James Taylor, Dennis Wilson, Warren Oates
A rare journey into the psychics of James Taylor and Dennis Wilson.
Dennis Wilson is mesmerizing.
Reviewed by CINETROPIC
Thirty years is a long time. In
thirty years, you forget the details; the essence of life in
1970, until a rare screening of Two-Lane Blacktop brings
it all back. Aside from the fact we were all much thinner then;
the men had gorgeous sun drenched hair and an inexplicable quality
of gentleness beneath a reckless, defiant exterior. Forget the
war, the Cultural Revolution, for those of us sweet young things
who populated the streets across America on Saturday night, we
watched a young man's identity evolve from the horsepower
under the hood of their Chevy Chevelle, Ford Mach I, or perhaps
a Pontiac GTO. The rumble of glass pack mufflers, blurred by
the glint of chrome, raging through the ¼ mile in the
moonlight was as erotic as the rhythm of any bass guitar.
The emission control laws of
the early 1970's added a few generations of life to the earth,
but pushed those great muscle cars into the showrooms and garages
of modern reality. On a rare Sunday, one of those garage doors
opens and for a brief afternoon you can still catch the glint
of passion in the eyes of one of those gentle, reckless souls