My grandfather drove a big El Camino that was painted with black primer and held together with hope and Big Red chewing gum. Whenever I’d ride with him, he’d generally be blasting an 8-track of “The Killer,” often pulling over and yelling at me to pay attention, telling me that no one could play the piano like Jerry Lee.

I kept that in mind while watching this movie, which is based on his biography by child bride Myra Lewis and Murray M. Silver Jr.

Directed by Jim McBride (who also made the American version of Breathless with Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 writer L. M. Kit Carson), this is a great way to learn just why Lewis was so important to men like my grandpa. (McBride also worked with Dennis Quaid on The Big Easy; he also directed the cable rock ‘n’ roll bio-flick Meatloaf: To Hell and Back.)

Would Jerry Lee have supplanted the King if he couldn’t keep his hands off his thirteen-year-old first cousin? This movie never really tries to answer this, instead showing us the fervor that The Killer* was someone who wasn’t above setting his piano ablaze to get a reaction. Dennis Quaid, well, kills it in this movie, absolutely inhabiting the soul of Jerry Lee on screen.

Silver, who co-wrote the book, claimed that the film was phony, while McBride said that he didn’t care about the facts. So while no one liked the film, nearly everyone liked Quaid in the lead. As for The Killer, he hated the book, so he wasn’t going to like the movie. Yet he did concede that Quaid “really pulled it off.**”

Winona Ryder is fine as Myra, but where the film shines is by placing real rock stars into unexpected roles, like John Doe — hey, the whole reason for this week on our site — as Myra’s put-upon pa J. W. Brown, Jimmie Vaughan as Roland Janes, Mojo Nixon as James Van Eaton and CBGB regular and New York Rocker writer Lisa Jane Persky as an early rival for Lewis’ affections. This movie also boasts Steve Allen as himself, Alec Baldwin as Lewis’ cousin Jimmy Swaggert, Nashville sound engineer David R. Ferguson as Jack Clement, the late Lisa Blount (Dead and Buried, Cut and Run, Prince of Darkness, Needful Things***) as Lois Brown and, of all people, Peter Cook as a British reporter.

*The official Lewis website states “Many people think it’s because of his rowdy reputation or because of how he knocked out audiences. The truth is that “killer” was a common slang term during Jerry Lee’s youth, and he would say goodbye to his friends by saying, “See ya later, killer.” This became his nickname before he had a performing career.” Or maybe he lived up to it later when he may or may not have killed his fifth wife, Shawn Stephens; definitely shot his bassist Butch Owens with a .357 accidentally and also showed up at the gates of Graceland with a loaded pistol on the dash, which sent him to jail eight months before Elvis died.

**To be fair, that’s really Lewis singing and playing the piano parts.

***Which also has the version of “Great Balls of Fire” that Jerry Lee re-recorded for this movie on its soundtrack.

“Opinions Vary.”
— Dalton

Everybody hated this movie.

Variety hated it. Roger Ebert of the Chicago Sun-Times hated it. And it received five Golden Raspberry Awards nods for Worst Picture, Actor, Supporting Actor (Ben Gazzara? No, way, for he rocketh), Worst Director, and Worst Screenplay. Then John Wilson, the founder of the Golden Raspberries, listed it in his The Official Razzie Movie Guide as one of “The 100 Most Enjoyable Bad Movies Ever Made.”

Feldercarb, we say! For Pittsburgh born-and-bred director Rowdy Herrington* made this AND the Steel Town-set Striking Distance. And that’s the type of cinematic one-two punches we love ’round ‘ere in the B&S About Movies office cubicles, Big Hoss. Come on, now! A Doctor of Philosophy who travels the country as a bouncer kicking some town-psychopath ass and a Pittsburgh-bred, drunken river boat cop chasing down killers on the outskirts of Lawrenceville?

Seriously, what’s not to love here in this updated, glorified and horseless western (that takes place in Missouri, but was shot in California and Nevada)? And that’s what the mainstream critics who slagged Road House failed to see — and all of us lovers of all things “B-Movie” were able to see: Patrick Swayze’s Dalton is the new sheriff in a corrupt gold-mining town run by ex-Civil War hero-done-good, Brad Wesley. Only, this ain’t your granddad’s old n’ stuffy Cary Grant or Van Johnson western: this one’s modernized with a monster truck built specifically for the film**.

And Cary Grant or Van Johnson never delivered lines like this fan favorite:

Ah, but alas . . . for today, we came here not to bury Rowdy, but to praise John Doe, our favorite bassist from Los Angeles — this week of reviews is dedicated to him, after all — as the ne’er-do-well Pat McGurn, Brad Welsey’s favorite nephew with a weak constitution. As I look back on this film for “John Doe Week,” wow. Doe really shines in his role as Pat, whose loserville-status is what caused the whole dust-up between Sheriff Dalton and town “owner” Brad Wesley in the first place. Any other guy, after being fired — like myself, and Sam, B&S’s Chief Cook and Bottle Washer — would just find another job. But when you’re Pat McGurn: you run cryin’ to Uncle Brad who, in turn, gives you a couple of his guys to go kick some defenestration ass. Doc Clay, well, her stirrin’ up romance with the town’s new “bad boy,” that was just addin’ more tabasco to Brad’s breakfast Bloody Mary; lazy-ass Pat was the vodka, for you do not mess with the son of Brad’s only sister.

John, if you’re reading this: that’s sum mighty fine thepsin’, pardner!

About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies.

* Rowdy Herrington sat down with us for an extended interview back in November of last year. (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4). He talks about Road House in the second part of the interview.

** In the movie, that truck, built in 1988 and known as Bigfoot 7, destroyed a new car showroom and crushed four new cars: a one-take shot that cost $500,000, a bill that could fund 10 of the low-budget flicks we normally review at B&S About Movies. And, yes, the truck did turn up again in Tango & Cash, another film that, like Road House, was slagged by critics across the board, but wow . . . we love that retro B-flick as well. The next time you’re in Kissimmee, Florida, for a Disney World romp, swing by Fun Spot America where Bigfoot 7 is currently displayed.

Look, we’re not going to sugar coat: the reviews on this one ain’t good. But when you have a film with a cast headlined by Malcolm McDowell and Sid Haig, with Corey Feldman along for the ride, and Slayer’s Tom Araya and X’s John Doe in tow, you cut generous amounts of CGI-slack for this, the writing and directing debut of musician Jesse Dayton. Dayton is a Texas musician best known for his soundtrack collaborations with Rob Zombie (Halloween II ’09 and The Haunted World of El Superbeasto).

How can you not want to at least try to watch a film with this cast—regardless of the fact that there’s no in-camera effects and all of the gun fire and headshots (to kill the zoms) are cheap CGI-boondoggles? Malcolm McDowell, as always, is good in his role and giving it his all, but we sure wish Zombex gave us more of him, Sid Haig, John Doe, and Tom Araya. Also stepping up to the plate is Lew Temple (the real star of these proceedings)—who we all know as Axl from The Walking Dead—as a conspiracy-spouting talk radio DJ out to expose the cover up.

Dayton gets bonus points for injecting a sense of reality into the undead tomfoolery with a zombie outbreak infecting a post-Karina Louisiana. Ol’ Mal is, of course, the greedy pharmaceutical boss distributing a new anti-stress drug that triggers the outbreak.

You can watch Zombex on Amazon Prime and Vudu as a VOD, but we found a free stream (without an account sign up) on Roku Online. The film’s Facebook page is still active, so you can check out stills from the film.

You can learn more about the life, career, and discography of Jesse Dayton at his official website. Fans of HBO’s True Blood also know Jesse for his songs “Coming Down” and “One of Them Days” appearing in the series. And I really dig Dayton’s countrified take on the Cars’ “Just Want I Needed,” complete with lap steels and mandolins. Give it a listen.

About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies.

Editor’s Desk: This review originally ran on September 26, 2020, as part of our “Rock ‘n’ Roll Week II.” We’ve brought it back for “John Doe Week.“

Was it worth waiting a few years before finding a copy of this poorly-distributed VHS in a cut-out bin at an old Sound Warehouse?

Oh, yeah.

Fans of the cult film existentialism of Easy Rider, Vanishing Point, and Two-Lane Blacktop — or any art film that finds a reissue on the Criterion Collection — will enjoy this grim, black and white film noir homage (shot on Super 16mm) to the French new-wave films of old; to that end, the film employs a disjointed, non-linear narrative. Do you enjoy the films of Jim Jarmusch’s Stranger Than Paradise (1984), Down by Law (1986), and Mystery Train (1989)? Did you enjoy the later Clerks (1994) by Kevin Smith? Do the “mood pieces” of Italian filmmaker Michelangelo Antonioni — such as 1975’s The Passenger — appeal to you?

Then you’ll enjoy Border Radio — although this UCLA student film by Allison Anders and Kurt Voss (Down and Out with the Dolls) doesn’t possess the “slickness” of those films, as you can see from the trailer.

Border Radio is a noirish tale of three southern California punk rockers — two musicians and a roadie (Chris D. and John Doe) — who decided a club stiffed them on a gig, so they rob the club. Chris D. subsequently abandons his rock journalist wife and crosses the border into Mexico with his split of the caper, leaving her holding the bag in repaying the debt of their robbery; she sends John Doe into Mexico to find him.

The caveat of Border Radio: this is not a punk film.

There are punk rockers cast in the film as actors, but the music and punk aesthetic is void from its frames. The film’s stars, Chris D. of the Flesh Eaters and the Divine Horsemen, and John Doe of X, do not perform any of their music in the film. At the time Allison Anders (1992’s Gas Food Lodging, 1999’s Sugar Town, 2001’s Things Behind the Sun) completed the four-years-shot film begun in 1983, L.A.’s punk scene — with the musicians she cast as actors — was over.

The Flesh Eaters disbanded and the Divine Horsemen (lead singer Julie Christensen stars in the film) were set to release their first recordings; Billy Zoom left X; Phil and Dave Alvin (Dave co-stars in the film) disbanded the Blasters, and Texacala Jones (who also appears in du-Beat-eo) split from Tex and the Horseheads. Green on Red (they appear on stage at the Hong Kong Cafe), who got their start on Slash Records with Gravity Talks (1983) and wrote the soundtrack for Anders’s Gas Food Lodging (1985), also folded up the tents after their three, pre-grunge albums for Mercury: The Killer Inside Me (1987), Here Come the Snakes (1988), and This Time Around (1989) failed to expand beyond college rock airplay and connect with the burgeoning, commercial alternative rock scene. The film’s theme song, “Border Radio,” is performed by The Tonys, aka L.A.’s the Dils, aka Rank n’ File, led by Chip and Tony Kinman; by the time of the film’s release, they formed the synth-based Blackbird project.

You can learn more about the out-of–print Enigma Records soundtrack — never released on compact disc — on Discogs.com. The film is not currently available on PPV and VOD platforms, but DVDs can be purchased direct from Criterion. Here’s the trailer and the full soundtrack to enjoy.

About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies.

Editor’s Desk: This is our first review in our week-long tribute to the acting career of John Doe from the Los Angeles punk band, X.

Before receiving wide-spread acclaim for the one-two punch of Platoon (1986) and Wall Street (1987), and after intriguing audience with his feature film debut Seizure (1974) and an adaptation of the novel The Lizard’s Tale, known as The Hand (1981) starring Sir Michael Caine, writer and director Oliver Stone arrived on A-List Hollywood’s doorstep with this, his third feature film. Sadly, while it received Oscar nods in the actor and screenplay categories for James Woods and Stone — and was loved by critics — it cleared less than $2 million in box office against its $5 million budget.

The film tells the story of an American photojournalist (Woods) who becomes involved with the left-wing liberation military during the Salvadorian Civil War that tore apart the Central American country from 1979 to 1992.

Also starring a great cast of Jim Belushi (as Wood’s out-of-work DJ friend), Micheal Murphy (as a U.S Ambassador), and John Savage (as a fellow, murdered photojournalist), John Doe lends his support as an American expatriate who owns a seedy bar.

While Doe made his acting debut in Border Radio, which was shot in 1983, it wasn’t released until 1987. So, outside of his uncredited, under-five bit-parts in Smithereens (1982; as a bouncer) and 3:15, the Moment of Truth (1986; as a club drunk), this Stone award-nominee served as John Doe’s big screen acting debut — a career that has since grown to a resume of 82 credits. We’ll soon see John in the lead of the indie-film noir D.O.A The Movie in 2021.

About the Author: You can learn more about the writings of R.D Francis on Facebook. He also writes for B&S About Movies.