Midweek Mention... Road House
This week we head into full remake territory with Doug Liman’s glossy, bone-crunching update of Road House. Jake Gyllenhaal steps into Patrick Swayze’s boots as Dalton: a drifter, ex–UFC fighter, and walking concussion who takes a job cleaning up a Florida Keys bar where violence isn’t a possibility — it’s a nightly guarantee.
From the opening underground fight circuit to the neon chaos of the Road House itself, the film wastes no time establishing its tone: sunburnt, hyper-kinetic, knowingly ridiculous action with a wink. Dalton isn’t just muscle — he’s a philosopher-bouncer trying (and often failing) to de-escalate a town addicted to throwing punches.
What we talked about
- The remake question: why revisit a cult classic, and does this version justify its existence?
- Gyllenhaal’s performance — shredded, funny, and oddly charming as a smiling human weapon
- The bar as a war zone: nonstop fights that feel both brutal and cartoonish
- Doug Liman’s direction and the slick, CG-enhanced fight choreography
- Conor McGregor as the chaos agent villain — distracting stunt casting or perfect cartoon henchman?
- The movie’s throwback 80s energy: big action, simple stakes, zero realism
- The strange lack of romance in such a sweaty, hyper-physical film
- Streaming vs cinema: whether this deserved a theatrical release
Verdict
It’s loud, dumb, stylish, and fully aware of it. Road House doesn’t try to outthink the original — it turns the dial toward modern action excess and lets Gyllenhaal carry the vibe. Not high art, but a breezy, violent crowd-pleaser that knows exactly what it is.
Strong recommend if you want neon-lit mayhem, broken bones, and a remake that leans into its own stupidity instead of apologising for it.
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