The title of Sydney J. Furie's little, forgotten film intrigued me, and I made sure to see it on ABC way back when, about 1975. I could tell it was an R-rated movie that was edited for TV, but the movie felt fresh and thoughtful. There was so much I didn't comprehend about the story of a narcissistic heel and an insecure but driven-to-win mechanic who cross paths on a motorcycle racing circuit. Robert Redford (Halsey Knox) and Michael J. Pollard (Little Fauss) have little in common except that Halsey is a low-life manipulator in whom Little sees a chance to get out of Heat Rash, Oklahoma, and win some trophies.
Redford, a man who became very famous by being a charming bank robber/mountain man/CIA employee/Barbara Streisand's ex is a thoroughly believable heel. He slithers through lying and thieving effortlessly. He wanders around without a shirt, glib and facetious, ordering Little to do this and that, and throwing Fauss' insecurity with women in his face when they pick up a bike bunny (Lauren Hutton). It's instant love for Little, instant sex for Halsy, and it leads to Little calling his partnership with Halsy quits.
He wonders back to Mom, and Dad has passed on. All the best things that are in Little are on display when he takes up racing again, practicing and practicing, with Momma sucking down dust with a stopwatch in her hand. You can see the scar Halsy left on him, and he deals with its pain by exhibiting determination.
Then Halsy arrives, and because Little is weak, he throws in, again. Hutton is pregnant, and Redford's character has so little good in him that he simply dumps her at the hospital.
I think the kid got the better half of that deal.
Our two boys are racing now, competing against each other. Little has the confidence he lacked earlier. Halsy will always be the winner of a participation ribbon. And the saddest part of the movie is how Halsy's lack of good character changes the face and behavior of who he sees as his protege.
I thought this movie was much better than many of the reviews I read. It's clearly a flick that is designed to play off Redford's growing popularity. What Furie gets right is that, although Robert Redford's Big Halsy is the powerhouse on screen, the viewer might be more interested in Michael J. Pollard's performance. The balance of the two personalities on screen makes for a darn-fine tension. Pollard played many a wimp, but here, Fauss has a deeper well of grit than you see at the start (when he habitually lands in a dusty heap during race after race).
Speaking of dust, and heat, the whole movie seems to be covered in a fine layer of grit. There's no place to feel clean and dry. The dust is ever-present, mixing with sweat to give the characters a subtle muddy sheen. Even Lauren Hutton, who chats with Halsy about his ugly scar on his back, all the while having her bare bottom in view, winds up in a preggo smock, and she looks beaten, gritty, and ready to go home to the folks in San Francisco.
She hasn't much to do in the movie other than getting pregnant and abandoned, thereby cementing Halsy Knox as charmless and in possession of a terrible character.
So, why do I recommend this 52-year-old film? Nothing is ever new in movies. The value of watching is seeing how the story we already know is remolded into something fresh. Little Fauss and Big Halsy is a fresh movie, one that very few people saw or will see in the future. It's an actors' movie, and with the glut of pornographically stupid super-hero movies out there, it may be a refreshing change.
Real people, real situations, and a thoughtful good time.
