The original ‘Road House’: fun, ridiculous trash. But the new one is just plain vicious
Writing about movies means succumbing to occasional bouts of reductive-itis, inspired by that great bonehead critic Emperor Joseph II in “Amadeus,” who told Mozart nice job on his latest composition, with one caveat: “too many notes.”
Folks, this week has been one of those bouts. First, it was the new “Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire” (verdict: too much “heart” and digital mayhem, not enough funny). And now, streaming on Prime Video, we have another ’80s-derived throwback, the “Road House” remake with Jake Gyllenhaal.
The 1989 Patrick Swayze edition, co-starring Kelly Lynch, Sam Elliott, Kathleen Wilhoite and, singing along with “Sh-Boom,” Ben Gazzara, was nothing but ridiculous trash. And fun. Calling it “human-scaled” makes the old “Road House” sound as if it took place somewhere on planet Earth, among humans, which isn’t really true. And yet who says we can’t enjoy a sustained feat of complete fraudulence, and crazier brutality starts feeling not just jaded, or bloodthirsty, but a drag.
On the other hand, you know who’s great in this? Conor McGregor, best known as an Irish UFC star, making his feature debut in “Road House” as Knox, the special guest assailant the bad guys hire to dispose of Dalton. McGregor’s a born entertainer, delightfully overripe and dementedly committed to every close-up and every strutting threat of grievous bodily harm. His bare bottom gets a wittily star-making entrance of its own, in a traveling shot that goes so long, it’s basically a “Road House” spinoff.
Gyllenhaal has his moments; he finds some wit in Dalton’s zingers, and in his scenes with the local bookstore owner’s teenage daughter (Hannah Love Lanier), the star gets a pleasant “Shane” vibe going. To be sure, “Road House” succumbs to its own bouts of reductivist critique, or self-critique. At one point the scrappy, baseball bat-wielding kid summarizes the stranger’s arrival in Western movie genre terms: “Local townsfolk send for hero to help clean up the rowdy saloon.” Then she adds: “You know. That crap.”