What was the secret of the movie's box-office success? Mostly good old sex and violence, a dash of Southern charm, and a heap of injustice.
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Roger Corman learned years ago that it didn't take a big movie budget to make a bundle of money. Well, Corman didn't produce or direct this 1974 release, "Macon County Line," Max Baer, Jr. co-wrote, produced, and co-starred in it; but Baer knew where the money was, and this Corman look-alike made a ton of it. It became a so-called "drive-in movie classic," and it inspired dozens of films like it, including a direct sequel. I suppose nothing succeeds like success.
So, what was the secret of the movie's box-office success? Mostly good old sex and violence, a dash of Southern charm, and a heap of injustice thrown in for good measure. In most ways, it's a model DAM: a Dumb Action Movie. Yet as dumb as it is, it has its moments, with a fairly suspenseful and exciting climax, which makes it worth a watch for fans of the genre (although, to be fair, fans of the genre have probably already seen it multiple times and need no encouragement).
Nevertheless, non-fans beware.
The setting is 1954, and the story involves a pair of fun-loving brothers from Chicago who have enlisted in the army and have two weeks to kill before they report for duty. They decide to spend the two weeks on a road trip through the South. Little do they know (because they never had the chance to see all the movies to come) that young folks driving through the South always run into either mad slashers, demons, cannibals, or redneck sheriffs. In the case of Chris and Wayne Dixon (played by real-life brothers Alan and Jesse Vint), they have the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when Deputy Sheriff Reed Morgan (Max Baer, Jr., doing his best to erase his squeaky-clean image from "The Beverly Hillbillies") comes gunning for them.
So, the brothers are "cattin' around, havin' a ball," as they say, and wind up in Louisiana, where they pick up a young female hitchhiker, Jenny (Cheryl Waters), who is on her way to Texas, and the three of them go their merry way until their car breaks down. It's at a garage where they're getting it fixed that they run into Morgan, who takes an immediate dislike toward them. Something about city boys and country sheriffs, I guess. Shortly thereafter, a couple of miscreants murder the sheriff's wife, and the sheriff jumps to the mistaken conclusion that it must be our heroes. The rest is a chase.
In writing his story, Baer borrowed from other successful movies of the day: He uses a soundtrack filled with period songs (rock-and-roll, country-western, gospel) a la "American Graffiti" and puts his two wandering protagonists into various episodic escapades a la "Easy Rider." If you're going to borrow, borrow from the best.
Baer also tries to project a good ol', easygoing Southern tone in the picture by taking his sweet time spinning the tale. The brothers and their newfound friend mosey here and there and do a lot of jawing before the main conflict begins. My guess is that both "American Graffiti" and "Easy Rider" had an influence here, too, because both of those films took a rather casual approach to storytelling. However, those films had some memorable characterizations working for them and a notable social conscience. "Macon County Line" is mostly, as I say, sex and violence.
Indeed, the movie gets right off to a randy start with a sex scene in the first few minutes. Expect nudity and guns, gratuitous in both cases. Then expect to wait for something to happen. And wait. And wait. The movie is two-thirds over before the sheriff starts hightailing it after the trio with a bloody vengeance. Basically, this is a thirty-minute story padded out to nearly an hour and a half, with the excuse that it's being earthy and neorealistic. Nope, it's just slow.
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[release]23714[/release]