Movie Reviews
Rob’s Car Movie Review: Duel (1971) – Street Muscle
Duel began life as a short story written by Richard Matheson, one of Hollywood’s most seasoned writers. Previous work of Matheson’s included episodic writing for such TV series as Have Gun – Will Travel, Combat!, The Alfred Hitchcock Hour, and Star Trek, and movies like The Omega Man, The Pit and the Pendulum, and The Raven. He was perhaps best known though for having written 16 episodes of Rod Serling’s classic show, The Twilight Zone.
Matheson penned the story of Duel after being dangerously tailgated by a trucker while driving on a California highway on November 22, 1963, the same day that President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. Duel was ultimately published in the March, 1971 issue of Playboy magazine.
Duel author and teleplay writer, Richard Matheson. (Photo courtesy of Manor Vellum.)
The story was brought to the attention of fledgling director Spielberg by his secretary, who told him that she was aware Universal and ABC had optioned the property for a Movie of the Week and were looking for a director.
Spielberg read the short and was compelled enough by the strength of it to apply for the job. He met with producer George Ekstein and beat out a host of other directors based on an episode of Colombo Spielberg had directed and showed the producer. Matheson was meanwhile hired to adapt his story into a teleplay.
Director Steven Spielberg on the set of Duel. (Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures.)
During the casting process, Spielberg fought hard to have Dennis Weaver star in the project based on the director’s admiration for the actor’s performance as the hotel manager in Orson Welles’ Touch of Evil, opposite Charlton Heston, Janet Leigh, and Welles himself.
Spielberg, and Weaver, eventually won out. Additional cast members included Jacqueline Scott, Eddie Firestone, Lou Frizzell, and Lucille Benson, all in minor roles.
Dennis Weaver as the main protagonist, motorist David Mann. (Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures.)
Principal photography was completed in just 13 days, mostly on rural California stretches such as the Agua Dulce Canyon Road, Soledad Canyon Road, Angeles Forest Road, and the Sierra Highway. Equally astonishing is the fact that the film was edited in a mere 10 days by Frank Morriss.
Duel originally aired as the ABC Movie of the Week on November 13, 1971, and received rave reviews by critics and viewers alike. Spielberg, in particular, was lauded by film critics from Variety and The Hollywood Reporter for his directorial flourishes on the movie.
The movie opens with a montage of shots taken from the bumper of Mann’s car as it travels from Los Angeles to the high desert. (Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures.)
So universally positive were the reactions to Duel that it was theatrically released in 1972-’73 in an extended 90 minute version (14 minutes longer than the television cut) with additional scenes shot by Spielberg.
Duel’s plot is simple. David Mann (Weaver) is a Los Angeles salesman who has an appointment with a client upstate. During the course of his drive he encounters a worse-for-wear big rig truck emblazoned with “Flammable” warnings all over its exterior.
Mann’s original sin: passing the big rig. (Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures.)
The truck is going slowly up a grade, so Mann passes it in a responsible fashion using his turn signals, and is soon underway at a speed he figures will get him to his appointment on time.
Just a few moments later, the truck abruptly roars past him, cuts him off, and then slows down to its original speed in front of Mann. Perturbed, and now breathing the truck’s diesel exhaust, Mann passes the tanker again and is treated to a blast from its air horns.
Mann and his tormentor at the gas station. (Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures.)
Later in the day, Mann pulls into a gas station, and a few minutes later the tanker parks next to him at an adjacent pump. The truck’s driver gets out of the beast on the side opposite Mann’s field of view, but the salesman is able to see the man’s cowboy boots.
After a phone call to his quarrelsome wife in which she quips about his lack of manhood the night before when his co-worker was making advances towards her, Mann is told by the gas station attendant that he needs a new radiator hose. He declines the repair and is on his way.
Back on the road, Mann is once again menaced by the tanker truck, which rudely passes him and then swerves all over the road to prevent Mann from repassing. Mann finally gets past the truck, whereupon the big rig tailgates him, forcing Mann to go faster and faster. Doing in excess of 100 mph, Mann loses control of his vehicle and spins out across from a diner.
Mann spies his adversary outside the diner. (Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures.)
Shaken, he goes into the diner’s lavatory. When he comes out, he sees the offending truck parked outside, and assumes the driver is in the diner with him. He studies the diner’s patrons, and confronts one wearing similar cowboy boots to the truck’s driver.
The patron does not take well to Mann’s accusations and punches him several times. The man then leaves, gets into a pickup truck, and drives away, indicating to Mann that he had picked out the wrong man.
Out on the highway, the dangerous game of cat and mouse continues, with the tanker truck’s attacks becoming more potentially lethal.
The big rig tries to kill Mann by pushing his car into a freight train. (Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures.)
As the two vehicles begin to ascend a mountain road, Mann is able to put space between himself and the much slower truck. Mann starts to relax, but just as he does, his radiator hose bursts, causing his car to overheat thus making the ascent to the top of the mountain unlikely.
With the big rig now hot on his tail, Mann must take matters into his own hands to ensure his very survival.
A blown radiator hose derails Mann’s getaway. (Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures.)
In spite of Duel’s unsophisticated plot, the movie actually makes quite a few thematic comments on life-and-death, contemporary society, and masculinity. The fact that we never see the driver of the big-rig also imparts a supernatural feel to the proceedings, as if this is perhaps a fever dream in Mann’s head, or, if real, that the driver of the truck is in fact a demon or the devil himself.
This quasi-satanic angle is so well conceived in the movie that it was directly lifted for the less well-crafted but nonetheless entertaining 1977 film, The Car, starring James Brolin.
Glimpses of Spielberg’s future cinematic aesthetic are visible throughout the film. (Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures.)
Quick glimpses of Spielberg filmmaking hallmarks are littered throughout Duel. His use of wide angle lenses on close-up subjects to infuse a sense of shock or panic are present, as is his exceptional framing and use of the camera to convey information.
For a 25 year-old, Spielberg’s mastery of the mise-en-scene is absolutely extraordinary here, and it makes for an exciting romp despite the straightforward plot. It stands to reason that in the hands of a lesser director, Duel could have easily been a bore and a misfire.
Spielberg’s use of framing, lens choice, and depth make even mundane sequences feel artistic. Examples include this shot of Mann’s car driving through the desert, and Mann’s phone call to his wife, framed inside the door of a washing machine. (Photos courtesy of Universal Pictures.)
The use of sound and the lack thereof at times is also beautifully handled in the film, often injecting a menacing tone of impending doom. Relatively little dialogue is spoken in the movie, as per Spielberg’s desire to let the terror of the situation and the vehicles do the talking. The majority of dialogue in the film is heard as a narration of Mann’s inner thoughts.
The cinematography by Jack A. Marta, the aforementioned editing by Frank Morriss, and Billy Goldenberg’s exciting score should also be given a nod for their peerless efficacy.
Mann’s ride: a 1970 Plymouth Valiant. (Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures.)
Even Spielberg’s selection of vehicles is well thought through. Mann’s car, a 1970 Plymouth Valiant, is a compact with a limited powertrain. It was chosen to echo Mann’s meek personality and his wife’s suggestion to the effect that he was no Prince Valliant the night before. The car’s blinding Tor-Red exterior paint, on the other hand, was chosen by the director solely because it would stand out against the desert locales that they filmed in.
As an aside for those concerned with production minutiae, four Valiants were used during production. A 1970 and ’71 model equipped with Chrysler’s 225 cubic-inch slant six were used for beauty shots, while an older 1969 model with the manufacturer’s 318 cubic-inch V8, was dressed up to look like the 1970 model and used primarily as the stunt car.
For the extra scenes shot for the theatrical release of the movie, a 1972 Valiant with the 225 cubic-inch six was used. To Spielberg’s dismay, this car would later be used in an episode of the Universal television series, The Incredible Hulk.
Spielberg settled on a 1957 Peterbuilt 281 for the truck as he felt it had a menacing “face.” (Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures.)
Spielberg looked at a number of big rigs before deciding on the 1957 Peterbuilt 281 used in the film. Its older cab styling, consisting of a long hood, round headlights, and split windshield, looked like a menacing face to the director, and its decrepit condition helped to convey the dark specter motif that he was after. The addition of multiple license plates on the truck’s bumper was Spielberg’s idea, to suggest that the driver is a serial killer who has done this before to other drivers across the southwest.
The truck was powered by a 280 horsepower CAT 1673 turbocharged diesel engine with a 13-speed transmission and had a Rockwell TK-570 axle behind it. The top speed of such a setup was roughly 65 mph, so the impression of greater speed was accomplished by wise selections of camera lenses and low angles.
Spielberg’s chose of lenses and angles were able to make the tanker look like it was going faster than it was. (Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures.)
For the additional scenes filmed for the 1972-’73 theatrical release, a 1962 Peterbuilt 351 with a CAT 1673B engine was used.
The vehicular action in Duel is truly top-notch, as one would expect since legendary Hollywood stuntman Carey Loftin was the stunt coordinator and driver of the big rig. Loftin’s previous credits included standouts like Viva Las Vegas, Bullitt (he was the on-screen driver of the bad guys’ Dodge Charger in that film), Grand Prix, Bonnie and Clyde, Vanishing Point, and The French Connection, amongst countless others.
His vehicle control behind the wheel of that big, ungainly Peterbuilt is remarkable and must be seen to be appreciated.
Maybe Mr. Mann should have walked instead of driven. (Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures.)
In all, Duel is a very finely crafted, and thoroughly enjoyable movie. Had I been a film critic at the time of the movie’s release, I would have had no trouble singling out Steven Spielberg as a future grand auteur of the medium. His directorial stamp can be felt over every frame of the film, and his choices here are always dead on.
Spielberg turned a potentially run-of-the-mill Movie of the Week into a project worthy of theatrical distribution at a time when I believe only a handful of other directors could have done so. I highly recommend that you see Duel if you never have, and I give it 8 out of 10 pistons.
By John E. Finley-Weaver in San Diego
(SDJW photo)
My wife convinced me to watch a movie about ping pong. And, having acquiesced to her proposal, I dove face-first into a kettle of willful ignorance, knowing only that Some Guy Timothée Chalamet of Dune 1 and Dune 2 and A Complete Unknown (another of her suggestions) was the lead, and that what we were soon to watch might move me. Or, at the very least, that it might entertain me.
The movie did not disappoint.
In fact, Marty Supreme is the absolute best film about table tennis that I have ever seen. And I’ve seen all of one of them so far, although I am aware of and have seen a few clips of Robert Ben Garant’s Balls of Fury.
But, holy mackerel, Marty Supreme is not just a movie about some lanky goniff whose inner craving for focused dominance in one specific realm compels him to pursue a shiny, sportsball “X” trophy, culminating in a crowd-pleasing, applause roar of triumph . . . a n d . . . cut to the end credits, supplemented by a catchy, happy song . . . . “Honey, let’s get to the restroom, fast!”
Uh-uh. Nay. Marty Supreme is a lived-in world (like the Star Wars universe, but way different and way better) populated by tactile characters, each of whom has their own, inferred history and glob of yearnings. And they have warts. Lots of warts. Warts and all.
Marty Mauser, the Jewish protagonist of Marty Supreme, is a plucky ping pong imp and shoe salesman, in addition to being a nimble and loquacious malarkey artist. He is also a shockingly-gawdawful, verbal bastard person to his mother, played by Fran Drescher, who left her specific, discount Phyllis Diller voice in the dustbin of screen history where it belongs, much to the contentment of my sensitive ears.
Marty Mauser is even more a womanizer and a thief. And he is a delight. And, because boring, nice boys don’t have movies made about them, he does something for his ema that is chutzpahdik, illegal, vandalicious, unhistorical, and tear-inducingly sweet.
And again, dear Reader, I went into this movie knowing most of nothing about it. If you are like me, fear not: I shan’t disclose the plot.
Marty Mauser’s partners in life and “crime” are the facially-delicious Rachel, played by Odessa A’zion and best bud Wally, performed by Tyler Okonma, each complementarily savvy to Marty’s needs and wants.
The remainder of the film’s actors is a gathering of casting directorial genius: Kevin O’Leary, the that guy from some reality television show that I will never watch; Gwyneth Paltrow; director Abel Ferrara; Sandra Bernhard, my lukewarm, high school “bad girl” crush; Géza Röhrig, whose character is seven year’s fresh from a Nazi death camp and hauntingly beautiful; Koto Kawaguchi, the movie-world champion and legally-deaf Tommy-esque pinball wizard of ping pong and real-world champion of the game; Pico Iyer, Indo-Limey travel writer, meditator, and inveterate outsider; George Gerwin, a very retired basketball player; Ted Williams and his golden voice; Penn Jillette, agrarian and blasty; Isaac Mizrahi, obviously “out” in 1952; and David freaking Mamet.
Gush.
And great googly woogly. They all do their jobs so gosh darn well that I don’t notice them as actors acting.
And then, as I have done since I was a child, for science fiction books, for television, and for movies, I recast, in my mind’s eye, all of the characters and their associated journeys as different people. I made an all-Negro cast of the film. And it worked. No radical changes to the script were necessary. I did the same for a spunky, mid-West farm girl as the lead. That worked. I tried again, using a Colombian lesbian. That worked too.
I praise the cinematic vision of Director Josh Safdie. I praise the wide accessibility of the script he co-wrote with Ronald Bronstein: Thank you. The expected plot points, the tropes of moviedom, the “inevitable” happenings of standard movies never really happened. Marty Supreme zaggled and Zelig’d when I expected it to zig.
A lesser film would not have surprised me in most of its story structure, its scenes, or its character paths. A lesser film would have had me in my seat, either smugly prognosticating the next events, or non-thinkingly rapt for entire scenes. This film, this masterpiece of storytelling and visual and aural execution outsmarted me. It outsmarted my movie mind, and for that, I am grateful.
Marty Supreme is a very Brooklyn Jewy movie, but it sings from the standard Humanity of us all, to each of us. And that is movie making at its finest.
*
Cinema buff John E. Finley-Weaver is a freelance writer based in San Diego.
The Times of India
Dec 28, 2025, 5:26 PM IST
3.0
Story: Eesha centres on four friends who take it upon themselves to expose fake godmen and challenge blind belief systems that exploit fear and faith. What begins as a rational, investigative effort soon places them in an unfamiliar and unsettling environment, where unexplained incidents begin to blur the line between superstition and the supernatural. Review: Set largely within a confined, eerie space, the film attempts to merge social commentary with a traditional horror framework, positioning belief itself as the central conflict. Director Srinivas Manne establishes the premise with clarity, and the initial idea holds promise. The early portions focus on setting up the group dynamic and their motivation, grounding the narrative in realism before introducing supernatural elements. However, the film takes time to find its rhythm. The first half moves sluggishly, spending too long on familiar horror mechanics such as sudden loud noises, jump scares and predictable scare setups, which reduces their effectiveness over time.Performance-wise, Hebah Patel as Nayana and Adith Arun as Kalyan deliver earnest and committed performances, lending credibility to the film’s emotional core. Their reactions and emotional beats feel genuine, helping the audience stay invested despite the slow pace. Siri Hanumanth and Akhil Raj Uddemari support the narrative adequately, though their characters are written with limited depth, offering little room to leave a lasting impression. The supporting cast complements the leads well and helps maintain engagement during stretched sequences.Technically, the film benefits from effective sound design and atmospheric visuals that occasionally succeed in creating tension. The supernatural mystery does manage to grip attention in parts, particularly when the film leans into mood rather than shock value. However, the prolonged buildup works against the story, dulling the impact of a key twist in the climax that could have been far more effective with tighter pacing.While Eesha is driven by a unique concept that questions blind faith through a horror lens, the execution falls short of its potential. A more polished script and sharper screenplay might have elevated the film into a more compelling and consistently chilling experience.— Sanjana Pulugurtha
The Threesome, 2025.
Directed by Chad Hartigan.
Starring Zoey Deutch, Jonah Hauer-King, Ruby Cruz, Jaboukie Young-White, Josh Segarra, Robert Longstreet, Arden Myrin, Kristin Slaysman, Allan McLeod, Julia Sweeney, Tommy Do.
SYNOPSIS:
A young man’s perennial crush leads him into an unexpected threesome, he thinks it’s his ultimate fantasy come true. When the fantasy ends, all three are left with sobering real-world consequences, and to take responsibility for their actions.
There are two routes to take about a film where a good-natured man finds himself in the unexpected predicament that he is the father-to-be with two different women, and a situation in itself that partially sprung from a three-way: playing that premise as a straight romantic drama, or leaning into the absurdity of those odds for a romantic comedy. Titled The Threesome, this is a classic case of a director unsure of which direction to take, hoping that smashing the two tones together will work. For director Chad Hartigan and screenwriter Ethan Ogilby, it doesn’t come together.
For a while, it seems as though the filmmakers might pull it off. The story takes its time setting up its characters and establishing who they are, what they want, and their connection to one another. Connor Blake (a miscast Jonah Hauer-King, also given a bland mode for this material, but more about that later) is adept at articulating why partners are good for one another, as seen in the opening, delivering a speech for his best friend and gay newlywed Greg (Jaboukie Young-White), but his personal love life is directionless.
Connor still pines after longtime crush Olivia Capitano (Zoey Deutch, delivering excellent work in what also turns out to be the most complex role here), who isn’t that interested in him. Or maybe she is, and part of her is aware they would foresee their futures in a manner that isn’t mutually agreeable. There is also the factor that she has a push-pull attraction to bad boy Kevin (Josh Segarra), with whom she is trying her hardest to end things.
Olivia deals with these mixed emotions by interloping into a conversation between Connor and Jenny Brooks (Ruby Cruz), who has been stood up by a date at the bar where she and Greg work (following his best friend’s advice to try talking to new people). She begins to realize that perhaps she is taking his goodness for granted, stemming from how easily he chats up a stranger of the opposite sex and makes a friend. As a result, Olivia serves as a wingman for Connor. However, ultimately, the three return together and have sex together offscreen (because apparently, even a movie called The Threesome is sanitized in this modern sexless age of relatively mainstream American movies), which sets off a chain reaction of new dynamics between these characters that quickly detonates into something much more serious and life-changing.
After that night, Connor and Olivia start exploring the possibility of a serious relationship, which only becomes more serious when, after having sex again, he accidentally gets her pregnant. And while the shy, inexperienced, Christian-raised Jenny doesn’t regret the sexual experimentation and never necessarily had a reason to believe Connor would want a second date (although something about his ghosting doesn’t feel right, saying more about the depressing nature of modern dating than anything else), it turns out the morning shower sex they had when Olivia was gone also resulted in a pregnancy.
Across the three trimesters, Connor tries to do right by both Olivia and Jenny within relationship dynamics that change and evolve. Olivia questions whether or not she wants to keep the child, especially after learning about the previously mentioned morning sex behind her back, which she finds hurtful, even if they weren’t technically dating yet. She also still loves him and is wrestling with how society would perceive her if she took a man back who also plans to be a presence in the life of another child from another sexual partner. Meanwhile, Jenny’s religious upbringing comes into play; she herself is not that strict of a follower, but she is concerned about what her parents will think of her being somewhat of a single mother, faking a real relationship with Connor in front of them until the time feels right to tell the truth that it was more of a fling and that, although he plans to be there, they aren’t lovers.
This is all fascinating and relatively fresh dramatic material (shot with arresting cinematography by Sing Howe Yam, at one point observing a conversation between two characters with one of them reflected in a mirror on one side of the screen) that is consistently undermined by occasionally crossing over into situational humor or an unfortunate predictable twist that’s only serving to make the situation more messy rather than adding anything to the story.
It’s a lot like Connor himself, who is always annoyingly making inappropriate jokes, not maliciously, but as a coping defense mechanism. Sometimes, it comes across as a reflection of the filmmakers not knowing what to do with these characters and material other than gesturing at topicality regarding society. There is also a third-act situation that is begging for a full-blown comedic treatment, and even seems to be set up that way before abruptly reverting to shoddy drama. Even the attempts to humanize the religious aspects of Jenny’s family come across as halfhearted, as we never really get to know them or learn much about her.
The same could be said for Connor, who has an awful lot of free time to run around assisting two different women with doctor appointments, yoga sessions, and other preparations, since he happens to be a struggling musician, also given the bland personality of a person who does no wrong in dealing with his mistakes. He is portrayed as handsome and saintly, which also makes for dull given the chaotic scenario he is in.
It’s not that The Threesome comes across as dishonest, but rather too polished, with only Olivia’s character (and Zoey Deutch’s emotionally layered performance) cutting through to something poignant. There is a more interesting take on this narrative from her perspective, and presumably one with a stronger tonal balance.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=embed/playlist
Originally published December 27, 2025. Updated December 28, 2025.
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