A unique entry amongst the biker films of the late 60s and early 70s, The Pink Angels feels like a zany send up of the genre. The stereotypes may seem a little jarring to twenty-first century eyes, but there is a good-natured feel to the film and a sly humour undercutting the standard machismo, all of which is ruined by the revolting final scene.
The meandering plot involves half a dozen bikers heading across California, accompanied by endless time-padding montages of them riding their choppers, a la Easy Rider (with a sub Easy Rider twee folk-rock soundtrack).
At first, they seem like a standard bunch, with long greasy hair, denim jackets and Nazi memorabilia. However, these have more in common with Priscilla Queen of the Desert than Easy Rider as, rather than a drug-fuelled orgy, they're all on the way to a drag convention in Los Angeles. They much prefer food fights to fist fights, and when women throw themselves at them, our heroes are more interested in the dresses they are wearing.
The gang may be little more than limp-wristed stereotypes, but they are also by far the most likable characters in the film. In addition, they do not seem in the slightest bit phased or intimidated by the cops or fellow bikers who try to harass them. Indeed, much of the humour comes from the pranks the Angels pull on them, pranks designed to undercut and mock their machismo.
Sadly, the film is ruined by a sub plot involving a man dressed in a General's military uniform who seems to be heading up a shadowy militia organisation, unhappy with the sort of degenerate sixties scum who they think are taking over the country. His scenes seem disconnected from the rest of the film and suggest they were shot at a different time, possibly as an afterthought. This sub-plot leads up to the genuinely distressing ending, jarring and tasteless, given the light generally light-hearted tone of the rest of the film.
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