Thought of the Day: “Some people do put baby in a corner.”

It’s the day after the news of Patrick Swayze’s death and I feel like nobody is talking about some of the amazing work he did in movies besides “Dirty Dancing.” Yes, Johnny was sex in the water when it came to those scenes of him crawling along the floor, or lifting his baby up into the air, or flirting, in every moment, with his hips where eyes would do, but have we forgotten some of the true magic that made Swayze, Swayze?

It would be natural for me to go from “Dirty Dancing” to “Ghost,” but I’d like to skip right past that and head into a little temple of terrific called “Road House.” If you haven’t seen this, Swayze plays a bouncer, The bouncer. He’s hired by some reasonably well-to-do, creepy looking fellow who’s nervous, guess-whats-in-my-pocket smile alludes more to turning tricks at the YMCA then being a respectable bar owner. Poor casting aside, this fellow hires Dalton (Swayze) to turn his shitty bar into a class joint by cleaning up the place one thug at a time (not the tagline, but it could have been). This movie has goddam everything an overdone 80’s testosterone movie could have. I know you might have thought that Stallone’s “Over the Top” was pretty much it when it came to a lot of movie out of not much plot but it is nothing compared to this harmony of elegance and mayhem. Roadhouse has, though not exactly in this order, Zen Buddhism, extortion, tits, a witty southern gentleman, seventeen moustaches, karate, a sex-scene so soft-core you’d swear there was cock (only to realize it’s yours), henchmen, throat-ripping, explosions, sage advice, an idiot henchman, even an evil crook who I can only describe as someone you would imagine being the evil brother of Hannibal on the A-Team. On top of all this, Swayze has a number of homo-erotic confrontations by a feather-earring wearing dance-fighter who looks like a clean cut George Michael if George Michael was more prison-gay instead of just regular gay.

And then holy shit! “Point-fucking-Break” (note: ‘fucking’ not actually a hyphenated insertion in the title). I mean holy hell goddam people. “Woah, Johnny Utah!… 100% pure adrenaline!” In this movie, Swayze teaches us that the bond between people can be stronger than what’s right and wrong. He also made us think, made us empathize with the plight of trying to enlighten high-functioning retard (Johnny Utah) while searching for his own true enlightenment. Yeah, it’s that goddam deep.

For the record. That last wave. Bohdi didn’t die dude. No kidding. I’ve read advanced, rough copies of Point Break 2. He. Didn’t. Goddam. Die. Even now, I’m pretty sure Swayze is just laughin’ his ass off. Pancreatic Cancer my ass. I’ll bet he’s surfing and Bondi right now with that cool mil he scored of First National in last week’s heist.

(denial, it’s very sad)

I’m just asking for a little more perspective on his career. Do I need to just list off his Imdb page? I shouldn’t even have to describe movies like Roadhouse or Point Break. What I’d like to say is that, though “Dirty Dancing” is certainly his piece de resistance it is by no means the only way he ought be remember, and perhaps not his finest work. The woman in me felt my ovaries tremor a little bit too when he called Baby back up to the dance floor. And when they sing that one song, ‘Hungry Eyes,’ I’m pretty sure those were my eyes they were talking about, fixated on variations of his one and one-two step into the mamba. I really did have the time of my life. So I understand the draw. But, if nobody puts Baby in a corner, why do the same people so badly seem to want to corner Swayze?

Let’s use this opportunity. Please comment here with your finest Swayze recollections.