Best TV Movie Ever

With low budgets and sometimes wretched acting, television movies earned their limp reputation. I can't remember the last time I watched one during its original broadcast. With the overall quality of television shows higher than ever, why would anyone? They are easy targets, their plots are often ripped from the tabloids and well ... the acting. The movie of the week became a time-honored Sunday tradition, just not one know for quality.

Of course exceptions exist. . Duel. Best known as the film that gave Stephen Spielberg his big break, the simple tale is still relevant for Generation Road Rage. The late Dennis Weaver plays a traveling salesman who passes a smoke-belching truck on a rural highway and ends up fighting for his life in an automotive cat-and-mouse game across the California desert.                                

Sure, it has a young Spielberg behind the camera. But Dennis Weaver sells the film. He has to; he's the only person onscreen for most of the movie. As a salesman with problems at home and the looming problem of a murderous Peterbilt truck bearing down on him, Weaver could be anyone.

It is hard not to watch the movie and contemplate every time I passed a slow-moving truck. I think of north central Wyoming or eastern Oregon and imagine how that could happen to anyone who ran into the wrong truck on the wrong day. Where another film might turn repetitive, Duel stays riveting.

The only thing about the movie that doesn't work are the speeds -- the vehicles seemed to flying down the road, yet Weaver's car spends most of film around 55 mph. It wouldn't be so noticeable but the film's minimalism almost turns the speedometer into a character. The cuts between the rearview mirror and the speedometer build tension as the truck ominously gains on Weaver's Plymouth.

I have always believed that Spielberg understands terror better than most directors. Duel works as a template for Jaws; a force of nature strikes terror until the terrorized people realize they have to overcome their fear to stop the force of nature. The truck almost resembles a beast; its grill and engine look like a snout and a mouth of jagged teeth, the filthy windshield resembles eyes, and the horn blasts sound like a war cry.

Written by Richard Matheson, it has a strong dash of Kafka. Aside from a pair of tire-kicking boots and a waving arm, we never see the truck driver or get any hint as to his motivations. Weaver's David Mann has been thrown into this situation and he gets no more answers than the audience He has to crawl and scrap to save his life, and as he twists through those desert mountain passes, we too easily envision ourselves doing the same.