Director Report Card: John Landis (1986)

10. ¡Three Amigos!

“Saturday Night Live's” impact on American pop culture is well understood. Once upon a time, it was cutting edge satire that informed a generation. It introduced some of the most beloved comedic performers of the seventies and eighties. Somehow, it's still running and occasionally strives for relevance. “SNL's” impact on movies is harder to judge. Say for a few certified classics, most of the films spun-off from the show have been varying degrees of not-good. The only cinematic screenwriting credit of Lorne Michaels, “SNL's” equally beloved and reviled creator, not related to the show is 1986's “¡Three Amigos!” Steve Martin would conceive of the project and ask Michaels to collaborate on the script with him. Randy Newman, of all people, would also contribute to the screenplay. John Landis was drafted to direct, presumably because he directed one of the few good “SNL” movies. Martin's potential co-stars rotated through John Belushi, Dan Aykroyd, John Candy and Rick Moranis before finally settling on Chevy Chase and Martin Short. After this long pre-production, “¡Three Amigos!” would ride into theaters in December of 1986.

The year is 1916. The small Mexican village of Santo Poco is terrorized by the villain El Guapo and his gang of bandits. A woman named Carmen rides into a near-by town to find help. Instead, she finds a traveling theater showing a movie, a western serial starring a trio of heroes known as the Three Amigos. She believes the film to be real and sends a telegram to Hollywood. At the same time, the three stars – Lucky Day, Dusty Bottoms, and Ned Nederlander – are thrown out of their studio due to their latest movie flopping. Desperate for cash, they travel to Santo Poco, unaware that they are being recruited to fight a real life villain. They find out soon enough.

From a narrative perspective, “¡Three Amigos!” is no great stakes. The movie's story of heroes being recruited to protect a village recalls “The Magnificent Seven” – which means it recalls “Seven Samurai” too – and countless other films. This was no doubt an intentional reference. The premise of actors being mistaken for the real thing, unknowingly running into danger, would be replicated in films like “A Bug's Life” and “Galaxy Quest.” Even if those later flicks hadn't come along, the movie's arc would be easy to predict. Obviously, the fakes will discover an inner courage and become real heroes in the process. The arc isn't just predictable, it's problematic as the script is based around a Mexican woman apparently not realizing what a movie is.

As formulaic as “¡Three Amigos!” is, it's easy to overlook some of these flaws. John Landis has talked about his affection for westerns. He actually worked on several, early in his career. Though an undeniably silly take on the genre, the film still provided the director a chance to pay homage to those classic films he loves. This is most apparent in “¡Three Amigos!'s'” visual design. During an especially beautiful sequence, the titular trio recline beneath a gorgeous mat painting of the sun setting over the golden desert. “¡Three Amigos!” luxuriates in the artificiality of classic westerns, in the dream-like way movies reflect reality with cheesy dissolves, fake sets (like a big dungeon that appears in the last act), and exaggerated costumes and props.

That “¡Three Amigos” is so aware of its own movie-ness is fitting. The light-hearted gag comedy is also a homage to early silent cinema. The movie-within-the-movie is a good chance for Landis to indulge his love of outdated cinematic devices. It's a pitch perfect recreation of early serials: The pancake make-up the actors wear, the stilted editing and photography, the tinny musical accompaniment of an in-room piano. The movie's celebration of Hollywood extends to the way it has a trio of actors save the day. The fake lines from the serial are repeated at the end, the “fake” movie reality overtaking the “real” reality. “¡Three Amigos,” goofy as it is, does a good job of depicting how the dreams of fiction reflect on real life.

Whatever motivation the film has behind invoking established cinematic tropes, “¡Three Amigos!” is a comedy and ultimately has the humble goal of making its audience chuckle. In the first half, it definitely succeeds at that goal. The movie gets a lot of mileage out of the central joke, of phonies thrust into a real situation totally unaware of what's happening, The locals in a bar expect the Amigos to be tough guys. All of their totally innocuous gestures are interpreted as threats. Instead they sing and dance in a ridiculous fashion, shocking the bar patrons into stunned silence. Moreover, the heroes have no idea why they are producing this effect in the population. The full absurdity of the set-up hits its stride when Lucky asks El Guapo to repeat a line, which he does matter-of-factly. Because he means it but the good guys don't know that. It's a surprisingly rich comedic device.

Even if a number of different actors were considered for the parts, “¡Three Amigos!” was clearly designed to play to each of its leading men's strengths. Steve Martin plays Lucky Day. The character has a ridiculously misplaced confidence in himself, such as when he calls to his partners with a series of exaggerated bird calls. Yet that mask often slips and shows the vulnerable neurosis underneath, such as when Martin breaks down crying when he realizes they aren't getting paid. Or how he's forced to admit that his tough guy one-liner - “I'll fill you so full of lead, you'll use your dick as a pencil!” – is actually meaningless. Martin's talent for digressive bouts of silliness shows in two brilliant monologues: When he tries to spin their battle against El Guapo into an inspiration speech and an easily missed beat where he attempts to explain democracy to the bandits.

Martin Short was partially an unproven talent before being cast “¡Three Amigos!,” his first movie role. Despite that, Short's comedic persona was already well established. His manic physical energy is often married to a child-like innocence. In one scene, Short generates laughs simply with the unhinged physical expression he makes while tossing a pistol between his hands. Ned tells silly jokes – about “mail” planes – and greatly overestimates how funny the others will find it. Yet perhaps the character's over-exuberance is simply a result of being a big kid. We see that sincere innocence when he talks about starting a charity. Or during a monologue about meeting Dorothy Gish, a long scene that isn't a joke at all but a sincere display of the character's lovable silliness.

Likewise, Chevy Chase is once again playing a variant on his usual type. Dusty Bottoms lacks the know-it-all sarcasm of Fletch or Clark Griswald. Instead, Chase is playing his other type: The buffoon too oblivious to realize he's a buffoon. Some of his best moments are small ones. Like his inability to eat a taco, followed by a hilariously clueless question. Or him reacting to tragedy by asking if anyone has seen his cuff links. Chase does get some of the film's best lines, like an exchange about a kiss or a droll reaction after enjoying his water-filled canteen a little too much. Still, Chase was starting to edge into his “not trying anymore” period here and you can see that. He's not as invested in the physical comedy as he should be. Bits, like his mangled attempts to convince the bandits while undercover, simply fall flat due to his lack of conviction.

As funny as the three lead performers are, “¡Three Amigos'” secret weapon lies in its supporting cast. Alfonso Arau is hilarious as El Guapo. This is one of the better uses of ironic contrast in Landis' films lately. El Guapo is a dangerous criminal. At the same time, he's deeply neurotic. He's insecure enough about his age that he makes his henchman lie about how old he is. His sidekick is observant enough to realize when El Guapo is frustrated with a girl, and matter-of-factly – and amusingly – calls him on it. He's also kind of nerdy, throwing himself a childish birthday and overjoyed when he received a sweater as a gift. The former leads to maybe the film's best line, the endlessly quotable conversation about a plethora of pinatas. Arau is hilariously assured in the part, joyfully letting these two elements – ruthless crime lord, overgrown kid – co-exist.

“¡Three Amigos!” is a silly film to begin with and only grows sillier as it goes on. A likable degree of surrealism slowly bleeds into the film. While traveling through the desert, the guys encounter both a singing bush – they have to clarify that it is the singing bush – and an Invisible Gunfighter. Both of these moments proceed what is maybe the best scene in the movie. While relaxing behind that beautiful mat painting, the guys sing a laid-back cowboy song. The sky and animals get into sync with the music around them, a brilliantly executed scene that concludes with the perfect joke of a talking turtle. This is John Landis returning to “Blues Brothers” territory, as “¡Three Amigos!” is also a musical of sorts. Randy Newman, in addition to co-scripting, provides three correct-to-the-period songs.

Eventually though, as sometimes happens in gag filled comedies, “¡Three Amigos!” runs out of steam. There's a lot of physical comedy in the film. Chae and Martin have a hilarious dance number early on. The Amigos' trademark is an amusingly goofy synchronized salute. There's a law of diminishing returns with this kind of thing though. The trio squeezing onto one donkey or grim Germans happily dancing to mariachi music are decent laughers. As the guys fling around on ropes, scrambled awkwardly up walls, or get tossed around by the kickback of huge guns, the chuckles start to fade. The physical comedy reaches a sweaty, unfunny pitch during a sequence involving a pulley system in a prison cell and an airplane. Afterwards, “¡Three Amigos!” clambers towards its peep-less conclusion. That happens sometimes.

Production on “¡Three Amigos!” was difficult. Chevy Chase, in a display of his by-then notorious ego, often argued with Landis. The star later admitted to Roger Ebert that he hated making the movie. Due to the on-going “Twilight Zone” trial, the director was called away during the film's post-production. During this time, Orion edited the movie without Landis' input. This left a lot of footage cut out, including a lengthy opening scene that introduced El Guapo and an entire subplot involving Fran Drescher. As with Landis' last few films, “¡Three Amigos!” was poorly received by critics but performed decently at the box office. Similar to “Spies Like Us,” fans returned frequently to the movie on cable and video, slowly making it a minor cult classic. I don't like the movie that much – it really drags near the end – but it is a reasonably entertaining comedy with a likable silly streak. [Grade: B-]