Two-Lane Blacktop

I watched a somewhat fascinating artifact from the sixties counterculture era last night, a 1971 B-picture about street racers called Two-Lane Blacktop. It was directed by Monte Hellman, who was mentored by Roger Corman, and stars rock musicians James Taylor and Dennis Wilson as drifters who sustain themselves by winning car races for money.

This film is like a time capsule in that it represents a period long-gone but with a lot of appeal. The main characters (none of the characters are named--Taylor is known as "The Driver" and Wilson as "The Mechanic") ride around in a souped-up '55 Chevy, taking on all comers and cruising around the country. They are somewhat Zen in behavior, as they rarely speak and appear to have no interior lives. They pick up a young girl as a hitchhiker (Laurie Bird) who first sleeps with Wilson but then becomes attracted to Taylor, who starts to show emotion by betraying feelings for her.

Meanwhile, they keep running into Warren Oates, who drives a brand-new (1970) Pontiac GTO. Oates is sort of a representation of the bourgeoisie, wearing sweater vests and believing in the power of new technology over the boys' relic. Oates is also a liar, as he tells a different tall-tale to every hitchhiker he picks up (which is in itself a bit of time gone-by, as in those days it was conceivable to travel reliably by hitching). When Oates tries to tell Taylor his real story, Taylor tells him to stop, saying "It's not my problem."

Oates challenges Taylor and Wilson to a cross-country race to Washington, D.C., with the winner getting the title to the loser's car. Times being what they were, it's not very competitive, as frequently the lead car stops to let the lagger catch up, and Wilson even fixes Oates' car. In fact, the race is something of a McGuffin, as neither side completes it and the movie loses interest in who will win, instead ending with the frame melting against the projector bulb.

I liked a lot of this film, but you have to be in the spirit of it to enjoy it, as it's really a shaggy dog story with not a lot going on. Taylor and Wilson are not really actors, of course, but they aren't asked to do much. Viewed today, it's a wistful reminder of how life used to be in America, when the Interstates weren't the main routes (much of this film was shot on Route 66), people could safely hitchhike, and the car culture was in full bloom. Gearheads and grease monkeys will really dig this movie, as there's plenty of jargon about engines and horsepower that may have well as been in Urdu as much as I understood it. But even a guy like me, who would like nothing more than to never have to own a car again, can appreciate the look of a vintage GTO.