By Erin Free
In this regular column, we drag forgotten made-for-TV movies out of the vault and into the light. This week: Hal Needham’s 1979 vehicular thriller Death Car on the Freeway starring Shelley Hack, George Hamilton and Peter Graves.
After his jaw-busting one-two debut punch of the Burt Reynolds-starring rave-ups Smokey and the Bandit (1977) and Hooper (1978), stuntman turned director Hal Needham hit a skid with his unsuccessful third film Cactus Jack (1979), which is perhaps what saw him take a quick detour into the world of television with the 1979 thriller Death Car on the Freeway. What could have been a step down for Needham, however, actually plays like more of a course correction, because this is a very nifty and highly entertaining piece of work. Needham’s finesse with vehicular destruction is effectively highlighted, but the director also excels with the slightly off-centre characterisations and feminist themes so strongly posited in the original script by prolific small screen scribe William Wood, who had previously penned superior telemovies like Outrage (1973) and Savages (1974).
Obviously influenced by Steven Spielberg’s mighty telemovie Duel (1971) – and itself a presumed influence on Quentin Tarantino’s Death Proof (2007) – Death Car on the Freeway begins with a thrilling and eerie scene of a young woman being stalked and harassed by a mysterious, unseen van driver after she cuts ahead of him on one of LA’s snaking freeways. After a little digging, on-the-case TV news reporter Jan Claussen (Charlie’s Angels late-stager Shelley Hack) soon discovers a number of similar incidents, and believes them all to be the work of one man. Dubbed The Freeway Fiddler (!) because of the loud, fiddle-heavy bluegrass music he plays during his attacks, the menacing van driver becomes a media cause celebre, which raises the interest of gruff cop Lieutenant Haller (Peter Graves), and provokes a little jealousy in Jan’s ex-boyfriend Ray Jeffries (George Hamilton), a TV host on a rival network. As she digs deeper and tenaciously follows the case, Jan becomes the new focus for The Freeway Fiddler, which drives further mayhem on LA’s overcrowded roadways.
Even though this tightly paced, 91-minute thriller would more appropriately be titled “Death Van on the Freeway”, it’s an absolute belter of a telemovie. As expected, Needham’s control of the film’s stunts is impeccable, but it’s his skill in other areas that makes Death Car on the Freeway so enjoyable. As with many telemovies of the 1970s, the all-over-the-shop casting is a true delight, and so are the performances. Sure, Shelley Hack is no Meryl Streep, but there’s something eminently likeable about her here, as she winningly mixes stridence with sweetness and pulls an engaging Nancy Drew job while everyone around her gets in her way.
Leading the supporting cast, Peter Graves is almost hilariously gruff and antagonistic, while George Hamilton is also very amusing, impressively stoking up his trademark sleaze and smarm. Frank Gorshin (TV Batman’s The Riddler!) is decidedly less sleazy than Hamilton as Jan’s boss, but his intentions around his young reporter are clearly less than wholesome. Hollywood vet Barbara Rush has a ball as Rosemary, the major news star on Jan’s network, who treats the wide-eyed young reporter with barely concealed contempt, while also reluctantly deigning to provide a little catty advice. Barney Miller legend Abe Vigoda appears in an oddly inconsequential blink-and-you’ll-miss-it joke cameo, and Needham obviously used his friendship with Burt Reynolds to bring in the superstar’s then-partner, famed and incredibly likeable TV host Dinah Shore, for a small but flashy role as a tennis pro previously harassed by The Freeway Fiddler. Hal Needham also appears in a minor role, entertainingly turning up the good ol’ boy charm as a defensive driving instructor who teaches Jan a few tricks on the road.
Though hardly a noted on-screen feminist, Needham really punches up the struggles of his female hero. Jan Claussen is tough and relentless, but the plucky reporter has to fight for every single inch of credit she’s due. Jan’s ex-boyfriend treats her with a distinct lack of respect while trying to get her back into his hot-tub, and sexism is literally everywhere. In one jaw-dropping scene, Graves’ grizzled cop engages in an astonishing piece of public victim blaming, noting in a press conference that all of the female victims of The Freeway Fiddler have terrible driving records, even suggesting that they’ve brought the on-road harassment upon themselves! Jan’s measured response is excellent. The TV network even cops a little blowback from the car companies who advertise because they don’t like Jan’s intimations that their macho ads might be a source of provocation for The Freeway Fiddler. This all adds vital push and texture to Death Car on the Freeway.
The film’s principal push, however, comes from the essential mystery that surrounds The Freeway Fiddler. As with the terrifying truck-driving antagonist in Duel, The Freeway Fiddler is never revealed, and his motives are only (amusingly) guessed at by an on-air shrink who paints him as, basically, an impotent loser with major mama issues. This air of mystery contributes ingeniously to the intensity of the film, and Death Car On The Freeway moves like a motor vehicle driven by an absolute professional, and with Hal Needham behind the wheel, that’s exactly what you get. Though Hal Needham would return to the telemovie format for a series of Smokey And The Bandit prequels in the mid-1990s, Death Car on the Freeway unquestionably remains the stunt man turned director’s best small screen ride.
Availability: Death Car on the Freeway is relatively easy to find online, though most versions appear to be a little ropey…sure, the sound and image might not be the equivalent of a Ferrari, but this film is well worth taking for a spin.
