The remake of Road House is the movie version of the Ryan Reynolds “But why?” gif. From its first scene to its last, this movie will constantly perplex anyone who’s seen the 1989 original starring Patrick Swayze and Sam Elliott. That movie, front to back, is a nonstop firecracker experience that encapsulates the brazenness of the era and nation in which it was made. From Swayze’s utter coolness to Elliott’s immaculate hair to its uncomfortably long sex scene, the original Road House is replete with character. Then there’s this 2024 remake from Amazon MGM, which, when not comparing it to its predecessor, isn’t a terrible movie, at least by contemporary standards. Nevertheless, whenever one re-imagines an iconic piece of art, one should expect comparisons. And, if nothing else, one should do something that rejuvenates the material or gives it new meaning. Otherwise, many of us viewers will be left pondering the point of it all (besides money, of course).

In terms of plot, 2024 Road House is pretty similar to the original, i.e. a tough-as-nails fighter named Dalton (Jake Gyllenhaal) is hired to clean up the riffraff at a roadhouse bar, only to be confronted by a dangerous kingpin and his goons that run the town. That said, there are two notable differences between the original and this remake that need singling out. The first is that Gyllenhaal’s Dalton is a known commodity rather than a mysterious drifter, since he was a famous UFC fighter in the not-too-distant past. The second is that the remake is set in the sunny Florida Keys, whereas the original took place in a grungy backwater in Missouri. Those two alterations might sound relatively minor, and on paper they are. But, when it comes to Road House, it turns out that a minor change can have a major impact.

Let’s start with the changes to Dalton and, more specifically, the casting of Jake Gyllenhaal, who certainly did a ton of work getting in shape and embracing the physical side of the role. His commitment is undeniable and praiseworthy. That being said, it wasn’t muscles that made Swayze’s Dalton a compelling protagonist; it was his enigmatic nature and Swayze himself. Therefore, no matter how arduously director Doug Liman and the writers toiled to achieve the same level of intrigue with Gyllenhaal, they could never succeed for two simple reasons. One, there’s no mystique to this Dalton since we as an audience already know – thanks to the opening sequence (and the trailers) – the danger that he poses and the history he’s endeavoring to escape. Two, and this is something many fans of the original pointed out when this remake was announced, Gyllenhaal just isn’t cool enough. Swayze had something in him, something almost indescribable, that made him the perfect guy to play Dalton. Some call it swagger; others call it machismo. I simply say that he was Patrick frickin’ Swayze and leave it at that. Jake Gyllenhaal is a fine actor, and I’ll watch him in a gritty drama any day. And, to be fair, he’s one of the lesser problems of this Road House. But, there’s just no denying that he lacks the innate quality – the sort of which that set Swayze apart – required to play a badass like Dalton.

As for the swapping of Missouri for the Florida Keys, it also brings about its own set of problems. Not only was the 1989 classic teeming with beer, boobs, and brawn, it was also overflowing with AMERICA. Sure, it didn’t have the most diverse cast of characters, which is undoubtedly a negative, but also par-for-the-course in the late 80s. What it did have, though, is an unrestrained country vibe that screamed “USA” from the top of its lungs. This is largely thanks to its primary setting, the Double Deuce roadhouse. From its outsides to its insides, the Double Deuce oozed grimy capitalism and reckless persistence, representing the best and worst that America had to offer.

Conversely, the roadhouse in the new Road House (called simply “The Road House”) has the look and feel of an oversized tiki hut. It’s too modern and nice, and its customers too tame-looking, to represent anything broader than what is. And the Florida Keys, specifically the fictional community of Glass Key, comes off more so as a place that people vacation to and less so as a place that people actually live and take pride in. It definitely doesn’t help that there are only a handful of locals that we get to know and even fewer locales – the roadhouse, a rest stop, a boat house – that we spend any time in. Now, I’m not trying to state that the Missouri setting from the original was flawlessly fleshed out, but at least there was a concerted effort to make it akin to a common American community that feels both lived-in and filled with generational history. The effort to do the same in the remake is, well, it’s there, but only just.

Of the few characters we become familiar with in this Road House re-imagining, only a handful actually add anything or feel appropriate in this sort of movie.* I quite enjoyed Laura the bartender (B.K. Cannon) in her limited screen-time, and I was also quite amused by Moe, the bumbling biker played by Arturo Castro. Their characters would be right at home in any Road House flick, either now or back in 1989. The same goes for most of the villains, such as the remake’s primary antagonist, Ben Brandt (Billy Magnussen). Brandt is the kind of bratty, insecure heir to a criminal empire that could seamlessly slot into an action or western film from any era. Magnussen’s performance even throws a little bit of millennial energy into the mix, which is one of the few touches that grounds this remake in the 2020s. Also, and I can’t believe I’m typing this, Conor McGregor is pretty solid as Knox, the Brandt family’s ruthless henchman. Look, McGregor can’t act to save his life, but his energy is absolutely on point in this movie. The man clearly watched the original, read the script, and settled on “larger-than-life bravado”. I’m so glad he did, because his performance, and even just his inclusion in this project, is the kind of bonkers touch that made action movies of yore so very fun and memorable.

I’m imagining it now: Swayze gliding around like a dancer while McGregor cracks a disconcerting smirk, unmoved by his opponent’s martial discipline. They brawl and bloody each other, and right when it seems McGregor is going to land a fatal blow, Swayze tears out his throat, slaying his cocksure foe. Yeah, McGregor would’ve owned the fight scenes in 1989’s Road House, like he did in 2024’s. Unfortunately, he’s the only actor who seems fully comfortable performing the bone-crunching combat on display in the remake. Sure, Gyllenhaal is excellent at pretending to take a punch, but he’s a little too stiff to plausibly defeat someone like McGregor, who moves like a lion stalking its prey. And clearly, Doug Liman and Co. recognized this at some point, since nearly every fight scene in their film is riddled with CGI and VFX that’s meant to make up for the cast’s lack of ability. I was really shocked at how often I could spot some form of digital augmentation, from abnormal body movements to a stunt double sporting Gyllenhaal’s digitally imposed face. I’m not saying I wasn’t entertained by the action on-screen; I was throughout, for the most part. However, the original never had a moment that took me out of the movie as much as the fight with CGI Post Malone did in this one.

Seriously, the full-body CGI Post Malone looked horrible, bringing to mind the CGI we used to laugh at 20 years ago in movies like Blade 2 and Spiderman 3. The more I think about it, honestly, I would’ve preferred an early 2000s-esque Road House over this modern incarnation. After all, the Florida Keys setting feels like something ripped straight out of an early 2000s movie (think 2 Fast 2 Furious or Blue Crush). Yes, that version of Road House would’ve been corny as hell and loaded with frosted tips. But, at least back then, Hollywood wasn’t as reluctant to be audacious and just go for it, regardless of whose sensibilities they might offend. That devil-may-care attitude is precisely what this remake needed. Of course, the industry went the other way, meaning you can add this film to the ever-expanding list of bland, misguided reboots. Will they ever learn?

I could go on and grouse further about the lame romantic subplot and so on, but instead, I’ll wrap up by simply asking this again: why? Why Jake Gyllenhaal? Why the Florida Keys? Why the CGI? Why these changes? Why play it so safe? Why even make a Road House reboot if this is all you got? The only answer that makes sense is money, but to attain more of that, why not release it theatrically like Doug Liman lobbied for? Sometimes, I don’t know what they’re doing in Hollywood anymore. Anyway, I don’t want you to think that Road House is a complete disaster, because it’s not, really. In fact, had it been tweaked a little more and called something else, I probably would’ve enjoyed a good deal. Alas, they chose to call it Road House, thus incurring the wrath of pedantic movie buffs like myself. I am grateful, though. I’m grateful that it’s not nearly as bad as the Point Break remake. That’s not much of an achievement, but it’s an achievement nonetheless.

If I had to score it, I’d give Road House a 5/10.

Notes:

* Although some of the side characters work well in this remake, none of them come close to contributing what Sam Elliott did to the original. It stinks too because a sidekick is such an obvious way to bolster Gyllenhaal’s Dalton, but I guess they didn’t want to copy the original that much.