The Bikeriders Review: Impressive Ride Lacks Destination

Jeff Nichols’ latest film, The Bikeriders, brings viewers into the world of 1960s motorcycle clubs. Based on photographer Danny Lyon’s book that documented real Midwest biker gangs, the movie follows the fictional Chicago Vandals. We meet the group through the eyes of Kathy, a young woman who finds herself drawn into their lifestyle after meeting club member Benny at a bar. Played by Austin Butler, Benny becomes the object of affection not just for Kathy but also for the gang’s leader, Johnny, portrayed with complexity by Tom Hardy. Under Johnny’s guidance, the Vandals form a band of brothers, seeking purpose through their passionate embrace of the open road.

The film strikes an authentic tone in recreating the period. Subtle touches like hairstyles, clothing, and the genuine rumble of vintage Harley engines pull you straight into the atmosphere of that time. Where it falters somewhat is in the narrative. While the characters feel lived-in, the story lacks a sharp focus. It drifts between different threads without fully exploring any. Viewers are left with more surface-level impressions of these outsiders than deep understanding. Where the movie soars in setting the scene, it remains somewhat floaty in crafting a truly compelling storyline to grip the audience. For those seeking an immersive trip back in time, the experience delivers, but those hoping for more meaningful insights may find themselves hungering for more substance off the highway.

Riding the Era

Director Jeff Nichols crafted The Bikeriders to take viewers straight to 1960s rural Midwest America. With cargo pants and leather jackets still kept in attics, we forget what everyday life looked and felt like in that distinctive era. Nichols ensures we never do, thanks to the work of cinematographer Adam Stone and the artistic crew.

Stone’s camera puts us right among the riders. It glides down country roads beside roaring Harleys and pulls tight on weathered faces in smoky bars. We feel the warmth of a setting sun and glimpse stars emerge through wisps of cigarette smoke. Interior scenes place us within cozy homes and cluttered garages, authentically dressed and lit. The camera’s roving eye observes details that flesh out this fading world.

It’s a time machine crafted with care. Costume designer Erin E. Benach sourced period-perfect fashions, from Kathy’s collared shirt to Johnny’s faded cutoffs. Her collections populate Nichols’ rural landscapes, from farms to suburban streets. Production designer Callie Khouri then dressed every interior, adding knickknacks, kitsch, and clutter that screamed the ordinary lives of the mid-century Midwest.

Of course, none capture the era’s essence better than the bikes themselves. Witnessing the Vandals strike out down open roads, we’re part of the pack. Those scenes honor Lyon’s photos while giving modern viewers a visceral sense of riding free. A story set nearly 60 years ago could have relied on flashy artifice. Instead, Nichols prioritized authentic representations that immerse us in another time, roaring down the open road of history on wheels of fiery nostalgia.

Revving Hearts: The Characters of The Bikeriders

The beating heart of any story lies in its characters, and in The Bikeriders, director Jeff Nichols has assembled a stellar cast. At the center are Benny, Kathy, and Johnny, played with passion and nuance by Austin Butler, Jodie Comer, and Tom Hardy.

Butler imbues Benny with quiet intensity. Through his piercing blue eyes and stillness, we feel the conflict between Benny’s desire for adventure and belonging. In tender moments with Kathy, Butler allows Benny’s walls to drop, revealing the gentle soul beneath the tough exterior. We understand what she sees in him.

Comer has the tricky task of guiding us through this world as an outsider, Kathy. Though her accent takes adjustment, she makes Kathy’s wonder at finding herself in this exciting new scene Feel authentic. Where the character is sometimes flat on the page, Comer fills her with spirit, complex emotion, and resilience. We root for Kathy and Benny’s romance against the odds.

As Johnny, the leader of the pack, Tom Hardy is a towering, compelling presence. He injects Johnny with layers of care, fear, pride, and fraying control. In his shifting gazes and rumbles, we see both the brother he is to these men and the mounting pressure bearing down. Hardy makes us feel Johnny’s dilemma over passing the torch to Benny.

Stealing many scenes are Michael Shannon’s unhinged Zipco, Boyd Holbrook’s gearhead Grin, and Emory Cohen’s charismatic roach-eater. Sadly, supporting roles like Damon Herriman’s Brucie are too sparse. More time with this colorful crew would have bolstered the drama.

Overall, strong performances elevate material that is sometimes thin. But in Austin Butler, Jodie Comer, and Tom Hardy’s thoughtful inhabitation of this world, The Bikeriders finds its beating heart.

Immersion in a Vanishing World

The Bikeriders take us on a journey back in time, immersing us in the world of a 1960s motorcycle club. We get to know the close-knit members of the Vandals through the eyes of Kathy and experience the brotherhood they find within the group.

In many ways, the Vandals provide a sense of belonging and community for men struggling in post-war America. With conventional ideals shaken and dreams of prosperity not always panning out, the club offers camaraderie and a lifestyle that allows free-spirited rebellion. Johnny created the Vandals after being inspired by Brando’s iconic leather-clad rebel, seeing in it a sense of purpose. Through the Vandals, these men can escape the pressures of stereotypical masculinity and form meaningful bonds.

However, the film hints at looming change as stifling norms begin shifting once more. Younger men misunderstand and pervert the carefree spirit that first defined the Vandals. The returning veterans bring unseen trauma that alters the club’s atmosphere. We see Benny torn between familial duty and loyalty to the only family he’s ever known. The encroachment of violence threatens to upset the delicate balance within this vanished world.

There are missed opportunities to delve deeper into how the shadows of Vietnam weigh on these characters. The film could have probed more into how the ideals of masculinity were transforming in response to the tumultuous times. Still, we gain insight into how completely the Vandals filled essential needs for men left adrift as old certainties faded out of focus forever. The bittersweet glory days of innocence and belonging the film captures are destined to fade into history, like a free spirit slipping away on the open highway.

The Riders’ Journey

The Bikeriders had all the ingredients to deliver a compelling portrait of its counterculture characters. With Austin Butler and Tom Hardy turning in magnetic lead performances as Benny and Johnny, viewers are pulled straight into the gritty world of the Chicago Vandals motorcycle club. Through Kathy’s recollections, we get insightful glimpses into the lives and bonds shared by these outcast men who found purpose in their brotherhood.

However, the film struggles to sustain its momentum in the second half. Shifting between multiple perspectives, it loses track of the most engaging threads set up early on. Namely, the conflicted allegiance felt by Benny towards both his fellow riders and his wife Kathy. Their relationship is uniquely positioned to provide an entry point that bridges the gang’s lifestyle with societal expectations, yet too few scenes are dedicated to exploring this layer.

The inclusion of “The Kid” subplot also feels formulaic. Instead of saying something new about disenfranchised youths drawn to rebel icons, it resorts to familiar tropes of idealization turning violent. More time with the central trio could have lent psychological depth, showing their personal transformations against the backdrop of the 1960s.

While evocative production elements bring the period setting to life, the vibrancy of character is what makes for lasting drama. By widening their focus, these individuals risk losing their interior complexity. With a tighter spotlight on the emotional journey of Benny, Johnny, and Kathy, The Bikeriders may have achieved a deeper portraiture of its riders’ shared camaraderie and the societal forces that ultimately threatened to tear them apart.

Cinematography Transports You to 1960s

Adam Stone’s lensing makes you feel like you’re stepping into 1965. He uses deep-focus shots that immerse you in each scene, allowing small details to come alive. His honeyed textures paint portraits of each character. You notice the frayed threads on Benny’s jacket, cigarette smoke crawling across his face in dimly lit bars.

Stone captures the vast rural plains where the Vandals roam. Wide shots of over a dozen bikes rumbling down two-lane highways let the tension unfold. Their powerful engines roar in counterpoint to these men’s quieter souls. In closeups, his camera bends across faces, modulating emotion with subtlety.

Every sensory experience pulls you deeper in. Needledrops from the 1950s set a halcyon mood. Songs like “Out in the Streets” become motifs; their opening notes center scenes. Costumes achieve utmost authenticity too, down to earrings and unshirted torsos.

Production design flawlessly reconstructs the period. Brownstone neighborhoods and downtown strips come to vibrant three-dimensional life. You can picture campaign signs for the unfolding Vietnam War and recruits down the block.

Even the bikes invite you to slide on them. Each member’s treasured vehicle carries its own battle scars and modifications, roaring with thunderous soul. Their chorused engines announce packs rolling across the plains, at once muscular and freeing.

Through its technical mastery, The Bikeriders completely transports you to its era, keeping you immersed in its irresistible bygone world.

The Bikeriders Rides Off Course

While its technical achievements are hard to fault, The Bikeriders struggles to weave them into a captivating tale. Adam Stone and his team gift us 1965 in stunning detail, yet even they can’t salvage an unfocused story.

This world overflows with avenues for depth that go unexplored. The Vietnam War’s emotional fallout and youth culture shifts barely surface. We see bikers embarking on new lives but understand little of what drove them to this path. Relationships like Kathy and Benny’s deserve more intimacy to make us fully invest in their choices.

It’s a letdown because real bikers’ lives held inherent complexity, begging dramatization. These men found belonging after society left them adrift. Their brotherhood provided support and escape, but it also trapped them in crises of their own making. More time wrestling these knots could have honored real bikers while gripping audiences.

Jeff Nichols excels at piercing what lies beneath surface façades. His past works burrowed into characters’ psyches with care. The Bikeriders aim lower by rehashing clichés. It’s a rare misstep for a filmmaker known for nuanced insights.

The Nichols put immense passion into bringing this world to life. With his talents, this period remains ripe for rediscovery in a story doing full justice to its human truths. Perhaps next ride, he’ll wrangle a tighter script to match his technical vision, delivering an experience fully worthy of its rich source material.

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