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Roadhouse: Pain don't hurt (1 Viewer)

http://www.popmatters.com/pm/column/108975...-tao-of-dalton/

If a Hollywood studio locked my 11-year-old self and his friends in a room and handed us $10 million to make our ultimate movie, we’d produce quite a compelling train wreck. We would include big trucks and muscle cars, ‘cause they make a lot of noise and we all loved Dukes of Hazzard. There would be fist fight after fist fight after fist fight, culminating in a take-no-prisoners, kung-fu collision.

Both men and women would walk around semi-clothed. Most of the action would take place in a bar ‘cause, well, that’s where all the cool adult stuff takes place. The hero would be superficially complex and bionically tough. The villain would not just be evil, but evil to such a degree that death would be the only appropriate punishment for his sins.

Nobody would actually produce something like that, right? Wrong. You obviously never visited the ‘80s, where, after an eight ball or two, no film was too high-concept.

Amazon In 1989, Die Hard producer Joel Silver, director Rowdy (no, that’s not a joke—dude’s name was really Rowdy) Herrington, and the Swayze (always pronounced as one syllable) teamed up to make every 11-year-old boy’s fantasy of the adult world. The film, Road House, stands testament to a time before ironic awareness trickled down to even the least-discerning pop consumer. Road House takes us back to a much simpler world- a world where you can measure a man’s virility by how well-groomed a mullet he sports and how much glistening man-oil he secretes while practicing tai-chi.

The Swayze’s Dalton is a cooler, an uber-bouncer hired by clubs who can’t prevent the pie fight scene from Blazing Saddles occurring every evening on their premises. But he’s not just a cooler. No, he’s also a graduate of NYU’s philosophy program who relaxes by reading Legends of the Fall with his shirt off.

The proprietor of Jasper, Missouri hellmouth the Double Duce takes Dalton on to clean up his club. How rough is the Double Duce? It’s the kind of place which provides unauthorized mammary exams. It’s the kind of place where patrons whip half-empty beer bottles at blind slide-guitarists working in a cage. For real.

After a misunderstanding during his first shift, Dalton finds himself at the local hospital, where he falls for the gorgeous physician.They inevitably make sweet, sweet love in an outtake from Dirty Dancing. While cleaning up the club, Dalton butts heads with local sadist Brad Wesley (played by Ben Gazzera, unaware John Cassavetes is not on set). Wesley runs the neighborhood chaos stand, and can order a Big Foot to drive through a Ford dealership, in front of the whole town, without drawing any attention from authorities. Oh, and by the way, Brad also pines for the gorgeous physician, despite the facts that he is old enough to be her father and hosts pool parties which would make Hugh Hefner blush.

Stop giggling!

Dalton, of course, eventually cleans up the town. Wesley lives long enough to catch bullets from the entire Jasper Chamber of Commerce. Blind slide-guitarists play, uncaged. Roll credits.

So why can’t men of my generation turn away from this film? Why not Out for Justice? Or Bloodsport? Or, shudder, Tango & Cash? What makes Road House different than any of the other over-testosteroned, homoerotic slices of screen sadism served to filmgoers throughout the ‘80s?

Two words. The Swayze (stop pronouncing it with two syllables!).

No single male movie star more ably balanced the ‘80s requirements of inflicting sociopathic levels of violence while never wrinkling one crease of their pretty-boy image. The Swayze’s film are more feature-length music videos than anything else. He is more aware of us watching him than we are of him. From the moment he leads the Greasers into the rumble scene in The Outsiders by doing the flip over the fence, the Swayze has us—lock, stock, and barrel. Like Roy Stalin in Better Off Dead, women want him and men want to be him.

 
I plan on naming my first born child Dalton, whether it's a boy or a girl.. :thumbup:

Hopefully I never have to worry about it though.

"The name... is Dalton"

 
:lmao: at that Amazon review. That captures it perfectly. I remember reading another excellent thread about RH somewhere (IMdb mebbe?) that stated how great it was that in the film's universe, bouncers at bars were nationally known celebrities. :thumbup: Outstanding. And Kelly Lynch in that tablecloth dress . . . :shock:
 
Morgan: You know, I heard you had balls big enough to come in a dump truck, but you don't look like much to me.

Dalton: Opinions vary.

 
As a teenager a buddy and I once watched this move over and over again for about 6-8 hours while getting drunk. I also had the Dalton hair and wore it proudly.

 
Baloney Sandwich said:
http://www.popmatters.com/pm/column/108975...-tao-of-dalton/

If a Hollywood studio locked my 11-year-old self and his friends in a room and handed us $10 million to make our ultimate movie, we’d produce quite a compelling train wreck. We would include big trucks and muscle cars, ‘cause they make a lot of noise and we all loved Dukes of Hazzard. There would be fist fight after fist fight after fist fight, culminating in a take-no-prisoners, kung-fu collision.

Both men and women would walk around semi-clothed. Most of the action would take place in a bar ‘cause, well, that’s where all the cool adult stuff takes place. The hero would be superficially complex and bionically tough. The villain would not just be evil, but evil to such a degree that death would be the only appropriate punishment for his sins.

Nobody would actually produce something like that, right? Wrong. You obviously never visited the ‘80s, where, after an eight ball or two, no film was too high-concept.

Amazon In 1989, Die Hard producer Joel Silver, director Rowdy (no, that’s not a joke—dude’s name was really Rowdy) Herrington, and the Swayze (always pronounced as one syllable) teamed up to make every 11-year-old boy’s fantasy of the adult world. The film, Road House, stands testament to a time before ironic awareness trickled down to even the least-discerning pop consumer. Road House takes us back to a much simpler world- a world where you can measure a man’s virility by how well-groomed a mullet he sports and how much glistening man-oil he secretes while practicing tai-chi.

The Swayze’s Dalton is a cooler, an uber-bouncer hired by clubs who can’t prevent the pie fight scene from Blazing Saddles occurring every evening on their premises. But he’s not just a cooler. No, he’s also a graduate of NYU’s philosophy program who relaxes by reading Legends of the Fall with his shirt off.

The proprietor of Jasper, Missouri hellmouth the Double Duce takes Dalton on to clean up his club. How rough is the Double Duce? It’s the kind of place which provides unauthorized mammary exams. It’s the kind of place where patrons whip half-empty beer bottles at blind slide-guitarists working in a cage. For real.

After a misunderstanding during his first shift, Dalton finds himself at the local hospital, where he falls for the gorgeous physician.They inevitably make sweet, sweet love in an outtake from Dirty Dancing. While cleaning up the club, Dalton butts heads with local sadist Brad Wesley (played by Ben Gazzera, unaware John Cassavetes is not on set). Wesley runs the neighborhood chaos stand, and can order a Big Foot to drive through a Ford dealership, in front of the whole town, without drawing any attention from authorities. Oh, and by the way, Brad also pines for the gorgeous physician, despite the facts that he is old enough to be her father and hosts pool parties which would make Hugh Hefner blush.

Stop giggling!

Dalton, of course, eventually cleans up the town. Wesley lives long enough to catch bullets from the entire Jasper Chamber of Commerce. Blind slide-guitarists play, uncaged. Roll credits.

So why can’t men of my generation turn away from this film? Why not Out for Justice? Or Bloodsport? Or, shudder, Tango & Cash? What makes Road House different than any of the other over-testosteroned, homoerotic slices of screen sadism served to filmgoers throughout the ‘80s?

Two words. The Swayze (stop pronouncing it with two syllables!).

No single male movie star more ably balanced the ‘80s requirements of inflicting sociopathic levels of violence while never wrinkling one crease of their pretty-boy image. The Swayze’s film are more feature-length music videos than anything else. He is more aware of us watching him than we are of him. From the moment he leads the Greasers into the rumble scene in The Outsiders by doing the flip over the fence, the Swayze has us—lock, stock, and barrel. Like Roy Stalin in Better Off Dead, women want him and men want to be him.
Click to expand...
How does this description not include Sam Eliot as the toughest ####ing grandpa ever to stride the Earth? It had to take at least 20 of Wesley's guys to kill him.
 
The Swayze's strength knows no bounds in this movie. The special effects, if that's what you want to call them, have to be the worst ever. Ketchup splattering everywhere during the fight scenes, long tough stares, cheesy love scenes etc. Good god man. Wtf happened here

 
flapgreen said:
Swayze's awesomeness knows no bounds in this movie. The special effects, if that's what you want to call them, have to be the best ever rivaling Terminator II and Avatar. How they got that fat guy out of the monster truck so often, the long tough stares, highly shined boot knifes, bottles seemingly breaking before they hit cage/floor/wall, etc. Good god man, I love this movie like it were related to me.
Click to expand...
:goodposting:
 
Doctor Detroit said:
flapgreen said:
Swayze's awesomeness knows no bounds in this movie. The special effects, if that's what you want to call them, have to be the best ever rivaling Terminator II and Avatar. How they got that fat guy out of the monster truck so often, the long tough stares, highly shined boot knifes, bottles seemingly breaking before they hit cage/floor/wall, etc. Good god man, I love this movie like it were related to me.
Click to expand...
:popcorn:
Click to expand...
:lmao:
 
Doctor Detroit said:
flapgreen said:
Swayze's awesomeness knows no bounds in this movie. The special effects, if that's what you want to call them, have to be the best ever rivaling Terminator II and Avatar. How they got that fat guy out of the monster truck so often, the long tough stares, highly shined boot knifes, bottles seemingly breaking before they hit cage/floor/wall, etc. Good god man, I love this movie like it were related to me.
Click to expand...
:pickle:
Click to expand...
Don't forget the scene when right before Swazye(1 syllable)kung fu punched a guy in the face, the guy already had blood on his face eventhough he hadn't been hit. EPIC
 
Doctor Detroit said:
:pickle:Don't turn the movie into a Longfellow vs Hemingway debate. In the end it's all art, and art don't hurt.
Click to expand...
tis trueJust admiring Swayze ability to hurt people with the mere intent of doing so. Toughness just oozed out of his pores
 
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