Hot Rod and the Hero's Journey

No one has ever written an essay on this topic, until now

2007 was a banner year for comedy films: Knocked Up, Blades of Glory, Hot Fuzz, and Walk Hard all topped our hearts. Read these titles aloud repeatedly. Feel the guttural consonance. It will sound like you are speaking Old Norse: invoking Viking Sagas of mock-heroism.

Buried among the release of Superbad and the Simpsons Movie, 2007’s Hot Rod has been relegated to obscure cult status. It was written by the incomparable Pam Brady of Hamlet 2 and South Park fame. You may also know her as the woodshop teacher’s doomed fiancé:

Pam Brady probably deserves her own shrine, an exception to the Women Aren’t Funny meme, but that’s a topic for another essay.

I’m going to endeavor to write this without spoiling too many of the great gags and lines. Trust that Hot Rod is a hilarious peak Andy Samberg comedy performance. It also functions as a great sports movie, but most importantly, it’s another faithful iteration of the hero with a thousand faces. The protagonist’s dream is stupid, but the movie treats his pursuit of greatness and his pain with real emotional stakes. The movie starts as a parody of manhood, but then shows us what manhood is.

Meet Rod Kimble (Samberg), an amateur stuntman striving for greatness. In reality, he’s a deluded man-child from a forest village frozen in time, an anachronism of a town painted with an early 1980s palette. Rod is a twenty-something guy who lives with his mother, half brother, and quasi-abusive stepfather Frank, played by the feral Ian McShane. Yes, Rod sucks at stunts and he is continually thwarted in physical combat by his bestial silverback gorilla of a father figure.

Yet he keeps coming back for more, donning a fake mustache, and invoking our rich Jungian collective unconscious to prepare for battle with his stepdad:

Rod: (chanting) Ancestors protect me.

Kevin: (chanting) May they protect you

Rod: (chanting) Gods of War!

Kevin: (chanting) May your hammer be mighty.

Despite Rod’s setbacks in combat, he’s an American with a hero’s mindset. He heeds the call to adventure.

And what is that call to adventure? Turns out the alpha stepdad is mortal after all. He’s been diagnosed with a faulty heart. The $50,000 price tag on the surgery is seemingly insurmountable. Rod resolves to raise the money by jumping 15 school buses on his lousy motorbike, thus saving his stepdad and surpassing Evel Knievel’s record. Frank responds skeptically, to which Rod replies: “I’m not a kid, I’m a man. I am gonna get you better, and then I’m gonna beat you to death!”

The premise seems absurd: Rod’s journey is predicated upon him healing his tormentor so that he can beat him up. But think about it: how chivalric is the notion of a fair fight? Rod is forcing the issue of his rite of passage, throwing down the gauntlet in a way that sets him up for a series of difficult challenges. He’s forging his own crucible. His version of crossing the threshold into the proverbial belly of the whale? He chugs beer and punch-dances his angst out in the woods, only to trip and fall down a mountainside, tumbling for a hilarious 60 seconds.

"I needed to think last night. So I galloped into a wooded glen, and after punch-dancing out my rage and suffering an extremely long and very painful fall, I realized what has to be done."

Rod won’t have to go it alone. He’s supported by a coalition of flawed banner-men:

• Jorma Taccone: the dorkiest Lonely Island guy

• Danny McBride: if you like white trash guys yelling, you’ll love him

• Bill Hader: in his pre-Barry goofy best

To round out the cast, the supple Isla Fisher (Denise) plays the role of the Goddess and source of Supernatural Aid. Unfortunately, Denise is paired off with Will Arnette in his most contemptible bro permutation: rich, arrogant, slicked-back-hair-in-a-convertible. A worthy foil for our squire Rod to defeat.

Rod’s road of trials includes a series of oafish stunts, culminating in a humiliating theatrical release of his failures. He’s down, and then he receives another devastating kick: it's revealed that his true father was never a stuntman. Rod has to face reality and decides to give up on his dream, and become a true adult. He dons a tie and fills a shopping cart with liquor bottles:

With the help of his comrades, Rod faces down his fears and wields his Excalibur that doubles as a Noble Steed - it’s a new motorbike that doesn’t suck. The town rallies under the banner of a community marching anthem: You’re The Voice, by John Farnham. A full-on riot erupts in support of Rod’s campaign, complete with molotov cocktails and freemium television sets. The moment becomes myth. Rod is blessed with a sloppy kiss from the goddess Denise. Rod then calls upon the souls of the animal kingdom: Eagle, Fox, Dolphin, Octopus, and House Cat.

It’s the moment of truth: a Magic Flight over 15 school buses. The symbolism of leaping school buses is rich. The school bus is the Boat of Charon that carries children into the Feminist Longhouse, many of whom never return. By conquering these vehicles with his own conveyance, Rod is inspiring the youth of the town to embark upon their own heroic journey; assigned reading be damned. The synth music swells.

The flight is indeed magical, then doomed. Rod touches the firmament, then comes back down to earth, hard. He eats shit, finally sliding across the dust “like a broken doll.” The crowd gasps in horror.

Denise and his crew rush to his side, and miraculously, Rod gets up again. He delivers this masterpiece of a line: “Life is pain, and we've got to scrape the joy out of it every chance we get.” It’s not Lord of the Rings, but somehow, it is. For me, this line evokes the same sort of emotion as Sam resolving to carry Frodo up Mount Doom.

Rod’s pain, suffering, and sacrifice are his triumph. The donations pour in and Frank is saved. Rod reintegrates into his family life, becoming a master of his own life as a stuntman. Finally, using the secret martial arts techniques taught to him by Isla Fisher, he defeats a healthy Frank in single combat. In a touching moment, Frank tells his stepson he is proud of him and calls him “son.” Rod then treats his stepdad to a bowel-shaking finishing combo, Frank shits his pants, and Rod raises his fist in the air. Roll credits.

The film is a bonafide hero's journey. A gritty hero strives to leap over the shadow of his father and take his place among legends.

Rod’s dream is stupid, and he’s flawed. But he’s sincere, and he goes for it. Who cares if your dream is stupid? Every societal incentive encourages mediocrity. People will drag you down, often unconsciously, or outright sneer at your aspirations. Don’t listen to these Sirens. Go and do something. One idea: I challenge any of you to write a book better than Pandemonia: A Novel Plague Plague Novel - available for pre-order now!