Those Satisfactions are Permanent
As the film opens we meet the Driver (James Taylor) and the Mechanic (Dennis Wilson). They live to race and race to live. We never learn their names nor their relationship to each other. The Girl (Laurie Bird) joins them by removing her duffel bag from another guy's car and moving it to their car. Where are you heading? she asks them. East, the Mechanic replies. Her name, we learn, may be Higgins. They encounter another driver, GTO (Warren Oates), and engage him in a cross-country race for pink slips. GTO talks about himself a great deal, but because he contradicts himself at every turn we learn nothing about him. Other characters (hitchhikers, drag racers, a grieving grandmother, a driver in a fatal accident) drop in, ghost-like, just long enough to register their presence; we learn nothing about them. And then there are the cars. Two of them are given cast credits: a custom 1955 Chevy and a stock 1970 Pontiac GTO; we learn far more about them than we do any of the human characters. Along the way the Girl plays musical fellas and the fellas play musical cars. There's a whole hell of a lot of racing and a whole hell of a lot of going nowhere.
This film defies conventional criticism. The cinematography is gritty, stark, and beautiful. Warren Oates is brilliant. James Taylor flubs a few of his lines; somehow this lends his character depth. Dennis Wilson's performance, while lacking polish, is fascinating and compulsively watchable. Laurie Bird's character is easy on the eyes but hard on the psyche; her departure comes as a relief, even if it is in the penultimate scene. And when the film ends, it literally ends.
Two-Lane Blacktop seems awfully meaningful, but its meaning eludes me. I watch it again and again, each time hoping that this time it will reveal its secrets, but it leaves me mystified and frustrated every single time. Oh, how I love this movie.
10 out of 10 stars