There are precious few times that one enters the darkness of a cinema only to emerge a few hours later transformed into a better human, one who has glimpsed the human condition as never before and, as such, achieved a certain enlightenment or—dare I say?—grace.

In my movie life Kingpin (1996) comes instantly to mind. So too Roadhouse (1989). And let’s not forget Charlie Sheen’s early career magnum opus The Wraith (1986).

Frankly, all shrink in importance and impact when compared to Joe Namath‘s big-screen debut, 1970’s C.C. and Company, in which the 1969 AFL Player of the Year “lov[es], brawl[s] and bust[s] it up!”

Sure, we’d sampled his acting chops on that The Brady Bunch episode, the one where Bobby fakes a serious illness to squeeze a pity visit from Broadway Joe. (Don’t bother checking the air date—it came out three years after C.C. and Company, but, considering we’re living in post-truth world, I’m going with it.)

But under the tutelage of legendary director Seymour Robbie (Colonel Humphrey Flack; The Bill Dana Show; O.K. Crackerby!), Namath upped his level of play to the thespian equivalent of a 4.4 40-yard dash when he occupied the leather saddle of one C.C. Ryder, a tough but chivalrous biker living the nomadic life in late 1960s California.

Auteur Robbie wastes no time documenting our protagonist’s anti-establishment bonafides, opening the film with C.C. entering a supermarket only to relieve various and sundry sealed packages and the fresh produce aisle of ingredients for a sandwich, one he proceeds to construct and consume—salmonella be damned—on the grubby child’s seat of his shopping cart.

C.C. then wanders over to the dairy section (cold beverage) and baked goods (cupcake) before hitting the register to pay $0.10 for a pack of gum, but not before a) checking out a couple chicks and b) thoughtfully restocking the canned goods he’d put in his cart upon entering the store to offset suspicion.

By setting this thrilling (and almost wordless) opening in such an unconventional mise en scène, Robbie/Namath are, of course, commenting on the dangerous tension between bourgeoisie and proletariat, the former represented by Piggly Wiggly and Muzak, the latter by a QB-cum-actor wearing a sleeveless jean jacket and sporting a haircut that makes him look as if he was born without ears.

Robbie, with an able assist by the charismatic Namath, displays stunning control over his art form. Has social unrest ever been captured with such economy?

WIth the film’s breathtaking opening now in C.C’s chopper’s rear view mirror, the film’s plot clicks into place. Seems C.C. rides with the “Heads,” a biker gang overseen by the dangerously moody and massively bicep(ed) Moon (William Smith), who, when not on a bike harassing moped-riding wimps, sits on a large, throne-like green chair in a sun-drench clearing presiding over his “merry band.”

Meanwhile, the rest of the crew whiles away the hours smoking grass/hash, liberating unsuspecting marks of cash, making out by the fire, sunbathing and generally struggling to articulate poorly written dialogue.

C.C. is a bit of an outlier, though; new to the crew (less than a month) he prefers to drink Hamm’s and work on his bike rather than raise hell. (We later find out he used to be a mechanic.)

Unlike the cretins he’s surrounded himself with, C.C. leans towards the chivalrous, a trait front and center when he prevents Ann McCalley (Ann-Margaret), a fashion editor, from being sexually assaulted inside her broken-down limo by a couple of the “Heads” most unsavory (read: ugly) members. Which brings him in conflict with Moon. Things escalate quickly. To wit:

• The “Heads” disrupt a motocross race
• C.C. notices Ann directing a photo shoot at the aforementioned and decides to give motocross a try
• C.C. procures a dirt bike with a $5.00 deposit and a handwritten promissory note
• C.C. enters the next race and comes in 3rd place
• C.C. gets into a brawl with Moon because he—C.C.—won’t hand over all his winnings
• C.C. goes on a date with Ann; they dance in a sequence that resembles Soul Train on crack
• C.C. and Ann make passionate love
• C.C. and Ann sunbathe
• C.C. and Ann go on a ride, with the latter following the former on what looks like Herve Villechaize’s personal scooter

• Ann is kidnapped by the “Heads.”
• C.C. challenges Moon to a 10-lap “everything goes” bike race to win back the girl

I’ll say no more. Suffice it to say, the fiery denouement exceeds all expectations.

C.C. and Company is available on Amazon Prime. I suggest grabbing a jug of wine, some hashish, and settling down one of cinema’s forgotten classics.