Alright, fellow tape travelers, let's dust off a slightly earlier gem that absolutely belongs in our VHS Heaven pantheon, even if it technically predates the 80s boom. Pull up a beanbag chair, maybe crack open a Tab if you can find one, because we're heading back to 1978 for Jack Nicholson's weirdly wonderful Western-comedy curveball, Goin' South. This wasn't your typical blockbuster rental, more like that intriguing, slightly worn box you’d find tucked away, wondering just what ol' Jack was up to directing a movie.
Not Your Average Hanging Party
Forget slick gunfights and stoic heroes for a moment. Goin' South kicks off with Henry Lloyd Moon (Nicholson, naturally chewing scenery with that devilish grin) literally seconds away from a necktie party in post-Civil War Texas. His crime? Pretty much everything short of spitting on the flag. But wait! A dusty, rarely enforced local ordinance allows a condemned man to be spared if a property-owning woman agrees to marry him. Enter Julia Tate, played by a luminous Mary Steenburgen in her very first film role. She needs a husband, stat, mostly for cheap labor on her supposedly barren patch of land where she secretly believes there's gold. Moon, preferring matrimony to meeting his maker, enthusiastically agrees. What follows is less High Noon and more The Taming of the Shrew meets Looney Tunes out West.
Nicholson, who had previously directed the intense campus drama Drive, He Said (1971), clearly wanted to cut loose here. His direction isn't always the most polished, feeling a bit shaggy around the edges sometimes, but it absolutely crackles with a freewheeling, almost improvisational energy. You can feel him having a blast, both behind the camera and in front of it as the scruffy, conniving, yet oddly charming Moon. He’s a scoundrel, no doubt, but Nicholson imbues him with that manic magnetism that makes you root for him even when he’s being a complete jackass.
Discovering Gold (and a Future Star)
The real revelation here, though, is Mary Steenburgen. Legend has it Nicholson discovered her himself, spotting her in the reception area of Paramount's New York office and being instantly captivated. Talk about a Hollywood break! Watching her debut performance as the prim, proper, but fiercely determined Julia is a treat. She holds her own against Nicholson's whirlwind energy, creating a character who is both funny and surprisingly touching. Their chemistry is unconventional but undeniable – the gradual thawing of Julia’s frosty exterior as she contends with Moon’s chaotic presence forms the heart of the film. Remember how grounded and real she felt, even amidst the absurdity? That quality would define her career.
The supporting cast is a rogue's gallery of familiar faces, adding to the fun. A pre-Doc Brown Christopher Lloyd is hilariously inept as Deputy Towfield, always one step behind Moon. And look closely – that's John Belushi (hot off Saturday Night Live and Animal House) popping up as the swaggering Mexican Deputy Hector! Even Nicholson's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest pals Danny DeVito and Tracey Walter turn up. It feels like Jack called up his buddies for a dusty lark down in Durango, Mexico, where the film was shot, lending it that authentic, sun-baked atmosphere. No green screens here, just real sweat, real dirt, and probably real tequila behind the scenes.
A Genre Blender That Found Its Groove on Tape
Let's be honest, Goin' South was kind of a head-scratcher for critics and audiences back in '78. Was it a Western? A romantic comedy? A slapstick farce? The answer is... yes. Its refusal to fit neatly into any box likely hurt its initial box office (it made a modest profit on its budget, but wasn't a blockbuster). But films like this were practically made for the VHS era, weren't they? They were the quirky discoveries, the word-of-mouth rentals you took a chance on because, hey, it's Jack Nicholson! Watching it on a slightly fuzzy CRT, the film's rough edges felt less like flaws and more like part of its lived-in charm.
The humor is broad, sometimes bordering on cartoonish (Moon's attempts at mining are pure physical comedy), but it's often undercut with moments of genuine sweetness or surprising grit. It doesn't shy away from the harshness of the era entirely, but filters it through Nicholson's uniquely skewed lens. It lacks the explosive practical effects of the action classics we often celebrate here, but the "practicality" comes through in the lived-in sets, the tangible locations, and the raw, unvarnished performances. It feels like a movie made by people, on location, wrestling with the elements and maybe a chaotic script.
The Verdict
Goin' South isn't a perfect film by any stretch. It meanders, the tone wobbles occasionally, and it’s undeniably a product of its time (and Nicholson's id). But its sheer oddball charm, powered by fantastic lead performances and a willingness to be unabashedly weird, makes it incredibly endearing. It’s a testament to Nicholson's star power that he could get such a personal, quirky project made, and a showcase for the arrival of the wonderful Mary Steenburgen.
Rating: 7/10 - The score reflects its undeniable charm, great performances (especially Steenburgen's debut), and Nicholson's ambitious, if slightly messy, directorial effort. It loses points for tonal inconsistency and pacing issues, but gains them back for sheer personality and rewatchability as a cult favorite.
Final Thought: It's the kind of wonderfully weird Western hybrid that likely wouldn't get made today, a dusty, charming artifact best enjoyed with the forgiving fuzz of a well-loved VHS memory.