#31 — Road House
This is another in a series of illustrated musings on my most essential action movies. 49 1/2, to be mathematically precise. Last week I talked about a robust and rowdy action thriller from Michael Bay called The Rock.
Road House is very special in that it takes a strong, traditional western template and uses it as a launchpad for a Budweiser fairy tale of 80s action heroism. The mythological cowboy has been replaced by bouncers, and the piano player is now a rock ’n roll band that has to be shielded by a chain link barrier to protect them from flying chairs and beer cans. The saloon is a humble little bar named the Double Deuce.
When I was a kid, I didn’t know that was a reference to poker, or raising your middle fingers to express disappointment in someone, or a tennis term for tie scores. All my brain understood at the time was that a deuce was a poop (also a #2), so a double deuce was obviously an extra big poo and probably what you’d find at that dirty bar. I think an unkempt restroom is the perfect descriptor for this place, and the neon-lit location (which is actually quite wonderful) captures the whole personality of the movie. It’s a haven and a hell, a place of chaos and order, a home base and a battle arena. And a clogged toilet.
It clearly needs a woman’s touch, but also a man’s right hook. If only there were someone that embodied all the positive characteristics of human independence and strength in one impossibly idealistic package, an image you could never hope to attain until your 8th beer finally gave you the irrational confidence needed to be the superhero of your dreams. Enter Patrick Swayze as the mysterious man named Dalton, a big city bouncer recruited to a small-town bar in Missouri. He simply goes by “Dalton” and we don’t know anything else about his personal life other than he once killed a guy in self defense. He’s our cowboy.
His image is projected like one of those Walter Mitty fantasies where we see what the hero wants us to see him as. He ditches his nice car for a junker (he expects payback in his line of work) and moves into a horse stable where he sleeps in the loft. He bathes in the nearby lake, practices tai chi, and sometimes doesn’t wear underwear. If he were a real person, I don’t think he’d have many friends, but none of this seems to affect his aura of composure around men or allure around women. For fun, I like to imagine Kill Bill Vol. 2’s Budd as the more honestly depicted, downtrodden version of Dalton. A man who’s violent exploits traded his dignity for disgrace. Dalton is the romanticized teen idol version of that guy.
He’s not only tough and sexy, but also educated with a degree in philosophy — spouting little Daltonisms like “nobody wins a fight” (even though he gets into lots of fights and wins most of them). Kelly Lynch plays his love interest as a nurse who goes by “Doc” and she appreciates his pacifistic platitudes, not realizing he’s also adept at ripping throats. Dalton has a sensei in the form of legendary bouncer Wade Garrett (Sam Elliot) who might be even cooler than Dalton, and everyone fawns over him. Even Dalton himself seems to let his guard down around Wade, eager to hear his stories and sage wisdom.
The central conflict slowly comes into focus in the form of Brad Wesley (Ben Gazzara). He practically owns the town and holds local businesses in a vulnerable, needy state of dependence, until he has no use for them. There’s a very funny line where he brags about his power and influence, stating “JC Penney is coming here because of me. You ask anybody, they’ll tell you.” What a very Road House thing to say. I can’t think of many other action movies where the villain could say that (although Michael Cain in “On Deadly Ground” could possibly be best friend or friendly rival to Brad Wesley). He doesn’t look threatening, but he has a psychopathic desire to assert dominance, combined with sports team owner wealth and insecurity that makes him dangerous. His every action is like a kid destroying sand castles, he just wants everyone to be as miserable as he is.
Gazarra is great in this role and reminds me a little bit of Richard Dawson in The Running Man. It’s the same evil capitalist vs blue collar working man setup, and it seemed to be much more prominent in the 80s than it is now. I think action movies need to get with the times and bring back the Evil Suit, the Monopoly Monster, the Jeff Bezos, whatever you want to call it. It’s time for a hero that delivers packages of justice.
As the fight for control over the town escalates, Wesley’s power and influence reveals more of the western tropes at the film’s core. Law enforcement is virtually nonexistent, and if a business owner doesn’t pay his collector’s fee, his ranch may burn down, or maybe a stampede of horses (monster truck) will trample his crops (car dealership). Eventually, an evil henchman wearing all denim will appear and challenge Dalton to a karate duel.
Road House has many of the hallmarks of low-brow schlock, but I think it’s more calculated and thoughtful under the hood. The camp factor masks a heightened style that I don’t think it gets enough credit for. I mentioned the bar feeling like a home base for the good guys, and that idea is strengthened when they get new uniforms (bold, red shirts) that really make them feel like a team. According to trivia it was director Rowdy Herrington’s (what a Road House name) intention to incorporate Doc’s signature red into other parts of the move, citing it as “a bit of a cartoon in a sense.” I think his experiment worked, and when I watch it, I really feel transported to some alternate reality where everything is a little wilder and colorful.
The style and humor indicate to me that it clearly isn’t meant to operate in anything close to our reality. It’s meant to be laughed with when bar fights spontaneously break out, or the townspeople decide to take justice into their own hands against the evil cattle rancher of strip malls and department stores. It’s one of the more fun action movies to watch with friends. It’s a great summer movie. It’s essential Swayze. And it’s essential action, in one of the genre’s more unconventional displays.
