rolf Aldag. The race doesn't go well for Zabel, who in one weak moment asks, "Why didn't I become a surfer?" I've definitely never heard of 'ocean rash.'
Reclining in his hotel room bed after a brutal day in the Alps in which he has taken over temporary possession of the polka dot jersey for best climber, Aldag gazes at and literally caresses the jersey. "Every spot on this jersey probably cost me a year of my life," he says matter-of-factly. "And there are a lot of spots on it."
Also getting ample screen time are Armstrong, Jan Ullrich, Tyler Hamilton (riding courageously with a broken collarbone), a baby-faced Alexander Vinokurov, Richard Virenque and Andreas Klöden, who rode several stages with a broken tailbone.
A grizzled Team Telekom trainer who looks every bit as wise as his 60+ years would indicate reveals the essence of the movie while delivering a soliloquy on suffering: "Suffering can be negative. If you try to suffer for its own sake, that's unhealthy. … But when you talk about suffering that you must get through and that you can survive through enormous effort, that is something else. That is positive, good and beautiful. Beautiful because you think of courage, of stamina, loyalty the willingness to make sacrifices, modesty and love. From this perspective, the suffering during training, during sporting competitions, while doing one's job, which all require great effort, is the same as religious suffering. It is love. It is beautiful. I like that."
I like that, too. I also liked learning that the riders aren't as unaffected and impenetrable as they often appear on TV. Guess what? When they're sitting in the team van after the stage, they're doing the same thing we all do with our riding buddies: laughing and moaning about the lousy headwinds, hills, road conditions and other riders.
Over more than 2,000 miles of French roads, "Hell on Wheels" takes us on a whirlwind ride exposing all the glory and pain — the sweet and the sour — that makes the Tour worth savoring and life worth living.
Is it smart to barrel down a mountain at "95 kilometers per hour on a 2.5 centimeter tire" when you suffered so much on the climb that you can't see straight? Hell no, but "Hell on Wheels" helps us understand why these riders are so driven to do it.
"Hell on Wheels" clip — Lance Armstrong's Duel With Jan Ullrich:
(German with English subtitles)
If your idea of a perfect July morning is putting rubber to road and hammering out a half century at first light so you can get home to watch the end of that day's Tour de France stage live — or if you just like watching the Tour and always wonder when the riders pee — you need to put "Hell on Wheels" (Höllentour, or "Hell Tour" in the original German) at the top of your Netflix queue.The movie's billing as a documentary tracking the German Team Telekom through the 2003 Tour de France does it an injustice by not hinting at its powerful visceral impact. As the centennial celebration of the Tour, the entire 2003 race took place inside the borders of France. The cinematography features the stunning French landscape as the ideal backdrop for the extreme drama of that year's tour. But for every wondrous aerial shot of the Alps we also see bikes being scrubbed, tender bodies being massaged, butt gel being applied to shorts, road rash being "scraped" off skin, and an ambitious domestique stuffing seven water bottles down the back of his jersey. Realizing that the Tour is holy, the filmmakers also know that God is in the details.
The focus of "Hell on Wheels," is on the journey, not the destination. Unless you already know that Lance Armstrong collected Tour victory number five, you won't even know who won the race, which was one of the most eventful in recent years. But you will be enveloped by the majesty of the Tour in ways you hadn't imagined.
At the center of the movie is long-time champion German sprinter Erik Zabel, just beginning his descent from glory, and his more workmanlike friend and teammate, Rolf Aldag. The race doesn't go well for Zabel, who in one weak moment asks, "Why didn't I become a surfer?" I've definitely never heard of 'ocean rash.'
Reclining in his hotel room bed after a brutal day in the Alps in which he has taken over temporary possession of the polka dot jersey for best climber, Aldag gazes at and literally caresses the jersey. "Every spot on this jersey probably cost me a year of my life," he says matter-of-factly. "And there are a lot of spots on it."
Also getting ample screen time are Armstrong, Jan Ullrich, Tyler Hamilton (riding courageously with a broken collarbone), a baby-faced Alexander Vinokurov, Richard Virenque and Andreas Klöden, who rode several stages with a broken tailbone.
A grizzled Team Telekom trainer who looks every bit as wise as his 60+ years would indicate reveals the essence of the movie while delivering a soliloquy on suffering: "Suffering can be negative. If you try to suffer for its own sake, that's unhealthy. … But when you talk about suffering that you must get through and that you can survive through enormous effort, that is something else. That is positive, good and beautiful. Beautiful because you think of courage, of stamina, loyalty the willingness to make sacrifices, modesty and love. From this perspective, the suffering during training, during sporting competitions, while doing one's job, which all require great effort, is the same as religious suffering. It is love. It is beautiful. I like that."
I like that, too. I also liked learning that the riders aren't as unaffected and impenetrable as they often appear on TV. Guess what? When they're sitting in the team van after the stage, they're doing the same thing we all do with our riding buddies: laughing and moaning about the lousy headwinds, hills, road conditions and other riders.
Over more than 2,000 miles of French roads, "Hell on Wheels" takes us on a whirlwind ride exposing all the glory and pain — the sweet and the sour — that makes the Tour worth savoring and life worth living.
Is it smart to barrel down a mountain at "95 kilometers per hour on a 2.5 centimeter tire" when you suffered so much on the climb that you can't see straight? Hell no, but "Hell on Wheels" helps us understand why these riders are so driven to do it.
"Hell on Wheels" clip — Lance Armstrong's Duel With Jan Ullrich:
Labels: cycling
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