The Cycle Savages

A nameless biker gang maraud a burger stand. An artist at one of the outdoor tables calmly draws them. As seen in the course of the film, his drawings vary from charcoal sketches to very precise renderings such as these. The bikers track him down and cut him with an open razor. In a fine POV, he falls facedown on the carpet.

A pretty girl in his building nurses him. She even poses nude for him in his apartment, while his studio is being ransacked by the gang. Somewhat disconcerted by the sight, he leaves the room to find his sword missing (it had been given to his father for meritorious service in Normandy). He goes and retrieves it. She poses again, he draws her studiously and carefully, and then (perhaps remembering a Persian fable of the poet and his muse) he kisses her.

The gang recruit a fresh female. Two girls are sitting on a bus bench, one smoking, the other eating an ice cream cone. A lone biker pulls up, the ice cream girl climbs on for a joyride. After the orgy in the gang’s garage (intercut with the artist and model in bed), the girl wanders dazedly through town and finally collapses in the park. Meanwhile, two detectives visit the artist (Scott Brady in a great walk-on). A cabdriver’s POV shows the model departing.

The gang shanghai the artist, put his hands in a vise. The model in his studio has a small pistol. The gangleader’s wide-eyed moll has had enough of him.

The critical negligence of this superb little film (with its superb little tune by Jerry Styner) is so completely unaccountable that one can only imagine the papers’ wee wits in a stringer.