<Movie Details
Review
23 September 2009 by Tim Evans

Successful tap-dancers - even really nasty ones - are seldom known for drowning people in farmyard cess pools writhing with maggots.

Yet Jesco White is not your normal tap-dancer. Born into a feral Appalachian community which make your normal trailer trash look like royalty, he dragged himself up fuelled by airplane glue.

The only respite from a life of abject misery was the occasional mountain dancing (a variation on British clog dancing) lesson from his bullying dad D Ray.

Nevertheless, the youngster wound up brutally institutionalised in a number of penitentiaries, most with more in common with a concentration camp than a correctional facility.

Hitting the road, he earned a crust - mainly to quench his vodka habit - dancing his way in moonshine shacks and fetid bars across the countryside.

Hitchiking one night he's picked up by Carrie Fisher's blousey old soak Percilla, a good-time girl whose rampant nymphomania is just the, er,  job for increasingly unbalanced Jesco.

However, all good things must pass and soon his erratic behaviour - burying a shattered voddy bottle in his arm - pushes Percilla away and he's alone to face his demons.

Former commercials director Dominic Murphy has conjured up a brutally compelling tale distinguished by a manically unhinged performance from British actor Edward Hogg.

Eventually departing from the real Jesco White's grim life story, it steadily morphs into a horror story as Hogg's version embarks on a blood-spattered trail of vengeance.

The final conclusion: Strictly no mountain dancing.