The Bikeriders  - Review

Rating: 4 out of 5

JEFF Nichols takes aim at bike culture in The Bikeriders, which plays as both an ode to free spirits and grease monkeys as well as an examination of masculinity, lawlessness and rebellion.

Inspired by the pictures and interviews of photographer Danny Lyon, who rode with and documented a gang between 1963 and 1967, the film serves as both a fascinating historical document (70% of the dialogue is taken verbatim from the interviews) and a compelling slice of fiction, served by some terrific performances and stunning cinematography.

The story revolves around the rise of a fictional 60s Chicago-based motorcycle gang known as The Vandals, founded by a family man named Johnny (Tom Hardy) after being inspired by Marlon Brando in The Wild Ones.

One of the Vandals’ most notable members is Benny (Austin Butler), a trouble prone drifter who lives to ride, but who finds himself torn between his loyalty to Johnny and his love for Kathy (Jodie Comer), the feisty woman he meets in a bar and marries five weeks later.

Their ensuing love triangle of sorts plays out against the backdrop of a continually evolving era, in which the Vandals evolve from being a local outlet for like-minded men to a national movement (comprised of different chapters), which subsequently becomes more violent and rebellious.

For Johnny, this involves adapting to the demands of being its recognised leader and the challenges he faces from wannabe successors (challenges that can either be resolved with fists or knives).

Nichols, as director, chronicles this change by dividing his film into two distinct halves: the first imbued with a romanticism befitting the allure of the early movement and the beauty inherent in many of Lyon’s black and white photos, some of which are lovingly recreated here.

A sequence involving Kathy’s initial discovery of Benny harks back to a classic era of filmmaking and a classic all-American look, with Butler sure to set hearts swooning in the way that he combines raw sexuality with an unspoken sense of danger.

But there’s also something seductive about the way in which Nichols allows his camera to linger over almost slow motion views of bikers drifting through towns, stopping onlookers in their tracks… offering a certain sense of freedom and rebellion.

Yet as their celebrity grows, the film switches gears into darker territory amid the challenges posed by society’s distaste for them and the rival factions within the group. The ensuing violence becomes more grounded. There is a heightened sense of danger, of desperation and of meanness (which Nichols has stated is intentional).

Kathy becomes more desperate to rescue Benny from the gang, while Johnny works harder to have him succeed as leader.

By fictionalising this element of the story, Nichols is comfortably able to take dramatic licence with his storytelling, even venturing into genre territory that is sometimes more akin to Scorsese’s Goodfellas than Dennis Hopper’s Easy Rider.

In doing so, he also gets to examine the psychologies at play, from the idea of what it means to be a genuinely free spirit to the masculinity underpinning such a large gathering of men and the dangers this brings. He also juxtaposes the cool of the movie outlaw with the harsher reality of real-life violence, never more so than during a house party in which the threat of assault and sexual violence are but seconds away. There is a palpable sense of dread.

It’s during these moments that the likes of Hardy, Comer and Butler deliver their best work - all on mesmerising form and embracing the complexities of their characters.

Yet while the fictionalised elements of the story certainly drive the narrative, Nichols also remembers to be respectful to those real life riders who helped to inspire his film in the first place, never losing sight of their stories either.

Here, we get to enjoy performances from the likes of Nichols regular Michael Shannon (as the almost permanently drunken Zipco), Boyd Holdbrook (as the mechanic Cal), Norman Reedus (as Californian recruit Funny Sunny) and Damon Herriman (as the tragic Brucie) that adhere to the truth of the people they’re depicting.

Comer’s Kathy is also a real-life person, whose interviews inform so much of the script.

The Bikeriders therefore stands as a rich tapestry of a movie - one that lovingly captures a movement and a moment in American history, as well as an examination of culture and ideology. It’s as intelligent, involving and brilliant as we have come to expect from a filmmaker who continually rates among the finest of his generation (see also Take Shelter, Midnight Special, Loving and Mud).