Synopsis by Robert Firsching
The debut of 25-year old Fort Worth filmmaker Shanti Guy, this inchoate mess has a legitimate claim as one of the worst films ever made. Guy fills the film with shoddy video effects, going from solarized color to black & white to red tinting often and for no apparent reason. One suspects that he just got a video effects suite and was learning it as he went along. Voices are distorted, home movies of his children double as "flashbacks," a scene is played entirely in reverse to no good purpose, and at one point the film jumps forward five years to show Jake as a Bigfoot-like wildman living in a field. The most notable supporting character is a hobo on the titular Texas Night Train named Rail Head Shorty (Lloyde Barnes), who calls Jake a "cracker" and advises him to kill Mae before she steals his soul forever. The film's misogynistic themes reach their apex here, as Jake pummels Mae (who has already been tortured fully nude in a clear plastic shower curtain) to a bloody pulp so the evil woman can't take his mojo. The end credits pretentiously thank Scorsese, Coppola, and Tarantino, as well as a couple who provided the dead cat seen in the film. Texas Night Train has been advertised as surrealist art, but a bad, sexist B-movie tarted up with beatnik poetry, old home movies, and cheesy video effects does not equate to surrealism, nor to art. Reportedly made over four years at a cost of around $7,200, this dreadful, stinking gym-sock of a film will actually make viewers wonder where all that money was spent. Perhaps $7,200 is the going rate for dead cats and their agents. In any event, Texas Night Train is as bad as any film ever made, and oh, so very much worse.