Holy Crap, Tom Laughlin turns seventy-six today.
I guess that should be Tom "Billy Jack" Laughlin, since he did all he could to blur the distinction between himself, the actor-writer-director-philosopher-saint, and Billy Jack, two-fisted pacifist.
Billy Jack--the movie, not the character--was one of those weird things that could only have become popular during the seventies, a hilariously unbalanced combination of hippy-dippy philosophical musings and typical drive-in action. Undoubtedly sincere, Billy Jack often resembles a bad home movie showcasing Laughlin's wife Delores Taylor and their talentless children, some community theater rejects, plus the occasional professional (Kenneth Tobey, Howard Hesseman in his "Don Sturdy" period). Though Laughlin presumably meant the film as a "statement", the only reason it's known today is as an object of mockery, for its clumsy technique, for Laughlin's hilariously self-indulgent performance, for Taylor's monotone delivery, and, oh yes, for the theme music. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Coven:
