Jeff Nichols, inspired by Danny Lyon’s photography book The Bikeriders, brings to screen a fictionalized portrayal of a 1960s Chicago motorcycle club, The Vandals Biker Gang. Nichols’ film, aptly titled The Bikeriders, uses Lyon’s iconic imagery as a starting point but crafts a narrative that, while visually compelling, ultimately struggles to deliver a fully realized story about this imagined group.
The film’s narrative structure, reminiscent of Goodfellas, is driven by Kathy, played by Jodie Comer, who serves as our narrator. Her Midwest accent, while a point of discussion, effectively guides us into the world of the Vandals biker gang. Tom Hardy embodies Johnny, the founder of the club, whose motivation seems almost whimsical – sparked by Marlon Brando in The Wild One. This casual origin works initially, but as the film progresses, mirroring its Goodfellas inspiration, the narrative arc becomes predictably formulaic, lacking the nuanced editing that propelled Scorsese’s classic.
Austin Butler, fresh from Elvis fame, takes on the role of Benny, Kathy’s husband and a key member of the Vandals biker gang. Benny is depicted as a brooding, impulsive biker, characterized more by his striking looks than substantial character development. While Butler’s presence is undeniably captivating, the film struggles to justify Kathy’s unwavering devotion to him, leaving audiences questioning the depth of their relationship and Benny’s appeal beyond surface level charm within the Vandals biker gang. The film hints at Benny’s turbulent nature early on, but the love story at the heart of The Bikeriders feels underdeveloped, making Kathy’s motivations regarding her involvement with a man so deeply entrenched in the Vandals biker gang somewhat opaque.
The ensemble cast fleshing out the Vandals biker gang includes Jeff Nichols’ regular collaborator Michael Shannon, alongside Boyd Holbrook, Emory Cohen, and Karl Glusman, among others. Some members of the Vandals biker gang are given more distinct personalities, like Cohen’s “Cockroach” and Shannon’s “Zipco,” who delivers a poignant monologue. However, many of the Vandals biker gang members, much like Benny, remain thinly sketched. One can’t help but wonder how a director known for ensemble character work, like Richard Linklater, might have enriched these roles within the Vandals biker gang and brought more individuality to each biker.
Nichols’ filmmaking style, often described as classic and deliberate, feels somewhat at odds with the raw, gritty aesthetic one might expect from a film about a motorcycle club like the Vandals biker gang. While “Cockroach” talks about embracing dirt and grime, the film’s visual presentation often leans towards a stylized cleanliness. Costumes, while perhaps intended to evoke a sense of authenticity, sometimes appear too pristine, more akin to fashion inspiration drawn from Americana than genuine biker wear. The film’s visual inspiration from a photo book is evident, but it occasionally translates into a look that feels more curated than lived-in, slightly distancing the audience from the supposed reality of the Vandals biker gang.
Despite likely budget limitations, which are subtly suggested by the limited close-ups on the motorcycles themselves, Nichols’ directorial skill and visual sense largely prevent these constraints from becoming overly distracting. Adam Stone’s cinematography paints the Midwest, specifically Southern Ohio standing in for Chicago, in cool, atmospheric tones. However, a more significant issue lies in Nichols’ script, which often resorts to exposition rather than subtext. Moments that could be visually conveyed, such as the contrast between the older and younger members of the Vandals biker gang arriving at a rumble, are instead explicitly stated through Kathy’s narration.
There is an undeniable cinematic thrill in watching motorcycles roar across the screen, and the concept of “runs”—group rides central to motorcycle club culture and the Vandals biker gang lifestyle—is mentioned. A Vandal casually refers to a run to Columbus, Ohio. Yet, crucially, we never witness these runs. Easy Rider, a touchstone for biker films, was essentially one extended motorcycle run, deeply understanding the allure of the open road. Whether due to budgetary reasons or script choices, the absence of a significant riding sequence in The Bikeriders feels like a missed opportunity to immerse the audience in the core experience of the Vandals biker gang. Similarly, Kathy’s voiceover describes her first exhilarating encounter with the Vandals biker gang emerging from the darkness on their bikes, but the scene itself lacks the visceral impact needed, with the score and narration competing with the engine sounds rather than amplifying them. Brief glimpses of raw horsepower are present, but they are not prioritized as a central cinematic element. The recent Ferrari teaser trailer serves as a stark reminder of how powerfully unadorned engine sounds can resonate.
The Bikeriders finds its footing in its portrayal of an ordinary, somewhat aimless motorcycle club in 1960s Chicago. In an era where genuine subcultures are increasingly rare, diluted by the internet’s pervasive influence, a straightforward, even romanticized, depiction of community among men, such as the Vandals biker gang, could have resonated. However, the film shifts gears in its second half, attempting to grapple with the transition from the idealistic 60s to the grittier 70s after a time jump. This thematic territory, exploring the loss of innocence and the darkening of counterculture, is well-trodden ground, seen recently in films like Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood, and, relevantly, in biker films like Easy Rider and Gimme Shelter. While The Bikeriders presents a visually interesting take on the Vandals biker gang, its narrative and thematic explorations ultimately feel somewhat conventional and less impactful than they could have been.
The Bikeriders debuted at the 50th Telluride Film Festival and is scheduled for theatrical release on December 1, 2023.
