Beyond obscure, REDNECK MILLER is a fitfully diverting southern-fried potboiler from Charlotte, North Carolina, that has never been released on home video. While not exactly a hidden gem, it nevertheless offers many of the dubious pleasures found in slapdash regional film-making.
Apparently the biggest star power the film has to offer, Geoffrey Land (whose resume includes numerous Al Adamson flicks – make of that what you will!) stars as DJ “Redneck” Miller, a small-town disk jockey and local good ol’ boy with a love of Schlitz and an eye for the ladies. When a mystery man frames Miller for the theft of a drug shipment intended for a local gang, it’s up to Miller to prove his innocence and protect his woman, who may factor more prominently in his rival’s scheme than either of the two realizes.
As with many regional productions, one of the greater joys of MILLER is seeing its off-the-shelf plot executed in anything but standard fashion. For instance, while viewers are clued in from the get-go that Miller is being framed – a fairly typical set-up for this type of film – Miller’s almost willful ignorance of that fact for the majority of the picture is anything but. Despite being constantly harassed by gang members who explicitly tell him he stole something from them, Miller nevertheless seems happy to pick a fight for any old reason, and never stops to ask why these criminals think he stole their drugs or worry about whether this might point to a larger issue (like him being framed).
Character development is similarly lackadaisical. While Miller’s supposedly “beloved” motorcycle figures centrally in the story (the villain frames him by stealing the drugs while riding it, and characters are constantly going on and on about how much he loves it), we never actually SEE Miller riding, cleaning, working on, or otherwise demonstrating any interest in the thing until the end credits. The black gang members that serve as Miller’s rivals for most of the film are portrayed in typically outlandish (read: borderline racist) ’70s blaxploitation fashion, yet for all their toughness they also remain curiously aloof about getting their stash back, treating it like something they’ll get around to when they finally have the time. (Minor SPOILER) The film also hilariously shrugs off any real-world consequences behind this MacGuffin, with order considered restored once Miller clears his name and the gangsters have their drugs back. No consideration is given to the effect these narcotics might have on the lives of their eventual users. Much like its protagonist, the film is only concerned with getting everything resolved for Miller – a worldview also echoed in the film’s grossly blithe shrug-off of his lover’s rape during the climax. (/SPOILER/)
As Miller, Land acquits himself fairly well, bringing a surprising degree of charisma (read: any) to the role. (While Miller is never really a fleshed- out character, Land at least seems like a nice guy to have a drink with.) Many of the incidental players are pretty flat (another of the dubious pleasures of regional productions), though the gang members take things in the opposite direction, having great fun with their outsized characters and enjoyably cranking things up to 11. Like many non-professional productions, the film both wanders through its middle patch and stumbles limply through its conclusion, but again, that’s also part of the charm. While not nearly a lost masterpiece, REDNECK MILLER is a fitfully entertaining – if fairly middle-of-the-road – southern-fried potboiler that deserves to find its audience. If you get a chance to see it in a rare theatrical revival, it’s worth the effort.
