Electra Glide In Blue

Electra has that Lynchian effect of making you wonder exactly what drugs the director was on. Nothing about it makes much sense, but it looks good, in a CHiPs in the desert kinda way. Johnny Wintergreen (Blake) is an undersized, oversexed traffic cop in Arizona’s Monument Valley; a place so hot and dull that bickering and hippy-baiting are the principal police pastimes. Johnny’s big ambition is to become a detective: to wear a (small) brown suit and a Stetson and get paid to think, not get calluses on his ass. His opportunity comes with the Charles Addams-style ‘suicide’ of local yokel Frank. But will detecting live up to Johnny’s dreams? Disjointed, hammy, melodramatic and ridiculous, Electra feels like a white trash blaxploitation film. Two particularly bizarre standout moments are the unexpected hair band, and the budget-breaking motorcycle chase (slo-mo falls truly are a lost 70s art form). Electra ain’t exactly a marvel of storytelling, but it’d look damn fine playing on your wall at a party.