An urgent philosophical inquiry into the ‘LIZARDS’ edit

An urgent philosophical inquiry into the ‘LIZARDS’ edit

A new film celebrating Eliott Lapotre's partnership with Rocky Mountain has been released. Our investigation suggests it is not about bikes at all, but is instead a profound and unsettling meditation on the secret life of rocks.

Eliott Lapotre

It is not often that a two-minute marketing video demands a full-scale forensic and philosophical review. Most are content to exist on a single plane of understanding: a talented human operates a bicycle with flair, accompanied by a compelling soundtrack, in order to stimulate a desire for commerce. But Eliott Lapotre’s ‘LIZARDS’ is different.

On its face, the film is a simple announcement. The French freerider has signed with Rocky Mountain. He is riding their Slayer model.

These are the facts as presented. But to accept them is to miss the point entirely. To watch ‘LIZARDS’ and see only a bike edit is like looking at a Rothko and seeing only a pleasant shade of red.

No, this film is a dense, multi-layered text. It poses a question that strikes at the very heart of the human condition: are we the lizard, or is the lizard us?

My investigation began, as all good investigations do, with the primary source. I have reviewed the footage 37 times. I have transcribed the sound of tyre on scree and cross-referenced the geotags with geological surveys of the region. A troubling, yet compelling, pattern emerges.

THE EVIDENCE

The film presents us with several key exhibits.

Exhibit A: The Opening Shot. We do not open on a rider. We do not open on a bicycle. We open on a lizard, perched atop a sun-drenched rock.

The camera lingers for an uncomfortable 4.7 seconds. The lizard does not move. It simply is.

This is not incidental B-roll; this is the thesis statement. This is the Rosetta Stone for the entire piece. The subject is declared. It is not Eliott Lapotre.

Exhibit B: The Rider’s Trajectory. When Lapotre finally appears, his movements are not those of a typical freerider. There is no frantic energy, no brute force. He is fluid, economical.

He traces a line across a vast, arid landscape, less a conqueror and more a participant. His body is low, his direction dictated by the contours of the earth.

He is not imposing his will upon the mountain; he is borrowing a path from it. It is a deeply reptilian performance.

Exhibit C: The Sound Design. Forget the obligatory thrash-metal or lo-fi hip-hop. The dominant sounds in ‘LIZARDS’ are the crunch of aggregate under rubber, the wind whistling through a rock arch, the unnerving silence of the desert.

The bicycle itself is almost muted. It is a guest in this soundscape, and a quiet one at that.

From this evidence, my team and I have developed three competing theories to explain the film's true meaning.

THEORY 1: LAPOTRE IS THE LIZARD

The most straightforward, and frankly reassuring, interpretation is that the film is a character study. Lapotre, through his riding, has achieved a state of post-human synthesis with his environment.

He is the lizard from the opening shot, made manifest in human form. He seeks not adrenaline, but the perfect thermal pocket. His choice of line is instinctual, a search for the ideal basking spot.

The Rocky Mountain Slayer is not a machine, but a form of advanced camouflage – an exoskeleton that allows him to blend seamlessly into the scree fields he calls home.

In this reading, the film is a triumphant celebration of man’s ability to return to a primal state. It is a rejection of modernity in favour of cold-blooded instinct.

It is beautiful, simple, and probably wrong.

THEORY 2: THE ROCK IS THE PROTAGONIST

This theory requires a radical reordering of our perspective. What if the film is not about the moving objects at all, but the static one? What if the true protagonist of ‘LIZARDS’ is the rock?

Consider the timescale. The rider and his bicycle are a momentary flicker, a two-minute disturbance across a geological stage that has existed for millennia. Lapotre’s daring descent is, to the mountain, nothing more than a brief, localized weather event.

The lizard understands this. It sits in quiet communion with the stone, both of them patient, ancient, and enduring. They were here long before the Slayer arrived, and they will be here long after its carbon has degraded to dust.

From this perspective, the film is a work of profound humility. It is a reminder of our own insignificance in the face of deep time. The frantic scrabbling of the man on the bike is rendered almost pathetic, a desperate attempt to leave a mark on a surface that is fundamentally, cosmically, indifferent.

It's a dark interpretation, but the evidence is compelling. The camera consistently privileges the landscape over the action.

THEORY 3: THE BICYCLE IS THE LIZARD (INVASIVE SPECIES)

This is the most disturbing reading. The title is not a metaphor; it is a classification. The ‘LIZARD’ of the film is the bicycle itself: a non-native, mechanically-reproducing organism introduced into a fragile ecosystem.

Lapotre is not the master here. He is the host, the pilot, the human component necessary for the machine’s locomotion. The Rocky Mountain Slayer is the true agent.

It navigates the terrain with an alien efficiency, its suspension absorbing impacts that would shatter bone, its tyres clawing for grip. It is adapting, conquering.

The film, then, is a subtle piece of corporate eco-horror. It documents the successful colonization of the natural world by the machine. The film’s title is a warning, a cry for help disguised as a sponsorship announcement.

CONCLUSION

After exhaustive analysis, it is the conclusion of this investigation that ‘LIZARDS’ is not a bike edit. It is a philosophical document of the highest order, deliberately engineered to support all three interpretations simultaneously. It is a koan written in tyre tracks.

Is Lapotre a lizard-man achieving a state of natural grace? Is he an insignificant flash against the backdrop of geological time? Or is he the unwitting agent of a mechanical invasion?

The film refuses to say. It simply presents the evidence and leaves us, the viewers, to sit with the disquiet.

It is not a call to purchase a new bicycle. It is a call to question the very nature of our existence within the landscape.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and lie very still on a warm slab of granite for several hours. The investigation continues.

To watch ‘LIZARDS’ and see only a bike edit is like looking at a Rothko and seeing only a pleasant shade of red.
Published at Jul 29, 2026, 12:21 AM (2:21 AM CET)