After the release of “Dawn of the Dead” in 1978 George A. Romero became hot property and a household name. Suddenly he found major distributors and production companies vying for his attention and it was this experience that gave inspiration for one of his most personal and oddest movies to date.
“Knightriders”, released in 1981, follows a renaissance fair troupe who travel across a contemporary United States putting on tournaments. Their steeds are modified motorcycles and their armour is tinfoil but their belief in their way of life is far more real. Billy is their leader and king, haunted and driven by the need to impart something special to his subjects and audience. Morgan in the black knight who stands beside Billy, but also may have a knife hidden away for the right moment.
“Knightriders” follows no formulaic plot line, it barely has a plot at all as it follows this group across the American mid-west in a near aimless journey. The film is not about plot at all but character.
Our introduction to Billy, and the first scene of the film itself illustrates Billy’s perception of the world perfectly. There is a calm to Billy’s world when he is left to his own devices. A deep spirituality that may not be readily apparent to the visitors to his troupes shows; but is there never the less. We see him bathing in a river deep in the forest, around him nature seems accepting of his intrusion. His presence does not really seem an intrusion at all, he seems a part of it all; but perched on one tree is the ever present blackbird that we will soon realise represents something dark edging its way into this perfection.
The perfection is quickly broken when we discover we are in the contemporary world, not a fantasy kingdom. The juxtaposition of the Billy’s world and the outside world is something that reoccurs throughout the film. This leads, amongst other things, the notion that Billy’s internal would may not only be in a state of flux, but actually broken entirely. It could be considered that perhaps Billy is a man functioning with a psychotic break, desperately trying to marry his fractured mental landscape with the world outside.
What is certain is Billy’s ability to lead others and the faith and love he inspires from them. Even the Black Knight who calls himself Morgan follows Billy’s lead, even through his complaints and jibes against the “fantasy king”. Despite his self-absorbed cynicism Morgan believes in Billy’s ideals but finds himself seduced by the outside world and its promise of riches.
This is the core of “Knightriders” and Romero’s inspiration for the film and its ideals. A close knit community battling bravely against corporate America to produce something of longevity and substance in a world that consists mostly of transience. Billy’s troupe and Romero’s troupe are almost identical, both need to create something of worth and strive to do it with independence and integrity.
It is no coincidence that “Knightriders” follows “Martin’s” example in almost every way. It uses that same “non actor’s” in many key roles, and many of Romero’s friends and family take part. Even Stephen King, the celebrated horror author and friend of Romero makes an appearance. Tom Savini and Christine Forrest return as a bickering couple that is not too far from what they were in “Martin” and, finally, Billy has many of the same attributes as “Martin’s” “Count” persona.
“Knightriders” works as an extension of the previous film, taking “Martin’s” themes of spirituality and personal identity and playing out as a group dynamic. Here we see how many different personality types battle with these notions. How some, in the guise of Morgan, will strive for acceptance and glory and others for a more cerebral approach to success.
The moral implications of the movie suggests that personal enlightenment is the only way to go and that, as with Morgan’s quest for glory, other routes to success are ultimately flawed. There’s a lot to say for this argument, and to a degree “Knightriders” preaches to the converted; but it is interesting to note that this is also one of Romero’s least liked films, especially by those less conversant in film grammar. What should be a relatively universal belief in self improvement and personal-honesty becomes “that one with the bikes from the guy who did the zombie films.”
“Knightriders” is far more than just “the one with the bikes”, it’s a heartfelt tragedy about ideals against adversity. It’s also a sly admission that perhaps a less idealistic approach may be the key to a philosophies survival.
As with his previous work Romero approaches the subject matter with his typical view to show human nature through good characterisation. For the first time however he has had a lead who is a match to his written work. Ed Harris plays Billy with all the quality that a viewer has come to expect from him, and produces one of the best pieces of work of his career. In fact there is such depth and complexity to Billy that it makes him a very difficult character to summarise. All aspects of a human being are accounted for, he is childish and austere, thoughtful and brash, passionate and thoughtless all at once; and all aspects bear in equal measure in what unfolds in the movie.
If it could be taken as read that Billy is a direct comment on Romero himself it could be said that Knightriders is a love letter to independent film making and the desire to keep it that way. It also seems that when the vast similarities between the group structure and philosophies of “Knightriders” and Romero’s own troupe is taken into consideration the movie cannot be taken as anything other than a comment on Romero’s own trials in his field. Never before or since has Romero, or any other director for that matter, expressed so openly his personal beliefs in this way, making “Knightriders” something truly special in independent film.
Like “Dawn of the Dead” Romero uses the “spherical” filming process, shooting in 35mm and then cropping the image to a 1:1.85, but that is where the similarity to that previous movie ends. “Knightriders” is filmed almost completely in exteriors, most of these in woodland areas and fields where the troupe take up camp. This provides the film with a richness of colour and broadness of scope that most of Romero’s other films lack.
The films connection with nature is another aspect that runs far and long through the films philosophy, the troupe are from a simpler age (or at least that is their intent) and their reliance on nature is a part of what allows their connection to their own spirituality.
This feeling of a “simpler age” extends wonderfully to Donald Rubinstein’s eccentric and beautiful score. Though it lacks the audio gymnastics of his previous compositions it is no less of a masterpiece than his work for “Martin”. Simple traditional compositions ease into dramatic incidental music with invisible grace, and as with “Martin” the music becomes another character under Rubinstein’s touch.
There are other elements that tie “Martin”, “Knightriders” and Romero’s lesser seen movie “Bruiser” together. They share a thematic grammar, composer and much character iconography as well as the obvious story themes; but there is one other surprising connection between these three movies.
It was not until 2000, almost a decade after “Knightriders” that Romero returned to this thematic trilogy with “Bruiser” and by this time the film industry had changed significantly.
