Review: Knightriders (1981)
Arthurian transcendence, police brutality, and lots of wheelies
When you think of Arthurian cinema, you might think of Excalibur (1981, review coming next week); maybe Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975); Camelot (1967) if you are of a musical turn of mind; or Disney’s The Sword in the Stone (1963). You probably don’t think of a 1981 film shot in Pittsburgh, directed by George “Father of the Zombie Film” Romero, and starring Ed Harris as a stunt-riding motorcyclist dressed in medieval armor, but I submit to you that you should, because Knightriders, against all odds, is one of the most sincere treatments of Camelot put to film, flails, motorcycles, hoagie-eating Stephen King and all.
To be clear: this is a fever dream of a movie. At 206 minutes it’s at least 45 minutes too long. But it manages to deftly navigate high-minded Arthurian ideals right alongside the unwashed vulgarity of its American Renaissance Faire setting. More importantly, it has something compelling to say about the impossible dream that is Camelot in the face of the mundane realities and petty indignities of making a living.
Synopsis: A ragtag troupe of motorcycle-riding jousters, led by Billy “King William” Davis (Ed Harris), travel the fairgrounds of the US plying their trade, fighting societal expectations and corrupt law enforcement, and sustaining far fewer life-threatening injuries than I would have thought. William’s rival, Morgan (Tom Savini, acclaimed special effects/ prosthetic makeup guy on Romero’s zombie films) plots to go corporate with the help of the shifty lawyer from Jurassic Park (Martin Ferrero), but William’s ideals stand up even to the ultimate test in their final showdown.
Ren-Faires and Their Discontents
“Functional paradox is the stock-in-trade of the American Renaissance Faire…”
Rachel Lee Rubin, Well Met: Renaissance Faires and the American Counterculture, p. 2.
George Romero’s film, with nary a zombie in sight, lovingly evokes the dusty, turkey-leg-scented chaos that is an American Renaissance Faire. Rachel Lee Rubin notes that Ren Faires had their roots in 1960s counterculture, though they were originally conceived by high school history teacher Phyllis Patterson of Laurel Canyon, California - she and her husband held the first “Renaissance Pleasure Faire” in their backyard in 1963, subsequently expanding it into a fundraiser for the North Hollywood radio station KPFK; soon they had imitators across the country. In the 1960s, the faires were populated by pretty crunchy types, and as such, often faced opposition from authorities and those suspicious of counterculture.1 Knightriders distills this into a corrupt cop who demands a bribe to allow the jousting to continue, then jails and horrifically beats a member of the troupe when Billy refuses. It’s all played straight and with real pathos, which is even more impressive when you remember that this is a movie about a traveling hippie commune reenacting Arthurian legend on motorcycles.
Despite (or perhaps because of) its ridiculous premise, the movie does a skillful job of interweaving the characters’ lives as performers against mundane, 20th-century realities. Romero lingers on the setup and breakdown of the faire, with costumed mimes, princesses, archers, and blacksmiths fooling around, picking up trash, and sharing beer and camaraderie around a campfire. He also intercuts the jousting scenes with audience reaction to telling effect. There’s the casual bloodlust of young families enjoying a day out; drunken neo-Nazi bikers who want to tilt at the watermelon quintain; and even a cameo by a grotesque Stephen King (credited as “Hoagie Man” and appearing alongside his wife Tabitha King) talking with his mouth full and insisting that the jousts are fake.
In between the jousting and greasepaint, Knightriders paints a surprisingly tender portrait of found family. Rubin points out how Ren-Faire participants tend to speak about their compatriots as tribe or “faire-mily,”2 which comes across nicely in the film. The nomadic, racially diverse troupe’s hippie lifestyle relies on the strength of their community under William’s enlightened but absolute rule. Gender roles and sexuality are decidedly liberated: Morgan’s paramour is the unglamorous mechanic Angie (Christine Forrest); her best friend, the herald, Pippin (Warner Shook), is struggling with his homosexuality (until he isn’t), and Sir Rocky (Cynthia Adler), one of the knights, is a glamorous lesbian whose girlfriend is also part of the troupe. None of this is particularly shocking now, but in 1981 this was quietly ahead of its time.
Still, this isn’t just a fuzzy portrait of hippie domesticity. Romero more than delivers on the film’s central gimmick: brutal, full-contact motorcycle jousts. The action scenes are frankly stunning and genuinely exciting, and I’m kind of amazed that no one died (as far as I know). There’s jumps, wheelies, wipeouts, riders getting clotheslined with a flail, bikes flipping over from a lance to the spokes, fights between knights in hacks (sidecars), and a spectator getting hit full in the face with a flying, riderless bike.3
As if the jousts weren’t enough of a sensory overload, the soundtrack throws in its own kind of madness. Donald Rubinstein’s score runs the gamut from a triumphant trumpet fanfare theme that wouldn’t be out of place in a “real” medieval movie, ditto ethereal Celtic tin whistle, some twangy, bluesy riffs, I think during one of the chases I heard “Dueling Banjos”? and even a part with a choir frantically singing the fanfare theme as if they were trumpets. It’s weird as hell, and yet also a totally perfect pastiche. That oddball sincerity is the film’s secret weapon, because for all the action, Knightriders is ultimately about ideals—and that brings us to Camelot.
The Arthurian Argument
Before the first performance, Pippin explicitly references T.H. White’s The Once and Future King (first published as a collection in 1958), explaining to spectators that “[White] called it “Once and Future” because once there was honor and nobility; in the future, they may also reign.” That same hope, wistful and a little naive, runs through Knightriders, which transposes the ideals of Camelot from medieval Britain into the campgrounds and parking lots of 1980s America via 1960s-style counterculture.
Based on Thomas Malory’s 15th-century Mort D’Arthur, The Once and Future King underlies most Arthurian cinema, and Romero’s Arthurian parallels are hard to miss. Billy (the Arthur figure) gathers a band of misfits and gives them a home and a code. His most loyal knight, Alan (clearly Lancelot) serves and challenges him in equal measure, especially when it comes to Linet (Amy Ingersoll), Billy’s queen. Billy also starts the movie with a stubborn injury to his shoulder that makes it difficult for him to fight, though he persists in doing so anyway, making it worse: shades of the Fisher King. Linet pines for Alan when he takes up with the vivacious young Julie (Patricia Tallman), who is understandably heartbroken when he eventually leaves her for Linet, just as Lancelot left Elaine for Guinevere. The androgynous, Native American mystery knight (Albert Amerson, credited simply as “The Indian”) seems to be a riff on Perceval, who comes late but then outclasses the rest. There’s Merlin, played by the luminous Brother Blue, who serves as the troupe’s doctor and resident harmonica-playing sage. And finally, Billy’s rival, Morgan (whose name suggests both Morgan le Fay and Mordred), is Billy’s downfall, but also his vindication.
The film’s chief conflict centers around Morgan’s flirtation with a sleazy promoter who promises him wealth and fame in exchange for a cut of the profits. He gets a new costume, new bikes, new equipment, and an amazingly NSFW photoshoot (armored thong, anyone?). But Morgan’s pitch to go corporate isn’t evil — it’s just tacky and uninspiring. Just as the over-the-top action scenes are intercut with shots of the troupe repairing bikes or hauling trash, the Arthurian dream is constantly interrupted by permits, bribes, and broken axles. Morgan sees the faire as a business; William sees it as a kingdom, sustained by belief, ritual, and a moral code. To keep the dream alive, compromise is necessary, and William can’t.
By the early 1980s, Ren Faires themselves were shifting. Once rooted in countercultural whimsy, they were becoming increasingly corporate, and Renaissance Entertainment LLC would go on to dominate the field.4 The expense and logistical requirements of running these faires and making them profitable is more than most countercultural enthusiasts were able or willing to take on. As in Knightriders, there were outliers here too, though — George Coulam, now the subject of the HBO docuseries Ren Faire (2024), has only now begun to consider relinquishing his hold on the Texas Renaissance Festival. It’s in this liminal space — between fading ideals and pragmatic survival — that Romero plants his own version of Camelot.
“…[For] some attendees… “authenticity” meant the countercultural ideal of “being real” as opposed to fake — which had a lot to do with emotional truths or anti-consumerism and almost nothing to do with historical exactitude.”
- Rubin, Well Met, 35.
Romero’s Camelot, finally, was not a grand castle but a muddy field behind a Home Depot. And yet, its ideals — loyalty, community, a just society built from scratch — burn just as brightly in Billy’s heart as they ever did in Arthur’s. Knightriders suggests that the dream of Camelot isn’t dead. It just smells faintly of patchouli and WD-40.
Rachel Lee Rubin, Well Met: Renaissance Faires and the American Counterculture (NYU Press, 2012), 63.
Rubin, 214.
Anybody else watch Full Metal Jousting (2012)?? Where the guy got disqualified for punching a horse?? Also, there was a single episode of American Chopper (2006) where they tried motorcycle jousting.
Rubin, 67.