Outlaw Motorcycles, 1966, an early genre documentary

Review by Doug Gibson

On this blog, I recently reviewed the semi-obscure "The Last of the American Hoboes," a late '60s feature-length documentary/narrative film history of hoboes. It was directed by Titus Moede (Moody), an iconoclastic actor/director/camerman/screenwriter/photographer who shot his films on a shoestring budget, when he could shoot them.

Moede died in 2001. I've long wanted to see an earlier documentary/narrative he bundled together. It's "Outlaw Motorcycles," 1966, a 35-minute short. Like "... Hoboes," it knocked around the basements of film distribution, with Moede selling many copies of both at a Los Angeles "mondo" film store, and through mail order. Both films entered the century largely ignored; neither was placed on the now-defunct TCM Underground. Both would have been ideal choices. In late 2023, both films were part of the several-films offering "Lost Picture set" Blu-Ray from Vinegar Syndrome. "Outlaw Motorcycles" was an extra for "The Last of the American Hoboes."I've seen both recently because "...Hoboes" is playing on Tubi. "...Motorcycles," for the time being, is on YouTube.

So, what do I think of "Outlaw Motorcycles?" Like "Hoboes," it's not a great film, but it's a fascinating time-capsule effort that merits more attention. This wasn't the first movie to feature motorcyclists, but it was very likely one of a just a few that was open-minded about its subjects. In this film law enforcement, while not overtly villains, are represented as individuals with power who will hassle the motorcycle gangs of that era.

Moede, who has solid history as a working actor, was a bohemian. While some scenes are staged -- as in "Hoboes," -- he walked the talk. The majority of participants belong to the motorcycle gangs that traversed California roads. Much of it was shot outdoors, and you can feel the uneasiness and/or fascinations people of that era felt watching the gangs.

The print I viewed was faded. Much of the dialogue (like "Hoboes") was probably dubbed later or just barely heard due to the low budget. But much of the film delivers authenticity. I particularly enjoyed the scene of a "biker wedding." The groom, after kissing his bride, gives several male biker buddies smooches on the lips. Another strong scene is a biker gang member's funeral.

The film has a scene where members of a biker gang meet and decide to raise money to buy lunches for victims during the Watts riots. The scene is probably staged but I'll accept that it occured. Like "Hoboes," it's strengthened by Moede's contacts and ability to go to locations that other films did not offer. In one scene a motorcycle gang member sports a Nazi swastika. I had though that association was a cliche, but apparently not.

Viewers learn in the film what a motorcycle gang's "mama" is. I'll keep it a secret. It leads to likely the most notorious/popular scene: a visit to a tattoo location where two "mamas" receive tattoos on two personal parts of the body. Gordon Barclay, an actor friend of Moede's who wrote and acted in "Hoboes," is the tattoo artist. I've read this film was banned in some locations. This scene is likely the reason. One shot in the scene, involving one of the "mamas," may be iconic. I know I've seen it before. It has the word "property" in it.

It's very low-budget, the film can plod at times, but it's an important film. Like Andy Milligan's early '60s short "Vapors," (a film about a NYC bathhouse) it provides a non-judgmental look at a culture that contemporary America -- at that time -- almost universally shunned and disliked.

Wild Beyond Belief! A review of those crazy 60s and 70s indies

Fellow cult film nerds, wouldn't you love to go back in time and witness what we obsess over? How cool would it be to buy a ticket in 1928 and watch "London After Midnight" or "Heart Trouble"? Both apparently long lost. Or what about dipping into a theater and seeing "Dracula" on opening day? Or maybe head 25 years into the future and catch Ed Wood in a tiny studio helming "Plan 9 From Outer Space," or dip into a drive in or Saturday late night cinema show in the '60s and '70s to catch "Incredibly Strange Creatures ...," "Dracula Versus Frankenstein," "Cain's Cutthroats," "Bigfoot," "Spider Baby," ... some readers have probably enjoyed these later-times bucket lists.

But, for most of us, all we have are the genre books to understand what it was like to be in on the genesis of cult films and cult genres. "Wild Beyond Belief: Interviews with Exploitation Filmmakers of the 1960s and 1970s" (www.mcfarlandpub.com ... here ... 800-253-2187) takes you into the world of the very small budget films of that era. Many of the players, from the lesser known (Jenifer Bishop, Ross Hagen, Joyce King ...) to the more famous (Jack Hill, Sid Haig, Al Adamson, Sam Sherman ...) recollect their experiences creating films such as "Blood of Dracula's Castle," "Spider Baby," "The Hellcats," "The Thing With Two Heads," "The Mighty Gorga," ... and so many more.

The interviewer, and author of this McFarland offering, is Brian Albright, a well-known name in genre writing. I really enjoyed his more recent book "Regional Horror Films: 1958-1990" and reviewed it here. Albraight manages to capture the era, the slap-dash, get-it-shot-and-put-it-together urgency of indy movie making in that era. Films such as "Gallery of Horrors" and "The Female Bunch" couldn't rely on video or DVD sales, or inclusions on streaming services like NetFlix to make money. They had to get into the theaters, in the drive-ins, often as a third feature, or on 42nd Street, to make those dimes. Penny-pinching was not an exception; it was the norm.

One interviewee relates to Albright how only $50 was coming in a week for the work, less than what was promised. But the interviewee was still happy, because pay was actually occurring! Not getting paid was a reality to the cast and crew of these films.



Many personalities flit through these interviews though they were not interviewed. Jack Nicholson, Roger Corman, Bruce Dern, Jill Banner, Carol Ohlmart, Harry Dean Stanton, John Carradine, Lon Chaney Jr., Mantan Moreland, Dennis Hopper, Scott Brady, etc. It's a reminder that many famous actors moved through both the big-budget and the micro-budget films, or that many big names rubbed shoulders with low-budget directors as their stars fell. And many stars started their careers in the basement.

Spahn's Ranch, the California, Nevada and Utah deserts, Bronson Canyon, a castle an hour or so away from Hollywood, crew members volunteering to take bit acting parts in the films, penny-pinching directors surrounded by talented but still-starving actors and crew members (think  Vilmos Zsigmond) producing films so uniquely bizarre that they have survived longer in memory and fondness than the bigger-budget studio films of the same eras. (That's a mouthful of a sentence-paragraph, I admit).

Sam Sherman, in his interview, notes that the success of these indie low-budget films prompted calls from the bigger studios asking to share space on the screens. One example he recalls was the producers of "The Molly Maguires" requesting "Satan's Sadists" to play on the same bill. But, as Sherman notes, eventually the majors learned that they could produce the same type of films, such as "Halloween," for low budgets and usually better production values. That signaled the beginning of the end.

"Wild Beyond Belief" is an homage to an era that really doesn't exist anymore. Thanks to technology, even the derivative cheapie horror duds that debut on Netflix or Amazon Prime are slicker than the '60s films made by a David Hewitt or Adamson.

But they lack what these oldies have -- heart and a unique style, for better or worse. That's why we love them, and we're so happy that writers like Albright have taken the time to collect and preserve its memories. This book (its Amazon page is here) is an excellent companion to Fred Olen Ray's "The New Poverty Row ..."