Film Review: “The Bikeriders”

The film The Bikeriders is a period piece that follows a Chicago-based motorcycle gang from its inception in 1965 to its predictable demise in 1973. Based on a seminal work of documentation from the photojournalist Danny Lyon, the film is an elegant attempt at staying true to the source material while fleshing out some of the stories in the original book to fill a two-hour running time. 

It’s been about thirty years since I first got the book, The Bikeriders. I wore those pages out studying the photographs of the Outlaws Motorcycle Club cruising through the halcyon days of biker culture. The photographs and stories create a very solid and emotional narrative, full of characters debauched and greasy, tooling on their bikes and shuffling through conflicting allegiances. I grew to know and love them all. The screenplay creates a pace that thankfully, gives the actors portraying its remarkable characters plenty of room to flex their chops.

Stylistically, the film owes a heavy debt to Scorsese’s Goodfellas, — what gang-based film made after 1990 doesn’t? The soundtrack and its dominant role in the narrative is almost as strong as its influence, but not quite as iconic. The film follows the romance between Benny and Kathy. 

The voice-over is given to Kathy, played by Jodie Comer. While Benny, an excellent Austin Butler, is the James Dean brooding type. Her Virgil is delivered in an irresistible Midwest accent that I found spot on in tone and delivery. She did a very convincing job and was hard to take your eyes off of. 

Tom Hardy, a complete fucking scene stealer, nails it as Johnny, the leader of the gang. His performance obviously takes some nods from Brando in The Wild One, while still mesmerizing in a subtleness that Hardy projects so well. All of the casting is spot on, most strongly in Michael Shannon. He wins the day as Zipco, perhaps the purest and most broken of the clan. His role may be given a lesser presence in the film, but his performance can bring one to tears.

For me, it’s in between Goodfellas and say, A Bronx Tale, if you know what I mean — a masterpiece coupled with a lesser homage. The writer/director, Jeff Nichols, does a fine job of creating a believable universe, as he has in the past. His Mud, starring Matthew McConaughey, is quite strong. 

The story follows the inception of the Vandals motorcycle club, (a fictional version of the Outlaws) born of WWII vets and other societal misfits. The gang members find solace in the club’s camaraderie. My biggest memory from the book is the laughter and child-like joy this intimidating and slightly ridiculous band of characters expresses in the intimate photos taken by Lyon. Lyon rode with the Outlaws, a la Hunter S. Thompson while writing his Hells Angels. Where that Gonzo journalist embraced the hedonistic lifestyle in legendary style, Lyon presents a more loving lens on his material. This allows for a convincing narrative arch, which again, closely tracks Goodfellas. The rise of the club coincides with modern America’s coming of age, Woodstock to Altamont if you like. The years roll by and the gang loses the thread. The dedication shifts from that of gang allegiance to drug running. Things get weird, even by the gang’s standards, and we are left with the remnants of a bygone ethos.

Bikes were adequately showcased in the film, period-accurate Harleys, BSA’s, and Indians. The chopped mentality of the time was well delivered, and cleverly worked into the plot. Many scenes were clearly composed faithfully from stills in the source material. While the end result may be a bit formulaic, the film delivers heartfelt performances with the capacity of true emotion. The complete dedication to the material can be surmised by Tom Hardy’s penchant for taking a prop home after each film. Of course, he chose his motorbike… something we’d all like to take a cruise on to a simpler time.