Bigots and Bromides

By JAY COCKS

THE TRIAL OF BILLY JACK

Directed by FRANK LAUGHLIN Screenplay by FRANK and TERESA CHRISTINA

The names, in a rather coy switch, have been changed to protect the guilty. The credited screenwriters for The Trial of Billy Jack are pseudonyms for the stars, Tom Laughlin and Delores Taylor. The director of record is their son, fronting for his father.

A quick bit of history: Billy Jack (Laughlin), a Viet Nam veteran and ace of the martial arts, is part Indian, part ambulatory social conscience. He first showed up in Born Losers (1967), a B picture in the motorcycle-gang genre, hit his stride, and the jackpot, in Billy Jack. That picture grossed over $30 million. Kids responded to its softheaded social preachments while turning on to its shootouts and hand-to-hand combats.

Laughlin's message is that violence is bad, but that greed, hatred and corruption conspire to make it sometimes necessary. When Billy Jack lets his hands and feet fly at some nasty yokel, he feels just terrible afterward. His guilt has to do in great part with his love for Jean Roberts (Delores Taylor), a staunch advocate of nonviolence who takes a dim view of Billy's temper even as she makes good use of his muscle. In Trial, as in its predecessor, the townies are always hassling Jean and her freedom school--a dewy combination of Summerhill and a dude ranch the citizens think is the vanguard of the Red Menace.

The feeble plot has to do with what Roberts refers to as "scorching exposes" aired on the school's own television station. Not only is it mysteriously able to afford such electronic luxuries, but the student reporters have enviable connec tions in high places. They expose everything from White House "plumbers" and shaky missile deals to consumer fraud and child abuse. This does not go down well in a small southwestern town, and its ill will bubbles over into a slaughter by National Guardsmen obviously modeled on Kent State.

A little of everything is dropped in along the way, from Indian rights to mysticism (in a shabby series of visions ripped off Carlos Castaneda) to a My Lai-style slaughter in which, of course, Billy Jack refused to participate. Shoddily as they are staged, Billy Jack's fights are the only portions of the film with the slightest life at all. These episodes prove it is a great deal easier to feel peaceful and full of good will when someone else is busting heads and scrambling brains for you.

JayCocks

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