So, it looks as though I'm going to be starting this year's 31 Days challenge in the same way that I start a lot of things: with an apology. Monday's entry definitely implied that The Cannonball Run was a 70s movie, and it was only when I checked last night that I realized it was, in fact, released in 1981. It should have been from the 70s, though, with all those wide, sunbleached shots of the open highway and the unapologetically colourful costumes - I've never quite worked out whether people didn't care so much about appearing cool back in those days or whether happiness itself simply wasn't so inherently uncool as more recent decades seem to have made it.
The film has a simple enough story - not even really a story, in fact, so much as a concept - an illegal race from one side of the US to the other, where everything is permitted and speed limits aren't even taken as a guideline. With the right cast of eccentric characters, a concept like this doesn't need a plot.
I loved Cannonball Run in my teens, if only because of the way the cast seemed to have such a great time, and to this day, the opening sequence still makes my heart sing. Times have changed, however, and political correctness has reared its dreaded head, and frankly, about bloody time. It has to be said, therefore, that I wasn't much looking forward to re-watching this one just because I was worried I might land up hating it.
Certainly, I'm no longer sure precisely why my younger self would have given up hard babysitting cash to watch a film like this in peace at home. Even leaving aside the question of changing social mores, it simply isn't that funny. The humour is largely of the slapstick/grossout variety, and while Dom DeLuise's schtick as Victor Prinzim/Captain Chaos has a certain charm, it definitely seems aimed at the under ten set. Farrah Fawcett's dead-eyed love interest, meanwhile, is so utterly dim and docile that she seems as though she'd be better off in a sheltered environment where she wouldn't be leered at by practically every other male in the film. When drugged against her will (a particularly shameful sequence), her behaviour scarcely changes at all, and I'm left wondering whether all of this doesn't serve to make her even more of an idealised fantasy figure for the target demographic.
Racial politics aren't really dealt with any more delicacy - Arab characters are in brownface, of course - although a young Jackie Chan comes out unscathed by dint of his screen presence and transcendent talent. Roger Moore, meanwhile, essentially plays himself with a nicely-judged mix of charm and smarm that means his eventual gentle comeuppance can't help but raise at least a small smile.
Even if I don't love Cannonball Run any more, though, I can't quite bring myself to hate it. These were less enlightened days, and while that isn't an excuse, I've seen just as bad or worse in films made since 2000, when we're all supposed to know better. Besides, all this was also before the days of CGI stuntwork, and all the onscreen action looks refreshingly honest without swirling balls of painted-on flames. At 95 minutes, it's a nice length for a lighthearted comedy, and never pulls that godawful trick a lot of modern films have of trying to make the audience feel sorry for characters they should be laughing at. The sole note of pathos, in fact, comes from realizing quite how many of the cast are no longer with us - if that's not a sobering reminder of the fact I'm getting old, I don't know what is.
Would I recommend this? Of course I wouldn't. If you ever felt like sneaking off and watching this one evening after a frenetic day, though, I wouldn't judge you - might just join you, in fact.
No comments:
Post a Comment