Life-affirming cinema.
It makes my all-night movie binging seem somewhat worthwhile…
Every man, at some point in their movie-watching career, will suddenly realize that they love Alex Rocco unconditionally. He plays a bagman assassin here, I think? Rocco and his black partner Digger (yes, really) are after Bonnie’s oldest kid for absconding with a couple thousand bucks in a leather satchel. She pulls off this easy-peasy heist after filling her lecherous stepdaddy full of holes (because he tried S/Aing her younger sister) and going on the run.
Bonnie is dead, and I don’t know much about her, but I do know that her kids are a little too old to be out acting like banshees. Myra might still be in her late teens, so we can forgive her, especially under the circumstances of some awful ’70s sexual assault machinations. But Ellie is 24. What’s she still doing at home, living with her stepfather like it’s 2026? Back in 1971, she should have been out working a full-time job, renting her own place, or married with kids.
She could have at least rented an apartment to live alone with her sister to keep her away from this steely-eyed madman that she blows full of silver-dollar-sized blood spouts.
Twenty-four was nearing middle age back in the early ’70s, when this thing was released. Today, the age thing makes it all seem quite contemporary. Like it saw the future of basement-dwelling middle-aged nobodies who can’t afford to move outta the house after college.
I might complain about the wonky setup, but I love this movie. I love everything about it. Watching too many new 2026 releases over the weekend broke my spirit. But seeing Tiffany Bolling in a cashmere bikini mended that lickety-split. Plus, half the fun is sneering at the screen, thinking, “Man, this chick is a certifiable.”
There’s just something so great about ’70s genre cinema. Film stock really does work on the psyche in different shades of strident soul ascension, deep within the bones. It sits differently against the synapses. It’s not just something cool for hipsters to say. The difference between Kodak and digital is the difference between Oxycodone and Tylenol.
Watching the new vampire-heavy-metal-road-trip-comedy-adventure Devour, with its never-ending bucket of generative AI slop, nearly ruined my weekend on a Friday night. Bonnie’s Kids brought me back from the brink. It’s electrifying in a way that only a fugitive thriller from a bygone era can be.
This one’s a little different, too, which nicely sets it aside from Badlands and Bonnie & Clyde. I’ve heard it spurred Quentin Tarantino’s love of couples on the run. You can see seeds of both True Romance and Natural Born Killers embedded in this narrative’s philosophy. This is the movie to lead off a triple feature of those two Tarantino-penned masterpieces from Tony Scott and Oliver Stone, respectively.
It’s also well known that Rocco and Digger inspired Jules and Vincent in Pulp Fiction, with the movie even addressing Bonnie’s situation.
I could watch this during any season, with any flavor of Dorito at my side. It’s definitely worth a revisit from modern audiences hungry for more ’70s-era crime shenanigans.
