These are some of Cruise’s first words in the film. After Robert Duvall, Randy Quaid, and John C. Reilly (!) play his fanfare in an opening sequence groaning under the weight of exposition (“you didn’t give up racing Harry, you quit to avoid any investigation into Buddy’s crash at Daytona!”) Cruise’s Cole Trickle rides in on a harley, denim jacket under black wool trench coat, no helmet.

“you build me an engine and I’ll win Daytona next year.”

I don’t need to rehash the story. You know how this movie develops. You can probably outline the plot without even seeing it. Rivalry, fear, a love story, and fast cars.

Hans Zimmer’s score is fucking brilliant. You think of Zimmer’s music as big, epic, best underlining punching matches between superheroes. But here Jeff Beck’s guitar sails over the roar of engines and you know you’re in America.

Nicole Kidman is pure fire in this movie. When you remember that this is her first American movie (she was an established actress in Australia but hadn’t starred in a Hollywood picture yet) and her first encounter with Tom Cruise you marvel at her patience and ability to tolerate Cruise’s manic fragility.

“control is an illusion…nobody knows what’s going to happen next.”

Before the credits roll you see the Cruise run. It’s a subdued effort reflective of his performance. He rarely smiles, speaks softly, and wins when he utilizes strategy and trickery instead of brute force. But as his jog accelerates, his arms begin to flail. He looks like a toddler who just took a shot of amphetamines. His face is covered in oil, dirt and sweat and you know there’s no better feeling than to sprint doused in grime, in coveralls in the Florida sun.

“I’m more afraid of bein’ nothin’ than I am of bein’ hurt.”

Next: Far and Away