Obviously everybody knows the 1988 film “Funny Farm,” one of the most revered and iconic cinematographic works of the 20th century:
But did you know the guy who directed it also directed another obscure film called “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?” Well, it’s true. It was released in 1969, it’s about a couple of outlaws in the Wild West, and it stars that guy from the salad dressing:
And also that other guy from the GIF:
So what does a campy Western flick featuring two B-list actors who never really amounted to anything have to do with bikes? Well, as you know, nobody has written as extensively or as insightfully as I have on the subject of cycling and cinema:
And in watching this Hopalong Cassidy thing over the weekend I noted that the filmmaker employs the bicycle as a symbol to great and profound effect–and he does so almost as adeptly as he uses a taxidermy squirrel as a poignant metaphor for Chevy Chase’s insecurity and fear of failure in his masterpiece “Funny Farm:”
So I figured what could be more relevant than an in-depth analysis of the bicycle-as-symbol in this 54 year-old film?
The bicycle makes its first appearance as the sheriff attempts to round up a posse to hunt down Salad Dressing Guy and GIF Guy, only for a bicycle-peddling (pun intended) huckster to hijack the proceedings:
I apologize for the poor quality of the clip, but the movie is so obscure I couldn’t even find this scene on the YouTubes, so I was forced to record it off my computer with my phone:
While this might be construed as piracy, I’ve consulted with my legal team and they assure me that as I am using it for the purposes of cultural criticism I maintain it falls under the doctrine of fair use. So in your face.
Anyway, the huckster declares the bicycle to be “the future mode of transportation for this weary western world,” and intimates that it will “change your life for the better.” He even goes so far as to declare the horse “dead”–an audacious proclamation indeed when we consider that at the time in the popular imagination the horse is the very embodiment of the American West, if not America itself:
So what are we to make of this in a film that came out in 1969, the year famous for countercultural touchstones such as “Easy Rider,” the Woodstock music festival, and of course the debut of the wildly subversive “Brady Bunch” television series?
[Feminist icon Alice the Housekeeper galvanized the American working class during this tumultuous era.]
Well, consider that the sheriff (who represents the establishment) is attempting to rally the people (who represent the American public) to capture and tame Salad and GIF (who represent freedom). However, the people are shallow, fickle, and distracted, and so the huckster (who represents the American id) is able to easily steal their attention with the bicycle–which of course represents consumerism, fatuousness, and frivolity.
However, what makes a film truly compelling is when the filmmaker challenges our assumptions, eschews easy answers, and undermines our most deeply-held convictions. Consider for example the powerful scene in “Funny Farm” when Chevy Chase is delighting in a hearty repast, only to discover that he’s eating lamb testicles:
Hilarious.
Not only does it turn the trope of the urban sophisticate and the rural rube on its head, but it also cuts to the very essence of the human condition, and the helplessness we feel when circumstances rob us of our defenses and the superficial trappings of our successes and we find ourselves laid bare and at the mercy of others and our environment.
Similarly, just as we’re about to dismiss the bicycle as mere whimsy, it reappears as a symbol of not only freedom, but also of love:
In surrendering to this delightful sequence a viewer in 1969 would have had to grapple with the idea that perhaps the horse is dead, and in forcing us to confront this prospect the filmmakers effectively undermine the entire Western filmic oeuvre–the bicycle usurps the horse! Not only that, but in 2023 we can also marvel at the fact that this film not only predicted the gravel craze but also prefigured progressive mountain bike geometry:
And that’s saying nothing of the supertuck:
Salad Dressing Guy appears to be doing most of the stunt-riding too, except for this part where he goes crashing backwards into a corral and it’s obviously someone else:
Not only does the stunt rider have darker hair, but he also appears to be sporting a moustache, and in fact it looks suspiciously like one Tom Ritchey:
Of course Tom Ritchey was only around 13 years old when this movie came out, so it’s unlikely he did the stunts in “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” but there are those who say he was born with that moustache, so we can’t rule it out entirely.
Moreover, after crashing through the fence, Thousand Island Dressing finds himself face-to-face with an angry bull, which only a complete idiot wouldn’t immediately realize is a metaphor for American car dependence and the Automotive Industrial Complex:
Puckishly, Dressing Guy taunts it:
Though he is forced to flee, and in so doing executes an impressively smooth cyclocross bike portage, apart from the fact that he’s on the wrong side of the bike:
And while the bicycle helmet had not yet been invented when the film is supposed to take place, we can safely assume that riders of the day would have benefitted from the protective properties of their derby hats, or elaborate millinery designs in the case of the ladies:
By this point nothing less than the hopes and dreams of not only the film’s unlikely protagonists but all of society are riding upon the wheels of this bicycle–until about three-quarters of the way through the movie when he ghost-rides it into a mud puddle in which it ends up lying tragically with an anachronistic ticking freewheel sound, an image as powerful as the (spoiler alert) dead bikers at the end of “Easy Rider:”
The meaning of this is clear: “Fuck it, I’m leasing a Hyundai.”
