Road house - kuuma kapakka

It was the Summer of 1989. The biggest movies in Hollywood's arsenal, all in one fiery season: "Batman", "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade", "Ghostbusters II", "Lethal Weapon 2", "Star Trek V", "License to Kill" and .... "Road House"? You read that right.

Patrick Swayze stars as Dalton, the (second) best cooler in the business, who's charged with cleaning up The Double Deuce, the seediest honky-tonk bar in Jasper, MO. But things don't go so smoothly when Dalton crosses the town's self-appointed ruler, Brad Wesley (Ben Gazzara, better known as Evil Ben Gazzara). He's paid off the Sheriff, so Evil Ben Gazzara is pretty much the town's law and order. He's not pleased with the Double Deuce's burgeoning prosperity, so he makes things tricky for Dalton. But as we learned in "Dirty Dancing", nobody puts Dalton in the corner.

Fifteen minutes into the film, it becomes obvious (by just the dialogue) that this is a tongue-in-cheek enterprise. Any illusions that this will be a thought-provoking story about a philosophical bouncer in a rough town go right out the window (average viewer: "well, this oughta be a fun ride!"). Even Swayze (behind that cool stare) knows this movie is ridiculous - and that's exactly where the entertainment value kicks into high gear.

Consider what this film has going for it:

• Swayze at his sinewy, mulleted peak

• Bar fights

• Monster trucks

• A gaggle of shapely ladies

• Steamy farmhouse sex

• Sam Elliott

• Shootouts

• Sweaty martial arts

• Male bonding that borders on homoerotic

• Crackling dialogue ("Do you enjoy pain?" ... "Pain don't hurt")

• Stuffed polar bear attacks

The entertainment value of "Road House" is simply off the charts. Where else would you find a bouncer with an NYU degree (in philosophy!) and the brooding intensity to nail the town doctor (the smoldering Kelly Lynch) AND forcefully remove a man's throat from his neck? Nowhere, sir! It is escapist entertainment of the highest order, in all its gratuitous violence.

And let us not criticize the film's message. If you have feet and fists of fury, you CAN conquer a small town in Midwestern America. But simply putting a man through a table or a window is not enough. I would say maybe ten or fifteen should do it.

I do have one beef. For a movie to feature Keith David in the opening credits, and only give that man one speaking line is morally reprehensible. But there were boobies, so I think we can let this one slide.

7.5/10