Patrick Swayze, showing no signs of embarrassment and hence none of intelligence either, is a sort of Wyatt Earp of the nightclub circuit, a professional bouncer (a.k.a. "cooler") called in to tame the toughest of hellholes, just as Wyatt was summoned to Dodge and Wichita. This idea has possibilities, even if primarily parodistic ones. But the realm of action mushrooms far beyond the classic barroom brawl, all the way to Stalloneville and Norristown and Schwarzeneggerberg. And the peripheral details -- the Mercedes, the tai-chi, the NYU philosophy degree, the $500-a-night fee -- take us into a bonehead's dreamworld. Peripheral characters are figments from the same imagination: the grizzled old Grand Master bouncer with the elfin smile and string-bean physique; the dedicated country doctor with the silicone breasts and G-string tan lines. Sam Elliott, Kelly Lynch, Ben Gazzara, Kevin Tighe; directed by Rowdy Herrington. (1989) — Duncan Shepherd
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