The Motorcycle, the Leather & the Breakdown: Faithfull’s Erotic Spiral with Delon on THAT French Set

If you thought cinema in the 1960s was all Beatles soundtracks and Audrey Hepburn sipping coffee in front of Tiffany’s, think again.

In 1968, the world was introduced to The Girl on a Motorcycle, a film so drenched in eroticism, leather, and confusing European philosophy that audiences didn’t know whether to light a cigarette or call their therapist.

Starring Alain Delon, the French heartthrob who could make a croissant blush, and Marianne Faithfull, the rock-and-roll siren who was already infamous for allegedly using a Mars Bar for extracurricular purposes (Google it at your own risk), this British-French “erotic romantic drama” wasn’t just a film—it was a cinematic fever dream dressed in leather chaps.

Directed by Jack Cardiff, a man best known for filming things in color that probably shouldn’t have been in color, the movie attempted to blend sex, rebellion, motorcycles, and philosophy into one sweaty package.

The result? A cult classic that half the audience insists is high art, while the other half insists it’s just soft-core porn with better lighting.

Spoiler: both are right.

The plot—if we can even call it that—revolves around Marianne Faithfull as a bored housewife who decides that, instead of baking scones or knitting socks, she would rather slip into a leather catsuit and ride her motorcycle across Europe to meet her lover, played by Alain Delon.

Yes, the entire film is essentially one long road trip fueled by sexual frustration, narrated by Marianne’s stream-of-consciousness voiceovers that sound like bad poetry you’d find on Tumblr.

“The motorcycle is my lover,” she whispers at one point.

Freud, if he were still alive, would’ve slammed his notebook shut and declared, “I’m out. ”

Naturally, the film was a scandal magnet.

In Britain, the censors went into cardiac arrest, clutching their pearls while writing strongly worded memos about “indecent imagery. ”

In France, however, critics called it “provocative,” which in French actually means, “We’re too busy smoking and cheating on our spouses to care. ”

Audiences were split.

Some thought they were witnessing the next great European art film, a meditation on freedom, love, and the dangers of repression.

Others thought they were witnessing Marianne Faithfull slowly suffocate inside a leather catsuit that made her look like a dominatrix version of Catwoman.

One reviewer from The Times even called it “a film that smells faintly of petrol, perfume, and poor life choices. ”

But the real chaos came from the film’s production.

Marianne Faithfull, already deep into her stormy relationship with Mick Jagger, reportedly showed up to set hungover more often than not, occasionally riding the motorcycle herself despite the crew’s insistence that she let a stunt double take the wheel.

Alain Delon, meanwhile, spent most of his scenes looking effortlessly sexy while wondering aloud why the script made no sense.

Rumor has it he once asked director Jack Cardiff, “Am I supposed to love her or the motorcycle?” Cardiff allegedly replied, “Both.

But mostly the motorcycle. ”

To this day, The Girl on a Motorcycle is remembered less for its artistic merit and more for its audacity.

It was the first movie in the UK to receive an “X” rating—not for violence, but for eroticism.

Naturally, this made teenagers flock to see it in droves, thinking they’d be watching something scandalous.

What they got instead was a strange, slow-moving philosophical monologue with occasional nudity and Alain Delon staring moodily into the camera.

“It was like being catfished by cinema,” one now-elderly fan told us, recalling his teenage disappointment.

Of course, modern critics have since tried to rehabilitate the film’s reputation, calling it a “psychedelic feminist statement” about a woman reclaiming her freedom.

Which is adorable, but let’s be real: if feminism is riding through Europe in head-to-toe leather while having imaginary conversations with your motorcycle, then Gloria Steinem wasted her time.

Still, it does raise the question: was The Girl on a Motorcycle secretly ahead of its time? After all, women ditching their husbands for bad boys and leather jackets didn’t really go mainstream until the Kardashians came along.

Perhaps the most enduring part of the film is its soundtrack, which critics at the time described as “groovy” and modern fans describe as “a migraine with guitars.

” Psychedelic rock blares as Marianne speeds across highways, making viewers wonder if they’re supposed to be turned on or just car sick.

One music historian we made up for this article insists, “The soundtrack was the true lover in the film.

Alain Delon was just an accessory.

Like a nice scarf. ”

And let’s not forget the cultural aftershocks.

The film, despite its mixed reviews, became a cult hit among bikers, art students, and people who couldn’t afford therapy.

Fashion magazines gushed over Faithfull’s leather catsuit, sparking a brief but memorable trend in the late ‘60s where suburban housewives tried squeezing themselves into PVC outfits for PTA meetings.

One unnamed British husband recalled, “My wife showed up to dinner in head-to-toe black leather after seeing that film.

I thought she’d joined a biker gang.

Turns out she was just bored.

We got divorced two weeks later. ”

Thanks, Jack Cardiff.

Even now, Hollywood occasionally flirts with the idea of a remake.

Names like Kristen Stewart, Zoë Kravitz, and Margot Robbie have been whispered as potential leads, though the biggest challenge would be finding an actor willing to play the motorcycle with enough emotional depth.

“We need to really understand the motorcycle’s motivations,” a fake Hollywood producer told us.

“Is it jealous of Alain Delon? Is it complicit in her rebellion? Does it secretly want its own spinoff film?”

In hindsight, The Girl on a Motorcycle might be one of those rare cinematic gems that’s both ridiculous and iconic at the same time.

Sure, the dialogue sounds like a drunk college student reading bad poetry.

Sure, the plot could be summarized in one sentence: “Woman cheats on husband with motorcycle. ”

But the film dared to push boundaries in a way that made people gasp, laugh, and occasionally leave the theater muttering, “What the hell did I just watch?” And isn’t that what cinema is all about?

So next time you see Marianne Faithfull in that leather catsuit, remember: you’re not just looking at a woman on a motorcycle.

You’re looking at history.

History that smells like gasoline, cigarettes, and questionable life choices.