I guess if you were a responsible film reviewer you’d have to say that Road House is a junky movie. But as the years go by, and its reputation on cable TV, video, and now DVD mounts (the film turned into a real cash cow for MGM), one can give into one’s inner feelings and admit, as Lynch does on the new DVD, that Road House is a really great drive in movie. I am proud to admit, however, that when the film was first released, and I was working at a local “alternative” weekly, I gave the film one of the rare rave reviews it received in the country. Road House was originally released in May of 1989, putting a capper on what Lynch refers to on the new DVD as a bad decade, and made a respectable amount of money. The film originally came out on DVD in February of 2002, and fans everywhere were disappointed that the film did not receive the DVD respect it deserved: yak tracks, makings of, and so forth. MGM, or its remnant shell of a company, has rectified that mistake, with its new Deluxe Edition, published on June 8th, 2006 for $1995, in conjunction with a negligible but entertaining straight-to-video sequel, Road House 2. 

So, does pain hurt, or doesn’t it? Well, it depends on the attitude. If you are zen philosopher like Dalton, no (or if you are trying to impress a hot doctor, no). If you are Garrett, yes it does, because you have dispensed it to highly deserving victims, and you don’t have time to philosophize about it while in the heat of action.

Road House is the great post-Hawks Hawksian movie. It’s about men who live by a code. It is post Hawksian because the men talk about the code, and also because, in a more highly urban modern society, the men are more transient. In a quintessential Hawks movie, the pattern of the narrative is that the characters do something exciting, retired to their home base — a camp fire, a sherif’s office, a pilot’s bar — plan the next move or relax, then set out to do something else exciting, retire to the base and reflect again, then set out for another adventure, and so forth. This alternating rhythm creates a soothing and reassuring affect for a typical Hawks film, the stability beneath the chaos that the characters are fighting. The films aren’t essays on violence. Violence is a fact of their lives, and the characters simply deal with it. In the self-conscious 1980s and beyond, you have to have a philosophy about violence, because half your battles are going to be with people who oppose resorting to it.

Dalton is “the best damn cooler in the business,” and in case you didn’t know it, in the 1980s bar bouncers, like bike messengers (Quicksilver) and arm wrestlers (Over the Top), had a cult around them, Road House is here to tell you so. Everyone is in awe of Dalton, whose reputation precedes him. And he is presented as the perfect man. He can stitch his own wounds and change his own tires. Everyone likes him, from the farmer he rents a room from to the patrons of the club he helps “cool.” He performs tai chi in the dawn light and reads Jim Harrison in his off hours (Swayze has a wonderful actorial moment when his attention is pulled from the book to the pool orgy raging across the pond from his room. He has to drag his eyes from a page, a gesture one sees in real life all the time, but which I’ve never seen in a movie before).

There are many things to love about Road House. One enjoyable component is an impossibly blonde Kelly Lynch as the foxy ER doctor. Another is venerable sage Sam Elliott as a weathered bar bouncer. And until the film descends into a messy last sequence straight out of a Phil Karlson film, Road House is an enjoyable revenge genre story with a despicable villain or two with remarkably clever dialogue, credited to screenwriters David Lee Henry and Hilary Henkin. Dalton explains that “Nobody ever wins a fight,” and Garrett works in as a bouncer in a bar whose patrons are so dumb that the bathroom “has a sign hanging over the urinal that says, ‘Don’t eat the big white mint.'” And this film may be the first instance in the history of American culture in which the phrase “It’s my way or the highway” was uttered.

Road House was made back in the day when films rated R actually had nudity and violence in them. But the film’s roots stretch back much further, to redneck noirs such as Thunder Road and Phil Karlson’s The Phenix City Story, and his later revenge fantasies Walking Tall and Framed, tales of a lone man who must clean up a town (themselves premises that hark back to western clichés) or best a racketeer. In this film, Gazarra has Jackie Treehorn status, lazily controlling the town with an oddball gang of misfits. It’s not entirely clear how Wesley manages to hold such sway over the citizens, but one thing is sure: villains have never before cackled with sadistic pleasure over their misdeeds as they do in Road House. And it is nice to see a villain who actually enjoys his villainy and the hedonistic fruits of his labors.

Patrick Swayze is the embodiment of the fact that in movies dancers make the best movie fighters. Think back on how lovely Elvis looked when he was engaged in a brawl, or how smooth and elegant Brando, who moves like a dancer, appears when he is punching some scum-sucking pig. Think of all the West Side Story gang members. That’s what’s missing from modern action movies, the sense of violence as a ballet rather than the definitive blowing up of snarling villains.

Road House comes in a fine widescreen transfer (2.35:1, enhanced) and numerous sound options (DD English Surround, French Surround, Spanish mono, with English, French, and Spanish subtitles).

 

 

All the extras are fun. “On the Road House” (that title doesn’t make sense to me) is a retrospective making of in which you come to realize how hilarious Kelly Lynch happens to be, but also get a survey of the film’s impact on its makers. “What Would Dalton Do?” is a group interview with a bunch of bouncers, and the film also has a celebratory text only Trivia Track, that serves as a continual reminder of the worse cultural excesses of the 1980s. There are two commentary tracks. The first is by director Rowdy Herrington, which is highly informative. The second is my favorite kind of track, one provided by people who, though not associated with the film, happen to love it. Such tracks are few and far between. In this case, the yakkers are Kevin Smith and Scott Mosier, who know the film in and out. Perhaps the best part of their track is when they wonder out loud why guys like fight films especially when, as these two admit, they’ve never really even been in a fight of consequence nor ever want to.

 

These extras are fun, but in addition I would like to have heard from the screenwriters, if they happen to have been available. Otherwise it’s great stuff.

There is also a sneak peak at Road House 2: Last Call (though it is called only Road House 2 on the print itself). On its own disc, which hit the street July 11 for $24.95, 2 is an enjoyable attempt to recapture some of the glory of the first film, with the now dead Dalton’s son (we learn that Dalton was his last name and that his first was James) Shane Tanner (Johnathon Schaech, who also wrote the script; and yes, his name has both a “j” and an “n”) returning to his home town to help his mentor (Will Patton) out or a jam. The story borrows elements from movies such as Lethal Weapon 2 as well as the first Road House, but the villains are not as comical or ruthless as in the original, and there are no zeitgeist defining lines of dialogue.

Finally, on the Road House disc there are also trailers for the James Bond Ultimate collection, Population 436, and Freedomland. For the original Road House theatrical trailer (1:55), hold on to the previous DVD.

 

 

Comments: None

Leave a Reply Name (required) Mail (will not be published) (required) Website Δ