I'm From Arkansas (1944), Lew Landers.

Hi, friends!  Let's see what's cookin' as far as hillbilly B's go!  This is a PRC release showcasing country tunes and all other kinds of minor achievements in southern rural entertainment. In the thinnest of storylines, an all-female theatre troupe heads down south to see Esmeralda, the Jenkins' family's pig that "threw out" a record-breaking litter of 18 piglets.  Their manager thinks he can somehow develop a box-office smash out of the pig-inspired Pitchfork, Arkansas visit.  Coincidentally, staying at the Jenkins' house is an all male troupe of musicians that tease the girls, exaggerating their country roots wearing fake beards and carrying moonshine jugs.  

1, 3, 3...  that's a lot of piglets.  Well, at least I thinks it might be... I ain't never learned to count!

Yes, lodging at the Jenkins' is just an excuse to yodel, play some fiddle, get handsome Bruce Bennett and Iris Adrian together... and watch a godawful ventriloquist act!  

El Brendel, the "Swedish" boarder, likes to  force feed his dummy peanuts.

The idea of a fake Swedish accent being instantly hilarious is beyond me, and this dummy act is the worst.  But the musical numbers are not bad.  Apparently for all involved, white hicks were just simple doofuses that liked to sing.  I guess I'm looking for malice  - where's the illegal stills, the distrust of outsiders and evading the law?  Must keep searching old B's.  

Convoy (Sam Peckinpah), 1978.

The saddest little birthday present in the world.

Unwatchable!  OK, well, possibly if I were in my PJs eating a hot dog in a drive in.  Otherwise, not.  Ridiculous CB movie based on the hit song by CW McCall. Kris Kristofferson is "Rubber Duck" and drives a big truck with Ali McGraw as a reluctant passenger.  That is, after he leaves his waitress girlfriend at the truck stop wearing sophisticated, well-to-do McGraw's clothes she doled out for free to all the po' folks.  McGraw's perm is monumentally unflattering.  Ernest Borgnine is a sadistic cop out to get Rubber Duck and his trucker buddies as they race through the desert landscape.

Even Ernest can't save this mess.

Now, I love Borgnine's smug, evil grin and bandy walk and I am currently losing the battle in my house to take the TCM cruise in December with 94-year-old Mr Borgnine and fantasy grandpa Robert Osborne (damn it!) but even I had to walk away from this dreck.  During filming, Peckinpah struggled with addiction issues and may have turned director's duties over to others.  The shopping list of failed gimmicks include:  a heavy use of slow-mo during action scenes, badly overdubbed dialogue and corny double exposure effects (below) set to an orchestral soundtrack.  Why are McGraw and Kristofferson not wearing shirts for most of the movie?  It's like Smokey and the Bandit made by grad students.  Ugh!  

The final straw - what is this?!

Hick flicks: the rise and fall of redneck cinema (2005), Scott Von Doviak.

Oh yeah?

Scott Von Doviak's argument that Days of Thunder (1990) is a soulless, corporate rip off of Stroker Ace (1983) is just one example why Hick Flicks might be the best book of film analysis I've read for a long time.  Days of Thunder is basically a remake of Stroker Ace, not a particularly well-respected Burt Reynolds vehicle.  Von Doviak uses it as an example to show how in around ten years the regional "hick flick" had been replaced by slick flicks.  "[Days of Thunder] is a strictly formulaic Eighties Cruise vehicle that already seemed dated when it arrived on screens in the summer of 1990," he writes, "...unfortunately the picture surrounding [Cruise] is strictly ersatz, making its ostensibly gen-yew-wine touches - like the cameos by actual NASCAR drivers...- all the more unconvincing." With this handy slapdown of Days of Thunder in favour of a bottom of the barrel Burt Reynolds movie - when he was at his Burt Reynoldsiest - Doviak nails it!  High five and pass the Mountain Dew!

Von Doviak limits himself to southern-fried 70s B's -- no to porn, biker movies and foreign fare.  Yes to anything wearing cutoff jean shorts, preferably pushing the speed limit!  His writing style is like listening to an affable yet unpretentious moviegoer.  It's clear he knows what postmodernism and feminist readings are, but mercifully he doesn't feel the need to wow us with academese.  His reasonable, lighthearted approach means that  the easily dismissible genre of "hick flicks"  has been given a fair study.

Boy, do they like their cars and trucks down south.  Hick flicks have NASCAR, truckers, CB lingo, even films that give the cars names and their own credits!  But again, Von Doviak's book goes just the extra inch in giving the historical context and rationale.  The traditions behind all this car-lovin' comes from when, during Prohibition, moonshine was made down south and the fastest drivers raced up north (evading cops enroute) where it would be distributed from bigger cities.  See, I didn't know that!  I also had no idea that in an effort to save on gas, Nixon proposed a reduction of the speed limit to 55 miles an hour for trucks and buses, a move that was not popular with commercial trucking associations.  A little background goes a long way in understanding the overwhelming popularity of Smokey and the Bandit, a movie that in 1977 was second place only to Star Wars at the box office!

This book was so delightful I would like to personally request a prequel.  Sure, Robert Mitchum's Thunder Road is held up as a big granddaddy to the genre, but what came before?  The regional theatres sure played a lot of cruddy "classic era" B's....!