BIKERIDERS. Holy Motors [REVIEW]

In one of the opening scenes of “Bikeriders,” we observe a series of interviews with members of the Chicago motorcycle group, The Vandals. When one of the club members, Brucie (Damon Herriman), is asked about society’s hostility towards bikers, he responds, “I guess they just need someone to pick on.” This unassuming moment captures the essence of Jeff Nichols’ film, which smoothly combines sincere nostalgia for the counterculture era with a critical reflection on it.

The script is based on a photo report by Danny Lyon, who documented the activities of the Chicago motorcycle club Outlaws in the 1960s. Using the inspired group The Vandals as an example, Nichols portrays the full spectrum of the biker environment—the genuine and innocent passion behind it, but also its darker aspects. The initial parts of the film (not to mention the marketing campaign) may evoke associations with “Goodfellas”: an anecdotal storytelling style set to the rhythm of hits from the era, a voiceover narration guiding us through key points of the story, and the mentor-father relationship of the group’s founder, Johnny (Tom Hardy), with the young and edgy Benny (Austin Butler).

However, associations with Scorsese are a dead end. It seems more fitting to place “Bikeriders” against the backdrop of classic motorcycle cinema, led by “The Wild One” and “Easy Rider.” Both titles are directly referenced by Nichols. The film with Marlon Brando was an inspiration for Johnny to form the club, while Dennis Hopper’s work is mentioned after the “vandals” take their first steps into criminality. Thematically, Nichols situates himself somewhere between these classics—instead of taking a clear stance, the director focuses on honest observation.

For the characters, belonging to the club is primarily about identity—it usually stems from the weariness of a gray reality and the search for one’s place in society. A key scene features Michael Shannon’s character, Zipco, recounting a drunken anecdote about how he failed to enlist in Vietnam. In one absurd moment, Nichols captures the sense of frustration associated with being lost in life. The same goes for Benny, the archetypical cool rebel who constantly pushes the boundaries of risk as a member of the “vandals,” but outside the biker world, he is completely out of place.

The director illustrates all the paradoxes of The Vandals’ world. The on-screen bikers are, on one hand, a group of close-knit friends who value loyalty and brotherhood above all. However, Nichols also shows the toxic side of this picture, constantly balancing irony and sympathy for the characters with a palpable sense of impending downfall. In the early parts of the film, a brutal brawl between two rival gangs can quickly turn into a friendly chat over a beer, but the carefree buddy party atmosphere won’t last forever. It doesn’t take long for all these male rituals to escalate—to the point where they get out of anyone’s control.

This turning point comes with a generational shift within the “vandals.” Here, the nostalgic dimension of Nichols’ film reveals itself. Although Benny, according to his wife Kathy (Jodie Comer), “feels absolutely nothing,” he is far from the primitive brutality of the group’s new members. “Bikeriders” becomes a story of the fall of a certain myth, but even here, the director avoids black-and-white divisions. On-screen violence escalates in an organic, almost imperceptible way, shown in a deliberately uneventful style—which makes it all the more impactful.

This theme resonates mainly because Nichols stays close to the characters. The key plot revolves around Benny and the two forces fighting for his “soul”—his wife Kathy and his mentor and symbolic father, Johnny. It would have been easy to fall into stereotypes here, but each side has its own reasons in this struggle—thus avoiding easy moralizing. The excellent trio of Comer-Butler-Hardy helps bring out these nuances—each of the three main actors smoothly combines impressive mannerisms with character depth.

However, perhaps Nichols’ greatest success is the skillful combination of ambition with a digestible form. “Bikeriders” is a film of simple means, but its strength comes from this simplicity. Viewed in the festival context, Nichols’ work may seem out of place, but there’s no reason to complain—we may habitually indulge in European arthouse cinema, but we also need films like “Bikeriders.”

Writteen by Jedrzej Paczkowski