This review represents a new record for me and this blog. As I write this, it is almost eight months to the day since I first saw The Bikeriders, newly released in theatres this past weekend. I took in the feature as one of the 15 films I viewed during last year’s AFI Fest in October. I was able to do a capsule review for my friends at No Rest for the Weekend, but the full review was meant to be held until the official release. At that point, the movie was being marketed aggressively ahead of a planned December debut, where Fox/Disney was looking to campaign for Academy hardware. However, due to the SAG-AFTRA Strike, the decision was made at the highest levels to remove the picture from the schedule. According to Wikipedia, the call was made in July, but the public didn’t know about it until the night of October 27, when it played at the festival itself. Apparently the powers that be thought the film was good enough to compete during Awards Season, but not good enough to succeed financially if they couldn’t trot Tom Hardy out on every late night talk show to plug it. Even though the strike eventually ended in time for the original December 1 date, as I and a few hundred other people watched on that lovely autumn Friday, the rug was being pulled out, denying audiences a chance to see a piece of art that had been promoted for months.
As it turns out, the film itself ended up going on a journey somewhat akin to the open road fantasies that the story is liable to inspire. New Regency, the studio behind the project, had a distribution deal with 20th Century Studios and Disney, but after it was pulled from the schedule, no new date was announced, and the deal was essentially terminated, putting the whole thing in jeopardy. Later in December, a new deal was struck with Focus Features and Universal after New Regency spent months shopping the flick around. It was then that the release was officially delayed for a further six months. Similarly, the marketing focus was shifted from Jodie Comer’s character Kathy to Austin Butler’s Benny, I guess because they found the 2023 Oscar nominee more marketable.
It’s been a long road, getting from there to here (10 points if you get the reference; the points have no value), but finally, at last, people can actually watch the movie. And perhaps it’s to the film’s credit that, all this time later, I still remember it vividly enough that I didn’t need to go out and watch it again in order to write this critique. Eight months later, it still occupies space in my brain. You might think that this means it’s a stupendously triumphant cinematic achievement. Honestly, though, not really. It’s just fun. A lot of fun. There are some superlative elements, but there are also clear flaws that prevent it from reaching the highest of heights. This is a film that’s just really good, and that’s perfectly fine. Its profile might be raised by the corporate chicanery surrounding its release, but in the end, this is simply two hours that you’ll enjoy as pure entertainment, which makes you wonder why it honestly couldn’t have come out last year as planned.
Based on the book of the same name by photojournalist and activist Danny Lyon (played here by Mike Faist), who spent years embedded with the Outlaws Motorcycle Club in Chicago during the 1960s, the story itself is a completely fictitious rendering of the spirit of biker clubs during the counterculture age. Framed largely through flashbacks and interviews with Kathy (Comer), the woman who quickly fell for and married the rebel-without-a-cause Benny (Butler), the movie explores the ethos of the era, as well as the more gritty and harsh realities that came with it, through the lens of the “Vandals,” a club formed by blue collar worker Johnny (Hardy) as a social organization where boys can be boys, as long as they have bikes. There’s a well-placed meta reference where Johnny is inspired to form the club after watching Marlon Brando in The Wild One that made me smile fairly widely.
The overarching theme lies in how power corrupts, and how good intentions can go awry as ambitions become too large to contain. The film reaches some pretty dark areas, including literal vandalism, destruction of property, violence, sexual assault, and even murder as the Vandals grows beyond Johnny’s control. One of the better elements of the picture is in how the editing deftly changes from the idealistic freedom the normally stoic Benny feels when he’s riding to the more hardcore and tense moments when Johnny gives some shit-kickers a “test” to see if they can join the club. The balance between light and heavy moments is really well done, a perfect match for some really stellar cinematography.
As for the performances, at the top of the ticket, everything is wonderful. Butler is near-perfect in his reserved state, proving he can convey everything needed through a few well-executed facial movements and minimal dialogue. Similarly, Comer and Hardy each shine, particularly with their accents, as both are English yet pulled off dead-on Midwestern voices. The way Comer says, “five weeks later I married him” and Hardy lights a smoke while matter-of-factly telling his lieutenant to “burn it down,” after a confrontation at a local bar are about as natural as you could possibly ask for. Faist, Michael Shannon, Norman Reedus, and Boyd Holbrook also have some decent moments.
Once you get beyond these key players, things become a bid confusing and muddied. There are a LOT of moving pieces to keep track of, and while the visual editing is very strong, the script editing leaves a bit to be desired, making it hard to remember who’s doing what at a given moment. Director Jeff Nichols handles things about as well as anyone could ask of him, but you do notice the moments when things are a bit too jumbled, or a scene progression just a bit too convenient..
There are some other elements that don’t shine as brightly, particularly the sound profile. If you’ve ever been at a motorcycle rally of any kind, you know that you cannot – and will not – hear jack shit other than the revving of engines and maybe some very loud music. Somewhat by necessity this is dialed down to make sure the dialogue is even audible, but there were definitely points where the mix left me wanting. Also, while the film goes to great lengths to capture the essence of the mid-20th century motorcycle movement, there are several moments that come off as trite and cliché. There were several scenes – particularly involving Benny – where I couldn’t help but think back to the “Take My Wife, Sleaze” episode of The Simpsons and the way it played up biker tropes. I even remember a line very similar to the punchline of “You can lock me up, but you’ll never defeat the Cobras.”
That said, it should be noted how much Nichols gets right when exploring biker culture. When I was a teenager, my stepfather was in a club, the Wraith M.C. He spent years as a sort of frat pledge, acting as a gofer for the group until his “dues” were paid and he earned his colors. Like many members, he had a nickname in the group (they initially wanted to call him “Da Bug,” but he insisted on “Lucky” for his Irish heritage, which they accepted). I attended several meetups, rallies, pig roasts, and other various functions. The camaraderie that’s depicted in this film is just like what I witnessed at these events. Laughs were shared, women were hit on, way too much booze was consumed, the occasional fight broke out, and there were more than a few “dick measuring” contests, all done in the name of freedom and good fun.
The commitment to the organization was also just as portrayed. For example, the colors are indeed as sacred as we’re shown. The scene at the bar where Benny is beat up for not taking off his jacket is genuinely how members behave. Once you have those colors, nothing short of death or dismemberment will remove them, certainly not some assholes in suits who think they’re better than you. And if you disrespect them, you do invite the wrath of the entire club in their defense. For my stepdad, a row with the Hell’s Angels resulted in a decision by a council of local clubs to dissolve the Wraith chapter (or so I was told), so the members could no longer wear their colors in public, save for a funeral procession when a member (nicknamed “Phantom,” I believe) died in a tragic accident. It devastated them, and some still wore their colors in private as a show of solidarity (again, so I was told; I didn’t witness this first-hand). All of this comes through in the film, from the protection of the club’s numbers to the territoriality of rival gangs and violent power moves. You don’t have to condone this behavior or even like it (I certainly soured on it after a while) to recognize the verisimilitude in its depiction, so kudos to Nichols on this front.
But really, this is Comer and Hardy’s movie, as they compete for Benny’s affection and loyalty. Both of them deal in ultimatums and absolutes, acting as dual angels on his shoulders who may act in underhanded ways, but ultimately feel they have his best interests at heart (so neither can be the proverbial devil). Comer especially gives a tremendous performance as someone who loves Benny so much for his free spirit but also wants him to choose a life of safety within that context. When she tells Johnny, “You can’t have him,” you feel that viscerally, because she doesn’t want to hold Benny back, but also can’t stand to see the love of her life risk serious injury and death daily for a surrogate father figure who is increasingly losing his grip. If there’s one major story flaw, it’s that Benny himself doesn’t really get to make a choice. He rides off at a crucial moment because he can’t make up his mind, but the script manipulates the circumstances to essentially make the decision for him. In the end it’s okay, but it’s a bit of a narrative cop out.
I’m amazed at how well this film has stuck with me over the last several months, to the point where I’m tempted to bump up its final grade just for being more memorable than several other projects that have rated higher. But I have to keep this in isolation and judge it on the merits. And that results in a full endorsement of what is, oddly enough, a perfectly entertaining popcorn movie that was accidentally released at the proper time of year. Had it come out as planned last year, it might have competed for the Cinematography, Editing, and Supporting performances for Comer and Hardy, but most likely it would have been completely shut out of the Awards Season field. In the end, this becomes an unintentional exercise in getting the right result for all the wrong reasons, not unlike the fate of the rebellious riders we see on screen.
Grade: B+
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I Actually Paid To See This 