billj78-484-195399

What's not to love? This is a live-action cartoon; an homage to the classic oater of yesteryear that absolutely refuses to take itself seriously; a fun frantic buddy flick replete with motorcycles, guns, an explosion or two, a disgraced former Miss America, an army of villains gunning for our heroes, and a sleazy, wealthy, powerfully-connected bad guy directing the nefarious doings from the safety of his well-secured office. Hmmm.... Come to think of it, that bad guy has a lot in common with our last president....

But I digress. Seriously, for all those who whine about the script, the chemistry, or the "unbelievability" of the scenario: carefully untwist your panties, butter your popcorn, and put your brain in low gear for an hour and a half. You might shock yourself and end up having a good time with a rompin', stompin' shoot-'em-up cowboy picture.

And anyone should know, within the first five minutes of viewing, that a rompin', stompin' shoot-'em-up cowboy picture is what they've got. This is not the pretentious drop-your-Rolex-in-the-sand "artiness" of Easy Rider, or the heart-rending After School Special sob-story of Mask (the Sam Elliott and Cher Mask, not the Jim Carrey version). It isn't even the high-concept hi-jinks of my favorite road movie of all time, Roadside Prophets. Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man is nothing more than FUN; escapist and cathartic fun with a couple of wise-crackin' rough riders ready to do battle against big corporate baddies. Come along for the ride!

The Hells Angels rose to national prominence in the mid-1960s, due in large part to Hunter Thompson's reporting on the club in The Nation, which he later expanded into the book that made him famous. What followed was a deluge of negative press, police harassment, and God knows how many cheap biker exploitation movies (most with some variation on the club's name, i.e.: Satan's Angels and such) that cast bikers - all of us - in the worst possible light. By the 1980s the Angels were reportedly fed up with all that, so when NYC chapter president Sandy Alexander suggested telling the club's side of the story, his brothers got on board.

The result is not high art, but it is an interesting slice-of-life look at a subculture a lot of people only THINK they know about, and a valuable historical resource for those interested in understanding this authentically and unabashedly American subculture. Not that it's to be taken as gospel, but anyone with even a passing interest in the subject would do well to see this film.

And it must be noted that, in spite of the fact that this is a propaganda piece, the Angels, to their credit, did not shy away from some of the grittier aspects of their brotherhood and lifestyle. I'm thinking of the prominent face time given to club spokesmen like Vinny (RIP), who didn't exactly come across as goodwill ambassador to the world, or the interview with Jerry Garcia and his "violent spaces" remark. The Angels could have cut all of that and presented a squeaky-clean image of themselves. They chose not to, and I say "Good on 'em!"

And while the film suffers technical faults - poor-quality audio in places, and jittery hand-held cameras - it's actually fairly well made. It has a pretty good soundtrack and some great footage of the club on the road, partying, hanging out at the annual Laconia NH rally and such. It's a documentary, but it's also entertaining. I'm glad I have my copy - a passing fair transfer of the original VHS - but I'd love to see the film properly released on DVD, and I bet I'm not alone in that.