I saw this movie in the dollar bin of the grocery store and I couldn't help smiling. I had no idea if it would be worth a sitting, but I discovered to my joy that this film captures the energy and twisted, booze-fueled optimism of 1971 only too well. There is a senior thesis and a kitsch musical trapped in this time capsule. It is both a on-the-spot knowing parody of 70's machismo and a hapless apology for it, a living testimony to a living person.
George Hamilton in 1971 didn't seem to know how to act, he swaggered humorlessly and proclaimed, and chewed gum like Burt Reynolds. John Milius and a 90 year old Englishman scripted this, so Evel's lines are filled with references and heightened language that are quite outside the range of a dropout sociopath. And yet this movie isn't dead. It has an intentness, a brio, a sort of-- pertness. It deserves to have eyeballs given to it, over a few sittings, over a few lunch hours, using the DVD feature of your workstation in your cubicle. Go to your supermarket today!
George Hamilton in 1971 didn't seem to know how to act, he swaggered humorlessly and proclaimed, and chewed gum like Burt Reynolds. John Milius and a 90 year old Englishman scripted this, so Evel's lines are filled with references and heightened language that are quite outside the range of a dropout sociopath. And yet this movie isn't dead. It has an intentness, a brio, a sort of-- pertness. It deserves to have eyeballs given to it, over a few sittings, over a few lunch hours, using the DVD feature of your workstation in your cubicle. Go to your supermarket today!