Let's hop into the wayback machine and return to the North Cedar Drive-In Theatre in Spokane, Washington, circa 1975. It's hot and muggy and my best friend and I are seeing maybe the fortieth movie of the summer, sitting in my Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser or his 12 year old F-250 (I can't remember which). We sit back to watch Race With the Devil, an obvious B-grade horror flick we've heard great things about from friends.
I haven't seen Jack Starrett's RWD since that night in the summer of '75, but I distinctly remember how good it was, how merrily hell-bent-for-leather the action was, and the way it tied into our goofy fear of Satanic cults and human chains thirty years ago. If you were around the greater Spokane area (now there's an oxymoron!) way back when, you must have heard the stories coming out of Rathdrum, Idaho, north of Coeur d'Alene. This flick was shot in the southwest, but with all the rural versions of urban legends clanking about the Idaho Panhandle, Race With the Devil seemed like a home movie.
I believe the movie made a gob of money that year.
I recommend Race With the Devil in no small part for the fact that it's obvious the people involved are having a great time, a must for a low-budget movie. It has the pacing and the chills to scare teenagers wearing long hair and bell bottoms and, I'm sure after I order a copy from Amazon, it will put a grin on the face of this paunchy, middle-aged nostalgist.
