USA Film Fest movie review and talent Q/A: The Whole Shootin’ Match

by John P. Meyer

Leaving aside its near iconic status, as a first-time viewer I can report that The Whole Shootin' Match is a genuine hoot to watch. The newly-restored print fills the screen with glorious black and white and features honest-to-God rural Texas good ol' boys doing what they do best: coming up with wild money-making schemes, carousing at the local watering hole and making bad decisions, both in business and in life.

What gives it a real shot at the movie-making stuff of myth is the fact that it was produced on a shoestring budget in the late '70's by Austin filmmaker Eagle Pennell, who seemed to have a real knack for getting luminous performances out of his actors, but also had a talent for self-destruction - not unlike some other legendary filmmakers we know.

The dialog is delivered in what you'd have to call a naturalistic off-the-cuff fashion, with one character talking right over the top of another - like something you'd encounter in a piece by Mamet or Cassavetes. It's easy to believe that the actors employed on the film spent numerous weekends together getting reel after reel in the can; they have a distinctive authentic rapport, to the point where the scripts might as well have been used for campfire kindling.

Aside from homespun inventor Loyd (Lou Perryman) and ne'er-do-well but affable hanger-on Frank (Sonny Carl Davis), the other major player in the piece is Frank's put-upon yet forgiving wife, Paulette (Doris Hargrave, turning in a wonderfully endearing performance). Peripheral players include Eric Henshaw as Frank's conniving cousin Olan; and the believably-whiny David Weber as T. Frank, Frank's adolescent son, who only knows he wants the damn bicycle and doesn't care about the politics involved in the gift-giving.

There's a jaw-droppingly insightful scene in which Loyd, riding his truck through the automated car wash, has a revelation about an ingenious new device - you can see the muses figuratively transporting him, and by the time he reaches the end of the line he peels out and heads to his workshop where he feverishly constructs a rude prototype. He and Frank take his miracle floor cleaner (dubbed "Kitchen Wizard") to a mail order patent agent, who proceeds to take the boys for a ride at their own expense.

Other memorable scenes include a behind-the-scenes look at what goes on in the ladies room of a cowboy honky-tonk; Frank's emergence from a menswear store, decked out in the latest leisure suit fashion (topped off by a spiffy felt Stetson); and the foreshadowing dream of fiscal doom that Frank experiences just prior to the mirroring real-life event. Bad dreams can come true, it seems.

Events approach an unsettling conclusion as Frank and Loyd strike out for the hill country armed with an antique treasure map and a slide-action .22 rifle. And a newfangled dowsing rod.

WOULDN'T WE ALL?: "I'd like to know what they do for a livin'." - Frank, re. film directors

THOSE WERE THE DAYS?: "If he don't mind, there's only one thing to do." - Frank - in the process of removing his belt - re. his son, T. Frank

Following the movie screening, UT Arlington associate professor Bart Weiss performed moderator duties as Lou and Sonny Carl - bearing scant resemblance to their youthful characters in the film - joined him on stage to talk about the movie, the transitory fame of Eagle Pennell and Austin's Soap Creek Saloon - along with lots of other stuff.

To put things in perspective, the first voice you hear is that of Bart Weiss; next up is Sonny Carl talking about his band; and the gent chiming in with the deeper voice is Lou.

I've split the audio file into an introductory remarks segment and the Q/A session that follows.