This movie is, of course, awful, but it's important to try to see the good in all things. I would think that if anything this is a great snapshot of biker culture from the late 60s, and offers a good view of "Old School" choppers from that era. It's no "Easy Rider" but it adds to the lexicon. Paul Teutel Sr. and Indian Larry would be proud.
For fans of Coleman Francis' "Red Zone Cuba", it's interesting to see all the alumni from that film in this one. RZC's Chastaine plays a biker; the "gallopin' dominoes" mercenary is Hiney; the "I'll run you out of town for changing your tires" sheriff is the hawk-faced sniper in the black suit; one of the posse re-emerges as the proprietor of the Moonfire Inn; and of course, there's Tony Cardoza, trading in his penchant for tossing helpless innocent old men down wells for a paintbrush in the California chapparal. I can't help but think that Coleman himself was somewhere in the film, perhaps behind the scenes. His spirit is certainly there.
What this film left me wondering was, "If this is what being a biker is like, how can it possibly be enjoyable?" Lying around in a hot dusty patch of chapparal, stoned? This is fun? It all just seems so dirty and scuzzy and depressing. The scene where the bikers inexplicably toss a trumpet-wielding hippy-friend into a stagnant pond just sort of encapsulates what I imagine the late 60s to be: Dirt, stink, muck, grease, filth, and senseless acts of stupidity. Were the 60s such a time of social change and improvement? I guess in some ways they were -- Civil Rights for minorities comes to mind. But overall, the legacy -- as evidenced by artifacts like "The Hellcats" -- is one of sloth, irresponsibility, carnality, and above all, selfishness. They rebelled against the suit-and-tie world of their parents, but if I had a choice, I'd have lived in the 30s/40s/50s a million times before I had to endure the 60s. No wonder the parents of Baby Boomers were so distressed, and no wonder the children of Baby Boomers are so incredibly screwed-up. I know -- I am one. Thanks, former hippies/bikers/counterculturists -- for nothing!
For fans of Coleman Francis' "Red Zone Cuba", it's interesting to see all the alumni from that film in this one. RZC's Chastaine plays a biker; the "gallopin' dominoes" mercenary is Hiney; the "I'll run you out of town for changing your tires" sheriff is the hawk-faced sniper in the black suit; one of the posse re-emerges as the proprietor of the Moonfire Inn; and of course, there's Tony Cardoza, trading in his penchant for tossing helpless innocent old men down wells for a paintbrush in the California chapparal. I can't help but think that Coleman himself was somewhere in the film, perhaps behind the scenes. His spirit is certainly there.
What this film left me wondering was, "If this is what being a biker is like, how can it possibly be enjoyable?" Lying around in a hot dusty patch of chapparal, stoned? This is fun? It all just seems so dirty and scuzzy and depressing. The scene where the bikers inexplicably toss a trumpet-wielding hippy-friend into a stagnant pond just sort of encapsulates what I imagine the late 60s to be: Dirt, stink, muck, grease, filth, and senseless acts of stupidity. Were the 60s such a time of social change and improvement? I guess in some ways they were -- Civil Rights for minorities comes to mind. But overall, the legacy -- as evidenced by artifacts like "The Hellcats" -- is one of sloth, irresponsibility, carnality, and above all, selfishness. They rebelled against the suit-and-tie world of their parents, but if I had a choice, I'd have lived in the 30s/40s/50s a million times before I had to endure the 60s. No wonder the parents of Baby Boomers were so distressed, and no wonder the children of Baby Boomers are so incredibly screwed-up. I know -- I am one. Thanks, former hippies/bikers/counterculturists -- for nothing!