film report: Roadhouse

Being on something of a Swayze bender, I decided to rewatch the 1989 throat-ripping classic, Roadhouse. Let’s see how much of the plot you can deduce from these screenshots:

 

So basically, Dalton (Patrick Swayze) is a cooler, a lead-bouncer, who is propositioned to sort out a violent shithole called The Double Deuce, “the kind of place where they sweep up the eyeballs after closing”. He immediately fires a bunch of degenerates, including an amusing character who fucks a 80s blonde in the backroom, “you gonna be my regular Saturday night thing” and then protests “I’m on my break!” when Dalton sticks his head in to fire him. Dalton rents a room in a farm and does tai chi style exercises half-naked, but also immediately lights a cigarette upon awaking,

because this is a 80s action film. The farm is opposite a villa owned by the villainous Brad Wesley

– one of the greatest of 80s villains – played by Coach Red Pill:

There are loads of 80s titties and 80s blondes, and Coach Red Pill’s henchmen are an assemblage of fired maths teachers, fat American slobs, and homosexual rapists. One of them drives a monster truck.

So anyway, Coach Red Pill demands tribute payments from local store owners and Dalton ends up fighting his various henchmen and saving the town. CRP makes a great villain, one of these bad guys who simply enjoys life and enjoys his villainy – he has no rancour, no ill will, he’s just a local kingpin and relishes the role. Dalton calls in assistance from the legendary cooler Wade Garrett,

played by Sam Elliott. I believe we have here the key to 80s splendour – the supporting cast must be at least as good as the supposed protagonist.

The script is particularly memorable, with zingers every couple of minutes, and a great deal of homoeroticism. The film closed out the 80s, the greatest decade known to man.

It might just become your regular Saturday night thing.

Plague Journal, March 27

The weather here is very unItalian, cold, windy, grey. When the sun breaks I go onto the balcony to read, at present Purgatorio and Black Swan. I would kind of agree with Bruce Charlton that Nassim Taleb seems “consumed with pride” but then this isn’t incongruous with high talent/genius. Taleb is a good read, even if I sometimes find him a bit of a know-it-all in his Socratic “know-nothing-at-all” pose.

I just saw this video by Coach Red Pill:

I’m not as smart as Coach Red Pill of course, and certainly don’t know as much about statistics & forecasts, but it seems to me that he’s making a mistake – he’s projecting a linear (if that makes sense for exponential growth) progression, and saying that major infrastructural services will collapse at such-and-such a point; however, my understanding, as a numerical illiterate, is that things rarely progress in a predictable and stable fashion. For example, as Anonymous Conservative has observed, the R0 (infection rate) will be higher at first as no one is taking precautions, and the toilet-seat-lickers & Springbreakers cull themselves from the herd; but then the ‘rona will meet stubborn, Marine-like resistance, an increasingly stubborn resistance as finally people walk about in full Hazmat suits and bleach spray.

In every real world system, the situation is dynamic as the actors react to stimuli; even the wise cannot see all ends, as Gandalf would say, and Taleb is, I suspect, right to criticise the so-called masters of the universe who sell themselves as prescient rather than haphazardly lucky. I think of this via the offside rule in football – it was originally intended to stop an attacker lurking by the enemy goals, but the defending team can actually provoke an opposing striker into violating the rule, to the defendant’s advantage. Every rule will provoke unexpected responses from the actors within the game, and these responses will trigger additional responses from other actors, until you have a hurly burly largely unmediated by the initial parameters.

Not to mention Black Swan phenomena, which are such precisely because they cannot really be predicted; merely, perhaps, imagined.