This week we head into full remake territory with Doug Liman’s glossy, bone-crunching update of Road House. Jake Gyllenhaal steps into Patrick Swayze’s boots as Dalton: a drifter, ex–UFC fighter, and walking concussion who takes a job cleaning up a Florida Keys bar where violence isn’t a possibility — it’s a nightly guarantee.
From the opening underground fight circuit to the neon chaos of the Road House itself, the film wastes no time establishing its tone: sunburnt, hyper-kinetic, knowingly ridiculous action with a wink. Dalton isn’t just muscle — he’s a philosopher-bouncer trying (and often failing) to de-escalate a town addicted to throwing punches.
What we talked about
Verdict
It’s loud, dumb, stylish, and fully aware of it. Road House doesn’t try to outthink the original — it turns the dial toward modern action excess and lets Gyllenhaal carry the vibe. Not high art, but a breezy, violent crowd-pleaser that knows exactly what it is.
Strong recommend if you want neon-lit mayhem, broken bones, and a remake that leans into its own stupidity instead of apologising for it.
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