The most lucid thing the Marxist critic Walter Benjamin ever wrote is the essay "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction," written in 1936, during an apparent dry spell in Berlin's hashish supply.
Benjamin's famous essay, a staple of film-lit classes, puts a dope-scented finger on a central issue in aesthetics: If the art object is special -- if it has an authenticity, an "aura," Benjamin calls it -- what is the status of the duplicate, the mechanically reproduced copy?
For The Record
Los Angeles Times Tuesday May 04, 2004 Home Edition Main News Part A Page 2 National Desk 1 inches; 51 words Type of Material: Correction
Car design -- A review in the April 21 Highway 1 section stated that the SO-CAL Speed Shop of Pomona did the development work for the Chevy SSR. In fact, the company involved in the project was ASC Inc. of Detroit, whose new West Coast design center is located at SO-CAL.
For The Record
Los Angeles Times Wednesday May 05, 2004 Home Edition Highway 1 Part G Page 2 Features Desk 1 inches; 50 words Type of Material: Correction
Car design: A review in the April 21 Highway 1 section stated that the SO-CAL Speed Shop of Pomona did the development work for the Chevy SSR. In fact, the company involved in the project was ASC Inc. of Detroit, whose new West Coast design center is located at SO-CAL.
"That which withers in the age of mechanical reproduction is the aura of the work of art," says Benjamin. Reproduction "substitutes a plurality of copies for a unique existence."
In other words: The first David by Michelangelo is art, the second is a lawn ornament.
Which brings us to the Chevrolet SSR. The SSR -- Super Sport Roadster, if you must know -- began life as one of those impossibly cool concept cars at the 2000 Detroit Auto Show, a pickup truck gene-spliced with a hot-rod roadster and incubated in gorgeous '50s heritage, with brand cues skimmed from the noses of Chevy trucks circa 1947-'53.
Roadster? Pickup? Retro? PoMo? No one knew quite what to call it -- and resorted to calling it everything at once -- and GM didn't have a very good idea how to build it. More on that later.
The SSR's indefinable nature is a clue to something often overlooked with radical concept cars. They are unique and original, highly crafted and nonfunctional; they are spiritual singletons created to express an idea or an ideal. They are art.
Until the car manufacturers build a second one. And a third. Then what a falling off there is. So much of what makes these concept cars desirable is leveraged on their singularity. When a one-of-a-kind becomes a one-of-a-thousand, some essential aura escapes.
Just about every carmaker I can think of has been burned by this phenomenon at one time or another. They display a show-stopping prototype -- for example, the Plymouth Prowler -- and the car-loving public begs the automaker to bring the car to market; but by the time the finished product rolls off the assembly line, the vehicle isn't so cool anymore. Art has become commodity. Elvis has left the building.
Nobody understands the risks better than the carmakers themselves. GM's Cadillac Sixteen was the darling of last year's autoramas -- a huge, rakish and evocative 16-cylinder saloon car, as sumptuous a slice of autocratic hauteur as ever ran over a peasant. Build it and they will come, chorused the automotive press. Yeah, sure, right, said GM.
But manufacturers are often sorely tempted. For one thing, car consumers need change and variety. More than 300 models are on sale this year, compared to just over 200 models a decade ago, according to J.D. Power and Associates. This niche-intensive production is driven not only by restless consumers but also by advances in flexible manufacturing and platform engineering that can make small-volume, image-building vehicles profitable.
The SSR is such a vehicle, a radical concept car brought to life. Built on the cut-down chassis rails of a Chevy TrailBlazer, the SSR is a paragon of shared architecture. Under its Toontown bodywork are the TrailBlazer's independent front- and live-axle rear suspension; four-wheel disc brakes and rack-and-pinion steering; and 5.3-liter, overhead-valve V8 -- though to look at this engine, with its stunning alloy cylinder heads and CNC-milled aluminum fixtures for the alternator and air conditioner, is to appreciate how handmade the SSR really is.
The product of GM's Lansing Craft Centre, the SSR was largely developed by our own So-Cal Speed Shop, the famed hot-rodding-for-hire operation in Pomona. So-Cal got the unenviable task of engineering the SSR's trick convertible hardtop, which arches gracefully toward the windshield header in motorized segments before it finally assembles itself.
The SSR is in many ways a wonderful specimen and a signpost of GM's new craftsmanship. The jodhpur-like fenders are made of steel, stamped with a dramatic "draw" (the depth of the stamping) that must have caused a few sleepless nights for some manufacturing engineer. But the body panels' fit and finish is excellent, and light practically cavorts over the SSR's glossy flanks. The interior detailing is likewise lovely, especially the satin aluminum trim on the steering wheel, door handles and gearshift console.
The trouble with the SSR is easy enough to spot once the ignition key is turned. It's too heavy. The TrailBlazer's truck chassis needed substantial bracing for use in the convertible SSR; also, the top mechanism must weigh a couple hundred pounds. It all adds up to a curb weight of 4,760 pounds (about the same as the full-bodied TrailBlazer), an avoirdupois that smothers the Vortec V8's 300 hp and 335 pound-feet of torque.
