After making two
low-budget horror flicks on his own, and then a pair of arty dramas under the
tutelage of Robert Altman, eclectic writer-director Alan Rudolph spent the
early ’80s trying to work in a more commercial vein, beginning with this
ensemble comedy set in the world of rock-music touring. Despite the trappings of
a mainstream movie—lowbrow sex humor, moronic slapstick gags, performances by
chart-topping musicians—Roadie is so
fundamentally bizarre that it’s clear Rudolph had not yet strayed from his
arthouse roots.
Corpulent rock singer Meat Loaf stars as Travis W. Redfish, a
Texas trucker who lives with his screechy sister, Alice Poo (Rhonda Bates), and
his weird father, wheelchair-bound gadget addict Corpus C. Redfish (Art
Carney). While out driving a beer truck one morning, Travis spots attractive
young Lola Bouilliabase (Kaki Hunter) sitting in the window of a disabled motor
home. In the course of repairing the motor home, Travis discovers that Lola is
part of the entourage for a “rock circus” organized by megastar promoter
Mohammed Johnson (Don Cornelius). Then, through a convoluted series of events,
Travis winds up accompanying Lola and her team to a show, where Travis saves
the day by setting up equipment for a Hank Williams Jr. performance in record
time. (Never mind asking how Travis learned to install amps and mics.) Mohammed hires Travis to be a roadie. Then, while Travis is “brain-locked”
thanks to a head injury, Lola and Mohammed take Travis to Los Angeles, where his
roadie adventure continues.
Everything in Roadie
is goofy and loud, from Meat Loaf’s histrionic lead performance to the various
absurd plot contrivances, so the picture’s limited appeal stems from its madcap
vibe. (Think nonsense dialogue along the lines of, “What’s the relationship
between Styrofoam and the planet Jupiter?” or, “Yaga-yaga-yaga, this is the
Redfish saga!”) Some of the jokes are mildly amusing, but many are merely
strange. On the plus side, Roadie
features onscreen musical performances by notables including Alice Cooper,
Asleep at the Wheel, Blondie, Roy Orbison, and others. (Cooper and Blondie’s Deborah
Harry also contribute sizable acting performances.) Somehow, the quirkiness of Roadie keeps the picture watchable, albeit
sometimes in a traffic-accident sort of way. Particularly when the picture grinds
toward its outlandish finale, which reflects either desperation or a failure of
imagination, Roadie is like a guilty-pleasure rock song—studying the lyrics too closely takes the fun out of
enjoying the groove.
Roadie:
FUNKY
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