THE WORLD'S FASTEST INDIAN

Directed by Roger Donaldson. Starring Anthony Hopkins, Jessica Cauffiel, Patrick Flueger, Saginaw Grant, Diane Ladd, Chris Lawford, Bruce Greenwood PG cert, lim release, 127 min

HERE IS a film about an eccentric New Zealand motorbike enthusiast, who, in the mid-1960s, when long past retirement age, travelled to the salt flats of Utah with the intention of breaking a particular land-speed record.

If motor sports leave you cold, fear not. The World's Fastest Indian, a guilty pleasure if ever there was one, is as much to do with those grim diversions as Field of Dreams is to do with baseball. Both films might be characterised as exercises in the cinema of the shallow emotional gradient: when we join the protagonist his circumstances are not ideal, but very slowly they improve. The occasional mild difficulties along the way are overcome. Before you know it, we have reached a happy place.

As the film begins, Burt Munro is engaged in a dispute with his neighbour. The old codger has taken to revving his motorcycle (a 1920 Indian Twin Scout, hence the title) during the small hours of the morning. But, when Burt eventually leaves for Utah, the folk across the fence, as inherently decent as every policeman, drag queen and lamppost in the picture, insist that he phone them collect upon arrival.

Such is the film's optimistic tone that, when Burt bumps up against an American soldier, recently returned from spraying something called Agent Orange in some obscure country called Vietnam, it is difficult not to imagine that brewing conflict working out agreeably for all involved.

Roger Donaldson's film, which is based on a true story, could very easily have turned out to be nauseatingly twee. It is, however, rescued by a classically weird central performance from Anthony Hopkins. All the Welshman's characteristic traits are in place. He addresses his co-stars' ankles, navels and, sometimes, the air above their heads, but rarely deigns to glance at their confused faces. His tongue pokes out like an inquisitive lizard. He emphasises the most unlikely words in his sentences. His accent jets back and forth from Auckland to Cornwall.

In short, Hopkins seems delightfully barmy throughout. You wouldn't want to hitch a ride with him on a desert highway - though many here do just that - but he proves pleasant company over this decent film's leisurely two hours. Donald Clarke