Two happy-go-lucky brothers (amiably played by real-life siblings Alan and Jesse Vint, who also popped up as a couple of no-count looters in the fantastic big budget all-star disaster epic "Earthquake") and a pretty female hitchhiker (blonde cutie pie sprite Cheryl Waters) embark on a rowdy cross country fun spree in the deep South in the 50's. Their fun comes to an abrupt end when they run afoul of a repressively square and fascistic good ol' boy sheriff (sternly portrayed by producer and co-screenwriter Max Baer; Jethro on "The Beverly Hillbillies") who doesn't cotton to any smartaleck outsiders romping around his podunk burg. Things go from bad to worse when a pair of criminals murder the sheriff's wife and the sheriff erroneously assumes that the brothers and their lady friend are responsible.
Without a doubt one of the all-time great Southern-fried low-budget 70's drive-in classics, this darling is a huge personal favorite of mine. Richard ("Welcome Home, Soldier Boys," "Ravagers") Compton directs with real energy and proficiency, keeping the pace racing along at a speedy clip, creating an increasingly foreboding sense of dread and tension, and skillfully handling the sudden shift from boisterous comedy to gut-tearing suspense. Daniel ("Battle Beyond the Stars," "Humanoids from the Deep") Lacambre's handsome cinematography makes expert use of natural light, thereby giving this picture a plausibly rough and grainy unpolished look. The performances are all on-target, with stand-out supporting turns by Sam ("'Gatorbait") Gilman as a hard-nosed deputy, Joan Blackman as the sheriff's doomed wife, 70's teen pop idol Leif ("Devil Times Five") Garrett as the sheriff's son, James Gammon as a low-life hoodlum, Doodles Weaver as a doddery ol' cuss, and especially Geoffrey Lewis as a cranky gas station proprietor. Bobbie Gentry really belts out a sweet dilly of a number with the terrific country-and-western ending credits theme song. The grim, kick-you-in-the-stomach violent and disturbing surprise ending packs one hell of a savage and powerful wallop. The film's monumental box office success (it made a hefty $35 million during its original theatrical run) beget a handful of "don't go down to Dixie" exploitation cash-in copies, a sub-genre unto itself which includes the pitifully lame'n'tame sequel "A Return to Macon County," the astonishingly bleak'n'brutal "Jackson County Jail," the spirited and enjoyable "Moving Violation," and the seamy and revolting scuzzathon "A Nightmare in Badham County."
Without a doubt one of the all-time great Southern-fried low-budget 70's drive-in classics, this darling is a huge personal favorite of mine. Richard ("Welcome Home, Soldier Boys," "Ravagers") Compton directs with real energy and proficiency, keeping the pace racing along at a speedy clip, creating an increasingly foreboding sense of dread and tension, and skillfully handling the sudden shift from boisterous comedy to gut-tearing suspense. Daniel ("Battle Beyond the Stars," "Humanoids from the Deep") Lacambre's handsome cinematography makes expert use of natural light, thereby giving this picture a plausibly rough and grainy unpolished look. The performances are all on-target, with stand-out supporting turns by Sam ("'Gatorbait") Gilman as a hard-nosed deputy, Joan Blackman as the sheriff's doomed wife, 70's teen pop idol Leif ("Devil Times Five") Garrett as the sheriff's son, James Gammon as a low-life hoodlum, Doodles Weaver as a doddery ol' cuss, and especially Geoffrey Lewis as a cranky gas station proprietor. Bobbie Gentry really belts out a sweet dilly of a number with the terrific country-and-western ending credits theme song. The grim, kick-you-in-the-stomach violent and disturbing surprise ending packs one hell of a savage and powerful wallop. The film's monumental box office success (it made a hefty $35 million during its original theatrical run) beget a handful of "don't go down to Dixie" exploitation cash-in copies, a sub-genre unto itself which includes the pitifully lame'n'tame sequel "A Return to Macon County," the astonishingly bleak'n'brutal "Jackson County Jail," the spirited and enjoyable "Moving Violation," and the seamy and revolting scuzzathon "A Nightmare in Badham County."