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The gravelly voice of
Sam Elliott begins and ends this film with a rambling, moralising anecdote
about the Ghost Rider, allegedly a legend, springing from the old days of the
West. The laconic narrator points out that The Ghost Rider is a damned soul,
cursed to ride the Earth, who attempted to outrun the Devil himself.
The legend had languished for the last 150
years, since the incumbent rode off into the proverbial sunset with a contract,
cheating the Devil out of a potent spell for harnessing the power of the evil
spirits roaming the Earth.
You could be forgiven if you thought that
this plot prologue, or the springboard into the modern storyline, might seem
corny. The modern storyline starts harmlessly enough, with a young Johnny Blaze
in a twosome bike daredevil act with his father. He almost fouls up their act
because he is too busy smiling and gesturing to his girlfriend, Roxanne
Simpson, in the audience. He is tempted to leave town, with Roxanne on his
pillion, to escape the censoriousness and disapproval of her parents and the repressive
authority of his own father. The plan is stillborn, however, when he finds a
crumpled note in the waste-paper basket (where else?) which conveys the news
that his father has cancer.
A pact with the Devil is the upshot of this
news, which upsets Johnny so much that he scoots past the trysting place with
Roxanne with barely a sideways glance. She is standing there with her suitcase
ready for the elopement. The moral – to
the effect that the Devil is essentially untrustworthy – becomes apparent when
Johnny’s father recovers from cancer, only to die unexpectedly in a biking
spectacular through a flaming hoop, which goes wrong.
The face of young Johnny, looking upset,
then morphs into an older, though not wiser, Johnny in the form of Nicolas
Cage. Humour is a characteristic of the scenes which ensue, establishing
Blaze’s character and success, as with his Blaze team he travels round the
American continent, trotting out his road show with far more success than his
father ever achieved: now Blaze jumps 20 trucks or sails shamelessly over a covey
of helicopters, with propellers ominously spinning. He seems somewhat of a sad
case, however: he is socially inept and culturally impoverished. While his team
swigs beer and plays cards, or watches some wholesome action TV, Blaze sucks
meditatively on sugar bean sweets from a martini glass, plugs his ears into
mindless bubble-gum music, or takes a childish delight in farcical sitcoms to
relieve stress.
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