Junior Brown does everything in his power to deify the form. But let's face it: A gaggle of well-heeled, corporate-sponsored white guys blasting as fast as they can through a foreign country are not really getting in touch with themselves or the elements, though there are apparently some psychedelic moments when exhausted drivers begin to hallucinate all kinds of visions on the open road.
The Baja tends to buckle beneath all of the reverence and mystification Brown heaps on it.
In this new extreme sport hagiography, every pastime now seems up for sanctification and every practitioner is suddenly a brave warrior snubbing his nose at death while gaining a deeper appreciation of life. Maybe we can next look forward to films about the Zen of Monster Truck Pulls, or the Spirituality of Skeet Shooting.
Had Brown simply focused on the cheap thrills of the racing in his impressive helicopter shots, the film might have shaken some of its self-aggrandizing pretense and been satisfied with just being a sensation-packed thrill ride.