This recession makes me MAD. FIGHTING mad. ROAD HOUSE mad. Perhaps the stupidest movie ever made (and that's saying something) Road House stars the always low-key and charming Patrick Swayze as Dalton, the kick-ass "cooler" (glorified bouncer) who's hired to clean up the low-down dirty nasty dive, the Double Deuce.
This bar is so untamed and violent that the house band has to play in a cage for their own protection. There's drug-dealing in the bathrooms, skimming at the cash register, and fist-fights every five minutes. I think it's fair to say: Road House is a guy film. Maybe the ultimate guy film. If you don't believe me: count the mullets. There must be 350 mullets in the first half-hour alone. It all adds up to feature-film greatness: knife fights, pool cue fights, broken beer bottle fights, girls dancing on table fights, monster trucks, explosions, Ben Gazzara, pleated khaki pants (so tough), ratted hair, Sam Elliott, John Doe, and a bar band led by the late, great Jeff Healey. Road House rocks.
I stumbled upon Road House on the TV last night and I could not look away. I was thoroughly entertained. Blame the economic hard times. Blame the system. Blame the man. I want to bust some heads like Patrick Swayze, all zen and shit.
Don't try to pull a fast one on Dalton. He sees all. He knows all. He is all.
Check out this "meet cute" in the doctor's office. Too tough.
Ben Gazzara is a corrupt businessman who has the town of Jasper, Missouri by its balls. What a dick. (Not really; I love Ben Gazzara. Be sure to see him in Saint Jack.)
Maybe I've always secretly envied bouncers. Just once I'd love to be hired for my brawn. I'll have to live out my dream through the diminuitive Swayze as Dalton. Anyone else in this role would have been laughable but he's so diginifed, so committed to the insanity. I admire this man and I think you do too.
He is a Samurai Warrior among bar bouncers.
Wishing Patrick Swayze all the best.