There’s some things you simply can’t shake from childhood, be it a lingering phobia, a peculiar habit, or an affinity for a particular movie you grew up with and while it may seem strange to others from the outside, to you it’s simply something that just is.
While the above may be an overly defiant statement in order to justify my enjoyment of watching redneck tinged blockbuster franchise Smokey And The Bandit, it doesn’t make it any less true and even after probably decades without a single viewing of the first sequel, watching it again zipped me right back to my adolescence faster than a speeding 1977 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am.
The thing is, Smokey And The Bandit II objectively isn’t that great of a film for a myriad of reasons that we’re about to get into, but for some reason, I simply couldn’t remove that stupid grin off my face that made me look dumber than a tick turd.
In an effort to inexplicably run for Governor of Texas, Big Enos Burdette has found himself in a mudslinging campaign with his rival that actually involves the actual, literal slinging of mud (or manure, as it happens), so in a bid to get a much needed endorsement from the current governor, the slick Texan discovers that he needs a crate delivered from Miami to Dallas in nine days for the Republican National convention. Never one to miss a trick, Big Enos and his diminutive son, Little Enos, once again seek out trucker Cledus “Snowman” Snow in order to get the crate delivered ahead of time in order to score some much needed brownie points.
However, to do that, they’ll need to procure the services of legendary folk hero, Bo “Bandit” Darville to run interference with local law enforcement, but there’s a problem. It seems that in the years since finding fame, Bandit has fallen on hard times since breaking up with Carrie “Frog” and subsequently consumes more alcohol per day than is medically safe. In an effort to snap Bandit out of it and nab the $400,000 they’re entitled to once the crate is safely delivered, he calls Carrie to come and help get Bo back in driving shape.
However, while we’re on the subject of backsliding, Carrie is in Texarkans on the verge of marrying the infantile Junior once again, but when she gets the call that Bandit needs her help, she runs out mid-ceremony to pitch in.
Of course, this doesn’t sit well with Junior’s father, the tyrannical blowhard Sheriff Buford T. Justice, and before you can say “deja vu”, he’s in fast pursuit of our heroes once again.
However, upon reaching Miami, Bandit, Frog and Snowman discover that their cargo isn’t exactly the most manageable thing imaginable when it’s revealed to be a fully grown elephant! Cue cartoonish escapades and repeat until the credits…
While I fully understand that cheerfully endorsing Smokey And The Bandit II in the twenty first century is about as appealing as forcing a gamer weened on the like of Fortnight to try out the likes of Pong, or Pitfall, but what can I say? Years of watching this goofy shit as a child (along with the similarly themed buffoonery of the Cannonball Run films) really highlighted the fact that they’re nothing more than just living cartoons with grossly exaggerated characters and situations. Simply put, if the humour was any more inbred, it would have ten toes on each foot and would be playing the banjo and it hardly shows the people of Texas, Miami and everyone inbetween in the kindest of lights. Also – and I’m pretty sure that this won’t come as much of a shock – seeing as this is whoopin’, hollerin’, good ol’ boy of a movie made in 1980, you can bet your bottom dollar there’s a heap of problematic content involved to carefully pick past and process. However, as usual, the lion’s share of the more thornier jokes come from Jackie Gleason’s ranting Sherriff Justice who not only suggests that he knew black people would because problem after that “bus situation”, but Gleeson himself also portrays Burford’s two brothers, one of whom is named Gaylord and is incredibly effeminate.
However, it’s worth noting that, just like the first movie, Justice is supposed to represent the “old South”, while Bandit, Snowman and Frog are way more enlightened, despite the group blowing off a night of rhythm and blues in order to catch a Don Williams gig.
However, while lot of the humour is somewhat forced and there’s a strong whiff of contractual obligation about Burt Reynolds’ return, the cast is so spot on with their comic delivery, it’s impossible not to bark out a laugh at even a line as silly as: “I got him boxed in like a turtle’s pecker!”. Everyone here could do this shit in their sleep (and probably was), I just can’t help but crack a smile everytime Gleeson steps into frame with Buford’s menacing sting hitting the soundtrack.
However, while the movie throws various curve balls at us in the vain attempt to make this sequel visibly different from the first (it fails), not even the appearance of a bloody great elephant and Dom DeLuise attempting the most non-committal Italian accent ever committed to film (yelling “bada-bing, bad-boom” every ten minutes isn’t really the same) can disguise that there be a whole hidden dimension to this very silly film.
Throughout the seventies and some of the 80s, Reynolds was the box office draw, and yet when Smokey And The Bandit II made its cinematic bow, there was maybe a sense that the actor whose star was beginning to wane due to the fact that he wasn’t being taken seriously as an actor as he once was. As a result, the fact that Bandit in this movie is terrified that he’s now a has been despite once being a household name now feels weirdly touching. Maybe it’s not so much as a mirror to the man’s career as, say, Rocky is to Sylvester Stallone, but the fact that Sally Field’s Frog points out that Bo has lapsed into a state of self loathing feels far deeper than a cornball, car chase movie that ends up with numerous, multi-car pile ups usually get. Maybe I’m looking too hard at something that isn’t actually there and if I’m right, it’s hardly an example of nuanced drama, but nevertheless, is still an impressive example of self awareness from a film that still insists that someone blowing a raspberry is funny.
Dated? Sure. Stupid? Arguably. And yet Hal Needham’s latest garage of slapstick has such an array of comic talent with military grade timing at its disposal, even a joke featuring the elephant sticking its trunk between Burt Reynolds’ legs turns into an old fashioned thigh slapper.
However, those who didn’t spend their formative years with wise cracking, charismatic, bootleggers may find that their milage will vary.
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