With its title based on the popular ’70s catchphrase, you’d think a flick called Kiss My Grits would be a cornpone comedy about a hash-slinging waitress who goes on the sexy run from a corrupt Texas County ranger, with plenty of car chases, car wrecks and car-fornication in a scant 80-minute runtime.
In reality, however, it’s a wholly unlikable drama — it claims comedy, but I don’t believe it — about redneck parolee Dolin (Bruce Davison … what?), a love-’em-and-leave-’em sheep wrangler about to be sent back to Huntsville Penitentiary for three years, presumably for the film’s opening watermelon heist; it’s all a bit unclear.
When he meets gangster moll Baby (Susan George with an over-the-top Texas drawl), they plan to rob her good ol’ boy mafia lover Karkas (Anthony Franciosa, taking a paycheck), whose repulsive, Elvis-coiffed chauffeur calls dogs “faggots.” They drug Karkas, steal his dough and Dolin’s brother, Flash (Bruno Kirby … what?), takes down the sheriff.
Dolin also has a precocious son named Boots (Andre Gower, The Monster Squad) who has a robot best friend named Iron Man, but trust me, he’s not Iron Man. It’s some toy from a bootleg Toys ’R Us that cost $82.50. The price is said numerous times.
Barely directed by Jack Starrett, to be fair, as I said before, this film is labeled as a comedy, but instead of leaving me laughing, I’m left reasonably depressed. I kind of expected more rural action from the director of Race with the Devil and Final Chapter: Walking Tall, but instead got this.
Oh, well, I guess it’s a good way to kill an hour and 41 minutes if you’ve got the time. I really don’t. —Louis Fowler