Midnight Special

By J.C.

THE GRAVY TRAIN

Directed by JACK STARRETT

Screenplay by BILL KERBY and DAVID WHITNEY

Dire speculations about the health and current whereabouts of the B movie (dead of economic inflation? fled to television?) are laid to rest--loudly--by the appearance of this raucous crime comedy. It is brash, nutty and broad as an interstate highway. It lacks almost all the higher virtues like skilled plotting or deep characterization, but makes decent enough amends by virtue of its own high spirits.

The story is nothing much. Calvin Dehon (Stacy Reach) is a West Virginia boy who collars his brother Russell (Frederic Forrest) and drags him into his dream of making a killing in the big city. The brothers embark on a life of crime, more or less falling into a lucrative armored-car holdup masterminded by a nerve-ridden hood from Boston (Barry Primus). But the hood does not bother to split the profits. He does not bother to show up at the rendezvous point, either. Instead, he sends a few squad cars in his place. The Dehons manage to dodge the cops, then set out to find the fellow who stiffed them.

The brothers wind up victims of their own dim dreams but en route have a considerable good time. They run around Washington, D.C., shooting off their guns as if they were in Tombstone, and enjoy the luxurious respite of dining in a snooty restaurant, getting smashed, and grossing out the cringing, pretentious staff. "Here's $50," says Calvin to an effete wine steward. "Go change your name."

Frederic Forrest makes a whining and affectionately rendered Russell. Barry Primus' hood is a bright comic study of a high-voltage, low-I.Q. gangster. Even Stacy Keach, normally a rather stoical presence, lets loose a bit.

Gravy Train has a breezy, careening, daffy quality, thanks in no small part to the skills of Director Jack Starrett (Cleopatra Jones). The jokes here reach the approximate sophistication of Ma and Pa Kettle Go to Town, but that does not necessarily prevent them from being funny.

sbJ.C.

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