SPEED KILLS: John Travolta On Snooze Control

We’ve done this dance before. Last summer, John Travolta portrayed the titular role in Gotti, a mobster-biopic that charted the rise and fall of New York’s notorious Teflon Don and his criminal empire. It was a role Travolta sunk his teeth into with relish, granting him free reign to command a motion picture after years of absence from the big screen.

Unfortunately, that film was a resounding failure. Having been pilloried by critics (it topped many 2018 “Worst Of” lists) and collectively ignored by audiences (the film failed to recoup even half of its budget), to say that Gotti was an unmitigated disaster is the understatement of the century. It’s no surprise that Travolta ended up being the lone bright spot in an otherwise dismal picture.

Emerging from the ashes un-deterred, Travolta is back with Speed Kills, a film that chronicles the real-life escapades of speedboat racer and drug smuggler Donald Aranow (inexplicably rechristened “Ben Aronoff” in the film). While not quite as offensive as Gotti, Speed Kills is just as disposable, offering Travolta another opportunity to scowl his way through a cheap, incompetent, and unimaginative feature, one that feels less like a film and more like an elaborate money-laundering scheme.

From Riches to Rags to Riches

Speed Kills opens with one of the most laughably incomprehensible pre-title sequences in recent memory. The year is 1987, and it’s the final day in the life of Ben Aronoff (Travolta). He’s visited at his place of business by a goon played by Tom Sizemore, where the two gangsters proceed to exchange vague, half-hearted threats with each other. After Sizemore’s character leaves, Aronoff is summarily gunned down in his own parking lot (the film hilariously cuts to the title at the sound of the first gunshot). And like that, any notion of suspense is thrown out the window for the remaining 100 minutes of runtime.

We flashback to 1962, where Aronoff’s story begins in proper. Introduced as a family man (his wife is played by Jennifer Esposito) and unhappy with his existence as a blue-collar construction worker in New Jersey, Aronoff relocates to Miami, where he gets swept up in the world of designer speedboats. Partnering up with a shyster lawyer (Michael Weston), Aronoff becomes a formidable player in the speedboat racing game, soon perfecting his own brand of “cigarette” boat, known for its sleek, narrow design and high velocity. Aronoff’s business puts him in bed with top gangster Meyer Lansky (James Remar), much to the chagrin of Lansky’s nephew, Robbie (Kellan Lutz, decked out in atrocious, porn star-level facial hair), who ultimately vies with Aronoff for speedboat glory.

Like Gotti, Speed Kills introduces the audience to a vast array of indiscernible goombahs, offering a myriad of faces and names to tag along with the needlessly overstated, hand-holding voiceover work from Travolta. Speed Kills is a busy picture, spanning decades of Aronoff’s life as he climbs the corrupt corporate ladder to become the premiere cigarette boat salesman (the late George H.W. Bush, played by Matthew Modine, is one of his top customers), but absolutely nothing here registers, serving a DOA, rags to riches gangster narrative we’ve seen done better in far superior films.

The seedy underground racing world makes up one half of Aronoff’s story; familial matters make up the other. Fidelity is a real issue with Aronoff, keeping the creep busy with mistress after mistress as his business thrives. The relationship with his family becomes awfully strained, including a mid-film detour involving his eldest son’s paralysis, the result of a drunken car accident. The personal stuff in Speed Kills is handled with a complete lack of care, with the film eventually jettisoning Aronoff’s family unit entirely so he can get back to serious matters at hand.

The VR Experience

There’s a gimmick to Speed Kills, and it’s a doozy. The film has a tie-in with a baffling VR (Virtual Reality) experience, offering viewers the opportunity to explore eight additional sequences in an app that can be downloaded in your local iOS or Android store (which is still available, at the time of this writing). Given the lack of visual flair in the actual film (it’s shoddily produced, at best), as well as the picture’s limited theatrical run and straight-to-VOD release with limited fanfare, it’s difficult to comprehend how the VR experience could add anything to this feature. A foolhardy business decision if there ever was one.

The production behind Speed Kills is just as esoteric. Co-written by David Aaron Cohen (screenwriter of the Friday Night Lights feature) and John Lussenhop (helmer of Texas Chainsaw 3D), the film’s director is credited as Jodi Scurfield, an enigmatic figure who has no other credits on their IMDb page. Not a single one. Rumors abound that this might be a pseudonym for Lussenhop; while we may never know for sure, it’s clear that the guiding hand behind Speed Kills clearly had no idea what they were doing.

When all else fails, the film romanticizes the allure of speedboat racing, with countless scenes devoted to shot after shot of speedboats racing across water. For a sport that’s depicted as being immensely thrilling for the characters, it quickly wears out its welcome on screen, becoming increasingly laborious the more they occur.

Speed Kills: Conclusion

At the end of the day, all Speed Kills really has going for it is an exceedingly committed Travolta. There’s no denying the energy he brings to the table; he’s at least trying to do something, anything, to keep the film’s head above water. He fails, spectacularly, but his presence elevates the production one notch above abysmal DTV fare. That counts for something, right?

What do you think? Is Travolta due for a late-inning comeback?

Speed Kills was released in limited theatres and on VOD in the U.S. on November 16.

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