TEXAS LIGHTNING (1981) **

The first ten minutes of Texas Lightning has more scenes of disgusting fat guys in their underwear going about their daily morning routine than the sane mind can catalogue.  Did we really need to see the greasy looking lard ass fella removing his dentures and then meticulously brushing them?  I know what you’re about to say.  “Mitch!  At least this guy has hygiene!”  That may be true, but then he goes ahead and promptly drops and breaks his upper plate, causing him to spend the rest of the movie lisping and flashing a creepy toothless grin.  Also, that scene where Peter Jason sits at the breakfast table in his BVDs eating cereal was a bit much.

This is offset somewhat by the stellar sequences in which Cameron Mitchell chews the scenery like only he can.  I especially liked the scenes where he flips out on his wife for turning their grown son (played by Cameron Mitchell, Jr.) into such a mama’s boy.  Seeing him spike his morning coffee with booze while screaming, “You sissified him!  You mollycoddled him!” sort of takes the sting out of seeing the grotesquely husky rednecks walking around in their skivvies.  (The country song on the soundtrack “Don’t Let Your Cowboys Grow Up to Be Babies” acts as a stirring Greek Chorus later on in the film.)

Anyway, Cameron and some friends take his sensitive son hunting to “make a man out of him”.  The scenes of Mitchell and the guys shooting at rabbits and swilling beer quickly get repetitive and boring.  Like everything else in the movie, it seems like director Gary Graver used every single bit of film he had and let the scenes run on as long as possible in order to get a ninety-minute running time.  

If you can trudge your way through, you’ll be treated to a pretty good wet T-shirt contest.  This scene is novel in that the contestants all dunk their breasts in a tub of ice water (kind of like they’re bobbing for apples, or should I say BOOBING for apples).  It gets to a point where the women just forgo the water all together and just flash the audience, which is great news for water conservationists everywhere.  It’s also awesome because porn star Lisa De Leeuw is the winner.

It’s here where Cameron and the boys take his son to knock back a couple of cold ones.  It takes him no time at all to become smitten with none other than… MARCIA BRADY!!!  What’s a nice girl like her doing in a place like this?  (Or to be more to a point, a movie like this.)  Since things bog down whenever Cameron Mitchell isn’t front and center chewing the scenery, the long honkytonk sequence where his son tries to woo Marcia while rednecks get into bar fights is a bit of a chore to sit through.

Mitchell, Jr. and Marcia eventually get it on in a nearby motel.  Since his dad and his redneck friends struck out at the bar, they return to the motel and gang rape Marcia.  While out hunting the next day, Mitchell, Jr. snaps, pulls a gun on his dad’s friends and turns the tables on them.  He then makes his way back to the honkytonk just long enough to see Marcia croon a terrible love song, apologize, and possibly start a life together.

If all this happened to poor Marcia, I wonder what ever became of Jan.

Man, Texas Lightning is one skuzzy, downbeat, and depressing movie.  Apparently, Graver went even further with the depressing bits and the financiers made him add more comedy into the mix.  I assure you, I could not find any humor contained whatsoever.  I did get a kick out of Cameron Mitchell’s hysterical histrionic hijinks.  That alone is worth Two Stars in my book.