Biker Boyz (2003) DreamWorks Pictures
1 hr. 50 mins.
Starring: Laurence Fishburne, Derek Luke, Orlando Jones, Djimon Hounsou, Lisa Bonet, Larenz Tate, Kid Rock, Brendan Fehr, Meagan Good, Salli Richardson-Whitfield, Vanessa Bell Calloway
Directed by: Reggie Rock Bythewood
Rating: ** stars (out of 4 stars)
Writer-director Reggie Rock Bythewood revs up his motors for the flashy “contemporary western-on-wheels” drama Biker Boyz, a clichéd motorcycle-racing flick that does nothing to expose us graciously to the nuances of this particular subculture. Bythewood’s fueled-up action adventure has the allure of a primarily energetic black casting, the adrenaline of screeching two-wheeled contraptions roaring endlessly and an over-active hip-hop score that pounds the restless ear lobes. Still, this frenzied concoction of Yo! MTV Raps meets The Fast and the Furious in the mean streets of discontentment plays like a misguided melodrama running on an empty gas tank of worthy ideas. One can appreciate Bythewood’s intentions on presenting the illegal sport of urban motorcycling racing as an elaborate catalyst for pent-up aggression, especially when it features the revelation that African-American interests are as capable as embracing this petroleum-induced pastime as much as anyone else. But Biker Boyz bogs itself down in the convoluted conventions of a pseudo-slick, frenetic fable.
One would think that Bythewood’s hyped-up and noisy narrative would be “off the hook” with its sizzling soundtrack to accompany the throbbing sounds of the “vroom vroom” vibes. But the silly-minded sidetrack of the angst-ridden storyline tries to balance the thunderous action-oriented sequences and in the process fails awkwardly. Quite frankly, if Biker Boyz stayed focused on the sole aspect of racing and road rage, then this movie could have at least enjoyed the sensation of being a one-note guilty pleasure much like its aforementioned driven counterpart The Fast and the Furious. But Bythewood chose to mingle in some ill-advised pathos along with the “pedal-to-the-medal” philosophy that this showcase champions so shamelessly.
The premise involves a disenchanted young man by the name of Kid (Derek Luke from Antwone Fisher fame) trying to break into the motorcycle club scene and take it by storm. Having seen his unlucky father perish in a tragic racing accident, Kid feels the extra need to conquer the motorcycle racing circuit. What better way to do this is by taking on the legendary “King of Cali” in the form of number one street outlaw Smoke (Laurence Fishburne). Not only is the older Smoke considered the best at what he does, there’s a personal connection that he shares with his rival upstart—Kid’s late father was his personal mechanic. And so Kid has to settle a score in the name of his deceased dad if not in a vain attempt to secure some unfulfilled self-discovery issues pertaining to him. Hmmm, it’s Antwone Fisher morphing into Speed Racer! Yeah, whatever!
Methodically, Kid goes on to assemble his own ethnically diverse team of motorcycle clubbers enthusiastic to take on the streets with vengeance. They’re armed with dressy black and yellow leather jackets and a so-called killer instinct to match. And of course sporting a tattoo is also a sign of kinship and connectedness as well. In fact, Kid’s marking is rather distinctive if not profound: “Burn rubber not your soul” is proudly displayed on his tight chest. Gee, he’s a real Aristotle of the grease pits, huh? With some unresolved anger lingering about and the pressure of competition nearing close as Smoke and his badboys The Black Knights rule the highways and byways, Kid becomes increasingly anxious. Also, if you throw into the mix the presence of musician Kid Rock posing as the top seed threat to capture Smoke’s glory then I’m sure the proceedings get even more complicated for the sullen Kid. Truth be told, one will become overwhelmed by the tediousness of this whole dopey dazzling affair but for completely different and disagreeable reasons.
Biker Boyz has the noted tension of a Harley-Davidson tune-up. Bythewood tries to fortify this rapid-fire exposition with snappy racing stunt scenes, delicious meaty and curvy hoochie mamas, labored lip service between the roguish combatants and the mismatched alienation factor to boot. Sure there are excitable elements to the film that occasionally stimulate the senses—there’s no denying that fact. But that’s not saying much when this whole pulsating presentation is nothing but one great big jumbled and jittery blur. The movie’s editing is distractingly choppy and perplexing and one can’t figure out half the time who or what is engaged in the high-wire activity as the suspect camerawork bounces about in perpetual random fashion. If the monotonous string of racing vignettes does not overtake your patience after a while then the aimless transparency of the countless characters and their raucousness certainly will.
The main question remains this: what in the world is a talented performer like Fishburne doing by being trapped in this heap of motor oil madness? Shouldn’t he be preparing for another Shakespearean version of Othello or working on the continued success of the Matrix sequels as opposed to slumming about with exhaustive mainstream B-movie hash such as Biker Boyz? Yes, you take work when you can get it to pay the bills but come on now. Luke was truly effective as a tortured soul looking for emotional relief from a scarred past thanks to his affecting performance in the poignant Antwone Fisher. But in this movie, his disillusionment is routinely realized and regrettably shallow thanks to the idiotic dramatic devices that the spotty script sheepishly employs. Plus, it seems as if people are coming in and out of the woodwork in this boisterous biker actioner yet none of their presence ever registers for us to give one hoot about. Heck, the nicknames of these protagonists are more involving than the individuals’ themselves (former TV Cosby kid Lisa Bonet sports the moniker of “Biker Window Dressing”…ah…that’s kind of catchy I suppose?).
In essence, Biker Boyz had the gumption to parlay its free-wheeling universe of chaos cartwheels into an unconventional piece of meaningful spry escapist entertainment. However, Bythewood never rises to the occasion of creating a specialized or unique world where biker enthusiasts and outsiders alike can gather a snippet of distinct acknowledgement that promotes the fast-paced fury of motorcycling and the participants who find identity through it with inexplicable passion. Instead, this offering is harried and arbitrary with no capacity to inform or entice its audience with the showy lame material it puts forth.
Feel free to start your engines as we salute this skid-marked soap opera that could also be appropriately referred to as its other telling alternative titles: The Loud and the Listless or Brothas, Booty-licious Babes and Their Badass Bikes.
Frank rates this film: ** stars (out of 4 stars)