McKlusky, metà uomo metà odio

Gator McKlusky who's serving time in an Arkansas prison, finds out his younger brother is murdered by the corrupt town Sheriff J.C Connors. Wanting revenge, he agrees with the terms of going undercover as a moonshine runner for the feds and informing them of any important information to put away Connors. However it's Gator's personal quest of his brother's death, which pushes him to test the boundaries and power that Connors owns.

Quite likable, and truly a thick southern slice of crudely good ol' fun and rousing mishaps. Burt Reynolds' charismatic appeal was specially made for the part, and along side him is a terrifically well-served cast including the despicable Ned Betty, glorious Jennifer Billingsley, amusing Bo Hopkins, twitchy Matt Clark, live wire Diane Ladd and a rigid R.G Armstrong. Splendid line-up, but Reynolds was the real scene-stealer. The story might be a simple revenge tale with some currents involving racism and narrow-mindlessness, but it's a exhilarating pot boiler that's neatly drawn up with plenty of flesh hanging off it, and its zips onto one scene after another with burning conviction. Look out for an enjoyable reference to Don Siegel/Clint Eastwood's southern thriller "The Beguiled (1971)". The authenticity of the sweaty southern setting is beautifully captured with Edward Rosson's sharp photography doing the trick. Be it during the quiet moments, or the well-engineered, gut-busting brawls and blistering car chases. Even Charles Bernstein's wonderfully flavoured and titillating music arrangement dominates and goes a long way to cementing the film's potent personality. Director Joseph Sargent rapidly, rough n' tumble style, goes down well the tautly wry script and delivers the action with the right intensity. Amongst the tough suspense and sweet fooling, there are some genuinely moving scenes.

Always compelling, and one of Reynolds best performances.

White Lightning is the first of two appearances Burt Reynolds made as Gator McKlusky, moonshiner with a mission. He's got a year to go on a rap for running illegal whiskey, but gets word of the death of his kid brother, arrested and later found drowned in a lake in another county. He decides to help the Feds get the corrupt good old boy sheriff who runs that county, Ned Beatty.

Of course that means going against tradition that southern folks have about cooperating with revenuers. One of Beatty's sideline enterprises is a nice partnership with R.G. Armstrong who's a crazy sadistic old shiner from the piney woods.

Beatty and Armstrong play a pair that was rapidly disappearing from the south because of the Civil Rights and Voting Rights Acts of the Sixties. They don't like the fact their world is changing one little bit. Long haired hippie types like Reynolds's brother apparently was, arouse their murderous ire as surely as Goodman, Schwerner and Chaney did.

White Lightning did a respectable business in the red state area of the USA and certainly was a nice boost to Burt Reynolds career. More than his fans will be pleased with it.

Imagine sitting down to watch one of them good ol' boys pitcher shows from the Deep South, with Burt Reynolds a'grinnin' and a'fightin' . . .

And finding out that, despite some quibbling errors, Joe Sargent's White Lightning is a small joy, a movie that has more than enough good performance, bite, and raw anger to raise it above the redneckery that Reynolds descended into as his career morphed into a cartoon.

What makes White Lightning work is that Reynolds isn't cute and Ned Beatty, as his adversary, a thoroughly corrupted county sheriff, isn't a bufoon. Beatty is in no small part what makes the movie work--his rant against those who would take his little empire away from him (Washington bureaucrats, commie college students, colored agitators) doesn't make him likable, just believable.

Plus, the movie looks good. It's grimy and sweaty; you can feel the heat coming off the engine blocks of the Ford Galaxie 500s. All the characters ooze perspiration in White Lightning; clear drops of sweat that seem interchangeable with the liquor being brewed and sold by everybody and his cousin.

Arkansas looks unbearably hot and humid, angry and nasty.

Just like Reynolds and Beatty.

Although Burt Reynolds may have been more compelling in "Deliverance" (1972), he does give a fine performance in "White Lightning", as Gator McKlusky, a Southern good-ole-boy, out of prison to revenge his hippie brother's murder. And that revenge plot must, of necessity, track to Bogan County Sheriff J.C. Connors (Ned Beatty), who is involved with hillbilly whiskey stills.

Nobody could have been more convincing as a paunchy Southern redneck sheriff than Ned Beatty. Reynolds and Beatty would team up in later years to make at least two more films with a similar tone: "W.W. And The Dixie Dancekings" (1975), and "Stroker Ace" (1983). In "White Lightning", wonderful Louise Latham makes a semi-cameo appearance as Sheriff Connors' reliable secretary.

Aside from casting and acting, "White Lightning" has other things going for it, not the least of which is a realistic portrayal of a small Southern town. The authenticity, with its various bubbas who frequent the pool halls, display their guns with pride, and race cars at the local fairgrounds, is striking. And with their big engines, the film's muscle cars gleefully tear up the pavement with their screeching tires and agile corner turning.

Indeed, those cars are so souped-up they even burn rubber on dirt roads. Oh well, who cares if there's a minor sound effects plot hole. A more substantive plot hole has Sheriff Connors unfamiliar with the geography of his own county. In particular, he might want to check the map again to note the existence of a large lake at the end of one particular dirt road. Still, his ignorance is our gain as a plot point that proves symmetrically effective.

Plot holes aside, this is a film of dust, dirt, car chases, whiskey stills, the sounds of screeching tires, and some dang good performances. "White Lightning" is worth viewing also for its 1970s nostalgia, and for its authentic Southern setting.

White Lightning is a terrific action/drama that tells the story of a hard-driving moonshiner named Gator McKlusky (Burt Reynolds) who is released from prison early in exchange for any help he can give the government with its case against his fellow moonshiners. Gator, however, has his own agenda and it has nothing to do with his altruistic nature. It seems that Sheriff J. C. Connors (Ned Beatty) of Bogen County is not only one of the biggest moonshiners in Arkansas, he's also responsible for killing Gator's brother. And Gator wants revenge.

One of the coolest things about White Lightning is that it presents Burt Reynolds as an actor at the top of his game. This was a Burt Reynolds who seemed to actually care about the final product and not just yucking it up with his buddies on screen. White Lightning was made before Burt became a clown, mugging for the camera. That's not to say there isn't any humor in White Lightning - it's just used judiciously. Burt is joined by phenomenal cast. In addition to Ned Beatty (who's perfect as the Sheriff), R. G. Armstrong, Bo Hopkins, Diane Lane, and Dabbs Greer give solid, memorable performances. In fact, I can't think of a single actor that bothered me. The movie was helped tremendously by the decision to film in rural Arkansas. I grew-up in the South and everything from the locations to the sweat dripping off Burt's chin had a feeling of authenticity. I've been to places like the old Kroger I spotted in the background and I sweat just like Burt in the oppressively hot Southern summers. It all felt real to me. Finally, the plot is just terrific, mixing in just the right amount of high speed car chases, brutal looking fight scenes, and dramatic conversations. It drew me in right from the start and held my attention throughout. Overall, it's a well-made, entertaining movie.