Kim commented with something that deserves your time, the reviews!
The reviewers slammed it like no other movie I've read slammed before.
This is from Wikipedia:
The New York Times:
It's not very long; it pays attention to every hallowed idiocy of its genre, and its characters talk a marvelously unreal type of movie repartee. (Truck-driver: "You a student?" She (cheerfully): "No. I'm a teen-age prostitute. Give you any ideas?") What's more, its images are crammed with advertisements (for, among other things, Hamm's Beer, Hondas and Kraft Cheese) that are its own kind of relevant symbology.
Chicago Tribune: Supplied it with no stars, felt it was "hateful", adding: "C.C. and Company" is the film that asks the musical question, "What do you want - bad acting or bad taste?" Director Seymore Robbie's idea is to have the women in the film make obscene remarks with their fingers and mouth. After 20 minutes of visual effluvia, the big race is finally on. No, not around the dirt motorcycle track ... the one up in the aisles. Ann-Margret has a brief nude scene in which she proves that in addition to having a foul mouth she is fat.
Cleveland Press: "C. C. and Company" arrives on the waves of such big budget ballyhoo that it seems a shame to dismiss it by simply calling it awful, which it is. How about meretricious? That's a big budget word for awful and the fellows responsible for this picture needn't feel they've been short-changed in the adjective department. "C. C." is a simple-minded movie for simple-minded audiences. There were times when it came close to being a fairly simple-hearted exercise in action melodramatics if it weren't so purposely and unrelievedly foul mouthed. The motorcycle movie is trying very hard to be a type by itself but it remains basically a western with wheels instead of hooves. This one is a variation on the old melodrama romance plot that at various times has been about an outlaw and a lady, a rustler and the rancher's daughter, a virgin and a gypsy, a princess and commoner and on and on. Football player Joe Namath should have stuck to football ... Actress Ann Margret should have taken up football or something else other than acting. ... [William] Smith offers a perfect picture of nastiness, especially with his whisper-soft voice. He should stick to acting. In one scene a man points to [Joe] Namath and says " ... that's what gives motorcycling a bad name." So do movies like this one.
and I hope you want to read this fantastic analysis of the movie;
At the peak of his powers, and but one year removed from the greatest upset in the history of professional football, Joe Namath – born and bred in coal country, yet destined for the bright lights of Broadway – decided that come hell or high water, he just had to do a biker movie.
And not just any biker movie, but a dead-on-arrival exercise in inertia so lame that despite the presence of Ann-Margaret and the era’s most damaged collection of dirtbags not in the Manson family, not a single breast would be exposed.
So instead of full-tilt Joe, unmasked and unhinged, we get the kindler, gentler variety; a man who lusts more for car parts than a woman’s anatomy, even one so inviting as the decade’s most beloved redhead.
More to the point, this is the world’s lone biker gang who refuses to traffic in narcotics, never so much as lighting up a joint to escape the night. No alcohol either, which makes little sense in light of their one minor sin, using the gang’s babes to hustle bread for expenses and the like.
