From the very first scene of The Bikeriders, director Jeff Nichols is working hard to evoke an era. In an opening deep focus shot through a bar’s door frame, Benny, a biker, sits at the bar with his back to us. The camera pushes in, revealing two older men approaching him. They want him to remove his colors—his vest of patches—or leave the bar. As Benny quietly takes in their demand, we take in his visage: the frayed threads on his jacket, the insignia of a skull that indicates his membership in the Chicago Vandals club, and, of course, the brooding expression of Butler. Cigarette smoke crawls across Benny’s face; his finger taps his whiskey glass. “You’d have to kill me,” Benny responds. It’s a gripping scene, one invested with pristine period detail meant to provide a snapshot of a culture and the aura of a man.
The heart of the film lies in Austin Butler’s portrayal of Benny. With movie star energy, Butler captures the essence of freedom that defines the biker subculture. His rugged features and James Dean-esque charisma draw us in. Butler is an extraordinary actor, and since he caught the worlds attention in Elvis, he’s become my favourite actor. His commitment to his roles is second to none. As the viewer, we’re immediately attracted to what Benny represents: rebellion, independence, and the open road. The cinematography, inspired by photographer Danny Lyon’s work, adds depth and visual appeal to the story.
Kathy (Jodie Comer) serves as our entry point into this world. An outsider, she’s perplexed by the rules, rituals, and politics of the biker club. Kathy’s chance encounter with Benny at a bar sets the stage for her journey. She lives in a everyday Midwest home with her working-class husband, who Benny scares off after parking his bike outside their home. As Kathy introduces us to the rest of the club—level-headed Brucie, gear-head Cal, the unstable Latvian Zipco, and the bug-eater Cockroach—we witness the camaraderie, loyalty, and danger that define their brotherhood.
The Bikeriders basks in grime and sleaze, unapologetically capturing the raw authenticity of this subculture. It’s a candid portrayal grounded in reality. While some may expect adrenaline-fueled action, the film takes a more contemplative approach. It delves into the community that American men have found for decades in motorcycle culture, even as the golden age of the 1960s wanes, and criminal activity begins to infiltrate their ranks.
As the story unfolds, it occasionally loses its initial magic and energy. The third act veers into slightly clichéd territory, addressing the end of an era. Yet, the film’s commitment to authenticity remains intact. The Bikeriders are rebels with a cause—seeking freedom, brotherhood, and the thrill of the ride.
The Bikeriders is a gritty, visually arresting film that immerses us in a world where leather jackets, roaring engines, and the wind in your hair symbolize more than just a lifestyle—they represent a quest for freedom, identity, and the pursuit of the horizon. Whether you’re a motorcycle enthusiast or simply curious about the human need to break free, this film offers a captivating ride through the heart of rebellion. Buckle up and hit the throttle; The Bikeriders invites you to join the pack and feel the wind on your face as you chase your own sense of liberation.