If you look at it a certain way, Cannonball Run II makes perfect sense. After all, wasn’t the first Cannonball Run only an exaggerated progression of Smokey And The Bandit, which saw Burt Reynolds and his absurdly masculine moustache embark on a race against time that only got more goofy as it went along? So if we follow that train of thought, surely the aggressively cartoonish Cannonball Run would require an even more outlandish sequel?
Yeah well, that’s where the trouble starts. You see, anyone who followed the downward trajectory of the adventures of the Bandit knows that once you hit maximum velocity of strange, goofy shit, it becomes increasingly hard to step on the brakes and as this star studded sequel picks up pace, you can virtually see the grip of director Hal Needham getting ever more slick and sweaty with every joke that skids and slips out of control.
After failing to win the last Cannonball Run, Sheik Abdul ben Falafel (yeah, I know) is commanded to win this year’s race by his father who has decided to finance it purely for the reason to bring glory to their family. Before you know it, all the usual suspects have crawled out of the woodwork in order to bag the million dollar prize with many of them coming up with yet more deranged plans to outwit and outmanuever the various highway cops between Connecticut and California.
First up is, naturally, J.J. McClure and Victor Prinzi (not to mention Victor’s alternate personality, Captain Chaos) who are looking to get out of the stunt crew business and cook up a gimmick to disguise themselves as military personnel. Elsewhere, the shifty Fenderbaum and permanently plastered Blake are aiming to win while dressed up as cops, while asian kung fu Mitsubishi mechanic Jackie is paired with the gargantuan Arnold in yet another gadget-laden supercar. With the addition of another two jump suit wearing women who use their predominant cleavages to score new rides and a limo driving duo with that comes complete with a highly destructive orangutan (look, it was the 80s, ok?), the race gets underway, but outside interference is waiting in the wings.
It’s hardly a shock to discover that Fenderbaum owes money to some rather unreasonable characters, but the fact that he owes money to Mafia Don, Don Canneloni sets off a chain of events that threatens the entire race. You see, Dom Don also owes money to some unsavory characters, namely slap head mob enforcer Hymie Kaplan and so while the racers race, Don Don’s goons race to kidnap the Sheik in order to collect the necessary funds. It seems that these wacky races is about to get a whole lot more wackier… unfortunately.
So let’s lay a few things out to begin with. Yes, Cannonball Run II is an incredibly stupid movie, but it’s obviously that way by design and who said a stupid comedy is a bad thing. After all, the Farrelly Brothers, Adam McKay and the collective known as Zucker, Abrahams, Zucker made lucrative careers and quite a few classics by going extraordinarily smart while being incredibly and awesomely dumb. However, there’s a line as fine as the one that runs down the centre of a highway that separates good dumb and bad dumb and Cannonball Run II weaves across it so violently, you find yourself wishing that the law would pull it over and breathalyse the damn thing.
Once again we have a 80s era cast full of superstars and in-jokes and leading the charge is the cheeky chuckle of Reynolds and the endearing, man-child capering of Dom DeLuise and their double act is still as effortless as it ever was, but in an odd chain of events, they are somehow rendered unimportant by a plot so tangled, it makes spaghetti look like it was expertly weaved into some sort of pasta blanket. The two leads have an arc that sees them romantically confounded by musical actresses Betty and Veronica (natch) who have used their nun costumes to try and con their way into a ride after they hear about the hefty prize fund. However, there’s barely any drama here as both J.J. and Victor seem perfectly fine with being groped and squeezed by sisters of the cloth and the romance – despite featuring Shirley MacLaine – doesn’t even come within a car length’s distance from the sizzling chemistry between Reynolds and Sally Field in Smokey And The Bandit.
However, it’s repeatedly drowned out by a subplot that soon overwhelms virtually the entire cast as a gaggle of character actors who all appeared in a Godfather movie – plus Henry Silva – engage in Wile E. Coyote levels of pratfalling tomfoolery as these moronic mobsters hijack the entire movie out from the ludicrously expansive cast. This is made even more convoluted when you add even more mobsters to the mix when Telly Savalas and his goons show up – although the joke that they’re all bald as coots is a great visual.
If this was the film we thought we were getting, that would have been all well and good, but as there’s the little matter of a million dollar race containing Burt Reynolds, Dom DeLuise, Shirley MacLaine, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., Jackie Chan, Telly Savalas, Ricardo Montalban, Tony Danza, Richard Kiel, Doug McClure, Frank Sinatra and the orangutan from Any Which Way But Loose, it’s pretty fucking inexcusable.
Making matters worse is the fact that director Hal Needham is full The Villain mode (his western comedy starring the ungodly pairing of Kurt Douglas and Arnold Schwarzenegger), rather than bring the more balanced yucks of Smokey And The Bandit and the resulting jokes soon wear thinner than a fasting stick insect.
There’s still some crackers lodged within the samey gags and endless cameos that will bewilder anyone born after 1990. I know that the use of animal thespians is rightly frowned upon these days, but watching an orangutan dressed as chauffeur slap the living shit out of a couple of cops may not exactly be as refined as an episode of Frasier, but it made me laugh dammit. However, despite the odd bullseye, it’s mostly money for old rope as the same old routines are trotted out with tiresome regularity. Worst of all, among all the subplots and a random bit where Jackie Chan’s car turns into submarine complete with periscope (ironic considering Roger Moore is a no show this time out), the movie forgets the most important thing – that this film is supposed to be a race and not something where everyone can take time out from hauling ass to California to indulge in a spot of drag (the dress-up, not the racing) before engaging in a big-ass brawl to finish everything off.
The stunts are cool, the mugging is relentless and the plot is missing, presumed dead, but the jokes are literally all over the road.
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