When Monte Hellman's 1971 road movie, "Two-Lane Blacktop," came out it resisted easy classification. The moviegoing audience had been treated to "The Graduate" and "Easy Rider" and was hungry for more counterculture films with fresh takes on dialogue, exposition and character arcs. "Two-Lane Blacktop" opened to much fanfare by critics and was predicted to become the next big thing in youth culture.
The film instead took a turn toward an unknown destination, then quickly disappeared, gliding down the backroads of American cinema. For decades, it was hard to find. It remained a cult treasure until it reemerged in recent years through the Criterion Collection, gaining new life and new fans. Today, you still won't find it streaming, but for those with a taste for the open road and the allure of the unusual, the Chestnut Hill Film Group will screen it at 7 p.m. on Nov. 12, at Woodmere Art Museum, 9201 Germantown Ave.
"Two-Lane Blacktop" is a road movie in the truest sense. It's about the journey – not the beginning or the end but the in-between moments that make the road trip unforgettable. The Driver (James Taylor) and The Mechanic (Dennis Wilson) live for the road, tuning and pushing their 1955 Chevrolet in pursuit of something elusive, a finish line that remains perpetually out of reach. They are joined by a nameless girl (Laurie Bird) and GTO (Warren Oates), a tragic driver who's familiar to every man who thinks he can run away from himself. Together they embark on a cross-country race across America's backroads and byways.
On paper, "Blacktop" sounds like an action film: a cross-country race, fast cars, a girl who hitches a ride and a prized car at stake. But the film doesn't follow the usual formula. Winning isn't what matters; neither is claiming the girl or even reaching the destination. Instead, the film is about living in the moment, one mile at a time, with no promises beyond the open road. There's no lesson to be learned, no moral to wrap things up neatly. For these characters, the road offers uncounted possibilities.
Every memorable road trip is full of essential ingredients: idle conversation, snacks, good tunes and the little detours that turn an ordinary drive into something like an adventure. But the quiet moments, the ones when you're looking out the window at a blurred landscape, leave the deepest impression. In those silences, when it's just you, the car and the open road, the journey begins to feel almost spiritual. That's what "Blacktop" captures—a sense of mystery and quiet melancholy that's both sad and strangely beautiful.
Warren Oates' character, GTO, represents that peculiar American figure – the restless drifter with stories and half-truths that shift as quickly as the scenery. GTO picks up hitchhikers and spins tales, trying on different personas as though they're costumes. In contrast, The Driver and The Mechanic say little, expressing themselves through their car's engine. They're not interested in defining themselves by anything other than the road, the hum of their tires and the ephemeral nature of the journey itself.
Watching "Blacktop" is like gazing out the car window on an endless stretch of highway. It's not a film for those who need traditional storytelling. Instead, it offers a hypnotic, meditative experience. The endless rumble of the engine, the vast stretches of road and the nameless stops along the way all remind us that life on the road is about the present moment and savoring the journey. It's a kind of freedom that's rare in life or cinema, the kind that leaves you both unsettled and at peace.
For those with a love of road movies and the open highway, "Two-Lane Blacktop" is a chance to take a drive through an America that no longer quite exists, and perhaps never did—an America where the road never ends.
