The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas (1982)

I like the storyline of this show,it attract me so much

the audience applauded

Save your money for something good and enjoyable

I like movies that are aware of what they are selling... without [any] greater aspirations than to make people laugh and that's it.

There is a commitment to authenticity in film production of "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas." The people are fictional, in that no real-life sheriffs or governors or madams are depicted, but the movie is unafraid to use the names and likenesses of real, powerful Texas institutions to fill out the whorehouse clientele portion of its cast. Early on, Jim Nabors's goofball deputy explains one of the key plot points: the winning team of each year's famed football match between Texas A&M University and the University of Texas gets a free night at the Chicken Ranch, a house of ill repute west of Houston. To allege such a thing in a movie today would be impossible: the lawsuits would be swift and many. But here, it isn't just alleged—it's depicted in vivid detail and with the flamboyant abandon of a great movie musical. The sequence begins on the gridiron, with the trademarked logos of A&M and UT on proud display, and transitions to the victorious Aggies' locker room where the men do a gleeful choreographed routine and strip down to their bare asses right underneath the "Gig 'Em Aggies" sign. Soon enough they're at the Chicken Ranch, where a Senator looks on approvingly as the team and the employees dance and carry on in various states of undress. It's a very funny string of scenes, and it wouldn't have the same sense of stakes or impropriety if instead of the Aggies the team was some made-up, generic stand-in; in Texas, there is no stand-in for A&M. One wonders how the large and powerful Aggie alumni community feels about this film. The movie walks a delicate line regarding the morality of its subject matter. It satirizes politicians (Charles Durning shows himself to be a physical comedy genius in his single, show-stealing number) and condemns "gotcha" journalism (Dom DeLuise's TV investigator dandy even uses that exclamation), and these are easy targets, but its discussion of the whorehouse itself is confined to a limited set of debate parameters. The perspective of the whores themselves is mostly missing, as is the criticism of prostitution as a kind of slavery. In its place is the less troubling contest between the support of safer, legalized, pimp-free prostitution and the old-fashioned condemnation of it on religious grounds. Most modern theater- and film-goers take the former view when those are the only two options, and the movie does so as well with a compelling and well-meaning righteousness. What it lacks in nuance on the subject of paid sex, it makes up for with really touching character moments between Burt Reynolds's duded-up sheriff and Dolly Parton's dolled- up proprietress. Their relationship is kept on impressively equal footing, and it feels as real and lived-in as the footage of the Texas capitol, the small-town courthouse square, and the Texas A&M stadium.

When I read the opening paragraph from Lechuguilla's review, I thought "That's exactly what I was thinking!" It reads (abridged): "Maybe when it was first released, this film... wowed viewers with its bawdiness and clear-cut clash of values. But thirty years later, with the internet, cell phones, and gay rights, the underlying premise... strikes me as outdated and largely irrelevant..." In my opinion, I think the film was as successful as it was only because it "dared" to broach a subject that was, at the time, considered titillating, immoral and slightly naughty. People could feel like they were indulging in a bit of raunchy voyeurism that skirted the limits of acceptable morality. It bordered on slightly wicked, yet allowed one to keep one's social (and self-righteous) moral virtue and rectitude intact.Now, 30-plus years later, the film is dated by any standard. It was a vehicle for Parton (who does a passable job as Miss Mona)and Reynolds (who is miscast and mediocre at best), a toss-away attempt at cashing in on an excellent and popular stage production at the time.Viewed as a quaint example of 1980s entertainment, it's moderately successful even now. But there isn't enough enduring substance to hold up over time.If it were re-made today, I think it could probably succeed if the emphasis on titillation and sex was refocused on the relationships between the main characters and the struggle over the morality of the times.But as it stands, it has become an archaic and somewhat droll museum piece.

Even in 2009 this movie version of the stage play, BEST LITTLE WHOREHOUSE IN Texas, does not always ring true. For all her great talents, Dolly Parton has manipulated yet another script (she did this with STEEL MAGNOLIAS). Look at the overdone and over the top entrances...and that long, boring evening scene by a fire with Burt Reynolds. And these were suppose to be Aggie football players?? And one token black player...and one token black hostess. Come on, integration had not yet occurred in time. The tokenism was so obvious. Fortunately, Whitney Houston came along to really breathe life into "I Will Always Love You." At times exciting, vibrating, exhilarating....thanks in large measure to an over the top "evangelist" and sheriff. Boring and perplexing ending. And as for the goofs, who was watching the shooting script or controlling the editing? I must prefer a rollicking stage version.

The Texas county where Burt Reynolds is sheriff has only one thing that makes it stand out from all the other counties in the state. And I'm not referring to Dolly Parton's 40Ds. It's rather the old and established institution of the Chicken Ranch, The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas. Or maybe west of the Mississippi truth be told, if everyone left there as happy as they seem.This film is a real gem, a timely and historical film as well as a fun country musical. The story is a true one, the names changed to protect the innocent as that other American institution used to say. Although few people but Dom DeLuise seem to have their innocence intact in this film.In this county west of Houston for over 100 years servicing the veterans of five wars was the Chicken Ranch, The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas. It's existence was the most open secret in the state and everyone seemed happy with the arrangement. In fact the current owner, Dolly Parton, is a valued member of the community, paying her taxes and giving of money and time to community endeavors. She runs a disease free establishment and insists that of her customers.But this was the time the Moral Majority was flexing it's muscles in the person of Dom DeLuise. He's really quite the scream as the crusading reporter going to close this den of vice and corruption. He stirs up quite the hornet's nest in the state.Best scene of the film is the annual party for the winner of the Texas A&M, University of Texas football game. Those Aggies play hard and plow hard. And that's the night when DeLuise and his television crew decide to pull their own raid. The party is hosted by State Senator Robert Mandan playing the part in his best sanctimonious tradition.Of course he pales beside Charles Durning as the governor of Texas. Durning was nominated for Best Supporting Actor and his political credo of never saying anything is embodied in that wonderful Sidestep number he has. Durning looks like he's having a great old time.Carol Hall wrote the rollicking score for The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas and Dolly Parton also had the good sense to get a couple of her songs interpolated in the film, one of them her beloved I Will Always Love You. For all her good works Dolly is still the Madame of a bordello and that fact prevents her from being taken too seriously by Burt Reynolds as marriage material.I'm sure the film was not a favorite of the late Jerry Falwell, DeLuise lampoons him so viciously. It is an entertaining reminder of times that sad to say haven't gone altogether away.