Speed (1936): Jimmy Stewart Before the Fame

Is it worth your time?

Honestly? Only if you have a weird itch to see a young Jimmy Stewart looking slightly uncomfortable in a jumpsuit. It’s for the completionists and the folks who like old-school mechanics talk. If you want a tight, high-stakes thriller, you’re looking at the wrong Speed. This one is more about grease and pining over publicists.

There’s a weird, loose energy to the whole thing. It’s like the studio wasn't sure if they were making a romance or a documentary about engine parts. Sometimes the movie just stops dead so someone can explain a carburetor. I checked my watch twice during those bits.

Oddly specific observations

• The desert scenes at Muroc Dry Lake look like they were filmed during a lunch break. Everything is just... beige.
• Jimmy Stewart’s performance is charming, but you can tell he’s still figuring out how to play the 'tough guy' mechanic role. He’s too polite for the garage.
• The banter between the mechanics feels like it was written by someone who read about cars in a brochure once.

The pacing is a total mess. One minute we’re deep in a romantic subplot that goes nowhere, and then suddenly we’re at the Indy 500. It feels like they had a bunch of leftover car footage and just built a movie around it to save some cash. It reminds me a bit of the frantic, uneven energy in Strong Boy, though this one has a bit more heart.

I kept waiting for a big, explosive crash or something, but the movie is surprisingly tame. It’s a bit like watching your uncle try to fix his lawnmower for three days straight. You respect the effort, but you aren't exactly on the edge of your seat.

Is it better than, say, The Broncho Buster? Maybe not, but it’s got a weird, dusty charm that kept me watching. Just don’t expect to remember much about the plot ten minutes after the credits roll. 🚗