You can always be guaranteed a good time with seventies American exploitation flicks; and Macon County Line is not only no exception to that rule; it stands tall as one of the best films of its type! Macon County Line was apparently a big hit in its day and then promptly forgotten - which is a shame. The film is a winner thanks to some easy to like characters, a constant stream of entertainment, some witty dialogue and a serviceable helping of gritty violence - you really couldn't ask for much more from a film like this! The film takes place in the fifties and the plot focuses on two brothers driving through the Deep South. They cause a bit of trouble and end up picking up a female hitcher along the way before their car dies thanks to a dodgy fuel pump. They manage to get it to a garage but can't afford to get it fixed properly and so go for a bodge instead. While waiting for their car to be fixed, they run into the local sheriff, who takes an instant and unfair dislike to the group...

Unlike many films of its type, this one is not overly sleazy and if anything the tone of the film is light and breezy for most of the duration. The pace of the film is very relaxed for the first hour, although it remains entertaining thanks to the characters. Real life brothers Alan and Jesse Vint provide standout performances that bolster the film. The film does take a bit of a turn for the final third when the real antagonists turn up; we get a rape and murder scene and from there the tone of the film becomes rather darker, although the violence featured is never excessive. The pace of the film heats up too and the climax is fast and furious; and means more since we already like all the main characters by then. This film really does come highly recommended. It might not have a great deal of substance and the production values are not great (though certainly very good considering the obvious low budget) but it's good fun throughout and I'm sure that everyone who goes to the trouble of seeing this film will not be disappointed!

Two happy-go-lucky brothers (amiably played by real-life siblings Alan and Jesse Vint, who also popped up as a couple of no-count looters in the fantastic big budget all-star disaster epic "Earthquake") and a pretty female hitchhiker (blonde cutie pie sprite Cheryl Waters) embark on a rowdy cross country fun spree in the deep South in the 50's. Their fun comes to an abrupt end when they run afoul of a repressively square and fascistic good ol' boy sheriff (sternly portrayed by producer and co-screenwriter Max Baer; Jethro on "The Beverly Hillbillies") who doesn't cotton to any smartaleck outsiders romping around his podunk burg. Things go from bad to worse when a pair of criminals murder the sheriff's wife and the sheriff erroneously assumes that the brothers and their lady friend are responsible.

Without a doubt one of the all-time great Southern-fried low-budget 70's drive-in classics, this darling is a huge personal favorite of mine. Richard ("Welcome Home, Soldier Boys," "Ravagers") Compton directs with real energy and proficiency, keeping the pace racing along at a speedy clip, creating an increasingly foreboding sense of dread and tension, and skillfully handling the sudden shift from boisterous comedy to gut-tearing suspense. Daniel ("Battle Beyond the Stars," "Humanoids from the Deep") Lacambre's handsome cinematography makes expert use of natural light, thereby giving this picture a plausibly rough and grainy unpolished look. The performances are all on-target, with stand-out supporting turns by Sam ("'Gatorbait") Gilman as a hard-nosed deputy, Joan Blackman as the sheriff's doomed wife, 70's teen pop idol Leif ("Devil Times Five") Garrett as the sheriff's son, James Gammon as a low-life hoodlum, Doodles Weaver as a doddery ol' cuss, and especially Geoffrey Lewis as a cranky gas station proprietor. Bobbie Gentry really belts out a sweet dilly of a number with the terrific country-and-western ending credits theme song. The grim, kick-you-in-the-stomach violent and disturbing surprise ending packs one hell of a savage and powerful wallop. The film's monumental box office success (it made a hefty $35 million during its original theatrical run) beget a handful of "don't go down to Dixie" exploitation cash-in copies, a sub-genre unto itself which includes the pitifully lame'n'tame sequel "A Return to Macon County," the astonishingly bleak'n'brutal "Jackson County Jail," the spirited and enjoyable "Moving Violation," and the seamy and revolting scuzzathon "A Nightmare in Badham County."

When you've played hillbilly hunk Jethro Bodeine for almost a decade it's kind of hard for folks to take you seriously in the casting department. So Max Baer, Jr. decided to take charge of his own future by writing a screenplay and selling it with him in a juicy role. He's so good in the role of the Deputy Sheriff that not for one minute will you think of The Beverly Hillbillies while you watch Macon County Line.

The film is set back 20 years before Macon County Line's debut in 1974 and it's a picture without any nostalgic longing for Dixie before the Brown vs. Board of Education decision. Two good old boy brothers are having a road trip to kill time before one has to go into the Air Force. Real life brothers Alan and Jesse Vint play our rover boys and they pick up Cheryl Waters for a bit of amusement.

These two aren't choirboys that's pretty clear. When their car breaks down they take shelter in a barn not knowing it belongs to Max Baer, Jr. They also don't know that a pair of psychopathic drifters are at the house terrorizing Baer's wife Joan Blackman.

The conjunction of these happenings lead to some horrible conclusion and god awful tragedy.

A few familiar faces you will spot in the cast, some old names and some who hadn't quite made it yet. A really stand out scene is with Baer and young Leif Garrett before he became a bubblegum pop star as Baer tries to tell his son that he shouldn't be playing basketball with a black kid he's become acquainted with that this violates social taboos.

The film has become a deserved cult classic and Max Baer, Jr. must thank God that it is as associated with him as Jethro Bodeine.