"As long as the Almighty has permitted intelligent men, created in his likeness to fight in public and kill each other while the world looks on approvingly, it's not for me to deprive the chickens of the same privilege."
Cockfighting Links:
Directed by Brice Mack
Written by John F. Eastman
Starring Gene Bicknell, Vincent Van Patten, Jeff Corey
PG • 1983 • 92 minutes
By Lupe Bensonhurst
Rooster: Spurs of Death! brought a liquid flood of memories roiling to the forefront of my mind: Memories of growing up dirt poor in Smalltown, Middle of Nowhere and having to drive three hours to get to an event of any note. Memories of running concession stands, sticky-sweet soda syrup splashed on my forearms and a tee-shirt daubed in canned nacho cheese. Memories of letting a midget named after barnyard animal watch while I let the local boys pet my titties and then later let their dads hump me in a small silver travel trailer out by the chicken coop.
Ah, memories. Like the corners of my mind.
I'm always intrigued by the things different people take away from movies and books -- not just the interpretation of events, but the identification of major themes in a work. Some people see Spurs of Death! as a sporting action/adventure flick. Sure, the slow motion scenes of roosters fluttering up and down and then diving in toward one another is completely reminiscent of that Macchio kid doing his Asian Crane Move Thing during The Karate Kid. Poetry in motion, that is. Other reviewers focus on the graft and political imbroglio that define the seamier side of organized sports, be those sports legal or illegal.
Me, I'm fascinated by the sexual totem of the whole affair. Cocks and cockers appear to rule the roost. At one point early on in the movie, the Head Rooster Trainer (Stoke, played by Gene Bicknell) rolls off his wife post coitus and tells her that it's time for their boy to step into his own as a rooster handler, a Cocker in his own right. When his wife (Ruta Lee) starts to fuss about this, Stoke buckles his belt and tells her to hush: "You're just an egg-layer, Gaylee -- you're my hen."
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Also apparently feminized and oppressed is the Token Midget of the film, a man by the name of Chicken (Tommy Madden). Chicken is seldom seen without a broom in his hands or a message on his lips for the Cockfighting Ringmaster, Kink (Jeff Corey), on whose arena Cockers from miles and miles (and miles and miles) around are converging. When Chicken does just relax, he seems to gravitate toward watching Kink's daughter have sex with the Cockers who come from miles and miles (and miles and miles) around. But we don't get to watch Chicken relax.
Not a lot happens in the film. There's a road trip. Some very serious Not Fucking takes place in a whorehouse. Some roosters fight. Stokes and The Token Mute (who also, curiously, is the token black man) wind up dead. And the original axiom of "Cocks and cockers rule the roost" is turned on its purpled head, as we see that the women and feminized Midget of the film have been controlling events all along. Granted, the women use their vaginas and affections to control their men, while Chicken has to resort to a snub-nosed pistol. Still.
Damn. When did I become a feminist critic?
Anyway. This movie is proudly brought to you by Pepsi -- promoter of animal cruelty the world over.
Text © 2005 - 2008 by Lupe Matilde Bensonhurst.
All other material © 2006 - 2008 by El Topo Entertainment