Robert Blake has one of the best roles of his career as John Wintergreen, a dedicated motorcycle cop who yearns for more in life. What he'd really like is to be a detective - to wear a suit, a Stetson, and "get paid to think". He gets his chance when he discovers what first appears to be a suicide, but which John determines had to have been a murder. When John shows that he's got what it takes for the detective business, a charismatic hotshot named Harve Poole (Mitch Ryan) takes him under his wing, hiring John as a driver. What happens is that John becomes quite disillusioned watching Harve at work. John strives to be a good, kind, honest man, and doesn't like Harves' approach to law enforcement. A revelation regarding his colleague and good friend "Zipper" (Billy Green Bush) only adds to his dismay.
"Electra Glide in Blue" marked the filmmaking debut for James William Guercio, a veteran of the music industry who, with the help of ace cinematographer Conrad Hall, brings a lot of visual poetry which is not the action-packed murder mystery that some viewers might expect, or hope, it to be. That aspect of this film is never heavily stressed, as the movie clearly functions much more as a series of character vignettes. It's got a very deliberate pace to it, as it gives a number of its major players opportunities to tear into some meaty roles. Blake and Bush have fine chemistry and are quite engaging; you believe them as buddies. Ryan commands the screen whenever he's around; he's an excellent character actor (whom you may know best as the villain in "Lethal Weapon") who gives his role some real nuance. Royal Dano is a little under utilized as a grumpy coroner with whom John butts heads, but Jeannine Riley is wonderful as the barmaid Jolene, and Elisha Cook Jr. is as delightful as ever in the role of sad old sack Willie. Considering Guercios' background, it's not a surprise that some of the supporting players come from the music business - screenwriter Hawk Wolinski as the van driving hippie, and Peter Cetera and Terry Kath from the band Chicago; Cetera, amusingly, plays a scruffy biker. Keep a sharp eye out for Nick Nolte, uncredited as an extra in the commune scene.
The film turns out to be a moving meditation on personal ideals and loneliness, and leads to a shattering conclusion. This conclusion is much in line with films of this time period, and takes its time to play out. It's the kind of thing you don't easily forget.
It's not hard to see why this would have a following. It's interesting and it's entertaining, and well worth a look.
Seven out of 10.
