The Bikeriders is about the death of a dream. It’s not necessarily a noble one. The Vandals MC are a Chicago motorcycle club. They ride around in packs and drink beer. Occasionally, they get into fights, only to crack open a bottle with their former combatants once the adrenaline has petered out and they can be pals again. There’s a melancholy to Jeff Nichols’s drama, which, although fictional, is directly inspired by a 1967 photo book of the same name by Danny Lyon. While Nichols’s film rejects outright nostalgia – or any such naive sensation – it shows a tender affection for those who sought freedom on the open road.
It’s beautifully shot on film, in 35mm anamorphic, by cinematographer Adam Stone, but isn’t fetishistically attempting to recreate Lyon’s work or the look of the era. Instead, The Bikeriders uses its place and setting to explore one of Nichols’s pet themes: people desperately trying to hold onto love, whether it’s a father shielding his family from a (perhaps imagined) apocalyptic storm in 2011’s Take Shelter, or a couple standing strong against the racist legal system in 2016’s Loving.
