Road House, 1989.
Directed by Rowdy Herrington.
Starring Patrick Swayze, Ben Gazzara, Kelly Lynch, and Sam Elliott.
SYNOPSIS:
A legendary bouncer comes to restore order at a notorious bar but runs afoul of a ruthless crime boss who controls the town.
There’s a scene early in Road House where Patrick Swayze’s Dalton, a bouncer with the grace of a dancer and the gaze of a monk, calmly informs his team to “be nice… until it’s time to not be nice.” That line, like much of this gloriously daft film, straddles the line between the profound and the preposterous. But that’s precisely what gives Road House its strange, irresistible power. It’s not pretending to be more than it is, it’s a barroom brawl dressed in cowboy boots, philosophy quotes, and denim, and it couldn’t be prouder.
Swayze, still fresh from the success of Dirty Dancing, plays Dalton, a man whose reputation as a “cooler” precedes him. He’s not just any bouncer. He’s the bouncer. Hired to clean up the notoriously violent Double Deuce saloon in the dust-blown town of Jasper, Missouri, Dalton strolls in with his philosophical detachment, a boot-full of roundhouse kicks, and a backstory that includes an NYU degree in metaphysics. Because why not?
What follows is a small-town western by way of a hair-metal music video. Dalton finds himself at war with Brad Wesley, a grinning local tyrant played by Ben Gazzara, who seems to control everything from JC Penney franchises to who gets to host a barbecue without interference. Wesley’s plan is never entirely clear, but it doesn’t need to be. He’s rich, smug, and flies a helicopter over people’s houses for fun. That’s all the justification this film needs.
The joy of Road House lies in its commitment. Director Rowdy Herrington (yes, that’s his real name) doesn’t just dabble in clichés. He builds a shrine to them. Tables are smashed, bottles shattered, and throats, famously, are ripped out. There’s an old-fashioned, punch-first-ask-later rhythm to it all, and it’s oddly hypnotic. The fight choreography, while ridiculous, is played completely straight, and it’s Swayze’s sheer sincerity that makes it work.
Kelly Lynch lends solid support as Doc, the ER doctor who patches up Dalton and promptly falls for him. Their romance plays out with the kind of unselfconscious passion rarely seen outside supermarket paperbacks, and there’s real chemistry there, even if she’s mostly present to remind us that Dalton’s capable of tenderness between punches.
Career screen cowboy Sam Elliott, meanwhile, strolls in midway through as Wade Garrett, Dalton’s mentor and fellow bouncer. With his gravelly drawl, unbuttoned jeans, and casually heroic vibe, Elliott manages to be both hilarious and oddly moving. He gives the film a touch of seasoned gravitas, even when the script has him reciting lines that sound cribbed from fortune cookies given out free by the local takeaway.
This new limited edition Blu-ray release from Arrow comes with a bunch of nice features. In addition to the film in 1080P with lossless stereo or DTS 5.1 sound, there are a couple of great commentaries, one featuring Rowdy Herrington and the other with Road House fans Kevin Smith and Scott Mosier. There are also a couple of good featurettes and a tribute to Patrick Swayze which are essential viewing for any fans of the film and Swayze’s work.
In true Arrow style, you also get a reversible sleeve, double-sided poster and even an iconic Double Deuce coaster.
Road House was never going to win over the critics, but that’s beside the point. What it delivers is a wildly entertaining cocktail of macho nonsense and choreographed chaos. It exists in a world where philosophy is best delivered with a roundhouse kick and where the rules of physics take second place to the laws of cool. It’s a time capsule, a fever dream, and an action classic all rolled into one.
Not good, exactly. But an undeniable knock-out.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
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