Jeff Nichols fulfils a long-held ambition to make a 1960s-set biker movie, one which wears its influences as proudly as the badges on a biker jacket, but which weaves a mesmeric spell for a road movie which is happy to go nowhere and anywhere. The Bikeriders may have been gestating since a time before Nichols’ stunning sophomore film Take Shelter but it’s also his best work since then, despite an impressive period that includes Mud and Midnight Special.

Those influences begin with Martin Scorsese, an In medias res opening with narration and voiceover which shows a clear and acknowledged debt to Goodfellas. Nichols has based his film on a 1967 photo book of the same name and interviews conducted by its compiler, Danny Lyon. Mike Faist plays a version of Danny, riding with the gang, the Chicago Vandals, and the film is framed by two interviews with Kathy (Jodie Comer), the wife of one of the bikers. She’s instantly smitten with Benny (Austin Butler), all James Dean smoulder with added wisps of facial hair for the authentic biker look. He has a hot temper, which the gang’s leader Johnny (Tom Hardy) does his best to control, he can see Benny’s potential as a future leader but knows the young hothead needs to keep his passions in check.

Hardy channels his finest Marlon Brando for Johnny, an influence the biker picks up after seeing the star’s quiet authority on the TV screen. He’s also assembled a loyal pack of followers, including right hand man Brucie (Damon Herriman), Cal (Boyd Holbrook), Wahoo (Beau Knapp), Corky (Karl Glusman),Zippo (Michael Shannon) and Cockroach (Emory Cohen), so called because he’d be more than happy to eat one. These aren’t the bikers of the demonic stereotype, terrorising every town they ride through, but family men with jobs who share a common passion and band together in solidarity rather than for any need for hell-raising, but if push comes to shove they’ll shove back harder.

Nichols captures the effortless camaraderie between the men, which initially repulses Kathy but also gives her a support network, through the other wives and girlfriends. Comer begins with wide-eyed enthusiasm when first interviewed by Danny, tempered only slightly by the unpredictable edge of Benny and his fellow bikers. It’s a sharp contrast with her world-weariness when Danny puts his microphone in front of her again many years later, when the aftermath of the Vietnam War, drink, drugs and desperation, have fatally changed the nature of the Vandals. Comer is an expert at a wrinkle of the mouth or a tiny sigh that speak volumes, making her the sensible head of the film.

Its gently beating heart is Hardy, with his glacial authority as compelling as ever and his leadership only occasionally questioned. Nichols is compelled by the dichotomy of the Vandals’ very nature, a group who wish to sit outside the rules of society but who know they can’t function without structure and their own self-imposed conditions. Johnny effortlessly fends off challenges and commands the respect of all around him, and the screen is always more interesting when Hardy is on it. Butler gets a slightly thankless role as the pretty boy of the group but does get chance to open up in some heart-to-hearts with Comer later.

It’s to Nichols immense credit that he captures so successfully the changing face of the road gang, all effortless cool riding into town in formation, flanked behind Johnny and Benny, to the desperation that sets in towards the end, the realisation slowly creeping in that the world has changed and so, irrevocably, has their band of brothers. Seeds of toxic masculinity are carefully sewn before the gang begins to unravel, as each of them realises what they’ve come to love about their lifestyle may only now exist in Danny’s photographs.

The Bikeriders is, as much as the book that inspired it, an image in time, a paean to simpler times and laments a gradual loss of a somewhat twisted innocence. It all unfolds to a soundtrack that brings is back to the Scorsese comparison; while Scorsese had Bobby Darin and Billy Ward And His Dominoes, Nichols has Bo Diddly and Bob Dylan for company, a thrumming undercurrent that maintains the mood just as well. It’s a pleasure to spend time in the company of these lovable rogues and if Nichols has any other ideas that have been loitering at the back of his mind, on this evidence we can only hope he gets to them soon.

The Bikeriders opens in UK cinemas on 21st June

This was originally reviewed by Mark at the London Film Festival, head here for more of his coverage