Walker, Texas Ranger (TV Series)
S3/E7 'The Road to Black Bayou' (1994) - David Huddleston
I haven't seen this episode in years and a few things came to mind when watching it.
This is the episode that first got me into Huddleston, wishing I was literally in Huddleston.
David and Noble Willingham's asses.
This is the second time Huddleston and Willingham appeared in an episode together since they appeared in an episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show What Are Friends For? Season 5 Episode 10.
Rated R for graphic violence and very strong language
<Originally posted at https://kevinsreviewcatalogue.blogspot.com/2024/02/review-last-boy-scout-1991.html>
Score: 4 out of 5
The Last Boy Scout is a wild, unwieldy, and immensely entertaining buddy-cop action flick cut from the same cloth as Lethal Weapon, not much of a surprise given that Shane Black wrote both movies. It's a movie that opens with an over-the-top song that would make for a legitimately good intro to an NFL broadcast, followed by a prologue of a football player (played by Billy Blanks in a cameo) shooting three members of the opposing team on the field before killing himself. The plot of the film is one that has only become sadly relevant in the years since 1991, especially as sports betting has been legalized and normalized as just a regular part of the professional sports landscape. It's got Bruce Willis at the height of his glory post-Die Hard playing a salty private eye, a young Damon Wayans in a role that, while more dramatic than anything on In Living Color, still supplies a lot of funny moments in his interactions with Willis, and director Tony Scott delivering a ton of exciting, spectacular action scenes. It's a shallow film that's mostly an excuse to have Willis and Wayans do their thing, but that alone is enough to make it practically obligatory viewing during football season.
Our protagonists are both disgraced men. Joe Hallenbeck is a private detective and former Secret Service agent who lost his last job after he punched out a senator he caught raping a woman. Jimmy Dix is a former star quarterback for the Los Angeles Stallions (because like hell the NFL would let them use real team names in a movie like this) who was fired and banned from the league as the chronic pain caused by his injuries on the field led to drug addiction and, from there, involvement in gambling. Together, They Fight Crime -- specifically by uncovering a gambling ring within the league that's scheming to get sports betting legalized in order to make it a more exciting experience for viewers, damn the consequences (gambling addiction, game-fixing), and is willing to kill in order to do it. It's the kind of suspicion of authority and rich fat cats that, almost as much as witty buddy-cop banter, I've noticed is something of a trend in Shane Black's screenplays, and while it's an altogether shallow treatment of sports betting that serves largely as background flavor, it's a story that predicted, decades before the rise of DraftKings and FanDuel, just how corrosive it would be to sports in general. (One change, though: I would've had the shadowy hitman in the opening threatening to kill the running back if he wins instead of loses, since throwing matches and point-shaving are how a lot of sports betting scandals go down in real life.)
The heart and soul of the film is Bruce Willis and Damon Wayans as Joe and Jimmy, both deeply troubled men who mean well but are otherwise plagued by all manner of demons. Joe's strong moral code gets him compared to a Boy Scout (hence the title), but it also ruined his career once it put him on a collision course with the powerful crooks who run everything, while Jimmy was chewed up and spit out by a corrupt sports league that wore down his body and then blamed him for the resulting drug addiction. They're both bitter, cynical assholes, but they have damn good reason to be. Willis was always a master of action movie snark, and his talent for such is on full display here as he has to put up with indignities from everyone around him, not least of all his estranged wife and his rebellious daughter. Wayans, meanwhile, gets the more serious role as a guy who's pissed at the world and jumped head-first into hedonism as his life fell apart, but one who's not all that different from Joe except that his vices aren't as socially acceptable as alcoholism. Two guys who look like polar opposites, especially in the contrast between Joe's blue-collar status and Jimmy's fame and fortune (highlighted in a great exchange involving Jimmy's $650 leather pants), but turn out to have a lot more in common than they think is ripe material for a buddy comedy, and Willis and Wayans have great buddy chemistry together. The supporting cast, too, is filled with character actors giving fun performances, whether it's Noble Willingham as the villainous team owner Marcone, Taylor Negron as the terrifying hitman Milo, a young Halle Berry as Jimmy's stripper girlfriend Corey, or a young Danielle Harris stealing the show as Joe's daughter Darian, feeling almost like a prototype for Angourie Rice's character in The Nice Guys in terms of being what happens if you gave Nancy Drew the mouth of a sailor. (And now I wanna see Shane Black write a Nancy Drew movie.)
When it comes to action, this is a Tony Scott movie, and if you know the first thing about Tony Scott, you know what you're getting: flashy action, glamorous vistas, and a lot of visual flair. This movie looks damn good in that peculiar '80s/early '90s studio way, a movie that knows exactly how big and dumb it is and leans right into it. The opening scene of an ill-fated running back at the end of his rope giving a whole new meaning to "pistol offense" sets the tone and lets you know what you're in for straight away, a film big on splashy visuals and moments designed to set a mood. The plot is fairly boilerplate and easy to figure out, existing largely to drive the action and the characters' banter and get you to the real reason this movie exists, which is the car chases, shootouts, and explosions that are all handled with aplomb. From start to finish, this movie is incredibly entertaining, the kind of flick that invites you to turn off your brain and have a great time watching a pair of very charismatic actors run around Los Angeles with guns.
The Bottom Line
The Last Boy Scout is a kick-ass, no-nonsense buddy action/comedy anchored by a pair of great lead performances, a witty script, and director Tony Scott doing what he does best. This was perfect viewing just before the Super Bowl, and honestly at any other time of year.
Up next on my 90's Fest Movie 🎥 and TV 📺 Marathon...The Last Boy Scout (1991) on glorious vintage VHS 📼! #movie #movies #actionadventure #TheLastBoyScout #brucewillis #DamonWayans #chelseafield #noblewillingham #TaylorNegron #danielleharris #HalleBerry #TaylorNegron #ripnoblewillingham #KimCoates #badjadjola #chelcieross #EddieGriffin #rickducommun #vintage #vhs #90s #90sfest #durandurantulsas2ndannual90sfest
Blind Fury goes under the spotlight as we analyse director Phillip Noyce’s 1989 classic that stars Rutger Hauer, Brandon Call, Terry O’Quinn, Lisa Blount, Randall “Tex” Cobb, Noble Willingham, Nick Cassavetes, Rick Overton, Meg Foster, Shō Kosugi, Charles Cooper, Jay Pennison and Tiger Chung Lee.
Also you get our usual chat and banter about what we have been…
Physique: Husky/Average Build
Height: 5′ 10″ (1.78 m)
George Ervin "Sonny" Perdue III (born December 20, 1946-) is an American politician who served as the 31st United States secretary of agriculture from 2017 to 2021. A member of the Republican Party, he previously served as the 81st governor of Georgia from 2003 to 2011 and as a member of the Georgia State Senate from 1991 to 2002. On March 1, 2022, the Board of Regents of University System of Georgia appointed Perdue as the system's 14th chancellor, effective April 1, 2022.
Handsome, husky vigorous and personable with a Ed Asner/Noble Willingham look to him. And what pushes him from 'attractive' to downright 'sexy' is that he wears 'fucking boots.' I know they're not called 'fucking boots' but I call them that because I'd fuck anybody while they're wearing cowboy boots. I know, I'm a whore like that. Say what you want about President Donald Trump, when it comes to hot as men. He knows how to pick them.
Lets see… he has been married since 1972 with four children, fourteen grandchildren and have also been foster parents for many children. On a side note, his son Dan Perdue could definitely get a taste too. He also the cousin of David 'Big Dick' Perdue. An avid sportsman, Sonny enjoys flying and, in a 2003 incident, was accused of flying a state helicopter without a license. Sounds like a bit of a bad boy. And everybody loves a bad boy.
Country music is at a crossroads. Two of its most viral songs show why
Analysis by AJ Willingham, CNN
Sat, July 29, 2023 at 2:27 PM EDT·7 min read
People — non-country lovers specifically — like to joke that modern country music is a repetitive incantation of beer, trucks, girls and American flags, with the occasional sprinkling of Copenhagen or MultiCam thrown in. (And, for the women, there’s an extra dash of marital homicide.)
That’s all part of it, for certain. But a longer pause on the radio dial, or a deeper dive into the genre’s roots, reveals far more variation — different traditions and cultures calling to each other, answering and reinventing themselves as they go.
The struggle for the soul of country music is on full display now as two very different songs have been making headlines. Jason Aldean, one of country music’s biggest stars, has been embroiled in controversy over his single “Try That in a Small Town.” The song contains what critics say are racially charged lyrics, and scenes from the music video were shot in front of a courthouse that was the site of an infamous lynching in the 1920s. The backlash was so complete, CMT removed Aldean’s video from its rotation and the original YouTube version was edited to remove several seconds of protest footage.
Meanwhile, fellow country star Luke Combs has been going viral on social media with his platinum cover of “Fast Car” by famed singer-songwriter Tracy Chapman. Some of the attention has been positive, praising his rendition of the famous ballad and discussing the impact of his homage to Chapman who, as a Black woman and queer icon, is a triple whammy of underrepresentation in country music.
In an interview with Billboard, Combs called “Fast Car” the “perfect song” and Chapman a “supernatural songwriter.”
“The success of my cover is unreal and I think it’s so cool that Tracy is getting recognized and has reached new milestones. I love that she is out there feeling all the love and that she gave me a shout-out! Thank you, Tracy!”
Chapman herself, who is notoriously private with both her personal life and her music rights, also commented to Billboard about the song’s success.
“I never expected to find myself on the country charts, but I’m honored to be there. I’m happy for Luke and his success and grateful that new fans have found and embraced ‘Fast Car.’”
The crossover also made history, cementing Chapman as the first Black woman to have a sole writing credit on a No. 1 country radio song.
Dividing the divisions
Both “Try That in a Small Town” and “Fast Car” have topped country charts in recent weeks. While they represent something of a divide among the genre, they’ve also led to an exploration of finer fissures within. Aldean has millions of supporters who see his ode to small town solidarity as a continuation of what made country music so resonant in the first place: The telling of stories forgotten by the mainstream.
(Small town pride is also a favorite theme of Aldean’s, whose hits include 2010’s “Flyover States” and “Dirt Road Anthem,” and the early hit “Amarillo Sky,” which details the noble struggles of a proud farmer.)
Aside from the controversy of lyrics slamming gun control and threatening people who disrespect police, Aldean’s song set off interesting conversations as people discussed what being from a small town really means, and indeed, what a small town even is. (Aldean himself is from Macon, Georgia, which may seem like the sticks to some people but is, in fact, a mid-sized city that also helped form rock greats like Little Richard and Otis Redding.)
“Try That In A Small Town, for me, refers to the feeling of a community that I had growing up, where we took care of our neighbors, regardless of differences of background or belief. Because they were our neighbors, and that was above any differences,” Aldean wrote in a statement defending the song.
As for Combs, the same reasons that attracted praise for “Fast Car” have also attracted criticism. The song, like Chapman herself, has been a lighthouse for people on the margins since its release in 1988, dealing as it does with poverty and loneliness and the universal appeal of getting the heck out of town with your baby by your side. (And, in the process, became a lesbian anthem.) While it’s a very country message, some fans were uncomfortable that a straight, White male singer would add his voice to Chapman’s genius.
“On one hand, Luke Combs is an amazing artist, and it’s great to see that someone in country music is influenced by a Black queer woman — that’s really exciting,” Holly G, founder of the Black Opry, told The Washington Post. “But at the same time, it’s hard to really lean into that excitement knowing that Tracy Chapman would not be celebrated in the industry without that kind of middleman being a White man.”
Defining the soul of country
These two songs, so differently received yet recorded under the same big country umbrella, are an embodiment of the crossroads where country music currently stands. Like all musical traditions that fuse, evolve and splinter, country music and its legions of fans are engaged in a negotiation for the genre’s main identity.
Do they embrace the class-conscious, anti-capitalist forefathers and foremothers who played in prisons and supported laborers and held staunchly leftist views by today’s standards? (They still live today: Willie Nelson is a proud Texas Democrat and Dolly Parton an LGBTQ ally.) Do they turn up the party-happy “Bro Country” of the early 2000s, or champion the red-white-and-blue anthems that still represent, for so many, a platonic ideal of patriotism?
Do they welcome the fresh influx of non-White country artists, or ignore the inheritance secured by the voices of Black and Latin American artists who helped build the genre? Do they sing with these voices, or sing over them?
Moreover, what can be accepted? Queer country acts are on the rise, but will they ever join country’s highest ranks of outcasts, rebels and beaten-down lovers? Or will songs with even a hint of pro-LGBTQ themes, like Kacey Musgraves’ “Follow Your Arrow” or Little Big Town’s “Girl Crush” continue to be met with friction?
What can be forgiven? When the Dixie Chicks spoke out against the Iraq War in the early 2000s, their popularity in country music circles never fully recovered.. When current superstar Morgan Wallen was caught saying racist slurs, his supporters kept his album “Dangerous: The Double Album” at the top of the charts for weeks after the backlash. In the year that followed, he launched a new tour and an appearance at the Grand Ole Opry. Combs has sought forgiveness, too: In 2021, he apologized for past performances that featured the Confederate flag.
“I know that I’m a very highly visible member of the country-music community right now,” Combs said. “And I want to use that position for good, and to say that people can change and people do want to change, and I’m one of those people trying.”
These decisions beg a larger question: Can the myriad interpretations of country music exist side by side? If something must change, what of the genre’s essential character would disappear along with it?
As the reactions to Combs and Aldean’s songs prove, it’s not an easy negotiation. Small towns, fast cars and American values are as essential to country music as three chords and the truth. Who gets to define American values, and whose truths get told; that’s where the crossroads lie.
How fortunate, then, that crossroads are as country a symbol as you can get.
Tucker's Witch is a comedy-detective series that aired on CBS television from October 6 to November 10, 1982, and again sporadically from March 31 to June 9, 1983. It stars Tim Matheson and Catherine Hicks as a married couple and private detective duo Rick and Amanda Tucker.
The show's pilot was first filmed in early 1982 as The Good Witch of Laurel Canyon and starred Art Hindle and Kim Cattrall. In May 1982, CBS announced that the series had been picked up with that title and cast.
However, Cattrall's racy scene in the 1982 film Porky's reportedly caused CBS to demand her replacement. The show was retitled Tucker's Witch and the pilot was reshot with a new cast; Catherine Hicks replaced Cattrall and Tim Matheson was cast in Hindle's role (Hindle had also played a small role in Porky's).
In a 1986 interview with the Toronto Star, Hindle spoke of his and Cattrall's departures from the series:
All the networks show these pilots to members of the public they pick up on the street and they put push-button responses in their hands. They respond to whether they like the character, don't like the character; or they like the story, don't like the story; like the scene, don't like the scene. She (Cattrall) she didn't do too well with these reponses [sic] so they replaced her. And then I just walked. I had other things to do and I didn't really want to get involved with something they were going to start pulling strings all the time.
Tucker's Witch cancelled after one season
Rick and Amanda Tucker are highly sought-after private investigators in Los Angeles. The way they crack their cases seems to be almost magical. Amanda's psychic abilities prove vital to cracking cases, yet also have a tendency to get the couple into trouble. The duo must find a way of getting out of trouble, all while keeping their secret and solving the case!
The show was placed on hiatus after six episodes had aired; months later, it was brought back to burn off the remaining episodes, and it was cancelled after twelve episodes had aired overall. In later rebroadcasts on the USA Network, the program was retitled The Good Witch of Laurel Canyon, the series' original title.
Ted Danson played an elevator killer in the premiere episode, which aired just one week after the premiere of Danson's Cheers. Others guest stars included Barry Corbin, Simon Oakland, Joe Penny and Noble Willingham.
Cast: Ken Olin, Jill Eikenberry, Maureen Mueller, Gregg Henry, Nicholas Pryor, Noble Willingham Based on a true story, this thought-provoking drama profiles two fathers: an Amish man whose young child is killed by reckless teens, and the prosecutor who tries to bring the youths to justice despite the condemnation he faces from the community.
Don’t be fooled by the title…not stoning as you think….but young boys throwing stones…..a young Brad Pitt is in this movie too