Knightriders
Some films make sense only if you meet them halfway; this one demands a full leap. Knightriders is George A. Romero’s oddball Arthurian riff, set not in Camelot but at a Renaissance fair where motorcycle jousts replace lances. The plot is thin, the characters broad, and the gender roles firmly stuck in sighs and simpers. Yet amid the chaos, there’s one reason to stay in the saddle.
That reason is Ed Harris, who charges through as the would-be King Arthur of this tarmac Camelot. Mounted on a six-cylinder Honda, he’s utterly committed: ranting about honour, refusing autographs on principle, and even flogging himself in ice-cold streams. It’s the sort of performance that convinces you, briefly, that this cracked carnival might matter.
The supporting cast does their part—Tom Savini adds muscle, and Stephen King’s blink-and-laugh cameo is a treat—but it’s Harris who keeps the film from collapsing under its own weight. Knightriders may wobble like a joust on two wheels, but with Harris at the reins, it never quite crashes.
That reason is Ed Harris, who charges through as the would-be King Arthur of this tarmac Camelot. Mounted on a six-cylinder Honda, he’s utterly committed: ranting about honour, refusing autographs on principle, and even flogging himself in ice-cold streams. It’s the sort of performance that convinces you, briefly, that this cracked carnival might matter.
The supporting cast does their part—Tom Savini adds muscle, and Stephen King’s blink-and-laugh cameo is a treat—but it’s Harris who keeps the film from collapsing under its own weight. Knightriders may wobble like a joust on two wheels, but with Harris at the reins, it never quite crashes.
Mini Review: Some films ask for patience; Knightriders demands a leap. Romero’s oddball Arthurian riff swaps Camelot for a Renaissance fair with motorcycle jousts. The plot is thin, the gender roles dated, but Ed Harris keeps it upright. As a would-be Arthur on a Honda, he’s all honour and conviction—ranting, refusing autographs, even flogging himself in icy streams. Savini adds muscle, Stephen King pops up for laughs, but it’s Harris who stops this carnival from crashing.