Road House 2

The Spoony One | Aug 10 2009 | more notation(s) | 
Road House 2

A Review by Noah Antwiler


You're kidding me, right? They made a sequel to Road House? A movie so bad it actually killed the 1980s? I'm serious, it KILLED a DECADE. How do you even do that? The only other movie I know that can make that claim is the movie that killed the 70s, Moonraker. It's a little late in coming, but the movie that's going to kill the 90s is Snakes on a Plane. Trust me, the 90s don't end until Samuel L. Jackson wrestles a Thai cobra at 30,000 feet. (What do you even call this decade, anyway? The Zeroes?) Everyone walked out of Road House into the sunlight feeling stunned, stupid, a little gay for Patrick Swayze, and wondering idly why they ever thought Duran Duran was a good band. In one day, the 80s were over. Women's hairdos started to make sense once again. Spandex was abolished. The New Kids and Wham were purged from our cultural memory.

The guy doesn't even react to knife wounds. How hardcore is that?

For those of you who don't know, Road House is an exceptionally homoerotic action film about a bouncer named Dalton (played by a perpetually-shirtless Patrick Swayze), a man so badass that he sews up his own knife wounds after tearing his opponent's throat out barehanded. Together with his bouncer mentor, a greasy-haired Sam Elliot, they battle the ascot-wearing villain and his flunkies who have a monster truck and far too-tight blue jeans. The dialogue is so unintentionally hilarious ("Pain don't hurt") that it lives on in infamy as being one of the stupidest scripts ever successfully read with a straight face. Dalton is a tortured hero and applies his philosophy degree to the art of ass-whoopin', spouting Zen philosophies to his disciples while teaching them how to be better bouncers. But really, the movie is about Patrick Swayze's oiled chest, because you spend 90% of the movie looking at it and really wishing that the Swayz-dog would find a shirt.

When I saw Road House 2 in the video store, I was instantly disappointed that we wouldn't see Dalton return to action. No Patrick Swayze? No Road House 2: The Wrath of Dalton? For shame! I don't think people realize what a gold mine Patrick Swayze is for movies. They've remade most of his greatest successes with decidedly un-Swayze stars. Ghost 2, Dirty Dancing 2...where's the Swayze? You're telling me that the guy from Red Dawn has to scratch out a bit part in Donnie Darko when he could go back to fighting tight-pants-wearing villains in rowdy honky-tonks and shouting "I used to rape guys like you in prison!" And hey, where in the hell is my Red Dawn 2? It's your fault that Road House made me gay for the guy, now I want my goddamn Swayze!!

What this band lacks in Jeff Healey it makes up for in dancing leprechauns.

Alas, there is no Swayze. And those quadruplets on the cover show up for about 5 seconds, tops. The movie starts off a-rockin' to a Ram Jam "Black Betty" knockoff band while showing various gangster toughs driving Zodiac crafts around on some swampland and offloading absurd amounts of cocaine to each other. The movie looks around for the source of this music before settling on a rowdy bar called the Black Pelican (which lacks the punchy title the Double Deuce had). The band isn't too bad, but it's elevated to greatness by the fact that it has a dancing midget on crutches on-stage. He doesn't do anything other than simply be a dancing midget on crutches. If he starts doing air guitar, this could be the greatest band ever. Although I do puzzle over the bassist with dreadlocks and a Velvet Revolver t-shirt in a country music band.

Suddenly a fight breaks out. A muscle-bound black guy (what's a black guy wearing Blood colors doing in a country honky-tonk?) jacks some other guy in the face, eliciting a comically huge spray of blood from his mouth which probably means that he's hit the guy so hard that shards of his jaw have fractured into his jugular vein and caused a massive amount of blood loss. The editing mistakes start off early, because one moment, the floor is packed with dancing people, and the next instant there are about an eighth of the people there neatly arranged in a circle to watch the fight. The band stops playing and the front-man gets a righteously offended look in his face as if to say "Oh that's just great. You know we worked really hard on this song and you're not even listening." The bar's owner surprisingly flattens the guy who must weigh about 80 lbs. more than he does and throws him out on his ass, telling him to bring a message to the guy's boss: that he's not selling. The black guy runs off sniffling, wondering if he might have had better success looking tough if he hadn't worn a pink shirt.

Afterward, the owner gets a call on his cell phone from a mysterious shadowy Mr. Big who warns him that one of his bouncers "might not be as loyal as you might think." Oh no! The elite bouncing staff has a mole! We've been infiltrated! Why, they might let the enemy in! Our battle strategies are no longer safe! The President's motorcade will have to be diverted; we can't let him anywhere near the place with a security breach this dire.

Cut to a strip club in the city, where a guy dressed like a villain on Miami Vice walks in trying to look nonchalant when he might as well be wearing a neon sign reading "I AM A DRUG DEALER." Who wears a sports jacket to a nudie bar? He sits across from an American Indian guy and his harem, where they both look conspicuously to the left and right to make sure nobody's listening. Nuh uh! No drug deals here! Just let me casually crane my head in both directions to make sure nobody's listening in on our perfectly legal conversation! The guy leans in and says "You ready to do this thing?" To which the Indian guy nods and they both reach into their jackets, performing the most obvious drug exchange under the table ever witnessed. The Indian pulls out a key of cocaine the size of a loaf of fucking Wonder Bread. There's no casual way to hand that off when there's no tablecloth to cover what you're doing!

"You're under arrest! C'mon guys, I'm serious! This is, like, a real gun!"

Then the idiots get busted by the DEA. A trio of hotties disguised as scantily-clad waitresses make the takedown, somehow producing 9mm handguns from their panties. Gee, and these gangsters were so CAREFUL! I mean they looked both ways and everything! The Indian guy's bodyguard, despite being covered from six angles by DEA agents decides to reach for his jacket pocket and it's a miracle he wasn't filled with so many holes that he'd have whistled on the way to the ground. Wait a second...did I accidentally rent Busty Cops again? I keep doing that...

The stripper/cop pulls aside the first drug dealer and pushes him into a chair, where she starts to give him a lap dance. Um...suddenly I'm watching a completely different movie, and me likey!! She tells him that she sort of likes being a stripper (and I bet it pays a damn sight more than being in the DEA, at least, if she's not crooked) and starts to dry-hump him as she takes off his cuffs. The guy proves he's a complete queer by disengaging himself from guaranteed nookie and saying that he has places to be. So it's confirmed. Road House 2: Even Gayer. She calls after him, wondering how in the hell even a gay man can say no to cans like hers, but the guy just takes his jacket off, revealing a shirt with huge red letters spelling "DEA" on the back. Nice shirt to wear on an undercover gig, dickhead. "You wearin' a wire? What about a DEA shirt?" Drug enforcement must be a breeze and they make it seem so hard on Law & Order. You lied to me, Jerry Orbach!

This is supposed to be the guy who took out Dalton. Screw that!

The owner of the Black Pelican agrees to meet with Mr. Big about the secret mole in his personal guard. Alone. At the pier. Where there's certainly no ambush and nobody could easily dispose of his body, no siree. Four men leap out to attack him, led by Angry Black Guy brandishing a firearm. But of course in movies like this anyone with a handgun has the reaction time of a dead squirrel and takes special care to get within judo throw range of the kung-fu master. BOG handily destroys the entire posse because they seem to subscribe to the martial arts movie code of honor that dictates no matter how many ninjas might surround the hero, they can only attack him one at a time. Man, this bar owner is one tough bastard. Jake Busey emerges from the shadows (try not to laugh, you're supposed to be scared about that) and tells the man to sell his bar or die. The owner tells him to go to hell, so Busey charges [!!] the guy who just wiped out his four goons. I thought he was going to shoot him! What kind of villain is this? Bar Owner Guy subdues The Busey until a mysterious woman comes to his rescue, throwing knives into BOG's thigh and shoulder. The foley artist decides that the sound of a knife flying into a man's body is the same sound as someone stomping on packets of ketchup.

The Busey scoops up a gun (FINALLY) and gloats that he's finally going to take everything BOG had. BOG-- who I've decided looks like a rent-to-own Michael Rooker-- says that it'll be a cold day in hell before he lets The Busey use his bar to sell drugs when he's got this charming pier and all its delightful bayou ambiance. He could start his own restaurant, maybe a Cajun grill. He could call it O'Busey's and his dad could tell crazy stories about his head injury and hardcore drug abuse. Amazingly, BOG manages to draw a boot knife and slash Busey's leg and escapes by diving into the swamp. He had a gun trained on him at point-blank range for thirty seconds! How much do you suck, Busey?

We go back to the strip club, where Shane the DEA Agent is being debriefed by his perpetually-unsatisfied chief. Shane's wearing a completely different shirt now with yellow "DEA" letters on the back and front pocket where they were red before. The Chief wants to know when Shane's going to stop being a putz and land him a big drug bust. Shane's all "when I get around to it, CHIEF," when he gets a call from the sheriff in Tyree, Louisiana about his uncle turning up in the hospital with six colors of shit beaten out of him. Shane somehow mentally puts together that this could be his big drug bust at last and goes on leave, even though he has no way of knowing that The Busey was responsible and even if he did, no way of knowing that he's involved in the drug trade. Hottie Cop asks where he's going and offers to go with him. Lady, get it through your thick skull, he's G-A-Y. If he was straight he would have banged you sloppy by now. Shane tells her just to ask the guy they just arrested if they know who killed Shane's father.

"Do you think he had something to do with it?" she asks.

"No," he admits. "But always ask." Hah! Now that's a whole pallet-load of unnecessary backstory that's just been dumped all over me. So this guy's idea of police work is just to ask everyone he meets if they happen to have six fingers on their right hand? It worked for Inigo Montoya, but something tells me that you're not exactly going to catch criminals this way.

The Busey goes to the Black Pelican to talk with the traitorous mole in the security ranks. Ooooh that sneaky Busey. The band is wearing the exact same clothes as they were last night, and between cuts the dancing midget is apparently teleporting between various positions on stage. Now that Bar Owner Guy is laid up in the hospital, Busey's making himself at home in the club, starting fights and beating people's asses while his sexy knife-wielding girlfriend does hot lesbian shit to terrified women. Is it just me, or is this flick getting more and more awesome?

Oh no, god. Please stop their reign of terror. Really. This is unbearable.

Shane is driving down to Louisiana (he says that flying is too dangerous a la Dalton) when he spies a foxy blonde changing a tire on her jeep along the side of the road. Knight in shining armor that he is, he naturally pulls over to help. Yeah, right, as if he would have pulled over if anyone other than a hot chick was there. You think he'd have helped my scrawny ass jack a car up? This is why I act like a dick to everybody; it saves me from accusations of hypocrisy and sexism. The blonde acts surprised and offended that Shane wants to change her tire, like it's such a hassle having men in your complete thrall, offering to serve your every whim for the merest chance of glimpsing her boobs.

Y'see, white people drive like this. And black people drive like this!

At that moment, we see Busey cruising the swamp road in his Chrysler, hip-hop music blasting. He's leaned way back in his seat, driving with one wrist atop the steering wheel and boppin' his head to the beat like the king of all pimps. J.B. east coast represent! Busey in the HIZZOOOUUUUSE! He nearly sideswipes Shane as he's changing the tire and drives off swerving back and forth rather like Ben Gazzara did in the first Road House movie. It horrifies me that I know this.

Shane goes to the hospital to visit his uncle, where the local deputy tells him that the police have decided it was all a case of "wrong place, wrong time." Apparently people washing up on the bayou shore full of throwing knives and beaten-up for no reason happens a lot in these parts. Shane looks like a pretty dense guy, but even he's not buying that load of crap and says that he's staying to run the Black Pelican until he can find the guy who did it. Which I'm guessing won't take long; Jake Busey and those horse teeth of his aren't hard to miss.

Shane goes to check out his uncle's place, mainly to establish his martial arts background and to have a Shirtless Montage where he beats up a heavy bag. Wouldn't be a Road House flick without a 90/10 male nudity quotient. I think the movie's starting to catch up for its lack of naked man meat in the first twenty minutes.

The next night at the Black Pelican features some island-flavored hip-hop instead of the usual pop-country cracker music, which clearly isn't going over well because of the new band's obvious lack of a dancing midget on crutches. One of the bouncers recognizes Shane and says "Hey, you're Dalton's boy, aren't you?"

Wait wait wait, pull this crazy train over. Shane is DALTON'S kid?? Since when? What year is this? Shane looks like he's thirty! How old was Dalton when he had this loser, 10?? He doesn't look anything like Swayze! I want Swayze in this movie! This is a faux-Swayze! Foul, I say! Foul!

The Busey's Boys are busy causing trouble in the club, so Shane walks up and dismantles them with some (I hate to admit) pretty good moves. The stuntmen are a little overzealous in selling his offense, somersaulting backward when their friend crashes into them, but it's a solid action scene. They're led by Angry Black Guy, who gets taken out when Shane nails a John Cena-like F.U. onto the bar. This is the third time in the movie that the black guy has been completely dominated in a fight. "Holy shit," remarks another bouncer, "you're Dalton's kid! I thought you'd be bigger!" Just shut up with this nonsense, okay? He's not the bastard child of Swayze! I refuse to believe it! Where's his power mullet?

The Expository Bouncer drags Shane back inside, explaining that The Busey is an ex-cooler (a cooler is the guy called in when things get too hot for the bouncers-- my god, I know too much about Road House) who wants the Black Pelican because it's "prime-ass real estate when it comes to the exciting world of drug running." Prime-ass real estate? You can't just modify any adjective with the word "ass" to put emphasis on it. "Ass" only modifies words like "big" or "sweet" or "lame" or "John Cena." Apparently the bar is in some nexus of drug-running convenience, the right distance from Florida and Texas and within easy reach of those extensive swamp smuggling lanes. But once again, I don't see why these drug deals have to be made at a bar when they could be made much more easily at the pier or any other building. The only thing I can think of is that The Busey is a big fan of the music and their Bloomin' Onion appetizer.

You're no son of Dalton!
No Swayze would claim you!

Shane spots Blondie from earlier. She says she's just there to thank him for changing her tire and leaves. He follows her outside to ask her name, to which she responds by flipping him off. Huh. Unusual response.

He assembles the staff to lay out the law and explain the way he does business, Dalton-style. He says that he knows the way his uncle runs a club and the way his father does it, and it's the same way that he does it. Yep, this means the recital of this Three Rules of Bouncing:

1) You do not talk about Road House. No!

1) Never underestimate your opponent. (But Shane tacks on "or any situation.")

2) Take it outside. (Even though Shane just beat the shit out of four guys inside when he could have invited them into the parking lot.)

3) Be nice, until it's time to not be nice.

Only Shane isn't anywhere near as cool as Dalton when he's reciting the rules. Where Dalton had this Zen calm about him, Shane grins like a jackass.

Anyway, The Busey gets a call from his drug kingpin boss, who tells him that he'd better have the situation in hand for "the De Marco deal" or something or there'll be hell to pay. Busey gets fed up and tells his thugs to sic lawyers on the Pelican. The lawyer offers Shane $400,000 to sell the bar, but of course he's not interested even though that's more than twice what the Pelican is worth. If he's got that much money to throw around, why doesn't he just build his own bar nearby and fill it with all the drug cartels he wants? An annoying bouncer called The Robot (so-called because he does the robot dance and thinks it's still amusing, and because he says he's "automatic at kicking ass") escorts the guy off the premises. The lawyer smirks at the bouncers and calls them a bunch of ladies. Not smart when (a) you're hardly a towering specimen of masculinity and (b) two large men are escorting you out to the parking lot where there aren't any witnesses. But I digress.

Cut to later in Busey's hot tub-- relax! Busey's there, but he's surrounded by a pair of lesbians! Lesbians, guys! Just when this movie starts to drag-- BAM! Lesbians! And they're naked with boobs and everything! Now here's a director who knows how to punch up his story! I don't even know what they're talking about in this scene; something about "soon the Pelican will be mine! MWA HA HA" until I hear them drop Dalton's name a half-dozen times and I realize that they've actually killed Dalton off. "Damn shame what happened to him," says The Busey. Boooo! You killed Swayze? Off-camera? Booooooo! No amount of lesbians can make up for-- ooooooh, the girls started kissing again. Thank you thank you thank you!

Blondie goes to Shane's house to get her phone back, figuring the best way to do it is to make an unannounced visit, sneak in his unlocked back door, and snoop around his place. Shane emerges from the shower (rebalancing the male nudity factor) and confronts Blondie, who freaks out and swift-kicks him right in the stones so hard it's a wonder they don't blast out the top of his head in a volcano of brains, blood and mashed testicle meat. Somehow they bypass this initial awkwardness (which would take me six hours and several packets of frozen corn) and go out for lunch. By the time they get back, the local corrupt cops have trashed his place and spray-painted "SELL" on the wall. The Busey calls up to taunt him on the phone-- and apparently he's in England or something because it's eight hours later and pitch black outside. Shane agrees to sell and Busey in his infinite stupidity immediately starts doing drug deals in the kitchen even as Shane is calling enough DEA agents down on the place you'd think Robert Downey, Jr. lived there.

Unfortunately, the traitorous bouncer (who sort of looks like Bald Bull from Mike Tyson's Punch Out!!) calls Busey and blows the DEA's cover. Busey shoots his way out of the bar and somehow escapes by boat, because even though drug enforcement had a half-dozen people inside the bar, they forgot to cover the exits. It's those little things, really. Then, even though they have a confirmed fugitive on the loose, the DEA collectively throws its hands up and leaves the area, citing some jurisdictional B.S. and leaving Shane completely alone to handle this. Federal agents were shot at, and you're telling me they're not coming down on Jake Busey harder than a frigging Biblical plague?

Bar Owner Guy finally wakes up in time to spout off a couple of unnecessary references to the first movie like "Pain does hurt" and "I'll sleep when I'm dead," vowing to help Shane in a couple of days when he's recovered . Guys, you can't just keep re-hashing the old "so bad it's good" material and expect to get the same chuckles. The key here is that you have to make new lame material. It takes talent to write non-sequitirs as funny as the ones in Road House. Personally I'd suggest George Lucas or one of those shitty writers of CSI: Miami. And by the way, that "sleep when I'm dead" line didn't even belong to Dalton; that was Sam Elliot's line!

Where's the other girl?? Damn it! No more Jake Busey!

Blondie calls, and Shane agrees to pick her up for a date at 7. But when he arrives at her place (how does he know where she lives?) it's so dark outside that that the only way it's 7 PM in Louisiana is that the robots have taken over the world and the human rebels have launched bombers to chemically destroy the atmosphere to block out the sun. Blondie does her best to keep Shane away from the Pelican, even going so far as to seduce him on the hunch that The Busey is going to attack the place. While on their date, Shane explains that Dalton was shot and killed, presumably by enemies from Shane's life in law enforcement who got them confused (even though he and Swayze look nothing alike). I'm still pissed off that they've killed all hope for a future Road House sequel with Dalton in it. Not to exaggerate or anything, but it would only be the coolest movie ever.

Turns out Blondie was right about the attack on the Pelican, but the real twist for me is that Shane displays some heterosexual tendencies and lets Blondie touch his weiner. Honest to god, I thought he really was gay (not that there's anything wrong with that.)

By the time Shane gets to the bar, he finds one of his bouncers dead, and another one gasps out "Luthor let them in!" Damn that treacherous bouncer! He breached the defenses of the Deeping Wall and let the enemy through the gates! He must have told them how to defeat the protection of our windows, that bastard. And you must admit how impossible it would have been to figure out that Luthor was the traitor, seeing as how he's the only bouncer not shot and bleeding on the floor. It's a good thing The Robot was here to tell us. Shane gets pissed off and dives through Luthor's window (classic DEA entry technique) and beats his ass.

The Busey's boss (who's flown into town to oversee this oft-referenced De Marco Deal) sends men over to Blondie's house to kill Shane, and another group over to the hospital to kill Bar Owner Guy. The Boss has a really out-of-place accent that I'm hesitantly going to place as South African. The Busey calls Blondie to warn her that trouble's coming, and when Shane's all "WTF?" she explains that she and Jake are cousins. Heh, you been porkin' a Busey, Shane. Can you imagine having Gary Busey as an in-law? The mere thought is the stuff of nightmares!

Blondie breaks out a pump-action shotgun [!!] just as The Boss' hitmen descend on the place. "Where'd you learn to use one of those things?" Shane asks.

"In the Army!" she replies. Okay so she's proficient in small-arms and she's the cousin of the resident drug lord. I don't think Blondie's been entirely honest with you, Shane. The gunfight goes on for several minutes, but it's so badly filmed and edited that it's clear that it's just a bunch of unrelated shots of men taking cover behind cars and trees, firing off-screen as picture frames and flower pots explode in other pick-up shots. In fact, the hitmen don't appear to have any idea where Shane or Blondie are, swinging their aim radically from one end of the house to the other. And Shane just seems to be taking blind shots at the wall from behind the couch. Good idea, Shane; the bulletproof properties of futons are well-documented. What are these guys shooting at? It's clear that neither side can see the other. Shane's not even near a window!

Meanwhile at the hospital, Busey's Boys strut down the halls. Somehow Bar Owner Guy senses the impending ambush and disguises himself as an orderly. He slips past them, but instead of hiding out somewhere, he turns around and attacks them with his mop! He proceeds to beat the entire group of hitmen senseless, two days after he was pummeled, stabbed, shot, and near-drowned in a bog. Yeah, he's a Dalton all right. Bullshit. One stuntman in particular deserves special mention for not only waiting to be hit, but running full-speed for two seconds into the waiting mop so he could somersault over it and land in a broken heap. The black guy? He gets beaten up AGAIN, and he doesn't have a single bruise or mark to show for it. What, does everyone in this movie have some kind of mutant healing factor like Wolverine?

What the hell are you looking at, woman?
And why is there a microwave in the living room??

The Busey is elsewhere in the hospital, looking for BOG. He stops by some old guy on oxygen and yanks the nose-plugs out, and amusingly, the guy flatlines immediately. Talk about unstable! Busey finds his boys dismantled in the hallway, and they point him to where BOG is hiding. Gee, maybe it wasn't so smart to make your presence known. They brawl around, and BOG knocks him out again. During this scene, Angry Black Guy tries to interfere and gets handed his FIFTH ass-kicking of the movie. Then-- I can barely believe this-- BOG turns his back on the fallen villains to say "Be nice until it's time to not be nice" giving Busey plenty of time to bury a knife in his back. Hey idiot, while we're stealing lines from the first Road House, I bet that whole "Never underestimate your opponent" rule is haunting you right now. Don't feel too bad. It's only RULE NUMBER ONE.

Things are eerily silent over at Blondie's house. Shane takes a peek out the window to see where the baddies are. Blondie, who's holding down the front door, decides to stand up and stare blankly into the corner for a full five seconds, allowing the bad guys to rush right inside and knock her out with the swinging door! What the hell was she doing? There's nothing in the fucking corner! Watch the door, you stupid cunt!

The Boss captures the two of them and asks why Shane has been giving The Busey fits. "Are you really that good, or is he really that dumb?" Um...pass! Next question. Some of the goons take Blondie out back and start disrobing so they can do nasty squelchy things to her.

"You're next, Fidel!" the white guy declares to his buddy, who grins like an idiot. Dude, don't look so happy that you're about to bag sloppy seconds. It's Man Law that in the absence of an official boyfriend, the loser of a rock/paper/scissors game is designated the clean-up hitter.

The Boss, now that he's alone with Shane, asks if Shane recognizes him. Oh boy, here comes the "I killed your father" confession. He says that when Shane was working with local cops he busted him on routine possession. His Ferrari got confiscated, he was humiliated, he had to attend driving school, you know the drill. He wanted revenge for the whole deal, so he hired The Busey to kill Shane. Only he screwed up and killed Dalton instead. Screw that! No way did Dalton get killed by this Euro-pussy! He tore a dude's throat out! Dalton will crash through the window and save the day, you'll see! I can't accept that Jake Busey and some fey white boy who doesn't even have a name punched Dalton's ticket.

Shane and Blondie jump their respective captors and kill everyone in the house. Shane takes out The Boss guy by shattering his breastbone with a palm thrust to the chest. Some cop he is. 20 to 1 says Shane re-uses the Hillbilly Throat Claw to kill The Busey at the end of this one.


The Busey goes over to the Pelican to meet the De Marco boys. He welcomes them to his new bar. The De Marcos logically ask where the Boss is. Busey gets a dumb look on his face and waffles on that issue mentally for a while, seeming to think "huh, yeah, he should be here for the most important drug deal in his organization's history, shouldn't he?" Didn't you think about checking in with him to make sure he'd successfully killed Shane before you tried to do this deal? He's only the one guy in the entire city who can stop you. Headlights flare up in the distance, and Shane's car careens into the line of parked vehicles outside the Pelican, which for absolutely no reason explode and flip end over end across the lot. Just like in the previous movie, this ploy completely fools the bad guys, who converge on the flaming car absolutely certain that Shane was stupid enough to crash directly into the center of a heavily-armed gathering of gangsters in an exploding car.

Shane starts shooting from cover while all their backs are turned to look at the roasting car. As they die, they return panic fire with horrified expressions on their faces, flabberghasted at how badly they've been fooled. But he was supposed to be in the car! No fair! That's cheating! Angry Black Guy catches a shotgun blast in the face, marking his sixth-- and probably last-- consecutive butt-whooping of the film. Busey's boys also have no concept of taking cover to avoid being shot, so the firefight is quite brief.

The fight spills into the Pelican, where Busey and Shane mix it up hand-to-hand while Blondie tangles with the Knife Bitch in a rowdy catfight! Well I say 'catfight' but they brawl into the kitchen and engage in a very well-choreographed martial arts rumble! I mean dang! I was expecting a roll-around-on-the-floor screaming mess with lots of hair pulling and the inevitable loss of clothing. Actually I was taking my pants off in anticipation of that. But these chicks actually do a really good job! Best girlfight I've seen since Crouching Tiger. The end comes as Blondie gets pinned against a freezer. Knife Bitch runs a knife into her gut, but Blondie snares it barehanded, breaks the blade off, and rams it into her throat! Hard core!! I don't think anyone's really that strong, but I'll allow it! Well done! I would have preferred naked wrestling...but it's fine. It's fine, really.

...I mean there were plenty of lesbians in this movie previously. I was just all geared up for a major lesbian spank inferno as the payoff to all that foreplay. But if you're sure you don't want them to do any lesbian stuff, I'll live. Damn it.

Busey wraps a chain around his fist and drawls like a bad Old West renegade "Ahm gonna kill you jus' like ah killed yer father!" Wouldn't you need a gun for that, Jake? They proceed to throw each other through every unbroken table and piece of glassware left in the bar until Shane pump kicks Jake off the balcony to impale himself on the giant pelican statue below. And this isn't the normal spiky kind of statue you might expect a fellow to impale himself on, oh no. Not the kind of statue you look for in Seagal flicks thinking "I bet someone's going to get gored all over that shit later on." This is a fairly rounded, normal-looking pelican statue, as far as pelican-statues go. But *SHPLORK*, it goes right through Jake. Did not expect that.

And the movie just sort of peters out. You know, I wouldn't mind following up on that hot DEA lady who was thinking about taking up a secondary career as a stripper. That sounds like a cool idea for a television show. Sort of a cop-drama twist on La Femme Nikita. With a lot more lesbian action in it. In fact, we could forget about the cop stuff if she just wanted to wrestle with other girls. That'd be fine. I'm not picky!

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