Raised by his mom and Pops (John Goodman) to believe in himself and resist the hollow promises of money and fame, Speed is only briefly impressed by Royalton’s offer of a huge crew and machinery (this during a tour of a Willy Wonka-style car-building factory) as well as the promise that Racer Motors can continue to “run as an independent.” Speed dons the perfectly fitting dress suit Royalton gives him, nods soberly, and insists that he’ll think over the proposal. For Speed, no matter his white, white suit, is a kind of One, recalling Neo when he broods, facing down the big bad matrix of corporate logos and fixed races, committed to winning the right way, by spinning and flipping the Mach 5, outfitted with defensive weapons. Kids may thrill to the colors and the cars crashing, some parents might feel nostalgic for the “Go, go Speed Racer” theme song, and Wachowskis fans may feel a rush at the seeming thematic retreading (Speed’s resistance to the matrix of conformity is almost nostalgic, when it isn’t clobbering you over the head with its irrelevance). This is too bad, as it underscores the film’s fragmentation into assorted unwieldy pieces, each soliciting a different audience segment and none fitting very neatly with any of the others.
And, as awkwardly inserted as their side-adventures may be, they set the film’s big brash tone. The child and the chimp are resolutely outrageous - arms up, screams excruciating, appetites insatiable. Plainly designed to appeal to the film’s six-to-eight-year-old viewers, this duo enters the action whenever the semi-adult business gets a little too heavy, when Speed is wondering whether to sign a contract with the corporate king Royalton (Roger Allam), for instance, or looks about to kiss Trixie. For every pseudo-angsty moment - Speed misses his dead brother Rex (Scott Porter), loves his mom (Susan Sarandon), contemplates the moon with his girlfriend Trixie (Christina Ricci) - the film offers a broadly antic, wholly obnoxious splat, usually courtesy of Speed’s little brother Spritle (Paulie Litt) and his pet, Chim Chim. Inspired by the mostly beloved late ’60s Japanese cartoon, Speed Racer is loud, large, and proudly crass. “Blah, blah, blah,” reads the page from his point of view, the first and only cute joke in Andy and Larry Wachowski’s Summer Movie. Cut to what he’s remembering, himself as a cute little foot-tapping scamp (Nicholas Elia), nervously anticipating the end of class, utterly unable to comprehend the words on his exam paper. Surrounded by bright orange lockers, he slumps in deep thought, his back to the camera that then cuts to a close-up of his nervously tapping, red-socksed foot. Speed Racer (Emile Hirsch) actually begins his live-action, giant-screen debut looking depressed.
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