The Bikeriders starts in the middle of its own story. A man in a “Chicago Vandals” jacket, head hanging over the bar counter.

“You can’t be wearing no colors in this neighborhood,” someone threatens, to which he replies: “You’d have to kill me to get this jacket off of me.”

The man, Benny, approaches most things in his life with this same kind of fervor. His wife, Kathy, describes Benny camping out in her front yard until her boyfriend at the time packed up his car and left.

It’s through Kathy’s eyes that we come to know the Vandals: The leader, Johnny; his right hand, Brucie; and a menagerie of other club members — Cockroach, Zipco, Cal, Funny Sonny, Corky and Wahoo, to name a few. Kathy, with varying levels of exasperation, takes us through the club’s rise and fall over her interviews with Danny, the photojournalist meant to represent the author of “The Bikeriders,” the book on which the film is based.

Johnny’s vision for the club starts simply enough — just guys talking about bikes. But, as The Vandals grow, he realizes what he’s created might have become impossible to control.

The first, most obvious thing to say about “The Bikeriders” is that it’s gorgeous.

The beauty and effectiveness of Danny Lyon’s photography translates perfectly to film. Although an article by the Smithsonian reports 70% of the film’s dialogue is taken from Lyon’s interviews, you could almost watch this movie with the sound off.

Color, light and framing are used so beautifully here it’s hard not to spend the whole review geeking out. Stoplights, bars and midwestern houses and parking lots become art pieces, dioramas of the tumultuous life of a “bikerider.”

Beyond the surface, though, I’m not sure how to feel about this movie.

When Kathy says Johnny got the idea for the club while watching TV, we cut to him staring, enraptured, as 1953’s “The Wild One” plays in his living room. “Hey Johnny, what are you rebelling against?” The girl in the movie asks. Marlon Brando replies, “Whaddaya got?”

This listlessness, this sense that Johnny doesn’t have any purpose in mind, that the club doesn’t have much of a point, permeates the film. For me, it extended to the movie itself: At the beginning I thought life in a motorcycle gang would be exciting but dangerous, and by the end I thought the exact same thing.

Maybe it’s Kathy’s perspective leaking through the narration, but the deaths in this movie are, as a rule, abrupt and stupid. Once the shock wore off, I found myself wondering, “What was that all for?”

For all the glamor and power being a bikerider supposedly grants, they don’t die for great causes or in blazes of glory. The end is a car in reverse, an empty parking lot.

“The Bikeriders” is gorgeous and exciting, but doesn’t appear to say very much. Maybe that’s exactly what it’s saying.

Caroline Julstrom, intern, may be reached at 218-855-5851 or cjulstrom@brainerddispatch.com.

Caroline Julstrom finished her second year at the University of Minnesota in May 2024, and started working as a summer intern for the Brainerd Dispatch in June.

Bob Garver
Special to Valley News
“A Quiet Place: Day One” made a grave miscalculation with its advertising. Scenes were filmed with the intention of putting them in the trailers, but not the movie. This way, when people saw the movie, they wouldn’t be able to properly anticipate the surprises and story progression. To that end, the advertising succeeded, I was indeed thrown off while watching the movie. But here’s where they didn’t succeed: the scenes shot just for the trailers were terrible, with clumsy dialogue and careless pacing. I was so mad at Hollywood for continuing this series without the creative vision of director John Krasinski, especially when the movie looked like garbage without his input. I only saw this movie out of obligation for the column, and I wouldn’t

Filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos hasn’t made the world wait long for the follow-up to his engrossing and thought-provoking “Poor Things,” a nominee earlier this year for the Academy Award for Best Picture.

Going into wide release this week, not quite seven months after “Poor Things” introduced the world to Emma Stone’s unforgettable Bella Baxter, the director’s intriguing, entrancing and, at times, confounding “Kinds of Kindness” is said to have been shot quickly during the lengthy post-production phase of its visually elaborate predecessor.

A “triptych fable,” “Kinds of Kindness” boasts many of the same actors — among them, not surprisingly, is Stone, who deservedly won the Oscar for Best Actress for “Poor Things” for her spectacular and fearless performance — playing different characters in its three stories.

To say this trio of tales is “loosely connected” is a bit generous, although Yorgos Stefanakos’ R.M.F. is a titular figure — but also only so relevant narratively — in each.

One would expect there to be a greater thematic thread tying together “The Death of R.M.F.,” “R.M.F. Is Flying” and “R.M.F. Eats a Sandwich,” but, at least on initial viewing, that connective tissue is pretty thin. In each, at least one character is some degree of desperate to please at least one other character who is some degree of controlling — and, more often not, one of the latter figures is portrayed by fellow “Things” alum Willem Dafoe (“The Florida Project”). Given the gifts of Lanthimos, there surely is more metaphorical meat on the bone to be chewed upon during and after a repeat viewing.

Know, however, that “Kinds of Kindness” is co-written by Lanthimos and Efthimis Filippou, the latter a collaborator on the former’s more self-indulgent (if still radically interesting) films, including “The Lobster” (2015) and “The Killing of the Sacred Deer,” in which the pair’s absurdist leanings sometimes got the better of them. (Nowhere to be found in the credits here is writer Tony McNamara, who helped shape “Poor Thing” and Lanthimos’ other unquestionably terrific — and Oscar-nominated — film, 2018’s “The Favourite.”)

It comes as no shock, then, that “Kinds of Kindness” sometimes, perhaps even often, feels like it’s being absurd because … well, just because.

That said, it also is a film that, with every scene, has you hanging on with great interest to see what will come next. As a result, it is a two-and-a-half-hour-plus endeavor that goes by remarkably quickly. Whatever its sins, stagnation isn’t one of them.

Stone, appropriately, receives top billing, but Jesse Plemons gets at least a bit more time within the frame.

That’s mainly because while the two are co-leads in the subsequent acts, Stone is a supporting player in “The Death of R.M.F.” Plemons is front and center as Robert, who doesn’t just work for Dafoe’s Raymond but long has been engaged in a bizarre agreement with him. Raymond dictates areas of Robert’s life from his weight — the former is frustrated by the latter appearing to have lost weight, as he finds thin men to be ridiculous — to his intimacy and more with his wife, Sarah (Hong Chau, “The Menu,” “The Whale”). This power dynamic is upset when Raymond finally asks too much of Robert, with Robert subsequently seeing Stone’s Rita as a means to an end.

Next comes “R.M.F. Is Flying,” in which police officer Daniel (Plemons) is distraught because his beloved wife, Liz (Stone), has been lost at sea. When she is found alive and returns to him, Daniel believes something is amiss, Liz enjoying things — chocolate and cigarettes among them — she didn’t previously and, more mysteriously, not fitting comfortably into her shoes. While some around him believe Daniel to be having a psychotic event, he sets about proving his theory.

Lastly, we get “R.M.F. Eats a Sandwich,” which sees Stone’s Emily and Plemons’ Andrew as members of a spiritual cult led by Dafoe’s Omi and Chau’s Aka. Omi and Aka, who bless the group’s all-important “uncontaminated” water with their tears, regularly dispatch Emily and Andrew on missions to search for a figure to fulfill a prophecy of a female twin who can raise the dead.

We’ve kept things vague — believe it or not, it’s all even stranger than it sounds — purposefully because, again, revelations along the way comprise much of the enjoyment “Kinds of Kindness” has to offer.

It also offers fine supporting work from Margaret Qualley (“Poor Things,” “Drive-Away Dolls”), Mamoudou Athie (“Elemental,” “The Burial”) and Joe Alwyn (“The Favourite,” “Catherine Called Birdy”) in each of the three parts.

Plemons (“Power of the Dog,” “Killers of the Flower Moon”), who seems almost as if he’s in more films than he isn’t these days, is his usual dependable self and oddly likable even when the person he’s playing isn’t.

Meanwhile, Stone — also an Academy Award winner for 2017’s “La La Land” and a nominee for 2015’s “Birdman (or The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)” and “The Favourite” — is sensational again. There may be no Oscar in her future for her work here, but with the energy and personality she brings to each, her character is the most interesting thing on screen in any scene she’s in, which is saying something given some of the happenings in “Kinds of Kindness.”

Stone won’t be enough to keep some viewers from becoming turned off by “Kinds of Kindness.” It’s weird, to be sure, sometimes sexually gratuitous, often dark, occasionally violent and longer than the average movie. As such, it simply won’t fit the tastes of some folks.

Poor things.

“Kinds of Kindness” is rated R for strong/disturbing violent content, strong sexual content, full nudity and language. Runtime: 2 hours, 44 minutes.