“Road House” (1989) dir. Rowdy Herrington, scr. David Lee Henry and Hilary Henkin

There are some movies that are so terrible, they’re funny. There are other movies which are intentionally campy, but not so funny, because they’re too knowing of their own stupidity. And then there’s some movies that fit between both camps. They are movies that are over-the-top, so off-the-charts weird that you’re never quite sure if the filmmakers were in on the joke or not.

The two best examples of this are: the Russ Meyer-directed/Roger Ebert-scripted “Beyond the Valley of the Dolls” … and “Road House”.

“Road House” is the most ridiculous, hysterically funny, and arguably, one of the greatest action films of all time. It’s a film that never ceases to entertain and amaze. And every time I see it, I find something new that makes me break out in an idiotic grin. Patrick Swayze was THE perfect choice to play the mulleted, King-of-All-Bouncers Dalton. I could go on and on about how brilliant this film is, but I thought I would let the movie speak for itself:

Doctor: Your file says you’ve got a degree from NYU. What in?
Dalton: Philosophy.
Doctor: Any particular discipline?
Dalton: No. Not really. Man’s search for faith. That sort of s–t.

Emmett: Calling me “sir” is like putting an elevator in an outhouse, it don’t belong. I’m Emmett.

Steve: Being called a c–ksucker isn’t personal?
Dalton: No. It’s two nouns combined to elicit a prescribed response.
Steve: What is somebody calls my mama a whore?
Dalton: Is she?

Wade Garrett: That gal’s got entirely too many brains to have an a– like that.

Wade Garrett: This place has a sign hangin’ over the urinal that says, “Don’t eat the big white mint.”

and … last … but certainly not least:

Jimmy: I used to f–k guys like you in prison.

Why the Library of Congress has not selected this as a film for the National Film Registry deserves a criminal investigation.

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