“When one townie falls in the forest, can anyone hear it?” — The Hold Steady, “One for the Cutters”
Arriving near the end of film’s most exciting decade, the coming-of-age cycling dramedy Breaking Away may not carry the cultural cache of some of its more famous ’70s peers, or even its 1979 classmates — but it should. Directed by Peter Yates and featuring an impressive cast of now-famous faces, the tale of four working-class young men in Bloomington, Indiana, who clash with snooty coeds while enjoying their last gasp of freedom before committing to adulthood mirrors the movie’s own scrappy underdog status in a crowded cinematic year.
Indeed, it’s difficult to stand out when that competition includes such titans as Apocalypse Now, Alien, and All That Jazz, plus populist gems like Manhattan, Kramer vs. Kramer, Being There, The In-Laws, and The Muppet Movie. But after Rocky’s questionable triumph over the likes of Taxi Driver, All the President’s Men and Network at the 1977 Academy Awards, the time was ripe for other “little films that could,” and no other feature in the decade’s remaining years embodies that spirit better than Breaking Away.
Released on July 20 — the 10th anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing and five days after President Jimmy Carter’s televised “crisis of confidence” speech — the film strikes an appealing balance between classic Americana ideals and a rising national malaise. And what better location to explore those themes than smack dab in the middle of the heartland, on and around the campus of Indiana University, screenwriter and former competitive cyclist Steve Tesich’s alma mater?
Playing out the latest chapter in Bloomington’s age-old class conflict between Hoosier undergrads and “cutters” (a euphemism for “stonies,” the real-life insulting name for local limestone workers that was deemed too marijuana-adjacent for onscreen use) are 19-year-olds Dave (Dennis Christopher), Mike (Dennis Quaid), Moocher (Jackie Earle Haley), and Cyril (Daniel Stern, in his film debut).
Trying as hard as they can to do as little as possible during their self-imposed gap year following high school graduation, the lifelong friends sun themselves on the shoreline slabs of the nearby abandoned quarry, dive in its flooded makeshift swimming hole, and repeat. Yates shoots this slice of paradise from a loving distance that highlights its natural beauty and refuge from parents and other townies grilling them on what they plan to do with their lives. Considering the boys’ generational ties to this sanctuary that once employed all of their fathers, their hesitance to end this extended childhood is warranted and their outrage at college students disturbing the peace feels justified.
And yet, Dave’s quasi-escape (some might say “breakaway”) from the life he knows and future he fears serves as the film’s catalyst while also being so outlandish that no one familiar with him takes it seriously. As if he sustained a head injury, after winning a Masi bicycle in a race he suddenly becomes obsessed with Italian cyclists and culture, adopting a comical “it’s-a me, Mario!” accent, blasting “The Marriage of Figaro” on his stereo, and even renaming Jake the family cat “Fellini.”

The tangled web that this fantasy inspires Dave to weave leads to entertaining trouble with Vespa-riding university beauty Katherine (Robyn Douglass), who buys Dave’s claim that he’s Italian exchange student Enrico; her boyfriend Rod (Hart Bochner) and his fraternity brothers; and even the visiting Italian cycling team that Dave idolizes.
While these conflicts yield such memorable scenes as Dave serenading his beloved “Caterina” outside her sorority window while Stern’s Cyril, accompanying on guitar, hilariously overplays his part, Breaking Away’s foundational strengths concern Dave’s relationships with his friends and parents. Having lived among real-life Bloomington “cutters” in the early ’60s, Tesich writes the boys, Dave’s mother Evelyn (Barbara Barrie), and stonecutter-turned-used car salesman father Ray (a career-best Paul Dooley) with a welcome layer of humanity that elevates the somewhat clichéd plot.
Despite the immaturity of Dave’s European infatuation, he receives minimal jokey pushback from his friends, who continue to confide in him about their own growing pains. And though Ray animatedly expresses opposition to his son’s behavior and is worried he’ll become “an Italian bum,” he’s never cruel. Evelyn’s curiosity with the culture somewhat wears Ray down, but it’s clear he loves his only child and tries to set him up for success because he knows a less forgiving world awaits him outside of their home.
However, that’s also where plentiful excitement resides, and strong as the film’s human drama is, it’s in the cycling scenes where Yates proves a near ideal fit for the material. By 1979, the director had shown his skills as a depicter of clear-eyed action (Bullitt) and working-class grit (The Friends of Eddie Coyle), strengths that he synthesizes to phenomenal ends in Breaking Away.
Dave’s highway drafting sequence with a supportive tractor-trailer driver reaches McQueen levels of cool, yet Yates saves the best for last with the Little 500 race. One of the all-time great film finales, the thrilling climax features a phenomenal mix of wide zooms, close-ups, and shots from behind the bike’s pedals, plus loving reaction cuts to Ray listening along with the radio broadcast inside his car.
This combination of relatable everyman characters and heart-pounding athletic competition catapulted Breaking Away to rave reviews and, eventually, five Academy Award nominations, including Best Picture and Director, and a win for Tesich’s original screenplay. Its power endures 45-plus years later, and if All That Jazz, Being There, and The In-Laws can land Criterion Collection editions, Yates’s film surely has a cutters’ chance.
“Breaking Away” is available for digital rental or purchase.