ANY WHICH WAY YOU CAN (1980) ** Paul Bunyan of Bakersfield. Tall tales measured in bicep width and pools of watery beer. Orangutan sidekick. Romantic cinematic triad involving two apes, aged and overweight Iowan welterweights, and Clint Eastwood and Sondra Locke, the last couple of which emerges as most nauseating. But, hell, at least it's the flip-side of Sunday-go-to-meetin' conservatism, one that wallows in sensuality and has a good time, dranks hard, fights whutever, an's willin' to laugh about it all with anyone in the mornin'. It is what it is, and my only complaint of any significance is that the country music depicted here is suspiciously towards the urban pop end of that spectral phenomenon. And the thing is...if you're sick of actors goin' all artsy all the time and tryin' to make these big sweeping statements about this and that and all sorts of things they don't know much about...this ain't a film like that. It's Clint and his girlfriend, havin' a good time by bein' funny. He musta liked the girl, she can't sing, she shore ain't got no country sangin' voice, summa her lines are even funnier, and neither of 'em care a whit about any of that. So neither should you. Enjoy it an' laugh, or turn it off an' go somewhere, but if you got some derision go ahead and save it up for someone who cares. I imagine parts of the desert are full of guys who figure this is about the second best film ever made, after Every Which Way But Loose, and you can sure as hell find worse company in places that think they're better.
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