I’m a connoisseur of weird shit and sometimes I land on the most prurient, grotesque, offensive trash imaginable.  It is for this reason that I am fortunate to land on a technicolor turd of a musical known as Highway of Heartache.  This country drag circus is awash in layers of cowprint and filth so jarring that I actually put my phone down to pay attention.  It authentically made me cackle.  So, I’ll sing it’s praises and drawbacks in a neat little list here and you can decide if you want to unearth this little cowpoke ditty from its mid-90s grave.

1. The film is about Wynona-Sue Turnpike, an aspiring country crooner whose life is waylaid by abusive men, crime, and sexually transmitted infection.  She sings the film’s often appealing country tracks, which is a lot to say when country is not at all my flavor of tune.  But the songs, narrating the action, are so utterly ridiculous that I can’t help but be amused.  The soundtrack was written and scored by Barbara Chamberlin, the actress behind Wynona-Sue, who honestly has an appealing singing voice. “My Baby Wears Blue Jeans” is an authentically good song.
2. Wynona-Sue’s country accent and cadence have to be core memories for famed drag performer Trixie Mattell.  I mean you can hear the Jesus-loving midwestern housewifery, and this was back in 1994.  Wynona-Sue has so many little quirks that is top tier clowning in my opinion.  The cigarette acting alone deserves some kind of award.
3. The majority of the film’s roles are played by drag queens.  And not high-society million-dollar glamour drag queens.  I mean 2AM dollar-tip thrift shop roly-poly round-headed men in dresses.  The shitty bottom-of-the-barrel Divine-era punk drag from way back in the day.  This is the drag that has been all but erased by the RuPaul effect on the culture.
4. The filth.  From being covered in cowpies to slanging giant dongs, to watching an electrolux be removed from an orifice, this movie is filthy, and all of it is coupled with beautiful musical twanging that bolsters the surreality of it all.  Granted, some of the filth and offense is likely what keeps this film from being a cult classic.  Even in ‘94 they should have known not to do blackface or use the “hard R,” even if the story does take place in 1962.  If it’s gonna piss you off, you can shut the film off at the end of the trial scene, which incidentally, has the same color scheme as my dream kitchen.
5. The set design is a literal technicolor nightmare.  And when I say cowprint is everywhere, cowprint is EVERYWHERE.  It is a feast for the eyes, wigs costumes and walls.  Scenes are intercut with hand-drawn animations looking like school-house rock smoked brown weed out behind the dumpster before giving this movie a try.  It really is a feast for the eyes.
6. Crawford’s teeth are the halogen brights on the Jeep behind you while you’re driving at night. I mean -bright-. It deserved its own list number for the brightness.

I found it for free on Youtube but I’m not going to link it lest it get taken down.  Just do the googling and you’ll find it.  If nothing else, it deserves to be known for its outrageous low-budget hijinks, queer camp, and complete and utter lack of depth.