For all his erudition where matters of bouncing and cooling are concerned, there are some expressions of emotion that are beyond Dalton’s ability to articulate. His feelings toward Wade Garrett at this moment are such emotions. When Wade, who’s just told Dalton he loves him, bids him farewell, Dalton pauses just long enough for the older man to leave, then attacks his heavy bag with a vengeance, a flurry of kicks and strikes. You can see right away that the salvo is unsustainable, and that this man, who’s already worked himself up so much that even his teeth appear to be sweating, must needs relent in his attack. You figure a quick cut away from the action will be the film’s exit from this scenario.
But instead, Dalton reaches out, wraps his arms around the punching bag, and leans in, letting it partially support his weight. We all need someone we can lean on, but Dalton has allowed that someone to exit his life. He wants to beat the living shit out of him for it, but he also wants nothing more than to collapse into his understanding and embrace, let them buoy him, keep him from slipping under.
If you care about Dalton it’s a hard moment to watch. He’s wrong to feel alone—Wade still cares about him, and so does Doc, and so do the likes of Emmett and Red and, in his bizarre way, Frank Tilghman. But he does feel alone nonetheless. So he’s hugging a punching bag, in lieu of assaulting the bag or hugging a human being. It’s a poor substitute for either, but in this moment it’s all he has.
Tags: dalton, road house