James William Guercio's only directorial credit took me completely by surprise. I guess the idea of a film about bad cops on big bikes in Arizona has never really appealed and looking at the trailer now, feel certain if I had seen that, it could have only put me off. But then how do you sell such a film? Talk of Easy Rider is misleading and accusations of fascism ridiculous, so perhaps as someone who has only fallen for this film after almost 50 years, I should make some attempt to explain my enthusiasm. Apparently Guercio grew up with a movie theatre connection and as a youngster watched some films, notably those of John Ford, many many times. No surprise then that upon being given the opportunity/task of directing this movie he looked to Conrad L Hall to help him out. The film opens with extreme closes-ups of police patrolman Robert Blake getting dressed and lovingly zipping up his bike leathers which sets the tone and is some impossible mix of John Wayne and Kenneth Anger. Apparently Hall worked hard on all the interiors, which are so atmospheric, and left the design of the exteriors, the roads and mountains and skies to the director. However the division, the result is that this looks fantastic throughout with many unusual shots showing up the changing times and rampant disillusion, mixed with almost traditional ones seeming to lend, inevitably to an evocation of a time past and yet with something of an ironic slant. This is a beautiful looking and well scripted piece, stunningly reflecting a melancholic moment in American history, something of a crossroads, when real questions were being asked (as maybe they are about to be once more!) as to the balance between freedom and authority and more importantly the motivations and personal needs and inadequacies that lie beneath these seemingly convergent urges and desires. For all the inexperience of the director this comes across as an assured work with fine performances all round and particularly nuanced ones from the main characters. Even the smaller turns, however, like the hippy stopped on the road and the disillusioned bar owner are convincingly rounded and believable figures with their sad and insignificant yet simultaneously happy and heroic lives. Nobody comes out of this particularly well but there is a feeling of warmth engendered and an impression that we have been privileged to peek under a stone or two to at least glimpse some sense of humanity beneath the surface. All might not be paved with gold in the hippie commune and not all cops might have chosen the job to be able to knock people about but even if there is an element of truth here, it will never be as simple as it sometimes appears.
Review of Electra Glide in Blue
