What’s not to love about an action movie whose story is as big and over-the-top as its hairdos? Starring Patrick Swayze as zen bouncer James Dalton, who “cools” the rowdiest club in Jasper, Missouri, and eventually triumphs, at great personal cost, over crooked small town kingpin Brad Wesley (a growling, glowering Ben Gazzarra), 1989’s Road House is perhaps the best and most unapologetically honest B-movie of its decade, and certainly the highbrow blueprint for the classic era, early ’90s canon of Steven Seagal that would follow in the wake of this movie’s tremendous word-of-mouth VHS success., Dalton has a wisecracking mentor. In the comely Dr. Elizabeth Clay (Kelly Lynch), Dalton has a love interest. And in his perfectly coiffed hair… well, Dalton has the most gorgeous and gloriously unassuming “Kentucky waterfall” to ever grace the screen.<BR><BR>Housed in a regular Amray case, <I>Road House</I>‘s single-disc special edition is presented in a 2.35 anamorphic widescreen transfer that preserves the aspect ratio of its original theatrical exhibition, and is complemented by the simultaneous release of a straight-to-video sequel starring (and co-written by!) Johnathon Schaech. While this latter flick faithfully recreates the vibe and many of the elements of the rowdy original (sans stuffed-polar-bear crushings, ripped-out larynxes and casual nudity by its leading lady, unfortunately), it lacks both its winking flippancy and, dare I say, superbly choreographed action sequences; you mainly <B>sit there wondering if chunky-cheeked villain Jake Busey put on weight for his role or if he’s simply gotten fat</B>.<BR><BR>Of the supplemental extras on <I>Road House</I>, though, there are certainly a number of genuine highlights for such a superficially marginal catalogue title, pointing up its deserved cult appeal. <B>Director Rowdy (yes, Rowdy) Herrington sits for a feature-length audio commentary track, as do <I>Clerks</I></B> director <A href=)
Kevin Smith and his producing pal Scott Mosier, self-professed fans of the movie, who nonetheless evidence no greater grasp of minutiae (or even plot, actually) than anyone who’s glimpsed even part the film on TBS in the past decade. Instead, this entertaining track devolves into a series of read jokes in which the pair takes the famously viral list of “man’s man” attributes credited to ass-kicker Chuck Norris (e.g., “He invented the cesarean section when he roundhouse-kicked his way out of his mother’s stomach”) and substitute the names of Dalton and producer Joel Silver. Along with this bit of juvenilia, Smith and Mosier offer up a rapid-fire blend of random, often only tangentially related observations, most of which are still funny — especially during the sex scene between Dalton and Elizabeth, which has Smith bemoaning his sexual prowess and technique.
Alongside an amusing trivia track, the highly enjoyable “What Would Dalton Do?,” running 13 minutes, takes a look at real-life bouncers and shares stories from their occupational lives (one dude ripped off a guy’s prosthetic arm) along with their thoughts on the movie, while the 17-minute documentary “On the Road House” includes interviews with Swayze, Lynch, Herrington, bit player Jeff Healey, villain Marshall Teague, fight choreographer Benny Urquidez and — disclosure alert! — yours truly. While my face time is dispiritingly limited, and my insights thus perhaps rather pedestrian, Lynch talks about the task of getting her hair blonde enough (“almost white”) and her skin dark enough (“mahogany, actually”) for the role, while Herrington notes the movie — his undeniable career high point — was “the most fun [he’s] ever had with [his] clothes on.” B+ (Movie) B+ (Disc)