Guest post alert! Today’s issue is yet another banger from my friend Mary Catherine McAnnally Scott, whom you might remember from her musings on George of the Jungle, Galaxy Quest, or most recently Indecent Proposal. (Can’t say she doesn’t have range, y’all.) I always love it when Mary Catherine pitches me an idea because I’m not the only one who gets to showcase her writing talents, which means she adds some real clout to this newsletter that I simply could never. In fact, you might’ve read her work in the most recent print edition(!) of Garden & Gun, where she profiled Alabama textile artist Aaron Sanders Head. She’s also launching her own Substack soon(!), so go ahead and subscribe to that and then we can all peer pressure her into finally dropping the first post. But for now, it’s time to get campy in Missouri. Take it away, Mary Catherine!
I had never seen Road House until three weeks ago. Since the remake had just arrived, my husband Jordan and I decided to do a double feature on back-to-back nights.
We began with the 1989 version, of course. Five minutes in, I said “This movie is terrible.” Fifteen minutes in, I took it back: “Oh. No. Okay, this movie rules.” Then we watched…whatever they’re calling “Road House” starring Jake Gyllen-however you spell it; quite frankly, I can’t be bothered to Google it because I am spiteful, so he’ll henceforth be known as “Jake.”
Seeing both films in quick succession led me to the conclusion that there is only one Road House, and it is the one you already know and love.
I have never been so passionate about something to which I was introduced less than a month ago, but consider me a disciple, friends.* With that in mind, I’d like to discuss the three major reasons why a remake of Road House should’ve never happened.
Before we begin: I’m not even going to bother with a plot summary because I have limited space and too many opinions. And to avoid littering this newsletter with years and parentheses, I’ll call the one true version Road House, and the 2024 remake will be known as “Toad House,” mostly because it makes me laugh and also because I think Jake has googly frog eyes.
Road House is high camp. So campy that it comes all the way back around to quality. Pickup lines like “Hey, vodka rocks, whaddya say we get nipple to nipple?” and insults like “You wanna fight, dickless?” are plentiful. They are iconic. They are nonsense. They are perfect.
And the campiness arrives quickly. The first fight we see at the titular road house is so unglued from reality, so completely filled with over-the-top cartoon-level silliness, that it immediately has you in its teeth.** The sound effects are bizarre and sometimes even delayed—viewers see punches land and then hear them a second later. And the fights feel like they were choreographed by a small child. In the movie’s climax, the villainous Jimmy Reno is tackled off his motorcycle by Dalton (Patrick Swayze, as you know) as he flies through the air in a straight line.*** And if you think that’s too much, moments later, Dalton rips a guy’s throat out.
In most other movies, this level of camp would work against its success. But here, it fuels the fire. Its swampy, smoke-filled world-building is strong. Even the plentiful characters are strangely realistic—Sam Elliott’s incredible Wade Garrett, Dalton’s mentor, in particular. There’s also a completely unironic monster truck. Like, that’s just someone’s car.
Of course, the fine folks making Road House didn’t intend for it to be campy. They meant it to be a straight-up action movie. This is the first reason why Toad House fails so miserably. Road House is simply delivering a plot, whereas Toad House is winking at you the entire time. No one in Toad House is ten toes down—they’re half-grinning at the audience, practically screaming “Get it?” after every moment. Strike one.
Road House is also absolutely raunchy.**** There’s no question that thousands of 13-year-old boys watched the videotape in their rooms, praying that their moms wouldn’t come in. There are boobs everywhere. And there’s an eyebrow-raising sex scene between Swayze and Dr. Elizabeth Clay (played by the smokin’ hot Kelly Lynch), a brilliant physician who also happens to look amazing topless.
In fact, the aforementioned cartoonish brawl at the Double Deuce begins when a slack-jawed lech is presented with a deal: For a small fee of $20, he can feel up a pervy man’s wife. He takes the feel, but he can’t cough up the cash, so he’s backhanded by the angry husband and all hell breaks loose.
Toad House, on the other hand, gives us no sex. No nudity whatsoever. Why? It didn’t even play in theaters! There’s never been a more permissive time to release a movie, and yet we’re treated to exactly zero titillation. For any persuasion.***** Strike two.
But the real reason Toad House fails is because there can only be one Dalton, and that is Patrick Swayze. He is the earnest eye in a hurricane of nonsense, the anchor that holds this movie down in what otherwise might have been a choppy sea.
Anyone who’s done even a mite of research about Swayze knows he was a classically trained ballet dancer, and it shows here. His lines are beautiful, his focus intense. Swayze in real life was intent on figuring out what else is “out there,” studying martial arts and Buddhism—a bit of a mystic, really. Call me soft, but I think his spirit shines through and elevates this otherwise crazy movie filled with violence and boobs.
Unlike Jake’s ex-UFC doofus in Toad House, Swayze’s Dalton doesn’t want to fight anyone; he studied philosophy at NYU, for God’s sake! He even encourages the bouncers he trains to “be nice” and to avoid a physical altercation whenever possible. Much like watching someone try not to cry is sadder than watching someone cry, watching someone try not to fight is more compelling than watching someone fight.****** Swayze’s Dalton is psychically wounded by the fact that he ever has to throw hands. “Nobody ever wins in a fight,” he says. Profound!
Swayze’s Dalton has depth (NYU!), feelings (Kelly Lynch!), regret (throat ripping!), spirituality (tai chi!), and friends (Sam Elliott!)—and all of those things give him the context necessary for us to actually root for this guy. Jake has none of those qualities in Toad House. There’s not even a Sam Elliott equivalent. Strike three.
So the moral of the story, folks, is that you can’t improve perfection. Let’s all just be grateful we have Road House, and we’ll agree to forget this remake ever happened. And if you liked the remake? Well, as Dalton would say: “Opinions vary.” (But also, you are wrong.)
*This is not true. I often become a zealot for things about which I am barely informed.
**In Road House, this central location is a Missouri dive bar called the Double Deuce. In Toad House, it’s just called…Road House. Stupid.
***If you have ever, even once, played with action figures or Barbies, you know this is a classic attack move. You’re trying to tell me that anyone but a child came up with that? Keep it.
****Let’s also pause here to acknowledge that there are definitely some problematic elements to this movie when it comes to its treatment of women. Just needed to at least say that out loud.
*****Do you know how many people want to see Jake naked? (Not me, of course, but somewhere they exist.)
******Even when that someone is Conor McGregor, who does not belong anywhere near this movie. And while we’re at it, can somebody figure out how to get giant, muscled men into proper suiting? Suit pants shouldn’t be screaming in pain and jackets shouldn’t dimple at the shoulder. I understand this does not belong here but also I am on a heater so just let me have it.
Road House (1989) is now streaming on Max, AppleTV+, and Amazon Prime, and it is available to rent elsewhere. Road House (2024) is now streaming on AppleTV+ and Amazon Prime.
Great article, thanks! And I think you helped me figure out why so many remakes don't work for me. They are too busy trying to remind all of us how clever they are and therefore how clever the audience is, and gee, aren't we all just so damn clever? And in the process, they totally miss what made the originals so good. Because they weren't trying to be clever. They were just swinging for the fences and hoping to score a few points.
You sold me! I’ll be watching Road House 💪 this weekend and skipping Toad House 🐸