Anthony Lane: "Rush," "Thanks for Sharing" Reviews: The New Yorker The new Ron Howard film, "Rush," is about the rivalry between two young drivers who fought for the Formula 1 world championship in the nineteen-seventies. In one corner, we have the crowing rooster: a lusty blond Brit by the name of James Hunt (Chris Hemsworth), who competed for the good times, the glory, and the fun. In the opposing corner lurks Niki Lauda (Daniel Brühl), born into Austrian wealth, whose demeanor was that of a highly organized rodent, and who approached every race as if it could be solved by quadratic equations. Never was battle joined with more fury than in 1976, when the outcome was decided in the final minutes of the final race, and settled by a single point. In the words of Tom Rubython, whose timidly titled book, "In the Name of Glory: 1976, the Greatest Ever Sporting Duel," covers the same ground as the film, "No Hollywood screenwriter could have scripted such an ending or described the human drama of such a dramatic season." That sound you hear is the nibbling of an author's fingernails, as he waits for a producer to call. In short, "Rush" sets off at the front of the starting grid, though it soon makes a hash of that advantage. We get a lurch of flashbacks and voice-overs, swerving from 1976 to 1970, as if cutting and pasting were the only way to proceed. Is it now completely beyond the pale to tell a story in chronological order? Is the example of "Citizen Kane" a helpful one in all circumstances? It would have been simpler, in the case of "Rush," to begin in the early seventies and accelerate from there. After all, it was a merry scene, perched on the edge of a joke. We see Hunt driving Formula 3 cars - less prestigious than their Formula 1 kindred, but equally frail - for Alexander Hesketh (Christian McKay), a rubicund English lord who hands his protégé a glass of champagne before the race, saying, "Have a gargle with this." It is inconceivable that such roistering amateurs - as they seemed to the outside world - should have sidled into the big time, but somehow it came to pass, and, when the Hesketh funds ran dry, Hunt switched to the McLaren team. A smart move, because it was sponsored by Marlboro, and Hunt was a champion smoker; he actually preferred Rothmans, but would carefully cram them into a Marlboro pack, just to keep the customer satisfied. . . .