Toby Wallace

The Bikeriders

27/06/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

The poster for The Bikeriders might lead a viewer to expect something rather different from what this film actually is: a serious recreation of the misadventures of a motorcycle club, founded in the early 60s and initially memorialised in a 1967 book by photojournalist Danny Lyon.

In Jeff Nichols’ film, we see Danny (Mike Faist) conducting a series of interviews with Kathy (Jodie Comer). She’s the long-term girlfriend of Benny (Austin Butler), a member of `The Vandals’, a Chicago-based group of bike enthusiasts, created and led by Johnny (Tom Hardy). In its early days, the group has a rigid code of honour that none of its members will ever ignore. Indeed, when we first encounter Benny, he’s about to be badly beaten up by a couple of rednecks when he refuses to remove his ‘colours’ in a local bar.

But as the years move on and the Vandals’ numbers inevitably begin to swell, that original code becomes increasingly muddied by the raft of newcomers, each with their own agenda. They include The Kid (Toby Wallace), a tough young wannabe, who has set his sights on joining up and who isn’t about to let anything stand in his path.

While The Bikeriders is light on plot, it’s loaded with characterisation. Comer is extraordinary as Kathy, who chronicles the group’s history in an eerily impressive midwestern accent; and Hardy too is eminently watchable as their leader, channeling early Marlon Brando (at one point we even see Johnny watching The Wild One and virtually taking notes). He’s somewhat mystified to discover that the Vandals are increasingly like a runaway train that, once kicked into life, proves impossible to stop. As Benny, Butler has very little in the way of dialogue, but his chain-smoking, smouldering presence makes it easy to understand why Kathy is so obsessed with him.

The other members of the gang have their own opportunities to shine. Nichols’ regular muse, Michael Shannon, is effective as the dim-witted Zipco, a man who has been repeatedly passed over by society since childhood and who has found his spiritual home amongst this gang of misfits – and Emery Cohen is also effective as Cockroach, who is destined to ride a motorcycle in the future for an entirely different reason. The 60s and 70s settings are convincingly evoked and fans of vintage motorcycles will doubtless be drooling at the sight of scores of bikes thundering in formation along the highways. But the tone of the film is essentially an elegy, a lament for the many ways in which an original idea can be twisted and debased until its original aims have all but vanished.

This won’t be for everyone. There’s no denying that it glamourises thuggery and, with a running time of nearly two hours, it could perhaps have benefitted from a tighter edit, especially around its flabby midsection. Nichols has spent the best part of twenty years putting the film together and it feels very much like a labour of love. Those looking for thrills and action might prefer to look elsewhere. But if it’s classy performances you’re after, you’ve definitely chosen the right vehicle.

3. 8 stars

Philip Caveney

Pistol

03/06/22

Disney +

Looking back, it’s hard to fully appreciate the full cataclysm delivered to the United Kingdom by the arrival of The Sex Pistols in 1975. Here were four working class lads who could barely play their instruments and who seemed more interested in causing controversy than producing hit records. They did manage the latter, even if the radio initially refused to play them. Now, with the Jubilee in full swing, it’s a really interesting time for this six part series to land – and, if the House of Mouse seems an unlikely home for it, Danny Boyle as director makes perfect sense.

Working alongside regular collaborator, cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantel, Boyle makes this much more than a standard rock biopic. The extended running time offers him the opportunity to explore a more diverse landscape. Co-written by guitarist Steve Jones (played here by Toby Wallace), and based on his auto-biography, this shows how the Pistols were a construct, created in the fevered brain of agent provocateur Malcolm McLaren (a wonderfully smarmy performance by Thomas Brodie-Sangster). His callous machinations are clearly displayed, as he edges out original bassist Glen Matlock (Christian Lees) – who he considers too straight and too musically accomplished – in favour of Sid Vicious (Louis Partridge), who can’t play a note but looks perfect.

Dod Mantel’s restless cameras capture everyone else in the vicinity. They include Chrissie Hynde (Sydney Chandler), who comes within a hair’s breadth of fronting the band; Vivienne Westwood (Talulah Riley), who creates the Pistols’ iconic look; and Jordan (Maisie Williams), who blazes a trail for women’s rights in her own fearless way. (Sadly, the real Jordan died only weeks before this series was released.)

Boyle liberally peppers the proceedings with contemporary newsreel footage, tabloid headlines and clips of established musicians touting their pompous productions: an extract from Rick Wakeman’s ‘King Arthur & The Knight’s of the Round Table – on Ice’ really ought to be a spoof, but sadly isn’t.

There are uncannily realistic recreations of true events, including the Pistols’ explosive appearance on the Bill Grundy TV show, their ill-fated tour around the north of England and their even more disastrous attempt to play a series of gigs in America. There’s an inevitable dip in episode seven as the heartbreaking relationship between Vicious and Nancy Spungen (Emma Appleton) reaches its inevitable conclusion, but Boyle could hardly have left it out – and, happily, the lost momentum is soon recovered.

It’s interesting to note that the actors perform their own music and vocals, so much respect is due to Anson Boon, who has the difficult task of portraying John Lydon and actually making us care about him. His performance is a particular triumph.

Eagle-eyed viewers may spot the fact that Boyle occasionally slips performance footage of the real band into the mix and it’s entirely to his credit that those moments are genuinely hard to spot. Poor advance reviews mean that I don’t expect to like it as much as I do – indeed, I find it so utterly compulsive, I watch all six episodes in two hugely enjoyable binges.

Never mind the bad buzz – this really is the bollocks!

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Babyteeth

02/09/20

Milla (Eliza Scanlen) is sixteen years old and going through a rough time. Already alienated from her schoolmates, struggling to co-exist with her concert-pianist mother, Anna (Essie Davis) and her psychiatrist father, Henry (Ben Mendelsohn), she’s also trying to keep things together as a terminal illness exerts an increasingly powerful grip upon her.

So when she falls head-over-heels for local tearaway, Moses (Toby Wallace), a free-living, drug-abusing twenty-something, her parents are far from delighted at his unexpected appearance in their suburban home – particularly when his urgent need for drug money prompts him to try and rob the place. But Moses is Milla’s first romantic crush and he’s almost certain to be her last… so Anna and Henry realise they are going to have to let her take the lead on this.

Perhaps the most refreshing thing about Babyteeth is its steadfast refusal to allow any of the usual ‘brave victim’ clichés to step into the mix. Indeed, for quite some time, Milla’s cancer is barely mentioned, so when it finally does step into the frame, it delivers something of a gut punch.

Scanlen, last seen as the least interesting character in Little Women, is a revelation here, quietly dominating the screen with her sparky presence. Wallace too does a fabulous job of making the initially deeply unlikable Moses into a fully formed character, redeemed both by Milla’s love for him and by her parents’ touching decision to allow him into the family fold. This could have been extremely mawkish, but is so adeptly handled that it really isn’t. Davis and Mendelsohn too submit nuanced performances that make them so much more than just supporting players. We share their anxieties, their frustrations and their unswerving devotion to the daughter they love.

Babyteeth marks the assured directorial debut of actor Shannon Murphy, and she’s aided and abetted by Rita Kalnejais’s inventive screenplay, the story punctuated by a series of quirky chapter headings, giving this the feel of a superior teen novel.

The only tragedy is one of timing. There are only a handful of people at the afternoon screening we attend and that’s a shame. In safer times, I have no doubt, this would be pulling in decent crowds and deservedly so. It’s an affecting story – and expertly told.

4.7 stars

Philip Caveney