Monte Hellman was one of the first directors of the New Hollywood era to try casting for box-office gold with rock stars. The leads of his 1971 feature Two-Lane Blacktop<\/em>, James Taylor and Dennis Wilson, had reached varying degrees of success as musicians. Taylor\u2019s second solo album Sweet Baby James<\/em>, a collection of heartbreaking, redemptive new American standards, had been released not long after Hellman secured financing for the film; Wilson was a familiar presence to many rock-and-roll fans as the drummer for\u2014and the only surfer in\u2014the Beach Boys. In the 50 years of Two-Lane Blacktop<\/em>\u2019s existence, Taylor\u2019s and Wilson\u2019s public images have evolved and complicated, and their personae bring an additional metanarrative layer to the only film in which they acted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n James Taylor was the first to be cast. \u201cI saw James’ picture on a billboard on the Sunset Strip and asked to have him come in and do a screen test,\u201d Hellman told the Austin Chronicle<\/em><\/a> in 2000. The cover art for Sweet Baby James<\/em><\/a> depicts the handsome troubadour in a contemplative, slightly wounded moment, and with his angular bone structure and big, sad eyes, you can see why Hellman \u201cflipped over his face<\/a>\u201d. At the time, Taylor\u2019s second album had been released but had yet to find its audience. In some circles his reputation as a heroin addict and a boyfriend to a string of high-profile Laurel Canyon singer\/songwriters preceded him. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Taylor\u2019s performance works best in the contemplative moments that seem like an extension of the Sweet Baby James<\/em> cover. His wide strides and slouchy posture anchor the washed-out wide shots in New Mexico. Hellman uses Taylor\u2019s arresting gaze well in a series of close-ups, in particular a shot towards the end of the film where his unnamed character sits in the driver\u2019s seat of his Chevy 150. In his unblinking focus and hangdog facial expression, you can feel the weight of everything that brought him to this point. Unfortunately, the compelling aspects of his performance evaporate every time he opens his mouth. Taylor\u2019s monotonous, rapid-fire cadence, shot through with a slight Boston accent, has an effective passive-aggressive provocation in an early scene where he challenges another drag racer to a race. This speaking style has a fidgety quality in other scenes, suggesting that Taylor was more invested in learning his lines and avoiding a car accident than he is in giving a performance. <\/p>\n\n\n\n When Marc Savlov asked Monte Hellman why he cast Dennis Wilson, the director\u2019s answer was simple. \u201cI think just that he had lived that role, that he really grew up with cars,\u201d he answered in 2000<\/a>. \u201cIt was almost as though he were born with a greasy rag in his back pocket.\u201d Wilson brought an appealing spontaneity to his performance, as though he had just wandered onto the set and acted the way he would act if he weren\u2019t on camera. In contrast with Taylor\u2019s nervous, stilted performance, Wilson\u2019s line readings sound fresh and improvised, and his flirtation with actress Laurie Bird plays as endearingly understated. <\/p>\n\n\n\n To contemporary viewers, it\u2019s hard not to read a sense of relief into the lightness of Wilson\u2019s performance. The Beach Boys were known to music fans everywhere for their tightly arranged music and clean-shaven image, and Wilson\u2019s shaggy sideburns and frequent shirtlessness comes off like a retort to his band\u2019s wholesome persona. Today, Wilson has some notoriety as the member of the Beach Boys who championed Charles Manson\u2019s songwriting, rewriting the murderer\u2019s song \u201cCease to Exist\u201d as \u201cNever Learn Not to Love<\/a>\u201d, only to eventually get a death threat from Manson. With the Tate\/LaBianca murders fresh in the national memory at the time the film was made, Wilson\u2019s performance in a film about being on the run has an eerie sense of urgency. (When Wilson removes the license plates from his car because \u201cI don\u2019t want anyone to find me,\u201d Manson\u2019s threats to the drummer immediately come to mind.) <\/p>\n\n\n\n The botched release of Two-Lane Blacktop<\/em>\u2014with its early critical acclaim, studio interference, years of unavailability, and eventual rank in the canon\u2014followed the cult film standard. Viewed today, it\u2019s a fascinating example of what rock stars can bring to the smallest and most intimate of cult movies.\u00a0![\"\"](\"https:\/\/crookedmarquee.com\/stage8\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/two-lane2-1024x445.png\")
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