In what might be the most ill-conceived expression of the "Rocky" genre (self-realization through dedication to a sport or activity, whether it be boxing, karate, jet piloting, pool, auto racing, etc.) Patrick Swayze plays a man dedicated to becoming the world's greatest bar bouncer. The genre demands a mentor, and the Burgess Meredith/Paul Newman/Pat Morita role goes to a dirty and disheveled, ponty-tail wearing Sam Elliot, who looks in every scene like he wonders what he's doing in this movie. The genre also demands a villainous foe, and that part is filled with scene-chewing elan by Ben Gazarra. So decisively does this movie cross the line into camp that I've seen Swayze claim in interviews that the awful campiness of this movie was deliberate parody. The deliberate part is debatable, but not the parody. Definately in the 'so bad it's good' category. There's a brilliant awfulness about this flick that sucks me in every time and won't let me keep flipping the remote if I happen upon it.

Another fine choice, DC. There's a reason TNT plays this film 14 times a week -- it's a black hole of cinema, sucking in viewers despite their best efforts to avoid it. And once they're sucked in, they like it.

I like Swayze's defense, too. "Uh, yeah. It was parody. Seriously."