I don't know how it happened. But I guess you could say Road House was my tipping point. It was about 5 years ago that I thought it would be nice to have my own blog. For whatever reason, I just couldn't muster the effort to start it. Pathetic, I know. I'm not that proud here. But as I consumed my dinner on the couch last night, I picked up the middle of the 1989 Patrick Swayze classic, Road House, on TNT. And the pleasure with which I watched that movie simply inspired me to finally get this damn blog up and running. There is no math there.
I've needed a place to drain my mental tank. Too much nonsense and sense swirls around in it, all day long. And my blog is where I can empty it. Get it out. Because that stuff is why I once walked out of my apartment without remembering to put on my pants. Shoes were on. That stuff is why putting away my laundry becomes an evening spent rearranging my entire room. Maybe it's useful out here. But holed up inside, it's not serving me. So, I finally birthed my first blog post, 260 weeks late. I imagine the baby weight will linger for a while.
So, how on earth did Road House compel me to write? Simply because it's the most perfect bad movie ever. It's the paragon. It's why networks like TNT exist. It's absolutely the best waste of time. So few really awful movies are capable of keeping my ass planted on the sofa for up to 2 hours. Road House is a winning loser from start to finish. Bloodsport is a close second.
Anyone who hasn't seen Road House has never had cable at any point in their lives. Women know it because Patrick Swayze is shirtless in his prime. Men know it because Patrick Swayze tears out people's throats with his bare hands and utters legendary one-liners, such as "pain don't hurt." Gay men know it because Patrick Swayze is shirtless in his prime.
Here is the recipe, as I see it, for the greatest bad movie ever:
1) Take a little-known, redneck town like Jasper, MO.
2) Add a dangerously rowdy bar with plenty of drinking, cheating, fighting and women. Give it a catchy name, like "The Double Deuce."
3) Introduce Dalton–a handsome, undersized "cooler" (that's bar speak for the guy who manages the bouncers) with a penchant for philosophy. Ask him to "clean things up" at the too-violent bar.
4) Sprinkle in well-orchestrated bar fights, car/motorcycle stunts, explosions and sideboob shots throughout.
5) Have Dalton become an advocate for the Jasper locals who are bullied by town millionaire/gangster, Brad Wesley.
6) Piss off Wesley so much that he starts exacting revenge on Dalton's friends, and have every vengeful act perpetrated by a maniacally-laughing villain.
7) Top it off with a climactic fight sequence at Wesley's ostentatious country mansion, where Dalton methodically takes out the Wesley's henchmen, and eventually Wesley himself.
That's the blueprint. But as they say, god is in the details:
• During a heated conversation with Dalton about skipping town, Dalton's friend and mentor, Wade Garrett (played effortlessly by Sam Elliot), calmly catches and blocks a sudden right cross from Dalton with his own hand, 2 inches from his own face. No flinch. Just a gravelly-delivered cliché.
• Towards the end of the film, a much-anticipated fight between Dalton and Wesley's top goon, Johnny, ends with Dalton TEARING JOHNNY'S THROAT OUT WITH HIS BARE HAND.
• During an early fight, Dalton suffers a hearty laceration near his ribcage. While sitting on the doctor's examination table the next day awaiting his stitches, Dalton refuses the doctor's offer of anesthesia. The disbelieving doctor (who is blonde, hot and Kelly Lynch) asks why. Dalton's reply is because "pain don't hurt." The next day, Dalton fucks the doctor against a wall in the guest house he rents from a local farmer.
• The house band at The Double Double not only plays behind a chain-link fence, but it's fronted by a blind-guitarist named Cody, who's played by blues legend Jeff Healey.
• A fat henchmen nicknamed 'Dozer gets taken out in the final scene when a taxidermied polar bear falls and crushes him.
• Johnny dispatches of 3 Double Deuce bouncers at once, using a pool cue as his weapon.
• Wesley destroys a non-complying car dealer's inventory by having one of his goons drive a monster truck through the showroom.
I honestly could go on for way too long. This is beyond self-indulgent. But who cares? I did this for me. And if you stuck around this long, then I sincerely thank you for your time. I hope you enjoyed post one. While not my intention, hopefully this post cements my heterosexuality in everyone's minds. Future posts may be about more relevant or meaningful topics. Or they may be even more obscure and useless as this one.
So, thanks for listening. And thank you, Road House, for starting this fight.
