Rivaux de la piste: Cycling through a simpler time

If you're looking for a high-octane sports thriller, turn back now. Rivaux de la piste is exactly the kind of movie that feels like it was unearthed from a forgotten trunk in someone’s attic. It’s worth a watch if you have a soft spot for vintage European cinema, but impatient viewers will probably find themselves checking their watches before the first race even hits the midpoint.

The whole thing has this loose, hanging-out-at-the-track energy. You’ve got Albert Préjean looking like he stepped straight out of a period advertisement, and honestly, the film is better when it just lets the characters mope around in their cycling gear than when it tries to force a dramatic showdown. 🚲

There is a scene involving a bicycle repair that goes on for an eternity. It’s not essential to the plot, and it doesn't really tell us much about the characters, but there is something oddly hypnotic about watching them fiddle with the spokes for so long. It feels like a mistake in the edit that just... stayed there.

The dialogue is often a bit stiff, like everyone is trying to remember where they put their lines five minutes ago. It reminds me of the pacing in Grief Street, where the silence between lines carries more weight than the actual words spoken. Sometimes a character will just stare into the middle distance while a light breeze messes up their hair. It’s charming, in a weird, unintentional way.

I found myself distracted by the extras in the background during the racing sequences. Half of them look like they’re just waiting for their lunch break to start. It’s not The Fast and the Furious, that’s for sure, but there’s a genuine feel to the dust and the crowds that modern movies usually CGI into oblivion.

The movie is definitely thin. If you compare it to something like Les Aventures de Robinson Crusoé, the scale here is tiny. It’s a small, localized story about guys on bikes and the people who annoy them. It doesn't pretend to be an epic, which is probably why it avoids feeling completely pretentious.

One moment stands out: the camera just lingers on a bicycle wheel spinning down to a stop for way too many seconds. It might be a symbol for lost time, or maybe the camera operator just forgot to cut. I liked it either way. 🏁

It’s not a masterpiece. It’s not even a particularly good sports movie. But for some reason, I didn't want to turn it off. It’s got that specific, slightly messy quality that only older films seem to possess.