Jeff Nichols’ The Bikeriders features an odd setting that, when you think about it, actually makes perfect sense. Many of us, when we conjure the image of a motorcycle gang, don’t imagine that the riders sound like Margie from Fargo. In my mind’s eye I hear a gruff Brooklyn accent or perhaps something more southern. Yet it stands to reason that this is a bias based wholly in pop culture and not in common sense. Why wouldn’t the Midwest have motorcycle clubs? They exist everywhere else in the world, so why would this area be exempt? The geography is certainly more conducive to packs of bikers than, say, Philadelphia.
It’s this that proves to be the film’s most memorable and striking element. As these leather-clad toughs navigate their purposefully turbulent lives, they do so with accents that would feel much more at home in a Piggly Wiggly. Well, except for Tom Hardy and Austin Butler, the former who is just sorta doing his Venom thing while the latter still has one brooding foot stuck in Elvis territory. It’s an odd choice for both of them to eschew reality in exchange for what one can only assume is a flex of their collective star power, but I guess that’s the price you pay when you cast your film with a roster of the world’s greatest weirdboyz character actors. Yeah, the name of their gang is The Vandals, but I think The Ugly Hunks would be more appropriate.
The Bikeriders is based on the book of the same name which, despite a handful of interviews and such, is functionally a collection of photographs. A few of these gorgeously compelling photographs are shown in the film’s closing credits, and it’s no mystery why Nichols was inspired to turn them into a movie. By all accounts he has successfully recreated these images and put them into motion, yet despite an assured directorial hand and some of the most realistic production design you’re apt to see, the film struggles to find a story. It’s a hangout movie that doesn’t always seem to recognize itself as a hangout movie. In this way, perhaps it’s a perfect adaptation of a photo-book, but as a movie it needs more.
The story is spun from the point of view of Kathy (Jodie Comer), a young woman who has found herself in love with Benny (Austin Butler) a troubled young man who also happens to be the most volatile member of The Vandals. The framing device comes in the form of an interview, in which Kathy tells of the rise and fall of said biker gang to Danny (Mike Faist), a reporter looking to chronicle the whole thing (perhaps for a photo/interview book or something like that…who could tell?). This format places the film alongside things like Boogie Nights, Goodfellas, or The Wolf of Wall Street, namely in that it’s a tale of “things were good until they got corrupted and then everything crumbled.” Like a road movie, this template is a safe bet in terms of mining a story from a solid ensemble, and whereas The Bikeriders doesn’t fare as well as the other films I’ve mentioned (two of which have a true story at their center), Nichols does a respectable job of giving us something both watchable and compelling, at least in the moment. A the credits roll the film fades from memory like a taillight over the horizon.
Sorry not sorry.
The first hour or so has an incredible energy. As we meet the core members of the gang, all of whom are played by recognizable weirdboyz, there manifests a strong feeling of “a storms a-comin’” that promises an explosive final reel that never quite arrives. Perhaps this is by design, as most movies of this ilk follow the “ends not with a bang, but with a whimper” truism that guides the real world, yet I can’t help but think a middle ground could’ve been found where the film doesn’t peter out into a hangout movie just as it reaches highway speeds. Yet this is an issue that I’ve had with Nichols’ previous work, and it’s an issue that tends to dissipate like so much exhaust once I give his films a second viewing. I’m happy to do the same with The Bikeriders. I’d like to spend more time in this world, and I’m hopeful that this issue of wheel-spinning (not a purposeful pun, converse to others I’ve made in this piece) will fade when I do.
And it’s the world which has been created that makes this film worth checking out. The production design is top-notch, true to life from the flat, broad midwestern setting down to the tremendous architectural and costume design. Based on the photos shown during the closing credits, one can see how thoroughly past reality was resurrected in each and every choice. The supporting cast, both featured and silent, fill the frame with a verisimilitude that makes certain moments feel like documentary footage, even if our two leading men fall victim to too-showy choices that occasionally upset the balance. This isn’t to say that Hardy or Butler aren’t working their asses off, but perhaps they could’ve toned it down a bit and taken a note from Michael Shannon who, despite his always imposing presence, disappears entirely into his supporting role. Maybe it’s because I just watched it the other day, but I’m reminded of his turn in Pearl Harbor, a film defined by huge choices, in which Shannon acts circles around everybody simply by dialing down his energy. To put it simply and express it through more cycling puns: our leads could’ve pumped the brakes and the film itself could’ve stepped on the gas.
Even with these misgivings in play, the tremendous attention to detail and the strong supporting performances allow The Bikeriders to remain entertaining even as it shifts gears in the back half. Although the feeling of missed opportunities is never fully shaken, it all still makes for a solid hang. We’ve seen better versions of this film in the past, but we’ve never seen it in this setting.
Directed by Jeff Nichols
Written by Jeff Nichols
Starring Jodie Comer, Austin Butler, Tom Hardy, Phuong Kubacki
Rated R, 116 minutes