by Victoria Silverwolf
I've talked about my inexplicable interest in movies about motorcycle gangs a couple of times before. Naturally, when I heard about a new biker film that's drawing a lot of attention, I had to take a look.
The fact that it won an award at the prestigious Cannes film festival gave me a hint that this wasn't going to be the usual trashy B movie about guys on choppers getting into fights.
Let's meet our two main characters. I hesitate to call them heroes, because the first thing we see them do is buy cocaine in Mexico, then sell it to a rich guy in a limousine. They hide the cash in a plastic tube inside the gas tank of one of the motorcycles.
Peter Fonda, who produced and co-wrote the film, plays Wyatt, often known as Captain America. He usually plays it cool, not saying much, keeping a calm demeanor most of the time.
Dennis Hopper, who directed and co-wrote the movie, plays Billy. He's much more emotional, often giggling and playing the clown, sometimes nervous and jumpy.
Once these two have their grub stake, they head out on a journey from Los Angeles to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. Along the way they meet all kinds of people.
The first encounter is with a friendly rancher and his family. So far, everything seems just fine. You can almost forget that these two are drug dealers.
After riding through some really gorgeous scenery in the American West, often accompanied by groovy rock music, they pick up a hitchhiker. He's on his way to a hippie commune in the desert.
The place is full of young adults who have dropped out of society. There are also lots of little kids. To add to the chaos, there's also a troupe of mimes and other performers.
We see folks sow seeds of grain in what looks like bare ground. Billy predicts that the commune is doomed to fail, while Wyatt is more optimistic. After skinny dipping with a couple of young women, they move on.
In some little town they join a parade in progress, just for fun. That gets them in trouble with the cops. Thrown in jail for parading without a license, they meet the film's most memorable character.
Jack Nicholson plays the town lawyer, who's in the drunk tank. You may remember him as the masochistic dental patient in The Little Shop Of Horrors. He was hilarious in that low budget comedy, and he's as much of a hoot in this role. I predict he'll continue to steal every film in which he appears as a fine comic actor.
After Nicholson gets the two bikers out of jail, he joins them on their trip to the Big Easy. It seems he's heard about a fancy bordello in New Orleans and would like to visit the place. Along the way they try to get a bite to eat at a little diner in some other small town.
The young women present admire them. They dare each other to ask them for a ride on their bikes.
The men in the diner aren't so friendly. They openly insult the trio. Wisely, the three quickly head out the door, refusing to take the women along. Despite their caution, things don't work out well. Let's just say that Nicholson won't make it to New Orleans.
Wyatt and Billy wind up at the brothel, where they engage the services of two prostitutes. As far as I can tell, they don't actually have sex with them. Instead, they go outside to join the Mardi Gras celebration, then head out to the famous above ground cemetery of the Big Easy.
Among the tombs, the four share a dose of LSD Wyatt picked up from the hitchhiker. This leads to our mandatory acid trip sequence, making use of all kinds of special effects in an attempt to portray the psychedelic experience.
Those of you who are like me, and rush out to see movies about today's longhaired, drug-using nonconformists (hipsploitation?), may be reminded of The Trip from a couple of years ago. That one also starred Fonda and Hopper, and has a screenplay credited to Nicholson. Like Easy Rider, The Trip uses visual distortion to convey the experience of dropping acid. (Taking LSD, for you squares.)
The film ends in a melodramatic fashion. Suffice to say that trouble arrives in the form of two guys in a pickup truck.
I said that Fonda and Hopper wrote the film, along with Terry Southern (best known for his work on Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb) but I doubt there was much of a script at all. Much of the action and dialogue seems improvised. The mood varies, seemingly at random, from peaceful to comic to tragic.
There's not a lot of plot. Much of the running time consists of the characters riding on their motorcycles with loud music on the soundtrack. (In particular, the rousing number Born to Be Wild is destined to be played at full volume by lots of people on fast bikes or in fast cars.)
The cinematography, whether it be of desert wilderness, small towns, or the Big Easy, is excellent. Some may consider Easy Rider to be shapeless, but I found it to be an intriguing portrait of the counterculture in opposition to the mainstream of society. (See the recent article by my esteemed colleague Kris Vyas-Myall for a more profound discussion of the theme.)
Head out on the highway.
Five stars.
