Knightriders

Already fragile in the Sixties (Alice's Restaurant), the idealistic collective in the Eighties might as well be medieval legend. Chivalry in the realm means leaving it or rather creating your own, Camelot is a Pennsylvania field, plain yet transformed by George Romero's lyrical affirmation of community and spectacle. "It's tough to live by a code. It's real hard to live for something you believe in." A continuous Renaissance Fair, with traveling players donning plumed helmets and tin-foil armor astride jousting choppers. The King (Ed Harris) sleeps in the woods and presides over the barnstorming stunts, so utterly committed to the role that disco beats in place of trumpeting fanfare send him into a rage. The Queen (Amy Ingersoll) is drawn to Lancelot (Gary Lahti), the Black Knight (Tom Savini) has his eyes on the crown, Merlin (Brother Blue) is a shamanic hepcat, Little John (Ken Foree) and Friar Tuck (John Hostetter) wander in from another myth. Strays and dropouts, no pay besides "a spiritual fix," virtually a definition of independent filmmaking. The folly of intransigence and the temptation of the mainstream, the reverie between nightmares is Romero at his gentlest and most personal. "Way you get knocked around, you're bound to have some weird dreams." Next to the corruption and abuse of the outside world, combat with swords and maces is good fun with friends. Shaggy Altman portraiture plus whizzing Needham gagwork, rambunctious naturalism and layers of artifice, a rough-hewn glow emanates from it all. The boy who wants an autograph instead gets Excalibur, the beatific smile before an incoming truck is how utopias die, cf. Lonely Are the Brave. "I'm not trying to be a hero! I'm fighting the dragon!" The proximity to Eastwood's Bronco Billy is salutary. With Christine Forrest, Patricia Tallman, Warner Shook, Cynthia Adler, John Amplas, Martin Ferrero, Randy Kovitz, Michael P. Moran, Harold Wayne, and Stephen King.