A lowrider is a kind of customized car most associated with the Mexican-American community in Los Angeles, and in which a dude also looks supercool slow-cruising Southern California boulevards. If you do not already know all of this, Lowriders is not for you; there’s no onramp for an interested outsider to gain a true appreciation for a unique subculture. Danny (Gabriel Chavarria), a graffiti artist and part-time worker in his dad Miguel’s (Demián Bichir) lowrider auto shop, clashes with Dad over art, family, etc. This first English-language film from Peruvian director Ricardo de Montreuil isn’t just clichéd; it doubles down on its clichés. It’s mostly about how Danny eventually comes around to Miguel’s point of view, that “lowriders are about family” and that the proper venue for male tenderness involves more chrome than conversation, more sparkplugs than hugs. It might have skirted by as unchallenging melodrama, until it nosedives into inexcusable absurdity and implausible character behavior in the final third. There’s a special kind of awful in a movie that cannot even satisfy well-worn clichés without cheating to get there.
By
MaryAnn Johanson