Some franchises are bigger than the stars who populate them thanks to a central concept that can generate interest regardless of who is front an centre on the poster. For example, I don’t think anyone lost that much sleep when Shia Labeouf was replaced by Mark Wahlberg in the Transformers franchise and the Final Destination series understandably has always had a revolving door of characters due to the fact that few of the poor bastards tend to live to the end credits.
However, the flip side to this are central characters like Captain Jack Sparrow, Freddy Krueger or Jason Bourne who not only are vital in requiring that specific franchise to function, but necessitate that the original actor remains lest audiences get tetchy.
Case in point: please regard Smokey And The Bandit Part 3 – a movie that removed a vital ingredient and then paid the price by stalling at the starting line.
The time has come and it’s high time for Sheriff Buford T. Justice to retire from a life of laying down the law on the highways of America. However, as he gives a farewell speech typical of a raging egomaniac, he is interrupted by the appearance of Big and Little Enos Burdett, who, in a typically nonsensical act of mischief, make the Sheriff an outlandish bet. Buford initially refuses, but after spending a little of that retirement time with his dim-witted son, Junior, he reasons that putting his badge on the line for $250,000 is way more desirable that catching a fish hook in the crotch.
The bet is simple: transport a stuffed shark emblazoned with an ad for the Enos’ new business from Miami to Austin, Texas in a ridiculously short amount of time, but after Justice and Junior set off, the Enos’ figure to throw a bunch of roadblocks in his way to boost their amusement. But setting traps like a second rate Dick Dastardly isn’t going to be enough, so the pair of millionaires hire the one guy who can thwart Buford T. Justice – the Bandit!
However, original Bandit, Bo Darville doesn’t seem to be at hand these days, so the Enos’ hire a dime store version in the form of the Bandit’s best buddy, Cledus “Snowman” Snow, who eagerly pops on the hat and shades and dives behind the wheel of that Pontiac Trans Am in order to run interference.
What transpires is less of a coherent film and more of a series unbroken stunt sequences loosely taped together by the cast mercilessly mugging their asses off, as Buford and his soft-headed son forge a path to Texas while their car (and our patience) gradually collapses around them.
Come witness the sight of a franchise completely out of gas…
To be fair, the idea to make a Smokey And The Bandit movie without the Bandit was always going to crash and burn like one of the many, reckless stuntmen this movie hired with the promise of industrial grade painkillers; but a rumoured, alternate plotline would have at least been more interesting. Evidence insists that the film was going to originally be called Smokey IS The Bandit and would have seen Jackie Gleeson portray not only Sheriff Justice, but also a Bandit style character that would have seen him essentially chasing himself. However, such a concept proved too confusing for test audiences weaned on more straightforward redneck blockbusters and so Jerry Reed was brought back to portray Snowman to fill the Pontiac instead.
Would this radical idea ended up as a more worthy sequel? Probably not, but it certainly would have made a damn sight more interesting movie that this pile of smoking wreckage as it seems that Burt Reynolds took every scrap of charm the franchise had with him when he left. The producers obviously felt that the Bandit-verse (as no one will ever call it) had enough lively characters to continue onward, and while that certainly seems to be the case on paper, Smokey And The Bandit Part 3 shows a horrible understanding of what make these characters work in the first place. Now, I’m not saying that Buford T. Justice, Junior, Big and Little Enos and the Snowman were layered, subtle, three dimentional characters to start with, but this movie treats them all as if they were in a cut rate Hanna-Barbera production.
Also, the reshuffling of roles blatantly refuse to make sense. If Buford is now delivering the package for money, doesn’t that technically make him the hero? And if so, what does that make the Snowman, or even the Enos’ for that matter? As a result, we’re forced into a maelstrom of moral confusion as we furrow our brows and try and figure out who the hell we’re supposed to be rooting for where everybody is cheating to win except the bad guy from the last two films.
It seems like the filmmakers weren’t too sure either, so in order to gloss over the fact that there’s no one for audiences to side with, they try and distract you by having cars continuously crashing every three minutes or so – and when the stuntmen take a well deserved break, they deploy waves and waves of tired slapstick to desperately compensate. It’s here that another probing question raises its head: who the fuck was this movie made for? The goofy, cartoon humour suggests that your average six year-old would lap this shit up like a racoon at a dumpster party, but then the movie drops some age inappropriate jokes in there that’ll make you double-take like Elmer Fudd. A scene that casually drops in a truck full of Klu Klux Klan members hassling a couple of black guys only to end up being tarred and feathered for comedy purposes comes and goes like some bizarre, southern, fever dream and later on there’s an entire sequence set at a hotel named the Come On Inn where everyone appears to be having a large, sweaty, sex party. It even results in the Enos’ dressing in drag for absolutely no reason (but still with their facial hair intact, of course) who then get dragged into a hotel room against their will by a dozen guys all wearing speedos, baby oil and disconcerting grins.
It’s bad enough that we had to endure a comedy that isn’t funny, but more annoying yet is the fact that we’re also watching a stunt show that isn’t exciting either and while Gleeson tries his hardest, not even Sheriff Buford T. Justice can save the day.
In fact, in one of greatest cinematic acts of taking the money and running, the dying moments of the movie actually sees a Burt Reynolds cameo happen as Buford hallucinates that Snowman is actually his absurdly charming foe – but instead of it feeling like some sort of last minute fix (Smokey And The Band-Aid?), it just feels like yet another kick in the teeth with cowboy boots. Still, I guess showing for less than a day, collecting a fat pay check and then getting the fuck out of dodge while everything collapses around you may possibly be the most Bandit thing Reynolds has done in the entire franchise – so there’s that I guess…
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