The Pink Angels: A cross-dressing, homosexual motorcycle gang hits the road to go "down the coast," to get their star queen (the only black guy in the group) to a ball. Meanwhile, a stationary, conservative nut-job sits in his suburban compound obsessing over the "long-haired freaks" threatening good-old fashioned American values while listening to talk radio. Of course, the boys are harmless. They only appear tough, a look they achieve by butching themselves up with fake facial hair, gravelly voices, and swastikas. The film is mostly a silly, harmless lark that could read as a spoof of the motorcycle road movie if the viewer is generous enough to make the leap. The earnest, patriotic soundtrack is completely ludicrous, and oddly works in the film's favor. What doesn't are the final two minutes of the picture, wherein the narrative wildly shifts gears.
Review of Pink Angels
