Retreads/Bikin’ Men – Reviewed by Skids Poppe
When I got to the office the other day, there was this video sitting in my “in” box. First, I was a little surprised I had an “in” box, then I looked at the video. On the cover, sticking to the shrink-wrap, was a white piece of paper telling me this was the film Retreads but because of stupid circumstances, it was now called Bikin’ Men.
Immediately, a couple of things ran through my brain: One was that somebody was actually sending me something to review! I was on a mailing list! Now, this may not mean anything to you, but when you make the boys and girls of the U.S. Post work as little as I do, even the Victoria’s Secret catalog is bound to be exciting (okay, it’s always exciting). Then I started thinking about why some red-nosed, three martini luncher would have a problem with the old title but that just made me mad. Besides, I’m here to tell you about the final film, no matter what it’s called.
Okay, so onto the review…The cover of the box promises everything a good, old-fashioned biker film should have: A guy sporting dark wrap-arounds riding a Harley with a girl hanging on for dear life, her hands around his waist. Up in the corner, we’ve got a girl holding a .45 and looking to kill. It’s got all the elements! My copy of the video (that’s right, I ain’t sending it back) opens with the word “Retreads” riding down an open road. So much for the corporate scourge of the independent filmmaker.
As we get more into the plot, we’ve got four over-the-hill bikers on their way to Bingo’s Annual Hodag Bash. Sounds like fun, huh? Long before they get there, though, these Irish terrorists (High budget film. Low budget couldn’t afford more than a few Iraqis) have stolen a nuclear detonator (told you these guys had bucks, you don’t get nuclear in just every film) and the scientist who tried to stop them. It’s pretty damn convenient that the scientist is a good-looking babe with an attitude and that the guys just happen to be “voiding their bladders” (that’s a euphemism, the paper won’t let me say “pissing”) close enough to hear her scream.
Naturally, they all run to the rescue.
The rest of the flick is spent trying to get the bomb back. But that’s only the subplot. The real story is one of friendship and love. Spider, that’s the leader of the fearsome four, he’s thirty-nine, in love with Dr. Stanhope (the scientist chick), but can’t get it up. Clutch, who looks like a young Martin Sheen or an old Emilio Estevez and can act better than either of ’em, offers up some touching commentary about love which sends Spider off to sleep with the good Doctor. I wish I had those kind of friends.
I’m not going to tell you if they ever make to the bash, but I will tell you this film has bar fights, Harleys in the wild, explosions, and at least one right-wing army type getting punched in the face by a biker. Like I said, I wouldn’t hesitate to ride with any of these guys. With friends like these, you don’t need soft drinks.
And with movies like these, you don’t need Thelma or Louise. It is definitely worth seeing.
Skids would like to take this opportunity to officially announce his candidacy for the fall election.
Getting the Hang of Thursdays 