Thunder Road

2018 dramedy

Rating: 15/20

Plot: A cop deals with divorce and the loss of his mother. Poorly.

I've never really listened to Bruce Springsteen much. I'm not sure why. My pal Larry loves him and says it's a Jersey thing, but Springsteen seems popular all over the place. Springsteen was one of the many "new Dylans," so it should probably be something that appeals to me. Probably hearing "Born in the U.S.A." before anything else and not being old enough to understand what it was actually about didn't help. So I didn't really know the song "Thunder Road" at all. It's described rather than played in this movie, so I was forced to hear it and take a peek at the lyrics after watching the movie.

If you read that, I apologize. I'm realizing now that it's not anything that anybody would care to read. I could easily delete it, but that's not really my style. It took me over a half an hour to type out that paragraph, so deleting it would seem wasteful.

Thunder Road is writer/director/star Jim Cummings' treatise on the idea that "everybody grieves differently." It's essentially a character study of an individual who probably couldn't exist although if you scour YouTube enough, you might find out that there are actually people like Officer Jim Arnaud out there, willing to take advantage of the ease of 21st Century technology to broadcast their own nervous breakdowns to the world. This kind of comedy--the kind that builds its laughs on completely awkward situations where the audience is definitely laughing at somebody more than they're laughing with him--is a delicate balancing act. Essentially, a one-man-show of a movie, Thunder Road works because it develops its central character enough for the audience to develop empathy. You laugh at Officer Jim, but you kind of feel bad about laughing at Officer Jim. By the end, you genuinely care for the guy, despite his disturbing anger issues and other flaws, and only want what's best for the guy.

Cummings' acting isn't conventionally good, but it's the kind of thing that either not a lot of performers can do or not a lot of performers would want to do. Cummings is naked and cartoonish, and although there are plenty of ridiculous moments in the creation of this character, it's never overly ridiculous. Since it's a one-man-show of a movie, Cummings hoists the entire project on this character's shoulders. The story isn't from his perspective even though he's at the center of every single scene. Instead, we kind of get the perspective of everybody else who happens to be in Jim's circle. It's an intimate look at a man's life and times and struggles.

There are a few extended shots where Cummings shows off his comedic timing. The most notable is the opening sequence involving a sort-of eulogy at the very beginning of the movie, one that involves a little bit of dancing, a Hello Kitty boombox that doesn't work, a random name-checking of John Wayne, and lots of awkward crying. It might be my favorite introduction to a character of all time. You meet a guy who shouldn't be doing what he's doing, and his decision to do what he's doing anyway kind of tells you everything you need to know about him.

I had this on hold from my library for a long time, and then it popped up on Amazon. Perfect timing. That's the kind of thing that makes me want to hurl a desk across a room.