Thunder Road

Whatever the film lacks, which is a lot, focus on the imagery -- duelling hotrods, a dangling cigarette, and country two-lanes, along with a precious load of illegal booze, family honor, and a good woman. This is movie myth-making at its near purest, so what else could a ducktailed Elvis- clone of the 50's have wanted. Girls may have swooned over treacle like "A Summer Place", but hot-rodders packed this drive-in classic bumper to bumper. Sure, it's badly produced ($50 budget, tops), badly acted (even Mitchum struggles with the hopeless Keely Smith), and features one of the worst canvas backdrops on record (the water-wheel scene). Still it has the King of Cool gunning down the asphalt (don't let the sleepy eyes fool you), pits rugged individualism against angry collectivism (organized crime and big govn't), and opens with a throbbing title tune (composed and sung by Mitchum) -- topped by a look and feel unlike the usual Hollywood contrivance. And who can forget those forlorn headbeams searching their way through an existential void. The imagery was compelling and caught the edgy mood of a drive-in crowd feeling their own way through a world of teenage angst. Few would grow into the mythic shoes of road-warrior, Luke Doolin, but a lot sure wanted to try. Which is why this primitive slice of small-screen black-and-white continues to resonate, even into the big-screen myth-making of souped-up starships, evil empires, and computerized magic.