Road House (1989)

REVIEW:

Reviewing Road House is like reminiscing about an old friend—everyone who knows it has their own fond memories, and it’s hard not to smile when thinking about it.  What more can be said about this cheesy ’80s classic that hasn’t already been discussed in the decades since its release? It’s a film that fully embraces the over-the-top excesses of its time, from its fashion choices to its action sequences. The clothing alone—tight jeans, mullets, and open shirts—alongside cassette players, instantly transports you back to the era. The soundtrack, headlined by the legendary Jeff Healey, who also appears as Cody, is another essential piece of that ’80s puzzle, perfectly setting the tone for this wild ride.

Patrick Swayze’s portrayal of Dalton, the enigmatic cooler with a philosophical streak, is the glue that holds Road House together. Swayze’s cool, charismatic presence elevates what could easily have been a forgettable B-movie into something truly iconic. His ability to deliver cheesy one-liners with absolute sincerity makes him endlessly watchable. Whether he’s dispensing wisdom about “pain don’t hurt” or taking on a room full of brawlers, Swayze embodies a kind of effortless cool that was synonymous with his career.

Then there’s Sam Elliott, who, as Wade Garrett, brings his signature blend of rugged charm and gravitas to the film. As a big fan of Elliott, I can confidently say that he’s great in every role he takes on, and Road House is no exception. His character provides a perfect counterbalance to Swayze’s Dalton, adding depth and a sense of history to the story. Elliott’s screen presence alone could make any scene compelling, and when he’s paired with Swayze, the chemistry is undeniable.

It’s hard to imagine a movie like Road House being made today, as evidenced by the 2024 remake. The original is unapologetically ultra-violent and extremely sexualized, aspects that modern films tend to approach with more caution. While today’s movies certainly aren’t devoid of sex and violence, they often lack the same unabashed, in-your-face approach that Road House so gleefully flaunts. The film’s willingness to go all-in on these elements is part of what makes it such a fascinating time capsule of its era.

Yet, despite its absurdity, Road House is stupid fun and highly entertaining. It never takes itself too seriously, and neither should the audience. The film is a textbook example of a guilty pleasure: tongue-in-cheek, full of cheesy one-liners, and packed with over-the-top action sequences that make you grin even as you roll your eyes. It’s a movie that understands exactly what it is and doesn’t pretend to be anything more—an important reason why it remains beloved by fans.

The ending, where the town folk rise up to take down the villain and reclaim their town, is a fitting conclusion to this wild ride. It’s a moment of catharsis that feels well-earned after all the chaos that precedes it. There’s a certain joy in seeing the tables turn, and the once-powerless townspeople seizing their own justice. In the end, Road House is a film that, despite—or perhaps because of—its flaws, endures as a defining ’80s action flick.