Silver Dream Racer

Whatever happened to David Essex? Here he is, near the end of his heyday, racing motorbikes, dressing in leather, trying to be James Dean and keeping Brylcreem in business. He wrote the music, too. The plot kicks in when Essex is given the mean machine of the title, a space-age ride designed to leave American ace rider Beau Bridges on the starting grid. Love interest is secondary. A vanity project from beginning to end, it tries hard to be a British Wild Angels, Easy Rider or Electra Glide in Blue, but rarely rises above the level of a clapped out Vespa.

One wonders who can have thought there was any box-office appeal in this cliché-ridden, derivative, flashily made update of the Road to Ruin.