Ron Howard's "Rush" arrives just as Formula One is trying to
find a parking space in the psyche of sports-minded America,
which has preferred up till now to watch its race cars go around
in circles. Which is one thing "Rush" doesn't do: It's a classic
story of competitors on a headlong collision course, a
450-horsepower movie traveling at 220 miles per hour.  But for
all its immersion in the roar, grease and danger of Formula One,
the fact-based "Rush"—about the sport's great rivalry of the
1970s—is also more predictable than a pit stop, something well-
suited to Mr. Howard. He's made perfectly palatable pictures,
but never a truly great one, partly because he has such a
weakness for the commercial and a consequent gift for the
obvious. Nothing is ever suggested if it can be said out loud.
Very little is beyond further simplification. And the two real-
life personalities at the center of his story are so archetypal
they may as well be a fuel-injected tortoise and hare.  The
British champion James Hunt ( Chris H