Werewolves on Wheels

This film is a masterpiece! Thrill to hairy, disgusting guys riding enormous motorcycles with no hands! Cringe in horror as they beat the living daylights out of some guy at a gas station. Wonder just what the heck is going on as hordes of barefoot monks descend from the hills to offer bread and wine. Keep your notebook handy, because a step-by-step lesson in dark spirit-summoning is there waiting for you (hint: freshly cut Hazelwood). Ponder the homoerotic subtext. See the worst Tarot card reading in all history. There's even a charming softshoe routine for the kids. There's a couple of decent corpses in this movie, too. and the soundtrack is hot, hot HOT!!! I liked the ending.

I have wanted to see this movie for YEARS, considering it has one of the greatest titles ever. What I was hoping for was bikers riding along in full wolfman makeup, like the poster suggests. What I got was hippies galavanting across a desert and two(I think its two, it might be just one) members of the crew change into wolf form within the last 2-3 minutes of the movie. I can't say that I think it's art, unless you can watch 'Manos, the Hands of Fate" and think that's art...attempted art, I suppose. To be clear, this movie is NOT as bad as Manos, as very few movies ever made are awful to that degree. Still, the title made me think I would enjoy this movie enthusiastically as it implies the kind of shlocky camp I find amusing and I came away incredibly disappointed...and bored.

A biker gang, The Devil's Advocates, is driving desert roads, perhaps a little lost. At a resting spot, some hooded monks serve them wine and bread, and they pass out. The monks have some sort of satanic ritual with the girlfriend of the gang's leader, who they call the bride of Satan. She winds up dancing on a table nude, when the bikers come to, grabbing her, and beating up the monks.

They hit the road again, but something's wrong. Whenever they stop, some of their members die, apparently killed by wild beasts.

At one point, the movie almost seems like a parody of a classic Universal monster movie, when a wolfman is riding on a motorcycle (!) being chased by bikers on their motorcycles who are wielding torches. What, no pitchforks?

I saw this on an old videotape, full-frame. If it was shot in widescreen, I'm sure it looks better that way, what with the desert locations. Still, the visuals are pretty nice at times, as when the bikers disappear in a cloud of smoke and the camera quickly pulls back from a truck. There's also a neat old gas station, with old-fashioned glass-topped pumps that actually need to be *pumped* with a lever.

The instrumental guitar songs on the soundtrack are enjoyable. A real fuzzed-out rock sound.

To the extent that it's not all that good, hey at least it's not that long either. The ending is weird, but maybe it's supposed to be a little trippy, man!

While shaky in premise, Werewolves on Wheels contains all the absurdity, excess and self-awareness necessary to maintain interest. The plot roams all over the place, the actors mumble a lot of their lines and the ending is distinctly dissatisfying - but nevertheless it's well worth 85 minutes of your time. A rowdy gang of bikers who call themselves the Devil's Advocates shows up at a gas station in the middle of the desert to terrorizes the attendant, then proceeds to stumble upon a monastery while partying in a nearby forest. The ominous monks share suspect bread and wine, greedily indulged upon by the rowdy gang. When they're too drunk to notice, head monk `One,' an interesting role for the usually funny Severn Darden, plucks a hair from one of their heads and places it in a bat buckle. He then prays to Satan and kills a cat. The fun begins at this point, and biker lady D. J. Anderson materializes for some sort of dark ritual. When the bikers realize she's gone missing, they seek out the monks and beat the living pulp out of them. The bikers think little of the events that have transpired, but the following night at the campfire Anderson seems to suck head biker Stephen Oliver's blood, and a mock Satanic dance culminates in the grisly deaths of two members of the gang. After terrorizing another gas station they roam around the desert pretending to make a movie, creating a distinctly self-reflective mood. Nonsense-preaching Duece Berry (whose character is named `Tarot') tries to warn Oliver that something's in the air but he'll have none of his buddy's mystic mumbo-jumbo. They burn a pile of old cars and Anderson sees foreboding signs in the flames. Much of the same insanity carries the film right up to its vague conclusion. Writer-director Michael Levesque, who worked on a couple of Russ Meyer films, is a decent enough filmmaker and the camera work and editing and enjoyable, but the film suffers from over-abuse of the zoom. At least three cast members also appeared in The Last Movie, also made in 1971, and folk singer Barry McGuire appears as a member of the bike gang. Most of the rest of the cast are stunt performers, including a number of the leads. Don Gere provides an excellent psychedelic soundtrack, by far the best of any biker movie I've seen. The unusually diverse cast and enthusiastic amateur creative spirit create an atmosphere more exciting than the majority of contemporary genre filmmaking. What it all comes down to is that this a movie for people who like to drink in the morning, like myself.

This was a cool, funky little film, kind of an attempt to mix Easy Rider with any werewolf film. The Devils Advocates are a dirty, sleazy, nasty biker gang who live on the road, stopping only to sleep, drink and screw. When they stop one night at the foot of a Satanic Temple, and are offered food and drink by the monks, their life on the road gets a little weirder.

No, sadly, you really don't get to see hairy werewolves howling maniacally as they drive down dark highways illuminated by the full moon. What you do get is an attempt at artiness, as scenes are intercut with shots of black birds wheeling through the still air, a drugged girl dances naked before a fire as deranged monks deliver a spooky chant and a tarot reader displays talents more accurate than many I've seen in the movies. There's some absolutely hysterical additional dialogue and parts of the film almost have a documentary type feel to it. No, it's not the worlds most flawless film by any means, but it's better than a lot of the crap that was coming out around the same time. It has a realistic grittiness to it, yet at the same time possesses an ethereal atmosphere. It was just funky enough to impress me.