Film Review: The Bikeriders (2024)

I was first made aware of Danny Lyon’s 1968 photo essay book The Bikeriders back in 2007 while spending a week on the road with the Memphis band Lucero. Every night on that short tour, just before playing their song “Bikeriders,” singer Ben Nichols would talk about how much the book had influenced his life. Because of these odes to true freedom, “Bikeriders” quickly became a favorite among the band’s songs, and it was pointed out to me that the cover of the band’s 2005 album Nobody’s Darlings features a recreation of a famous photo from the book.

(I have two non-movie-related side notes about that record, the band who created it, and the week I got to spend with them. First, I just checked the Discogs page for Nobody’s Darlings and found that my original pressing, given to me by the band, is worth upwards of $90 – making it, at the moment, the most valuable record I own). Second, while in Tallahassee, the band’s drummer Roy got me more drunk more quickly than I’d ever been in my life before or since. I was so out of it and wild that we almost got kicked out of both the venue and the hotel. Roy thought it was hilarious, while I don’t remember any of it.)

Which brings us to director Jeff Nichols’ 2024 adaptation of Lyon’s 1968 photo book and, by extension, Lucero’s 2005 song of the same name. As it turns out, Jeff Nichols is the younger brother of Ben Nichols, the singer of Lucero. Small world indeed.

But it isn’t just these real-world coincidences that inform my admiration for Nichols’ filmed version of The Bikeriders. It’s also the wild abandon of its characters and its complete admiration of unapologetic nonconformists that fuel my fire. Nichols taps into the defiance of his Vandals Motorcycle Club (a stand-in for the real-life Outlaws, a notorious Chicago-based outfit founded in 1935) with an ease only available to someone who’s practiced it himself – or at the very least, witnessed it first-hand for an extended period. Authentically portraying subcultures is hard to do well (just look at any given ‘80s punk panic movie), but Nichols not only vividly captured the look of 1960s motorcycle rebels but also the take-no-shit attitude they proudly rode around with too.

Of course, this genuine display of ungovernable freedom is only possible with a cast that can pull it off. Lucky for us, Nichols has assembled one of the year’s best ensembles to do just that. Austin Butler’s Benny has enough James Dean good looks to match the late star’s youthful disregard for everything sacred, while Tom Hardy’s Johnny makes no apologies for aping Marlon Brando whenever possible. (Watching Hardy react to the classic The Wild One line “Hey Johnny, what are you rebelling against?” to which Brando replies “Whadda you got?” is like watching someone’s life change right before your eyes.)

The supporting cast is equally up to the challenge. Michael Shannon’s Zipco, Damon Herriman’s Brucie, and the rest of the colorful misfit characters add a nostalgic sense of community and the kind of friendships that form only through shared experiences. Fist-fighting, arson, flagrant moving violations, and steadfast defiance of conservative values might not be a staple of everyone’s past, but The Bikeriders makes you feel like one of the gang, even if you walked a steadier line in life.

What The Bikeriders really comes down to, though, is the career-defining performance of Jodie Comer. As someone who grew up in the midwest, the Chicago accent is nothing new to me, but Comer’s transformation into Kathy – a newcomer to the lifestyle and the glue that holds the whole story together – is nothing short of astounding. Of course there’s more to acting than mastering accents, but Comer is the whole package. Her facial expressions alone (I just about die every time she rolls her eyes at something that’s annoyed her) are award-worthy. And when you couple that with her ability to harness the emotions of someone torn between a life she both loves and fears equally (well, maybe Kathy loves the life a little more than she fears it), you’ve easily got one of my favorite showings of the year. Comer is a bonafide star in the making, just you watch.

You may not be able to identify with the specific brand of recklessness and rebellion Nichols and The Bikeriders reproduce, but I’d be willing to bet you can, at least in some small way, understand the need some people have for it. My hope is that The Bikeriders has the same effect on young people that The Outsiders had on me, and that the rebellious freedom I found within sticks with them long into their adulthood as well.