Many movies have depicted events of the 1960s or tried to show what the era was like, among them “Woodstock,” “Hair,” “Midnight Cowboy,” “Medium Cool” and “Blow-Up.” One stands apart in having depicted both that era and, in some tragic and harrowing ways, the one we are now living in:
“Easy Rider.”
The film, which had its American premiere in July of 1969, was both hailed and reviled at the time of its release. It was nominated for Academy Awards for Best Original Screenplay (by the stars, Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper, and screenwriter Terry Southern) and Best Supporting Actor (Jack Nicholson, who won several other major awards for his role). It won a directing award for Hopper at the Cannes Film Festival, has made numerous lists of the greatest American films and almost three decades later was added to the National Film Registry. It is credited with helping to create the independent film industry.
Young people loved the film, despite its downbeat scenes, which painted a less than attractive picture of America at the time. Part of the appeal was the rock soundtrack, music by Jimi Hendrix, Bob Dylan, Steppenwolf, The Byrds and The Band, as well as other groups mostly since forgotten but who helped to make it memorable.
Many older viewers were less enthusiastic, and mirrored the reaction of some of the conservative and redneck characters portrayed in the film. It showed the spirit and idealism of the counterculture movement as well as the violent backlash against it.
The plot concerned two hippie motorcyclists, Wyatt, a.k.a. Captain America (Fonda), and Billy (Hopper). They start off the film on the wrong foot, by some lights, making a great deal of money selling a large amount of cocaine in a single transaction. Their plan is to ride their bikes from Los Angeles to the Mardi Gras in New Orleans, then retire on their profits. The American flags on the back of Fonda’s jacket and the gas tank of his bike ironically caused him to be pulled over several times by the police during the filming. Along the way they encounter various eccentric characters and take in the vast splendor of the American landscape. They look forward to the trip with great anticipation, but the memorable tagline hints that it will not be what they expect: “A man went looking for America. And couldn’t find it anywhere.”
The characters they meet include a rancher who lives off the land, an ideal that was popular at the time, and a large group of hippies living in a commune and likewise trying to survive. The interactions are occasionally funny, not least because of Hopper’s stoned persona. (He and Fonda were actually high on marijuana for much of the film.)
They are turned away from a motel because of their long hair and appearance, and are arrested in the South, where their cellmate is Nicholson’s character, George Hanson, a drunken lawyer sleeping it off. He is well-connected in the town and tells them he can probably get them out without a problem if they haven’t killed anybody – “at least, nobody white.”
Nicholson delivers this line with a smirk, but his character is not the racist or bigot many of the townspeople apparently are. He’s just stating the facts so they understand them. He tells the bikers that he’s done some work for the ACLU, so if there’s anyone remotely liberal in town, he’s it. They invite him along on the trip and wean him off the booze with weed, one of the funniest scenes in the movie.
But there is an underlying sense of menace and foreboding. The South at that time was not really a safe place for strangers, Northerners or minorities who wandered into the wrong places. As America’s minority population increased, the South became somewhat more liberal and open. But the events of recent years have seen much of the country move backward to that intolerant, racist time, and the attitudes depicted in the film seem as though they were filmed today.
When the trio stops at a roadside diner, they not only can’t get served, but are also subjected to abuse from the local rednecks, actual local residents who made wisecracks about their appearance and were then recruited to be in the movie. The filmed abuse turns violent and lethal, but not before George expounds his political beliefs over a stoned, late-night campfire. His dialogue with Billy, largely written by Terry Southern, was short, wistful and a fairly profound observance of America both then and now. It went as follows:
George Hanson: You know, this used to be a helluva good country. I can’t understand what’s gone wrong with it.
Billy: Man, everybody got chicken, that’s what happened. Hey, we can’t even get into like, a second-rate hotel, I mean, a second-rate motel, you dig? They think we’re gonna cut their throat or somethin’. They’re scared, man.
George Hanson: They’re not scared of you. They’re scared of what you represent to ‘em.
Billy: Hey, man. All we represent to them, man, is somebody who needs a haircut.
George Hanson: Oh, no. What you represent to them is freedom.
Billy: What the hell is wrong with freedom? That’s what it’s all about.
George Hanson: Oh, yeah, that’s right. That’s what’s it’s all about, all right. But talkin’ about it and bein’ it, that’s two different thangs. I mean, it’s real hard to be free when you are bought and sold in the marketplace. Of course, don’t ever tell anybody that they’re not free, ‘cause then they’re gonna get real busy killin’ and maimin’ to prove to you that they are. Oh, yeah, they’re gonna talk to you, and talk to you, and talk to you about individual freedom. But they see a free individual, it’s gonna scare ‘em.
Billy: Well, it don’t make ‘em runnin’ scared.
George Hanson: No, it makes ‘em dangerous. ...
Those words are timeless; they read as though they were written today.
The film unfolds slowly, but when the bikers meet George, it really takes off. They make it to Mardi Gras, which they experience on LSD with two hookers, and this is where Hopper’s directing skill comes through. Contemporary audiences sometimes feel that the film is little more than a period piece, a document out of a time capsule, that Fonda is too cool and laid-back, and Hopper just clownish. But the overarching themes make it more than relevant today, not just a historical record, but a depiction of where we are now, the same sad place where we were more than 50 years ago.
Although the Woodstock festival, with its ideals of peace and love, took place just a few weeks after “Easy Rider” premiered, the events in subsequent weeks and months that were perhaps more representative of where America was heading were the Manson murders and the Rolling Stones’ ill-fated Altamount concert.
SPOILER
I first saw “Easy Rider” on a Sunday afternoon in the sold-out Beekman Theater on Manhattan’s East Side. When it reached its tragic conclusion, there was no applause or conversation among the audience members; they simply filed out in silence. It was as though they had attended the funeral of the characters, and of the hopes and ideals of their own generation. Some hostile audiences reportedly saw Wyatt’s and Billy’s deaths as a happy ending. People have often wondered what Wyatt meant when he told Billy near the end of the film, “We blew it,” but in light of what they, and that generation, did and failed to do, it should have been obvious.
There is a lesson in “Easy Rider.” As with books and films like “Nineteen Eighty-Four” and “The Handmaid’s Tale,” it was more than a depiction. It was a prediction. It held up a mirror to society and exposed its faults, but that looking glass also peered into the future and showed us what we would become, and that we weren’t the fairest ones of all.