I selected Rollercoaster as my Friday movie this week for a profound and important reason: I really, really wanted to watch footage of 1970s rollercoasters. As personal urges go, this wasn't a particularly unusual one for me, but then the other night I suddenly remembered somebody had done a movie about them and wow, wouldn't it be cool if I watched it and wrote about it? Besides, I still haven't quite regained my appetite for fantasy yet, and a seventies thriller seemed like a really nice way to unwind after one of the most thankless working weeks I've had in a while.
From what I've read, this one was originally marketed to cash in on the disaster movie fad of the time. It's not one, though; instead, it's more of a cat and mouse affair, with George Segal's ride inspector Harry Calder attempting to retain his professional integrity by thwarting Timothy Bottoms' nameless but youthful bomber. It marks the first screen appearance by Steve Guttenberg, and the second by Helen Hunt, and features a starring performance by the Great American Revolution, the world's first ever looping rollercoaster (but only by eight days).
There wasn't really any way I was ever not going to enjoy this particular movie - I love rollercoasters, I love watching rollercoasters, and a couple of minutes of coaster footage in a film will always guarantee it a place in my heart. Rollercoaster features considerably more than a couple of minutes, and the sunny locations and cheerful 70s fashions felt like a real tonic. What I hadn't realised before watching is that it also features a performance by Sparks, one of my favourite bands. In other words, the fact that I had a good time was very much a given. That said, if you look past the ludicrous premise of a mad blackmailer trying to bomb his way through America's theme parks, there's honestly not a lot here to fault. Granted, our anonymous villain is bland and unreadable, but in a lot of ways this only serves to increase the sense of mystery and cement our outrage at his acts.
The soundtrack leans towards the minimal, relying on a couple of distinctive, elegant violin hooks to remind us of who and what we're watching whilst making good use of the ambient sounds and music within the theme parks that form the greater part of its setting. Segal is good, too, as Calder, gently recalling Columbo in all his persistence and exasperation. It's a handsome, workmanlike piece of cinema in the way that many films of the period seem to have been, with measured pacing and a quiet sense of dignity that you hardly ever see any more.
Definitely going to start researching the films of this era to see what other little gems I can find.
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