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| Director Jeff Nichols |
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| Nichols with Mike Faist |
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| Nichols with Jodie Comer and Austin Butler |
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| Nichols with Tom Hardy |
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| Danny Lyons self-portrait |
THE BIKERIDERS B USA (116 mi) 2023 ‘Scope d: Jeff Nichols
You can give everything you got to a thing and it’s still just gonna do what it’s gonna do. —Johnny (Tom Hardy)
The maker of Shotgun Stories (2007), Take Shelter (2011), Mud (2012), Joe (2013), Midnight Special (2016), and Loving (2016) is back after an eight-year hiatus from feature films. He spent three years working on ALIEN NATION, a big-budget sci-fi remake for Fox, but it fell apart following the Disney acquisition. Initially picked to write and direct A QUIET PLACE: DAY ONE (2024), part of a blockbuster sci-fi extraterrestrial series, but due to creative differences, as it was never going to be his vision, he unexpectedly left the project to make this film, which couldn’t be more radically different, though in keeping with his unpretentious films about a gradually disappearing America, taking us back to the motorcycle outsider subculture in the 1960’s, which began with gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson writing a 5-page article in The Nation magazine entitled The Motorcycle Gangs: Losers and Outsiders, May 17, 1965, which opens in stunning fashion:
Last Labor Day weekend newspapers all over California gave front-page reports of a heinous gang rape in the moonlit sand dunes near the town of Seaside on the Monterey Peninsula. Two girls, aged 14 and 15, were allegedly taken from their dates by a gang of filthy, frenzied, boozed-up motorcycle hoodlums called “Hell’s Angels,” and dragged off to be “repeatedly assaulted.”
A deputy sheriff, summoned by one of the erstwhile dates, said he “arrived at the beach and saw a huge bonfire surrounded by cyclists of both sexes. Then the two sobbing, near-hysterical girls staggered out of the darkness, begging for help. One was completely nude and the other had on only a torn sweater.”
Thompson spent the next year preparing for a new book while living with and embedded into the Hell’s Angels as one of their own, in particular the San Francisco and Oakland chapters with their president Ralph ‘Sonny’ Barger, earning their trust and unique comradery, allowing Thompson to get close to the gang in a way others had not been able, spending his time traveling through California by motorcycle, describing the contrast between the general lawlessness of the club and the exaggerated fear that very lawlessness engenders in society. Widely lauded for its up-close and uncompromising look at the Hell’s Angels motorcycle club during a time when the gang was highly feared and accused of numerous criminal activities, Thompson described them as “the one percent who don’t fit and don’t care” before he was himself collectively stomped by the Angels and forced out in a violent reaction to his views against spousal abuse, an incident that is included in the book published in 1967 that launched his career as a writer, [PDF] Hell’s Angels, A Strange and Terrible Saga (186 pages). This begs the question, how do you tame a wild beast? Thompson’s embellished treatment of gang-rape and its mix of realism and complete absence of restraint, like some kind of exotic cult ritual, has drawn plenty of controversy over the years, where he was accused of condoning rape. Mirroring this experience was that of photojournalist Danny Lyon, a graduate of the University of Chicago (a classmate of Bernie Sanders) who began his career in the early 1960’s documenting the Civil Rights movement for the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee. A few years earlier in 1957, Jack Kerouac’s culturally defining book On the Road chronicled a group of disillusioned young outsiders wandering the country and searching for answers, embracing art and poetry over conformity and consumerism. Like many young men, Lyon, who was 15 when On the Road came out, was inspired by the book, so in the summer of 1962, following a semester at the University of Chicago, he asked friends to drop him off along Route 66, the same road Kerouac traveled, where he could follow his own path, hitchhiking to Cairo, Illinois where he saw future congressman John Lewis speak, photographing what he saw. In 1963 Lyon returned to Chicago and rode with the Chicago Outlaws Motorcycle Club, taking pictures of and recording interviews with the members of a notorious motorcycle gang, effectively becoming their in-house chronicler, knowing the best way to get good pictures was to get involved. Thompson even warned Lyon to be wary of the unpredictable behavior of biker outlaws, as they can turn on you in a second, but the legitimate Midwest motorcycle clubs at that time were radically different than the outlaws of Sonny Barger’s Hell’s Angels on the West coast. After four years with the Outlaws (becoming disenchanted with their newfound interest in criminality), Lyon emerged with what has become one of the defining photobooks of the 1960’s, The Bikeriders, originally published in 1968 in paperback with fewer than 100 pages for just $2.95, an unapologetically romantic but edgy book of photographs, where the text consists of interviews with the subjects, yet the importance of this book, and its many reprints with color photos added, is hard to overstate, representing a significant step in 1960’s American photography, a predecessor to Nan Goldin and Larry Clark, while also providing a portrait of the people in this marginalized subculture that was jarringly honest, which helped sear motorcycle counterculture into the American psyche, and was a direct inspiration not only for this film, but also Dennis Hopper’s Easy Rider (1969). While that film spoke about a 60’s counterculture, this is more of a counter-world to that counterculture, featuring undereducated, mostly all-white outcasts who don’t really fit anywhere else, yet each of the members supports each other, respects the rules and hierarchy of power, and they become, in a weird way, a family. Going against the grain, this is not exactly an action movie, instead it’s more of an existential angst exposé of a fringe group’s twisted take on the American Dream. This is obviously an extremely personal project for Nichols, having an emotional connection to the book, which represents an end of an era, like a nostalgic glimpse into a golden age of motorcycles, once viewed as a sign of American independence, and bikers as modern day cowboys, with guys sticking a middle finger to the conventions of society, but the open road of Monte Hellman’s Two-Lane Blacktop (1971) has simply turned less accessible and more unpredictably violent, where it’s difficult to make sense of all the unhinged shootings of today, as that once accepted moral code has been violated by perverted expressions of hatred and rage.
American motorcycle clubs were fueled by this outlaw spirit, stretching back to the end of WWII when returning veterans were searching for something resembling the unique male bonding experience along with the dangerous risk-taking of the war, settling upon riding motorcycles together, positioning themselves outside the mainstream, showing a defiance and blatant disregard for the rules of society (no helmets, for instance), given a fatalistic live-fast, die-young fervor. Is there a better metaphor for freedom in America than the open road? Nichols has a way with films exploring toxic masculinity, from the tortured half-brothers relationship of his first film Shotgun Stories (2007) to this search for identity through the shared camaraderie in a 1960’s motorcycle club called the Vandals, a rag-tag group of blue collar misfits based out of Elmwood Park, a small suburb just outside of Chicago, who share a free-spirited passion for the open road and getting wasted, as they are simply a group of guys who like to ride their bikes, drink beer, chain-smoke, and have a good time. In this sea of inarticulate masculinity we strangely find a woman at the center, Kathy (British actress Jodie Comer, based on Kathy Bauer in real life), who narrates her story on a readily available recording device held by Danny (Mike Faist). Winning a Tony for her one-woman Broadway show, Prima Facie, Comer’s thick Chicago nasal accent sets the stage (completely in sync with the original interview tapes on Lyon’s website Bleak Beauty), reflecting the sounds from the city’s huge immigrant Irish, Polish, Serbian, Croatian, Italian, and Ukrainian communities, accents that completely disappear over time. Led by their founder Johnny (Tom Hardy), a throwback to Marlon Brando from László Benedek’s THE WILD ONE (1953), actually seen watching the movie, getting his idea to form a motorcycle club right then and there, accompanied by Cockroach (Emory Cohen), whose claim to fame is eating bugs, West coast bike mechanic transplant Cal (Boyd Holbrook), the quirky pair of Corky (Karl Glusman) and Wahoo (Beau Knapp), and the moody, perpetually drunk, Latvian odd man out Zipco (Michael Shannon), whose wicked monologue about being rejected by the Army is hilarious, the epitome of what it means to be “undesirable,” yet his right hand man, with a role that resembles a Godfather consigliere, is Brucie (Damon Herriman), who utters the magic words, “Everyone wants to be part of somethin’. I mean that’s what it really is. These guys don’t belong nowhere else, so they belong together, you know.” But none of them hold any interest to Kathy, who’s unimpressed by their foul language, leather and jean jackets everywhere, smelly undershirts smeared with engine oil, and is about to walk out on one of their weird social gatherings until she spots Benny (Austin Butler, who played Elvis in Baz Luhrmann’s ELVIS), The Bikeriders Movie Clip - Shootin the Breeze (2024) YouTube (2:17), a brooding loner who represents the rebellious pulse of the members, as his aloof “I don’t give a fuck” attitude represents the essence of their unbridled freedom, famous for his fearlessness, displaying a calm outer demeanor with an explosive interior, where he has an irresistible impulse to jump into a fight. Much to her surprise, she starts hanging out with him, beautifully captured by their first ride together, which memorably begins with the two of them hurtling over a bridge alone before the rest of the Vandals surge into view behind them and they are engulfed by the roar of the pack, getting swept up in the moment, suddenly riding in perfect formation, where the sheer thrill of it all is exhilarating. “I’ve had nothing but trouble since I met Benny. It can’t be love — it must be stupidity,” she chirps. “Five weeks later, I married him.” While fictionalized, told largely through interviews and flashbacks from 1959 to 1973, Jeff Nichols’ film remains true to Lyon’s vision, using the same names from the book, exploring self-imposed outsiderdom and tortured masculinity in much the same way, never losing sight of the more marginal characters, but the questionable moral ethics and criminal behavior of an outlaw gang is subverted by an extremely clever use of humor, where the eruption of extreme violence is exaggerated, shot in freeze-frame or slow motion, creating an absurdly comic situation, where that softer touch offsets what we’ve come to understand about the ultraviolence of these disenfranchised men. Most of the time they’re sitting around in a bar doing next to nothing, just talking and hanging out, minding their own business, while 60’s jukebox music blares in the background (Here Are All the Songs In ‘The Bikeriders’), where some of the choices are positively inspired. Although shot in color rather than the black-and-white of Lyon’s photographs, there’s a grainy quality to Adam Stone’s 35mm ‘Scope cinematography that lends itself to the original look, yet adds additional textures.
Inspired by pop culture mythology, while also bearing some similarity with the underground aesthetic of Kathryn Bigelow’s THE LOVELESS (1981), this is an evocation of a lifestyle, capturing the right look and feel, where it’s all about the atmosphere and period detail, as some of these guys have jobs and families, so it might be surprising to think they’re all just playing roles, because at some point in the late 60’s bikers (and other counterculture wannabe’s) started to become mirror images of themselves, no longer the real thing. Like a photo montage of how they imagine their lives could be, this film evokes a certain charm and even innocence, as none of them are really bad guys, where speeding or running through red lights is the extent of their criminal behavior, The Bikeriders - Official 'Police Chase Clean' Clip (2024 ... YouTube (46 seconds). Jumping between moments and characters, often stopping in the middle of the action only to return later, dramatic tension is built with expansion of their membership, as new faces from a new generation are more reckless and violently unpredictable, adding a criminal element with a steady escalation of violence, where they dilute the interest from the heart of the group, growing farther and farther from that center core, becoming, essentially, unmanageable. This places an extra burden on Johnny’s rigid view of authority, as it exudes an individualistic Wild West mentality, where there’s always someone to challenge the fastest gun, and as the undisputed leader, he’s the one they challenge in a battle of “fists or knives.” In the interest of sustaining the uniqueness of the club, a sadly worn-out and world-weary Johnny turns to Benny, exhorting him to take over after him, as he’s got that silent charisma, the person the other members are trying to be because he has nothing and cares about nothing, emblematic of that ultimate freedom to do whatever the Hell he wants, but he doesn’t want the responsibility, as he’s happy just being a free spirit, an iconic James Dean-style figure who imagines himself a rebel without a cause. This unraveling around the edges, however, is a sign of what’s to come, as their identity changes. While Kathy offers a romantic perspective, she’s also concerned when things go haywire, and there’s a few shocking instances of brutality, but mostly this plays out like a road movie, as they’re always moving from place to place, even if it’s just around town, with Norman Reedus showing up as the zonked-out California biker Funny Sonny who decides to stay for a while. But the connecting link between the past and the present are the interviews with Kathy, who is immensely charming, sharply funny, and keenly perceptive, whose matter-of-fact, no-holds-barred outlook adds a fresh perspective to the wall-to-wall machismo on display. Some of the new club members are returning veterans coming straight back from Vietnam, bringing with them their drug addictions and propensity for senseless violence, giving way to more serious crimes. Kathy finds herself in the middle of a room surrounded by leering male eyes with intentions of gang-raping her, where the trap she finds herself in is overwhelmingly real, making her quickly understand just how dangerous these guys can be without the proper supervision, offering a palpable sense of fear. It’s a curious choice to tell a story about masculinity gone wild through the eyes of an outspoken woman who holds nothing back. Documentary photographs from the book are shown at the end of the film, where it’s clear that what was so successful about the book is capturing the unvarnished essence of who the people are, as that still haunts the filmmaker, who works meticulously to authentically recreate that bygone era, now sharing that experience with a new audience, hoping they can step back in time and absorb this undiscovered world, never glorifying or romanticizing the bikers, instead revealing the loss of an oldschool lifestyle valuing freedom on the road above anything else, where the sardonic irony is the biker club sets up meetings, membership dues, and rules to follow for a bunch of guys who make it their business to ignore all the rules. The 45 motorcycles in the film are 50 or 60 years old, sourced from the classic collection of stunt coordinator Jeff Milburn and his friends, representing vintage authenticity, which is also true of the rest of the film (while omitting the Swastikas, Iron Crosses, and blatant racial resentment), with most of the dialogue coming directly from the book. Kathy’s relationship with Benny fuels an irreverent attitude that’s peppered throughout the film, musing on their marriage and the strain that his ties to the Vandals has placed on it, thinking it was only a matter of time before he ended up killing himself on his bike. Kathy does most of the talking while Lyon listens, patiently recording her words over the course of nearly a decade. Benny, meanwhile, remains an elusive figure. While Kathy describes him at length, he barely utters a word and was never interviewed by Lyon.
I’ve had nothin’ but trouble since I married Benny. I’ve seen more jails, been to more courts and met more lawyers, and it’s only a year. That’s a short time for so much to happen.
Benny thinks that when you die, you’re better off than when you’re living. You know, like when his dad died, he said, “It’s just as well, he’s better off that way.” When his friends got killed, well, they’re better off that way. No feelings.
I thought I could change him, you know? Every woman thinks that she can change a guy. Not to her own ways, but to be different. Not to be different, but to be, I don’t know. Like he’s wild. I used to think he’d get over that. But he don’t.
