Director: Rowdy Herrington*
Cast: Patrick Swayze, Ben Gazzara, Kelly Lynch, Sam Elliott**
Have I Seen it Before: Never. I know, I’m not so sure what I was doing in the 90s, either.
Did I Like It: It almost has a nice—if paint-by-numbers—construction. A stranger (Swayze, naturally) comes to town, mixes it up, is nicer and smarter and stronger than anyone else.
Then he rips out somebody’s throat. Apparently, he’s been known to do that.
I’d be willing to forgive the film’s excesses if I were at all attached to Dalton’s journey. Like, at all. We can complain about these paint-by-numbers screenplays all we want, but what do we do when the screenplay does all of the things it’s supposed to do, except the most crucial part? Dalton starts the film, proceeds through it, and finally ends the film not wanting anything in particular. He can be swayed by a bit of money—but not a lot, as Brad Wesley (Gazzara) would have a far easier time of it, if money were the only thing in Dalton’s world—and Kelly Lynch, but he isn’t heading anywhere. Even a hoary cliché would have caused things to gel a little better. Have Dalton save up to open up his own joint. Have him have a sick old relative somewhere out in the world that needs him to be the best bouncer in the business. At least then he might have earned ripping somebody’s throat out. The way things are in the movie, it just seems like he really enjoys ripping people’s throats out, and the rest of us are left with a lazy, and not even all-that-bonkers, bad movie.
*If ever there was a director more suited, if only by name, for the material in front of him.
**And an insidiously, perhaps even criminally under-used Keith Davd. I mean, the man had already been in The Thing (1982). Why bring Keith David if you’re not going to let Keith David do his Keith David thing? It boggles the mind, and in point of actual fact may be the only cogent criticism I have of the film.