

Synopsis: Glasgow, 1993 - amateur cyclist and bike shop owner, Graham Obree (Jonny Lee Miller), decides he will take a tilt at the world one-hour cycling record. Building a bike from old bits of scrap metal including parts of a washing machine, he heads to Norway for the attempt.
Based upon a true story, this film looks at Obree’s turbulent life, with particular focus upon his record-smashing attempts and his life-long battle with depression and mental illness. As a child we see him tormented by others kids at school then the time-frame quickly fast-forwards to his bike-shop, which is about to go bust, when he meets Baxter (Brian Cox) who encourages him in his dream of the world-record attempt. His friend Malky (Billy Boyd) becomes his manager, and wife Anne (Laura Fraser) is unwaveringly supportive (what wife would smilingly allow her husband to dismantle the washing machine you might ask?)
The story itself is quite remarkable. Obree failed on his first attempt to be the person who rode the greatest distance in one hour, a record that had been held for nine years. But, despite risk to his health, he returned the next day to try again and succeed, only to see the record fall about a week later to someone else. When he decided much later to have another go he faced all sorts of technical obstacles from the World Cycling Federation, headed by Ernst Hageman (Steven Berkoff), yet here again he persevered, tirelessly adjusting his bike design and riding technique to get around the official red tape.
A story of such determination in the face of obstacles should be really inspiring, and yet there is a sameness and predictability to the way in which the film is made. The music is relentlessly, incessantly repetitious. There are too many time-worn devices, such as newspaper headlines spinning into the screen, Malky and Anne cheering on the sidelines, people watching the race on television etc. Also, the plot fails to adequately explain why the WCF had it in for the poor man. Obree’s depression (which is in fact bipolar disorder) is not compellingly enough dealt with, nor the reasons for the constant bullying he receives at the hands of local lads, not just at school but in his later life.
There are moment when the film seems to suddenly leap to life, such as when the “bike-cam” is used – a fabulous camera angle that shows the velodrome course from the rider’s viewpoint. Much more of this would have injected a greater sense of excitement. The performances are solid enough, with Miller really giving the role his all in physical terms. Boyd gives Malky an amiable charm, but the ubiquitous Brian Cox seems to be very consciously acting.
All that said, lovers of cycling will no doubt be thrilled by the film with its agonised puffing and sweating and sheer tortuous exertion. And despite the film’s ordinariness, we can all appreciate what an extraordinary feat Obree achieved.

