![]() ![]() The early chapters of this book are promising, and that’s what makes the majority of it so frustrating. When Bingen writes in the introduction “…you either get it or you don’t, and never will,” he doesn’t give us much incentive to read through the remainder of the book. (See Peter Biskind’s look at Hollywood in transition after the demise of the studio system Easy Riders, Raging Bulls: How the Sex-Drugs-and-Rock ‘N’ Roll Generation Saved Hollywood, Simon & Schuster, 1998) The result is a text that seems to go in circles and never give us anything we didn’t know from far superior examinations. In telling us the film doesn’t belong to poets, critics, or journalists he sets himself up to approach the film as a cherished artifact, a product for the average guy. To whom does Easy Rider belong? What we end up reading in the body of this book follows the stance of that quote, and therein lies its problem. But, like only a few other things in history, Easy Rider doesn’t belong to poets, or critics, or journalists who tell us what to like.” He adopts a familiar, conversational tone with the reader, urging us to watch the film for ourselves, but his rationale for taking on this project doesn’t convince the reader that the film might be worth their time as an entire experience (not just something enjoyed in clips.) He writes: The problem might begin with Bingen’s introduction. Bingen draws heavily from various Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper biographies, Fonda’s memoir, and a biography of Easy Rider co-writer Terry Southern. But the end result, at only 148 pages (excluding notes) depends too much on transcriptions and recollections of others than anything new. Steven Bingen and Alan Dunn’s Easy Rider: 50 Years Looking for America is a sincere attempt to effectively assess the cultural legacy of this film after half a century. Straight-laced George Hanson (Jack Nicholson) joining Wyatt and Billy in the diner as they soak in a sense of impending dread, the freak-out segment in a New Orleans cemetery, and the ending, where our heroes are literally blown away. From its opening scene, propelled by Steppenwolf’s hard rock anthem Born to Be Wild, the film's explosive pairing of image and sound ensured both soundtracks and the American road trip would never be the same again.Whether we were alive in this era or simply inherited this film through pop culture osmosis, the key scenes stay with us. But after being arrested in Texas for joining a street parade without having the required permit, they meet civil rights lawyer George Hanson (a young Jack Nicholson giving a revelatory performance) who decides to join them on their journey.įrom its iconic soundtrack - from Hendrix to The Byrds - and innovative, modish editing style, to cinematographer Haskell Wexler’s deliberate use of lens flair – not to mention the notorious history of the shoot itself (it’s amazing that the film was completed and released at all!) Easy Rider embodies a spirit of spontaneous creativity, validating its romantic counter-cultural appeal and its status as perhaps the most iconic road movie of them all. Having smuggled a huge amount of cocaine across the Mexican border, bikers Billy (Hopper) and Wyatt (Peter Fonda) sell their haul to their mysterious connection (Phil Spector) and hit the road in the hope of reaching New Orleans in time for the Mardi Gras festival. A truly groundbreaking odyssey, Dennis Hopper's Easy Rider remains the definitive cinematic portrait and soundscape of '60s counterculture. Film soundtracks rarely get more iconic than this.
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