Thoughts Make the Man: Dalton in Road House as a Modern-Day Stoic

The number of great films in the cultural canon is almost innumerable to count. The 1989 film Road House is one that probably doesn’t make the list for many people with a more refined taste for cinematic grandeur. In fact, the film could have been forgotten in the dustbins of discount DVDs at Walmart, yet it endures. In the film, Dalton—played by Patrick Swayze in the prime of his effortless coolness—is a philosopher-turned-cooler, the man in charge of a bar’s security and patrons’ safety. Frank Tilghman, the proprietor of the rough Double Deuce, a bar in Jasper, Missouri, hires Dalton to clean it up. Dalton leaves NYC and begins making changes to improve the bar, something that he has done numerous times previously. As the changes begin to ripple throughout the community, Dalton becomes a respected member of the town and falls in love with Dr. Elizabeth Clay. These changes, however, run afoul of Brad Wesley, the town’s mafia-like businessman, who runs a protection racket that the town’s businesses must partake in, lest they lose their livelihoods. When the town residents resist, emboldened by Dalton’s quiet example, Wesley escalates his threats. An all-out war between Dalton and Wesley caps the film, resulting in numerous deaths and eventual positive change. On the surface, Road House is merely a campy, over-the-top, breast-filled (my God, the endless parade of naked breasts is astonishing) film with bad acting and a plotline so thin, it would look good in a bikini. But it has generated a cult-like following with one-liners bandied about by men I respect and admire. Why? What truths are hidden behind this guilty pleasure?

One way of answering that question is to view the film through the eyes of Epictetus, a philosopher from the first century C.E. who had an enormous impact on the philosophy of Stoicism. The Enchiridion is a small book of distilled Stoic proclamations, written down by one of his pupils, which offers the reader practical advice to live an ethical and purposeful life. Although short, each chapter is a goldmine to ponder and enact for the budding Stoic practitioner. Such as the idea that we are stewards of the things in our life, not owners. Or trying to manage outcomes results in suffering. Or that overconsumption and excess lead to ruin; only take what is necessary. These edicts are beneficial, but the overriding theme of The Enchiridion is that the quality of one’s thoughts, and the reaction to them, is what leads to living in alignment with one’s will.

These Stoic principles are threaded into Road House and are fully embodied in Dalton. We see how one man’s established code of conduct—based on self-governance, equanimity, and acceptance of what is and is not in one’s control—allows him to navigate an uncertain world in relation to other people. Dalton is a flawed man learning to be a better one, and his efforts at managing the contents of his mind are examples that any person can put into practice. The film should be taken seriously because it is the modern equivalent of passing down The Enchiridion ideals from one person to another.

In the opening scene, Dalton is cut with a knife while breaking up a bar fight. His reaction is understated, his eyes focused on his assailant, his mouth closed. The assailant, locked in a chokehold by the other bouncers, is flailing around, fueled by anger and alcohol, spewing obscenities. Dalton’s calmness is the direct opposite of this man. Dalton is undisturbed by his cut shoulder bleeding, undisturbed by the flashy outburst, and undisturbed by the growing crowd around them. When the assailant challenges Dalton to a fight, Dalton just says, “Outside” (Herrington). When the assailant walks out into the parking lot and attempts to provoke Dalton with insults, Dalton half smiles and turns around, walking back inside the bar. Dalton’s reaction to this scene is a direct corollary to Chapter 20 in The Enchiridion, where Epictetus states that “if someone succeeds in provoking you, realize that your mind is complicit in the provocation” (228). Dalton never takes the bait. Like Epictetus advised, Dalton takes a moment before reacting, and the pause is where the power lies.

That assailant sets the theme of Dalton being insulted time and again throughout the movie. Every vulgarity is thrown at Dalton, ranging from the relatively tame “moose-lips” to the crude anatomical combinations that would make my mother blush. A common sentiment among the people that first meet him, learning he is a bouncer, is they thought he’d be bigger. Dalton’s response is a wry smile or “Gee, I’ve never heard that before” (Herrington). Epictetus warns that “if you are ever tempted to look for outside approval, realize that you have compromised your integrity” (229). Instead, Epictetus implores validation to come from within. How someone else feels about Dalton matters little to how he feels about himself. This is never more apparent than when a coworker tells him he doesn’t live up to the hype. “Opinions vary” (Herrington) is Dalton’s response. He doesn’t need to prove something to this man, nor does his opinion hold value for Dalton. Again, Epictetus offers that “another person will not hurt you without your cooperation; you are hurt the moment you believe yourself to be” (234).

Perhaps the most often quoted line of the film is when Dalton proclaims that “pain don’t hurt” (Herrington) while getting a second knife wound stapled closed at the ER, without anesthesia. This line could be mistaken for some tough guy bravado, but Epictetus would highlight that the thoughts we think about a thing are often the cause for consternation, not the actual thing. Epictetus states that “it is not events that disturb people; it is their judgements [sic] concerning them” (223). Dalton knows that physical harm doesn’t need to also harm his mental state. Feelings—pain, aversion, self-recrimination, lust—are data for the mind; they are not calls to action. Additionally, Epictetus states to practice restraint when the allure of emotion takes hold (238). The pain receptors in Dalton’s mind are heightened with each staple into his body, yet his response is a slight wince and breathing through the pain. This behavior is another example of Dalton’s repeated practicing of Stoic principles: that the time for practice is now and “when faced with anything painful or pleasurable, anything bringing glory or disrepute, realize that the crisis is now, that the Olympics have started, and waiting is no longer an option” (Epictetus 244). Epictetus is stating that each moment, each thought, and each action is the time to put in the work. Not later. Not at some other opportune time.

Though Dalton has managed conflict with self-restraint and measured responses for the bulk of the film, there is a scene when Dalton is challenged beyond his current capacity to practice skillful thinking. His mentor, Wade Garret, is murdered by one of Wesley’s henchmen. Upon discovering his dead friend, Dalton goes on a revenge murder spree, killing the remaining of Wesley’s henchmen. Instead, Dalton should remember that for each challenge, we already have the capacity to handle it (Epictetus 225). It isn’t necessary to act externally. Death should be kept at the forefront of one’s mind as a reminder that nothing in life—not love, friendship, comfort, reputation, absolutely nothing—is permanent (Epictetus 229). As Dalton goes to kill Wesley, the audience watches his face contort from anger to a kind of release. He decides not to kill Wesley, and his equanimity is restored. Dalton is a man in control of his mind once more.

Road House is not a great film in the traditional sense; it’ll probably never be part of the Criterion Collection. But cinematic greatness and real-world value are not often the same thing. Dalton is a man doing the quiet, unglamorous work of governing himself in a world that is chaotic, cruel, and indifferent. His story is the same as every human story: becoming a better human in spite of the chaos and confusion. Epictetus wouldn’t have approved of the sex and swearing found in this film—Chapter 33 has two specific rules warning against them—but he would have recognized the philosophy Dalton espouses. The Enchiridion tells us to control what is ours to control: our thoughts, our reactions, and our integrity. Everything else is outside our responsibility. Dalton, for all his flaws, tries to do exactly that. Perhaps that is why the film endures. Not because of the fights or the one-liners or the astonishing parade of excess, but because somewhere beneath all of it is a man genuinely trying to be better.

Works Cited

Epictetus. Discourses and Selected Writings. Translated and edited by Robert F. Dobbin, Penguin, 2008.

Road House. Directed by Rowdy Herrington, United Artists, 1989.