‘The Bikeriders’ review: Tom Hardy and company on cruise control

The Bikeriders is the latest from Jeff Nichols and it’s too cozy in nostalgic, macho vibes to make an impact.

How much of our identity is defined by the media we consume? Should we be maintaining an image, rebellious or otherwise? When does an image become a reality? These questions are mulled — by the movie, the audience, or both — throughout Jeff Nichols’ The Bikeriders. It’s a masculine, sturdy-crafted, handsomely-mounted tale of communal brotherhood, hard-fought traditions, and the blood, grief, and violence that occurs to those who try too hard to maintain those ideals. This historical ‘60s drama is an engaging, if all-too-often unadventurous, ode to the tales told by fathers and elders of old, and a thoughtful, if earnest, reflection on the ways that these ideals made and broke the men that defined our recent past. 

In 1965, Benny Cross (Austin Butler), a sauve, mysterious bad boy with a heart of gold, wins the affections of outspoken good girl Kathy (Jodie Comer) who can’t help but be smitten by this outcast. Benny then forms a bond with the Chicago Vandals, a motorcycle club formed by Johnny Davis (Tom Hardy). Johnny is a gruff, imposing leader wanting to take control of his surroundings through brawls, beer, and sheer force of will. Benny quickly learns that he’s the real McCoy and, in a land of imposters, Johnny needs a man like Benny to maintain law and disorder in his rapidly-expanding enterprise. The club starts growing out of control and the moody presence of a few rough-and-tumble youngsters wanting to join doesn’t help. Benny must choose between Johnny, a man who wants undying loyalty, and Kathy, who stresses the dangers of sticking with the company of troublemakers.

Born to be wild (or at least, act wild).

Told through dramatized interviews with Danny Lyon (Challengers’ Mike Faist), who provided the source material that Nichols’ screenplay adapts, The Bikeriders wants to constantly blend the real with the alluring fantasy. It shows the ideal for masculine mayhem and the pitfalls of reality, which anyone could be susceptible to. It’s a wild that’s deliberately aware of how inherently tragic it is. Men will chase boyish delusions before appreciating the women and children who accept them. There’s a lot to admire in the film’s painstaking efforts to capture the era in a way that plays both to nostalgia and history. Lyon’s photographs and interviews make The Bikeriders feel both stylish and rugged. It’s as if you’re hanging out with the most photogenic bunch of ne’er-do-wells that you can imagine. Surely a thrilling proposition, if one that perhaps adheres too much to the ideal than the real.

Yet in trying to elevate this motorcycle drama genre and ultimately provide a more critical (while still commercial) cinematic examination of these possibly outdated conceptions, The Bikeriders understandably but frustratingly can’t help but be a little too conventional for its creative good. For all his admirably critical-minded ambitions, Nichols’ movie falls into the trappings of our typical rise-and-fall crime saga. It even uses a framing device that borrows too liberally from the likes of Martin Scorsese. It’s a shame because, as a showcase for Tom Hardy’s aggressive but also captivating screen presence, and the ever-emerging star power of Austin Butler, The Bikeriders is a welcome distraction in a busy summer season, one that provides cool, confident charisma and commanding performances in a mid-budget adult genre that is all-too-frequently unvalued. 

Looks to kill.

With the piercing eyes of a screen idol, it’s not hard to draw comparisons between Butler and James Dean — a distinction that is not unintentional. As a modern actor who has found himself easily settled into big personalities of yesteryear (Elvis) and futuristic worlds (this year’s Dune: Part Two), Butler communicates both a toughness and edge that feels honest in a movie that constantly strives for a look, a mood, a tone, a style, and a sense of self. There’s a lot to be said (and will be said) about Butler’s bravado, but The Bikeriders is a film that Hardy owns more than anyone else.

As the beating pulse of the film, Hardy’s Johnny Davis has an old-fashioned need to live up to his idols and idealism. He’s an old guard with outdated ideals who is shaping a future that he can’t control, and perhaps never wanted to mold. An outlaw wanting things under control of the old, established, engineered ways. He’s a cowboy in the Wild West who is constantly being followed by the lingering shadow of Death, of a reckless future that’s always in grasp. There is something both sorrowfully predictable and intriguingly inscrutable about Hardy’s performance, one that allows some of his recent weaknesses to his fullest, richest advantage. 

The Bikeriders also brings Hardy close to another actor of smoldering, steely-eyed intensity: Marlon Brando. With a wife and kids who can’t help but be lulled by Brando’s husky machismo in The Wild One, Hardy’s character is wanting to be a real-life Brando even though he keeps falling to reality. Brando, an actor who would also become inscrutable in any number of ways, was someone who could channel a live-wire intensity that feels revolutionary even to a modern audience. Subsequently, Hardy captures a rawness and raggedness that is always compulsively watchable. Hardy’s Johnny is a menacing film figure that is as tenderly haunting as he is broodingly brutal. His humanity is his curse. He’s a man who wants to live and die in infamy, but can’t help but be more like Robert Ford than Jesse James. 

For an actor who has fallen into tics and mannerisms that feel distractedly unfocused, Hardy is so in control of his image here that it reminds you why he was — and thankfully still is — one of the most electrifying and pulsating actors of his generation. Will be live up to Brando’s stature? That’s unclear, but Hardy is still forging a path for himself informed by the past and aware of the unknowable future.

The bottom line.

The Bikeriders is a movie that is as much a victim of cliches as its characters are victims of fates that don’t forgive their desire to transcend their core humanity. Yet as a slick, smooth, big-screen vehicle for its central stars (or star-in-the-making) and talented supporting actors (including Michael Shannon, Toby Wallace, and the aforementioned Comer), The Bikeriders glides with ease and resilience. Nichols crafts another commendable examination of the terrors and pitfalls of tormented masculinity, one that has more mainstream appeal than his earlier (if generally stronger) works but proves that the filmmaker can make a film with broad (i.e. male) appeal. The Bikeriders might not live on in the laurels of history, but it also won’t die in infamy. Sometimes, that’s the noble and righteous way to drive out onto the vast, sprawling highway. 

The Bikeriders is now playing in theaters everywhere. You can watch the trailer here.

Images courtesy of Focus Features. You can read more reviews from Will Ashton here.