Rolling Thunder

Flynn's crisp, laconic direction and evocative use of Southern Texas locations transorm Rolling Thunder, now at area theaters, into a more distinctive exploitation movie than it deserves to be.

Performances are made crystalline through a sixth sense for camera placement and curt cutting from director John Flynn, whose 2007 passing was little noted, though his no-BS way of laying down a story is a rare commodity in any era.

In sum, it neither rolls nor thunders.

[It] has some good things, but in the way it has been directed by John Flynn it moves so easily and sort of foolishly toward its violent climax that all the tension within Charlie has long since escaped the film.

The movie is just as much a character study as it is a revenge thriller. Its themes are straightforward but insightful, plowing deep into the post-Vietnam alienation felt by many veterans. At the same time, there’s no denying its exploitation inspiration.

Basically an inferior version of Death Wish, with a thudding simplicity that makes the Charles Bronson hit look as complex as All the President’s Men by comparison.

The film should be viewed by any pondering war and its psychological consequences. And, if not made clear enough already, the acting on offer is simply fantastic.

The connection to an emotional truth is key to its success, because as the plot starts moving and the elements of the violent revenge flick start rearing their head, the movie feels grounded in Rane's reality.

This exploitation flick is a red-blooded, all-American revenge movie, but offers sensitive insight into the pain of post-war adjustment.

While Rolling Thunder suffers from Schrader's predictable obsessions with masculine ritual and gunplay, Devane and Jones enhance the material with their nuanced, sensitive portrayals of men who have lost their souls in another land.