This series looks back at the 1990s and its influence on the generation of people who came of age during the decade.
Back in the day, my friends and I saw a lot of instant-classics at the cinema, often during college breaks., including Se7en (1995), Showgirls (1995), and Heat (1995). Jan de Bont's white-knuckle thrill-ride Speed (1994) was definitely one of our favorites. We walked out of the theater that night both dazed and energized. The shear breakneck pace of the film's sustained action was exhilarating—most of it is one long action set piece that only slows down occasionally for some beautifully timed character moments, especially those between stars Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves, who share an undeniable chemistry
We're always looking for someone like us in the movies, someone who makes us feel a little better about ourselves. As a tall, lanky kid in an era of muscle-bound action heroes (including several of the popular guys at school), I always appreciated Reeves' slender build and the way he carried himself with a certain humbleness. I even deluded myself into believing we had similar body types. I mean, we kind of did, but still, he's Keanu Freaking Reeves and I'm not. Might've been a bit of a reach, but it made me feel just a touch more confident in my thin-kid body. For Speed, Reeves packed on some muscle but stayed lithe and lean. Add to that his innate soulfulness, making Jack a sensitive, thoughtful hero, perfect for the nineties. It's one of the actor's best performances, and as has been Reeves' hallmark throughout his career, it's also beautifully ego-free. It's Gen-X, Zen-Action Hero, nineties-style.
And then there was Sandra Bullock. I was already smitten with her from the previous year's entertainingly wacky Stallone-Snipes sci-fi B-movie on steroids, Demolition Man, so I was pleasantly surprised to see her playing such a big role in Speed. As Annie, she's the "wildcat behind the wheel" (who's riding the bus because she's had her driver's license revoked—for speeding), steering the bus out of harm's way while maintaining a speed of at least fifty miles per hour—"Stay on or get off? Stay on or get off?!?" Much of our post-movie discussion that night revolved around how we could meet a girl like Sandy. Did girls like her even exist in our teenage sphere? We were decidedly unsure about that.
All these years later it's easy to forget what a revelation Bullock was in Speed. It's one of those rare cinematic performances that emphatically announces a young actor or actress as a force to be reckoned with forever after. Think Michelle Pfeiffer in Scarface, or Robert De Niro in Mean Streets. Bullock's charisma and command of the screen is off the charts. She's funny, sarcastic, thoughtful, and with plenty of quick-witted charm to spare. Her natural and assured performance made Annie into an iconic Gen-X crush.
Not long after seeing Speed, I tore a full-page photo of her out of a magazine and taped it to my bedroom wall. That fall, it moved with me to my dorm room, where it hung for the rest of my collegiate career. There she was, standing in a field of bright yellow sunflowers, with that megawatt smile, in the decade's ubiquitous garment, the flowing sundress. At least that's how I remember it today—absolute, peak nineties Sandy.
One of my favorite moments from Speed is also one of the film's quietest, because it highlights the great chemistry between Bullock and Reeves. Annie asks Jack what will happen if they win in this battle with Dennis Hopper's mad bomber. "Then tomorrow we'll play another one," he replies solemnly.
Bullock's response is just right, with crisp comic timing, instantly injecting a dose of levity into a dire situation: "But I'm not available to drive tomorrow. Busy." Her reading of the line is so wonderfully underplayed, said with a sly, knowing smile, that it momentarily melts the tension. Reeves smiles ever so slightly, and it's as authentic a reaction shot as you'll ever see. It's a wonderful example of two actors working in perfect harmony This is why, twenty-five years later, many of us will always ship Keanu and Sandy.
Speed is filled with memorable scenes like that, including several from expert scene-stealers like Hopper ("The whim of a madman!"), Jeff Daniels ("That's our scumbag!"), and Alan Ruck ("It's okay, if you need to, you go right ahead and vomit."). It's also the best kind of feel-good film, with a diverse and eccentric cast of bus riding strangers who grow to genuinely care about each other through their shared, traumatic experience. Sure, most of them are broadly painted caricatures, but the cracking script by Graham Yost and the actor's performances manage to make us care for them, just the same. When Ortiz (Carlos Carrasco) tells Jake, "You're not too bright man, but ya got some big, round, hairy cajones," I never know whether to laugh or cry because I want to do both. Speed works equally well on disparate levels—as an action-packed thriller and as a thoughtful ensemble comedy-drama.
If Speed is on television, I'm stopping everything and watching it—even though I own the Blu-ray. It's hard to believe this June will mark twenty-five years since Speed opened. After all this time, and over dozens (hundreds?) of viewings, it's still thrilling, and Bullock's and Reeves' chemistry still a joy to behold. It's one of the most important movies of the '90s for me, and, amazingly, still holds up today as beautifully as it did that summer night in 1994.
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