Because The Bikeriders is filled with so much death and tragedy, it’s to be expected that writer-director Jeff Nichols might want to throw the audience “a bone.” Even if it’s a bone coated in a subtly bitter taste for audiences who know how to gauge the real meaning behind Benny (Austin Butler) and Kathy’s (Jodie Comer) so-called happy ending. One that, throughout the course of the film, doesn’t seem like it will actually happen (and, in a way, it doesn’t). This thanks to the storytelling method Nichols uses by way of Danny Lyon (Mike Faist) interviewing Kathy from a “present-day” perspective in 1973, after the numerous power struggles and shifts that took place within the Vandals Motorcycle Club since 1965 (on a side note: the photography book itself documents a period between 1963 and 1967).
In the beginning, the motorcycle club was “governed” by Johnny Davis (Tom Hardy), who also founded it. The inspiration for doing so stemming from catching The Wild One starring Marlon Brando on TV. And yes, Hardy is very clearly mimicking the “Brando vibe” in this role, while Austin Butler as Benny, his protégé, of sorts, embodies the James Dean spirit instead. Which, one supposes, would make Kathy the Natalie Wood in the equation, with Benny and Kathy mirroring a certain Jim and Judy dynamic in Rebel Without A Cause. Except the fact that Judy was ultimately much more game to live a life of rebellion and uncertainty than Kathy, making a pact with Jim to never go home again (like the Shangri-Las said, “I can never go home anymore”). As for Johnny, he serves as the John “Plato” Crawford (Sal Mineo) of the situation in terms of feeling Benny pull away from him once he becomes romantically involved. Indeed, the running motif of The Bikeriders is the “competition” between Johnny and Kathy to maintain a hold over Benny and influence which direction he’ll be pulled toward in terms of a life path.
While Johnny wants him to agree to take over the Vandals and lead the next generation of increasingly volatile men, Kathy wants him to “quit the gang” altogether and stop risking his life every single day. A risk that exists, more than anything, because of his stubborn nature. This stubbornness, of course, extends to an unwillingness to remove his “colors” whenever he walks into an out-of-town bar that doesn’t take kindly to “gang pride.” Which is precisely how The Bikeriders commences, with Johnny refusing to take off his jacket when a pair of regulars at the bar he’s drinking in ominously demand that he does just that. Johnny replies, “You’d have to kill me to get this jacket off.” They very nearly do, beating the shit out of him and almost taking his foot clean off with a shovel. And yes, if Johnny’s foot had been amputated, he might as well have died anyway, for his life means nothing to him without the ability to just ride. Which is exactly why he begs Kathy, while she visits him in the hospital, not to let them remove it. Fortunately for his sense of “manhood,” they don’t and Benny is instructed to avoid putting stress on his foot for at least six months while it starts to heal.
Advice that seems to go way over Johnny’s head as he decides to show up to the hotel where Benny and Kathy are staying to invite him to attend the Vandals’ biggest motorcycle rally yet. Kathy is appalled by both Johnny’s suggestion and Benny’s eager willingness to accept despite his current physical state. Constantly fearful that he’s going to end up hurt because of how reckless he is with his body and in his actions, Kathy reaches a breaking point when her own life is put in jeopardy as a result of hanging around the Vandals for too long. Continuing to keep the company of these club members even as the club mutates into what someone from the sixties would call a “bad scene.” The infiltration of more cutthroat, sociopathic youths like “The Kid” (Toby Wallace), as well as new members fresh back from Vietnam, riddled with PTSD and correlating hard drug addictions, means that the Vandals is no longer the same entity that Johnny had envisioned when he initially founded it.
The last straw for Kathy happens at another gathering of the members during which Benny ends up leaving in a rush to take one of the OG members, Cockroach (Emory Cohen), to the hospital after a group of new members beats the shit out of him for expressing the simple desire to leave the club and pursue a career as a motorcycle cop. With Benny gone, there’s no one around to protect Kathy from being attacked by another group that tries to force her into a room and gang rape her (this being, in part, a result of mistaken identity because she’s tried on the red dress of another girl at the party). Johnny manages to step in just in time to keep the man from harming her, but the emotional damage is done. Kathy can no longer live a life spent in constant fear and anxiety like this. Thus, she gives Benny an ultimatum: her or the club. In the end, Benny sort of chooses neither, running out on both Kathy and Johnny when each of them tries to strong-arm him into bending to their will.
It is only after hearing news of Johnny’s murder (at the hands of The Kid, who pulls a dirty trick on Johnny that finds the latter bringing a knife to a gunfight) that Benny decides to go back to Chicago and seek out Kathy for something like comfort. For she’s the only one who will truly be able to understand this loss. In the final scene of the movie, Danny asks what happened with Benny after all that. She informs him that the two are now living happily together (having relocated to Florida, as Kathy had originally suggested), with Benny working as a mechanic at his cousin’s body shop. Even more happily, for her, is the fact that he’s given up riding motorcycles altogether. In short, “he don’t hang around with the gang no more.” This being one of many key lines from the Shangri-Las’ “Out in the Streets,” which is played frequently as a musical refrain throughout the film.
That it also plays again at the end of the movie—an ending that, on the surface, seems “happy”—is telling of the larger truth: Benny has lost an essential piece of himself in choosing to give up riding. So, even though Kathy smiles at him through the window and he (sort of) smiles back, the playing of the song, paired with the distant sound of motorcycles in the distance as he stares wistfully into the abyss, makes it seem as though, like the rider of “Out in the Streets,” “His heart is [still] out in the streets.” However, in contrast to the woeful narrator of the song, Kathy isn’t one to acknowledge, “They’re waiting out there/I know I gotta set him free/(Send him back)/He’s gotta be/(Out in the street)/His heart is out in the streets.” Like most women, she would prefer to keep Benny inside their domestic cage, safe from harm. Safe, in effect, from truly living. For there is no purer freedom Benny feels than what he experiences on the open road.
All of this isn’t to say that the ending isn’t “generally” happy. Though that perspective also depends on one’s values. And yes, The Bikeriders makes a grand statement about the sacrifices that are frequently necessary for a relationship to work (and also just to secure a little more lifespan longevity). In Benny’s case, it was giving up the essential core of his identity. Which begs the question: if that’s what it takes to make a relationship work, then can one really be all that happy? Judging from the “sunken place” look on Benny’s face, the answer is looking like a no. As Mary Weiss puts it, “I know that something’s missing inside/(Something’s gone)/Something’s died.” And in place of that is what society refers to as an “upright citizen.”
