For many, the movie that got them into movies is an intelligent think-piece; something with beautiful cinematography, a stirring score, and an ability to cut right to bone about some deep universal truth or another, accentuated with performances that make it all feel so real. I am no exception: that movie for me was Road House. Yes, that one, starring Patrick Swayze as a ‘cooler’ for an out-of-control bar in the 80’s. In all its polar bear crushing, motorcycle punching, JC-Penny bringing glory, please don’t think there is even a hint of irony in my voice. I won’t pretend that Road House doesn’t contain more than its fair share of classic 80’s cheese, but I resent the idea that it belongs within a mile of being considered ‘so-bad-it’s-good’. Sure, the odds are more or less stacked entirely against the film (the director’s first name is literally Rowdy!). Still, there’s an artistry present that requires a viewing unmarred by cynicism- requires one to set down the notions of a “good” film and allow the neon lights of a failing bar to take you to a world where the good guys win by being nice until it’s time to not be nice.
In recent years, it feels like irony is becoming a bigger and bigger seller, particularly among the younger crowd. You’d be hard-pressed to find a brand that isn’t enacting the use of a vintage appeal, calling back to the styles of packaging of days gone by. Sure, nostalgia is inextricably mixed up in the allure of the retro look, but what about the color-saturated patterns of the ’80s, or the pasteled world of the ’60s could possibly remind someone born in the aughts and beyond of personal happier times? To me, I see this not as “homesickness” for another era, but rather as a rebellion against the clean lines and perfect symmetry of the world we live in today. To desire the styles of yore in an age where it feels as though graphic design starts and ends with minimalism is commendable to say the least, but too often this attitude veers away from any true love for a past decade and becomes simply a way to be different- this is when the love for something turns ironic. It becomes “Sure this new stuff is alright, but look how astute I must be to find beauty back when stuff was bad!”
This perspective, to like something because you aren’t supposed to, is so incredibly unhelpful to actually having any fun while watching a movie like Road House. I have no objection to casting aside the draw of the modern ‘less’ for a vintage ‘more’, but doing it to try and claim some ‘holier than thou’ knowledge of the way “things used to be” as simply an attempt to float just above the trends that bog down everyone below is, if I may be dramatic, the reason movies just aren’t all that fun anymore.
An attitude that goes hand in hand with this specific kind of perceived superiority is the idea that for a piece of work to have any value, it must convey some deeper truth about the human condition. What I think I love about Road House is its inability to care about trying to dig deeper into the psyche than the story requires. It’s not like the film lacks a multi-dimensional (or grant me two dimensional at least) character- Dalton is a black belt who is not afraid to crack some skulls when necessary but is also quite the Stoic. On many occasions, he chooses to take the moral high road with a bar-going ne’er do well, giving them many chances to do the right thing before resorting to violence. One of the best examples of this mercy is his choice to spare the throat of Brad Wesley, the crime lord who stands to benefit from the chaos in the bar Dalton is hired to cool, staying his hand from committing the act of gratuitous violence that led him to the middle of nowhere Missouri to this bar in the first place and haunts his past. No doubt this is an obvious and not at all thinly veiled attempt to allow Dalton to right a moral wrong of his past, but can that really be held against the film? Isn’t redemption the core aspect of all stories? Why do we disallow ourselves to enjoy a story with a happy ending, a full circle moment, and sewn-up ends because it lacks a deep enough truth to be considered intelligent? To love something ironically is to pretend to be able to find that all-important commentary somewhere the unintelligent majority cannot- to love genuinely is to meet it halfway, and decide to take it for what it is, and positively nothing more.
I won’t pretend like I’m not entirely biased. I couldn’t really tell you why this movie has such deep significance for me, but I defend it so strongly because I feel that it is special. I know I’m not alone in having a film like this, one that, for no rational reason whatsoever, you cannot get enough of. This love, the kind that stands in the face of any critic, I truly believe is the only necessary criterion for “good”. So, I challenge you, no, I dare you to love what you love unironically, and refuse to allow our culture to become devoid of genuine passion.
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