Cult Review
Senior Film Conservator

If you enjoy slow-burn character studies that suddenly pivot into tiny race car shenanigans, then you might actually get a kick out of this. If you are looking for, I don’t know, a coherent plot or professional acting, you should probably just go watch The Last of the Mohicans instead. It’s definitely not for everyone, mostly because it’s a total fever dream.
Gladys Blake is doing a lot of heavy lifting here. She plays this sweet old lady who just sort of drifts into the middle of a racing circuit. It feels like she walked off the set of a much more serious film and got lost in a garage full of grease and oil.
The midget cars are… small. They look like motorized bath tubs. There’s a scene where the camera just lingers on a turning wheel for about fifteen seconds too long. It starts to feel like a hypnotic ritual. My eyes started to glaze over, but I couldn't look away.
The noise. You can almost hear the film grain screaming as the engines rev up. It’s loud, scratchy, and oddly charming in a way that makes you wonder if the sound editor was actually awake during production. Or maybe he was just falling asleep at the console.
Jackie Coogan shows up, which is a trip if you’ve seen him in his other, much bigger projects. He looks like he’s trying to figure out where he left his car keys the whole time. It’s hard to tell if he’s acting or just genuinely baffled by the script.
The movie gets noticeably better when it stops trying to tell a story and just shows the cars bumping into each other. It’s like the director realized the drama wasn't working and just decided to let the machines do the talking. 🏎️
Honestly, the whole thing feels like a home movie that accidentally got a budget. It’s not great, but it’s certainly something. I’ve seen better pacing in Johanna Enlists, but at least this one has tiny cars. Is that enough? Probably not. Do I regret watching it? Only a little bit.
There’s a moment near the end where the screen flickers, and for a second, I thought the projector was dying. Turns out it was just the film print being a bit moody. Fitting, really.