Director Report Card: John Landis (1992)

13. Innocent Blood

John Landis is associated with the horror genre, even to the point of appearing on both seasons of “Masters of Horror,” despite only directing a few films in the genre. I guess having the best werewolf movie of all time and the “Thriller” music video on your resume counts for a lot. After directing a comedy flop like “Oscar,” the latest in a line of underwhelming comedies, perhaps Landis wanted to shift gear back to the other genre he's known for. After a vampire flick called “Red Sleep,” meant to star Wayne Newton, fell through, Landis was offered a different vampire script called “Innocent Blood." While the resulting film had few fans in 1992, it's developed a small cult following since.

A sensual French vampire named Marie has recently taken up residence in the “Little Italy” neighborhood of Pittsburgh. Marie has a moral code, exclusively feeding on criminals and cleaning up her tracks after drinking their blood, so as not to spawn more vampires. As she's drinking the blood of mob boss Sal “The Shark” Macelli, she's interrupted. Soon, Sal has risen again as a vampire. Already vicious as a human, the mobster's bloodlust has only grown. He targets Joseph Gennaro, a cop who was undercover with the Macelli family until recently. Gennaro and Marie are forced to team up, in hopes of stopping the vampiric crime lord before he wrecks more havoc.

In certain European markets, “Innocent Blood” was re-titled “A French Vampire in America.” Landis was annoyed by the change but, somewhat inevitably, one can't help but compare the director's later vampire film to his earlier werewolf classic. Both are semi-comedic takes on classic horror concepts, placing gothic monsters in modern cities. Both play with the rules involving these legendary creatures. Both feature steamy love affairs, when not revolving around the monster movie mayhem. The two movies even have similar climaxes, the monster rampaging through a busy public square and causing a bus to crash. The two films are very different but, whether the director intended it or not, “Innocent Blood” definitely feels like a companion piece of sorts to “American Werewolf.”

Another thing “Innocent Blood” has in common with Landis' earlier creature feature is its practically atheistic approaches to the monsters. The film keeps some of the classic powers and weaknesses of vampires but discards others. Marie is repulsed by garlic and her offspring burst into flames in sunlight. Otherwise, most of the other classic vampire weaknesses are not present. Religious iconography have no effect on her. Stakes to the heart are not present, gunshots to the head and twisted necks being more common methods of dispatching the bloodsuckers. These vampires are more vulnerable to modern weapons, though they heal quickly. In fact, they're nearly indestructible. Marie's practicality involving her “meals,” blowing the heads off with a shotgun after she's done drinking, is another way “Innocent Blood” plays with the typical expectations of the vampire genre.

However, there's one pretty big difference between “American Werewolf” and “Innocent Blood.” Unlike Landis' earlier werewolf masterpiece, “Innocent Blood” is never scary. The film attempts to shock the audience, with multiple shots of vampires leaping into frame, brandishing their fangs. (A cheap trick otherwise known as a “jump scare.”) Despite the general lack of scares, “Innocent Blood” does summon a certain sort of fun house spookiness. The story has enough unexpected turns, throwing in more and more creature effects, to keep the audience guessing. The script seems to delight in figuring out more outrageous ways to undo the various vampires. “Innocent Blood” is a fun kind of horror movie, which is easy to enjoy.

“Innocent Blood” doesn't have Rick Baker creating its monster effects. Instead, Steve Johnson – a no less prolific though far less acclaimed effects man – provides the make-up. Johnson and his team does  a pretty good job. Throughout the film, the vampires flash large glowing eyes, an image on the borderland between looking cool and looking silly. The most impressive effects displays happen later in the film. “Innocent Blood's” take on a vampire bursting into films is especially inspired and grisly, the skin crackling like a burning leaf before the body collapses into ash. Later, this idea is expanded on when a vampire is set on fire... Only to stand around and talk for ten minutes, continuing to look like a fresh asteroid as he blazes away. In-between the copious spraying blood – clipped by several seconds to receive an R rating – and bloated corpses, “Innocent Blood” has enough cool creature effects to impress experienced monster fans.

Compared to Landis' last few films, which were all rather bland looking, “Innocent Blood” looks pretty cool too. Among the numerous director's cameos – by now a trademark onto itself – is Dario Argento. It seems Landis was taking a few cues from Dario, as several scenes are highlighted by bright colors. This is especially notable during a fun sequence where multiple vampires are introduced inside a room above a strip club. Landis creates a number of interesting looking shots, such a sequence where Marie climbs atop a chapel and leaps down onto Genreno's car. Or a point-of-view shot of her flying around a church. If nothing else, the comedy director was trying his best to make “Innocent Blood” look more distinctive than many of his later comedies.

“Innocent Blood” isn't as funny as “An American Werewolf in London” either. Which isn't to say the movie doesn't have some laughs. The contrast between tough guy gangster, wholly unprepared to handle their undead transformations, makes for some decent laughs. When Sal awakens in the morgue, he's thoroughly baffled. That confusion continues when the coroner chases after the corpse that just got up off the slab and walked away. Salvotore's newfound love of raw meat also tends to put his former cohorts off. If nothing else, Landis does a much better job of subverting the standard mobster image here than he did in “Oscar.”

The romantic subplot of “Innocent Blood” is definitely in the backseat through most of its run time. The only connection Marie and Genreno have at first is her refusal to eat him, due to his sad eyes. Yet eventually the two are thrown together by fate. It doesn't totally work until the two go back to her apartment. There's enough flirting, surprisingly cute flirting, in this scene to make the audience buy the love scene that follows... A love scene that was far steamier than I anticipated, even involving some light bondage. It may not be a love to last the ages but the physical connection between the two characters is strong enough that the audience is buys their relationship.

“Innocent Blood” is a star vehicle for Anne Parillaud, who was just coming off her break-out role in “Le Femme Nikita.” Parilaud is introduced in the nude but it's not just her exposed beauty that attracts the eye. Parillaud has the right quality necessary for a character like Marie. She is simultaneously a worldly immortal, who is cynical about people and has been alive for a very long time. Yet there's also something innocent about her, Marie having never quite lost her child-like sense of mischief. It's an unlikely combination and one that might've been hard to pull off. Parillaud's ability to balance sexuality, charm, and a wild animal-like instinct makes her perfect for the character.

As good as Parillaud is, she is not the performer that walks away with “Innocent Blood.” Robert Loggia plays Sal. In his first scene, he flies into a rage and beats a guy with a microwave oven. Loggia spends most of the rest of the movie riding that same unhinged note. Yet it's a note he's extremely good at riding. Loggia is sweaty, sneering, vulgar, and unerringly aggressive. And that's all before he becomes a vampire. After becoming one of the undead, Macelli's murderous impulses are totally unleashed, allowing Loggia to take this wild performance to even higher levels. His climatic monologue – performed while on fire! – really has to be seen to be believed.  “Innocent Blood” is fun over all but Loggia deserves a lot of credit for the movie being as entertaining as it is.

Being a story full of colorful gangsters, “Innocent Blood” fills its supporting cast out with beloved characters. Don Rickles gets a rare dramatic role, as Sal's put-upon lawyer. It's pretty interesting seeing the beloved insult comic so effectively playing a man overwhelmed by the craziness happening around him. Tough guy character actors like Chazz Palminteri and Kim Coates are well utilized as different gangster. I wish Luis Guzman and Angela Basset especially were giving a little more to do as some of the supporting cops. Even though he's basically the secondary lead, Anthony LaPaglia seems to fade into the background a bit. I also thought he was Treat Williams for about half of the movie.

Confirming that the director was pretty into this one, “Innocent Blood” is peppered with Landis' trademarks. Aside from Argento, Tom Savini, Sam Raimi and – of course! – Frank Oz all have cameos. Classic genre flicks like “Horror of Dracula” and “Phantom of the Rue Morgue” are glimpsed on TV. “See You Next Wednesday” also puts in a appearance on a background theater marquee. “Innocent Blood” flopped in 1992, continuing Landis' downward slide at the box office. Yet I'm not surprised some genre fans have come to the defense of this one. A fun mash-up of vampire flick and gangster picture, it's a gory and sexy creature thriller kept alive by an entertaining cast. [Grade: B]

Director Report Card: John Landis (1991)

12. Oscar

In the late seventies and early eighties, John Landis directed several classic films. Then he indirectly killed three people. His career rightly took a hit after that but he still managed to finish out the decade with one more definite classic and a few mildly funny films with small cult followings. However, at the start of the nineties, he would direct “Oscar.” This is a movie that would fail with both critics and  audiences. Afterwards, Landis' name would become attached to more and more flops in the coming years. As we look back on his career as a whole, one can't help but wonder: Is “Oscar” that bad? Did it deserve to fail so soundly and begin its director's (perhaps deserved) tumble from the A-list?

Angelo “Snaps” Provolone is one of the most notorious gangsters in 1930s Chicago. As his father lays dying, he makes Angelo promise him that he'll go straight. Several weeks later, Provolone has committed to the decision to end his criminal activities and become a banker. In the course of one day, his life begins to get very complicated. An accountant working for him says he's been stealing from him and that he wants to marry his daughter. Angelo forbids it but his daughter, Lisa, then tells him she's pregnant. (Which is actually a lie, a scheme to get her out of house.) It turns out the accountant isn't in love with Angelos's actual daughter, but another girl who claimed the gangster was her father. Lisa's actual boyfriend, and the presumed father of her non-existent child, is Oscar, Snaps' chauffeur that recently enlisted in the military. This is just the beginning of the screwball entanglements that overtake Provolone's life on this very confusing day.

On paper, John Landis is a reasonable choice to direct a movie like “Oscar.” The film is a throwback to two genres that were popular in the thirties. That would be the screwball comedy, that type of film were goofy misunderstandings pile up in a zippy fashion, the characters constantly having to deal with more contrived silliness. This type of humor is mashed-up with the classic gangster movie, where rough customers in fedoras and fancy suits brandish Tommy gangs and speak in a particular slang. Landis is, of course, a scholar of classic cinema and has shown himself more than capable of emulating vintage film styles. While it's not the greatest joke ever told, contrasting tough guy gangsters with increasingly wacky comedy could lead to laughs.

Something, however, is off. From its opening minutes, “Oscar” informs us that it's a live action cartoon. The film's opening credits play over a stop-motion animated image of an opera singer. Elmer Bernstein's score continues this motif, playing an increasingly frenzied and obnoxious version of “The Barber of Seville” throughout the rest of the movie. The script piles on the contrivances, Angelo's day getting more hectic and more unexpected miscommunications coming his way. Yet the energy so vital to screwball comedy, the breathless zippiness that makes these kind of stories amusing, is missing. Without that sensibility, “Oscar” comes off as more manic and annoying than funny.

“Oscar'” characters are utterly cartoonish too and that is part of the problem. In the best screwball comedies, we relate to and like the characters. The events around them may be nuts and out-of-control but the protagonist are always understandable. In “Oscar,” everyone is wacky. “Snaps” Provolone is pulled between his past as a rumbling gangster and his future as a legitimate businessmen, the two not correlating. His various employees and henchmen are all equally exaggerated stereotypes of old-timey gangsters. His wife is fiery to the point of ridiculousness. The daughter is a bundle of impulsive teenage desires. So on and so forth. There's no “in” into “Oscar's” world, all the characters being too outrageous to relate to or understand.

Further causing laughs to elude “Oscar” is its frequently weak excuse for screwball antics. The movie seems enamored of lame running gags. Throughout its opening half-hour, Angelo is repeatedly called away to new meetings because it's “a matter of life and death.” In hopes of maintaining his new serious image, he repeatedly asks his mobster henchmen not to refer to him as “boss.” More times than I count, a bag that is supposed to contain jewels is overturned, only for ladies' underwear to fall out instead. Even without the limp execution, these probably wouldn't be gut busters. A running gag has to make the audience laugh the first time for it make them laugh on repeat visits, a simple fact “Oscar” can't seem to grasp. 

As I overlook my notes for “Oscar,” I find the movie made me laugh exactly twice. The first occurs after Angelo has told his accountant that the men fitting him for a suit are vicious hitmen. As they proceed to brag about their clothing business, the man assumes they are talking about murder instead. The conversation with two meanings is a reliable gag and it's well executed here, one of the few times “Oscar” builds successfully on the information it has set up before. If that seems unimpressive, the second laugh is even more underwhelming. It occurs when Angelo grabs a chicken leg from his right-hand man, mistaking it for a gun. I can only assume that made me laugh because the image of Sylvester Stallone posing with a  drumstick like it's a pistol is mildly amusing.

At the time of its release, much of the disdain that greeted “Oscar” was directed at its star. One must consider where “Oscar” appeared in Sylvester Stallone's career to understand this. Sly was one of the biggest movie stars of the eighties. The excesses of films like “Rambo III” and “Tango and Cash” were still recent memories. As the eighties started to fade, and cynical Gen-X sarcasm started to dominate the new decade, these kind of over-the-top action fantasies were starting to look rather ridiculous. Perhaps Stallone recognized this and decided to make the leap to intentional comedy. Critics, who rarely liked Stallone's turn towards campy action theatrics, were ready to attack. Mass audiences weren't ready to except the shift in Stallone's persona. (It's notable that his biggest hits that decade were “Cliffhanger” and “Demolition Man,” far more traditionally Stallonian spectacles.) This was after “Rocky V” flopped as well, meaning blood was already in the water.

Yet the truth is, Stallone is the least of “Oscar's” problems. After all, Sly could be very funny in his action movies. And it's not like a grumbly gangster is outside of the guy's wheelhouse either. “Oscar” even has the right idea, to largely utilize Stallone as a straight man against the wackier supporting cast. Yet in a world where everyone is ridiculous, “Snaps” Provolone has to be a very goofy character too. That kind of exaggerated clowning around is a harder fit for Sly, who doesn't seem entirely comfortable when performing with broad gags. (Such as when one of his enforcers removes a growing number of weapons from his jacket, a joke better suited to a Z.A.Z. style parody.) At the very least, “Oscar” doesn't resort to humiliating its star the way “Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot!” did, the even bigger comedy misfire Stallone would star in the next year.

What's stranger about the lack of laughs in “Oscar,” or how off-putting many of its characters are, is how utterly stacked the supporting cast is. There's a lot of actors in this movie that are funny people. Tim Curry plays Angelo's foppish dialect couch. Harry Shearer is one of the suit makers. Don Ameche is a priest, Kurtwood Smith is a cop spying on “Snaps,” and Marisa Tomei is the impulsive daughter. Yvonne De Carlo and Arleen Sorkin have smaller parts. Some of these performers even come close to being funny. Tim Curry is always a welcomed presence and attacks his painfully unfunny dialogue with enough gusto that it almost makes it funny. The same could be said with Smith, who is very good at reacting with bafflement to the things happening around him. (“Oscar” probably would've been funnier if it had been about those cops, honestly.) Tomei is entertaining, even if the material she's given is too wretched to be funny. The script just lets them all down.

“Oscar” is, in fact, not the first time this material was approached. The movie is a remake of a 1967 French film of the same name, which was itself adapted from a stage play. Those stage bound roots are still obvious. Much of the movie takes place in only a few in-door locations, with most of the scenes being devoted to characters talking to one another. Maybe that's part of the problem too. John Landis' films were once extremely well edited and directed, the visual presence of the film contributing to the comedy. The energy required to make zaniness of this level work is at odds with “Oscar's” built-in staginess. And Landis could have done more to make the material more cinematic.

Then again, I don't know how plugged into his films John was at this point in his career. The trademarks that define his best films – a sarcastic disregard for authority, likable bonds between male characters – are almost totally absent here. A group of greedy bankers, one of which is played by William “Dickless” Atheron, is mocked throughout several senses. If that was a bigger part of the movie, I might be able to credit “Oscar” with some anti-authority subtext. But it's really not. As for the bromances, everyone in “Oscar” is so exaggerated, you can't recognize much human emotion. Worst yet, nobody even says “See you next Wednesday!”

At the beginning of this review, I asked if “Oscar” was as bad as its reputation implies. The movie isn't really aggressively bad. It's more mediocre than anything else, with potentially funny moments and characters badly mishandled by an off-center tone. It's certainly a little less embarrassing than some of Stallone's other misfires. Then again, what bigger crime can a comedy commit than not being funny? As with some of Landis' other flops, the director has expressed some fondness for the film. (Though he also noted that Al Pacino was originally intended to star, yet I can't imagine that would have made the movie much better.) I can't share those feelings, as so much about the movie just doesn't work. [Grade: C-]

Director Report Card: John Landis (1988)

11. Coming to America  

While neither “Spies Like Us” nor “¡Three Amigos!' were full-blown bombs, they weren't huge hits either. It was clear that John Landis' reputation had been unquestionably, rightly stained by the “Twilight Zone” tragedy. According to Eddie Murphy, he felt bad for Landis and specifically sought him out to direct his next movie. The director and star feuded throughout filming of “Coming to America.” Murphy says Landis was an asshole. Landis says Eddie was an egomaniac. Regardless of how production went, “Coming to America” would become a massive money-maker. While Murphy's then-status as one of the biggest stars in the world probably had a lot to do with that, “Coming to America” is still warmly regarded as a classic of eighties comedy.

Akeem Joffer is the crown prince of Zamunda, a fabulously wealthy African country. He lives a charmed life but finds a world where literally everything is done for him dissatisfying. He's especially disinterested in the arranged marriage his royal parents have planned. Akeem wants to find true love. He decides to begin this journey in America, choosing the Queens neighborhood of New York City. He arrives in the city with his royal assistant/best friend Semmi, pretending to be a poor student and finding work at a fast food joint. Akeem soon falls for Lisa, the intelligent daughter of his boss. However, winning Lisa's heart – and outrunning his royal destiny – may be more difficult then first thought.

Perhaps there's another reason why Murphy chose Landis to direct “Coming to America.” The director had almost come to specialize in fish-out-of-water stories by this point. “American Werewolf in London,” “Trading Places,” “Spies like Us,” and “¡Three Amigos!” all contained elements of that well-worn story device. “Coming to America” belongs to this tradition as well. Going from the world of royalty to the rough streets of Queens is quite a culture shock. Landis was a fitting choice to direct for another reason. If “Trading Places” was a homage to classic screwball comedies, “Coming to America” is a throwback to romantic comedies of the same era. Landis' ability to update classic formulas for modern audiences was clearly well used in both films.

The real reason “Coming to America” works is because its lead character is so damn likable. Despite his royal upbringing, Akeem has no pretensions. He is kind and courteous. He welcomes everyone with a open and grateful heart, if they be the deadbeat landlord or nutty barbers he encounters in the city. No matter how meager the circumstances he finds himself in the city, he tries to make the best of them. He genuinely wants the best for Lisa and feels bad about any deception. He's also an awkward dork, in scenes where his cluelessness about city living are shown or when he attempts to make small talk with Lisa's dad. Murphy discards his usual smart-ass act, instead using all his charm to create a genuine and kind-hearted fellow.

Another reason “Coming to America” is successful is because of how well balanced its script is. There's a reason screenwriting classes the world over teach the three act structures. It's immensely satisfying when it works. Events set up earlier – Akeem and Semmi's training sessions, the misunderstanding with his dad concerning the purpose of his journey – all pay off perfectly in the film. These events build upon other things happening in the film, such as Akeem further earning Lisa's respect or providing a proper dramatic motivation needed in the last act. In comedy, a genre where laughs are sometimes valued more than story, it's nice to see a film that puts so much effort into creating a well-executed story.

That is except for one flaw that causes the movie to end on a somewhat sour note. Lisa learns that Akeem is a prince, after the two fathers have a talk. He comes to her in a grungy subway and the two have a heart-to-heart, the prince throwing himself on her mercy in a very genuine manner, an emotional sequence that works beautifully. After that... “Coming to America” skips ahead to the end. We never see the two reconcile, the pay-off of their emotional conflict never playing out on screen. It's an odd screenwriting choice, that leaves “Coming to America” concluding on a note that feels somewhat incomplete.

The opening scene of “Coming to America” depicts something rarely seen in American cinema. We see black faces, black bodies in a position of cultural power. The Joffer regime is so prosperous, they can afford every ridiculous comfort you can imagine. Like a pet elephant, that Murphy graciously pets in one sequence. As a pasty white dude from the suburbs, I'm probably not the best person to speak about this. But it seems important to me that a film put this kind of fantasy up on-screens and tailor it specifically to black audiences. (And, of course, it's a fantasy as the film does not invite us to think about how absurdly rich kingdoms like the Joffers make that money.) “Black Panther” touched on something similar a few years ago and I can only imagine how much more surprising it must've been thirty years earlier.

Once the story arrives in Queens, “Coming to America” does something else that John Landis has been good about in his other movies. That's establishing a sense of time and place. Not long after finding their apartment in Queens, Akeem and Semmi buy clothes from a shop. They step out in baseball caps and puffy jackets adorn with oversized buttons and pins. For those that weren't there, this gives you a really good idea of what fashion was popular at the time. The focus on city life is further emphasized throughout much of the movie. New York City doesn't look like this anymore, making “Coming to America” a time capsule in more ways than one. It's interesting to see and adds a lot of personality to the film too.

During pre-production on “Coming to America,” John Landis convinced Eddie Murphy that make-up master Rick Baker could make him into an old Jewish man. (As blow-back against the vaudeville community's history of blackface.) Murphy didn't believe him, was put in the make-up, went around the back lot, and was surprised that nobody recognized him. This encouraged Murphy to have Baker turn him into a number of other characters. This leads to a number of brilliant scene, where Murphy allows his versatile skills as an impersonator to be stretched. He's hilarious as a loud-mouthed barber, an amusingly acerbic old Jewish guy, and as the leader singer of a soul band that greatly overestimates his own talent. At this point in his career, Eddie Murphy was so talented and funny that he literally couldn't be contained to one character per film.

If Murphy is perfect in the lead role, his sidekick is also ideally cast. Arsenio Hall was only making his second cinematic appearance here, after first appearing in Landis' “Amazon Women on the Moon” segments. He proves to be a very confident comedic performer. As Semmi, he's a hilarious counterpart to the always-optimistic Akeem, being more annoyed and critical of the situation he's in. Hall also gets to hear several elaborate make-ups, playing different characters. The best of which is a pastor who can barely disguise his not-so-pastorly intentions. (Though the sequence of him in drag, disgusting the two guys, has obviously aged very poorly.)

Hall is just the most notable member of an accomplished supporting cast. John Amos is frequently hilarious as Mr. McDowells, Akeem's practically-minded employer. Amos is extremely good at delivering absurd dialogue in perfectly dry manner. James Earl Jones is, of course, highly dignified as the king of Zamunda. Even better is when Jones has a chance to subvert that image with a wild line or two. Shari Headley is so very charming as Lisa, so that it's easy to see why Akeem is so immediately smitten with her. Louie Anderson is well used as a co-worker, his particular delivery being well utilized in his few scenes. Even though he wasn't a star yet, Sameul L. Jackson brings the uniquely Samuel L. Jackson-esque energy to his small role.

Simply put, “Coming to America” is a really funny film. Whether you want to give Murphy or Landis credit, the film has so many wonderfully goofy and sharp gags. Look at the “Soul Glo” commercial, which exaggerates the real tropes of eighties commercial to such an absurd level, that it makes all the real commercial look ridiculous by association. (The drippy Jheri curl then becomes a running gag, that crops back up at several choice moments.) Similarly, the ridiculous opulence of life in the Zamunda palace is funny for its obvious ridiculousness. The film then subverts what it's already set up, when flower girls are forced to walk faster or slowly exit a room. “Coming to America's” comedic spirit is so perfectly executed that even gags that should be hoary – an animal reaction shot, New Yorkers being rude – become much funnier than they otherwise would've been.

Then again, maybe I shouldn't give Landis or Murphy much credit. “Coming to America” was the subject of a notable intellectual property lawsuit. Author Art Buchwald claimed that Paramount previously optioned a treatment he wrote for a similar story. Even though it seems like his idea was more-or-less used for the finished movie, Buchwald's name mysteriously disappeared. The studio settled out-of-court. Whatever its origins, “Coming to America” is really damn good. So good, that I'm even kind of looking forward to the thirty-three years later sequel still currently set to come out in December. Even if the switcharoo premise, which would see Akeem's son coming to Zamunda, is pretty lazy, I like these characters enough to want to spend more time with them. [Grade: A-]

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-]

Director Report Card: John Landis (1985) Part Two

9. Spies Like Us

Supposedly in the early eighties, while appearing on the talk show “Today,” Dan Aykroyd said he was working on a movie where he and John Belushi would play spies together. Like many projects, this one would be thrown into disarray by Belushi's sudden death. Unlike most of those doomed would-be films, Aykroyd would revive the idea. Another “Saturday Night Live” alum, Chevy Chase, would be slotted into the second lead role. Presumably because he had already made two successful buddy movies with him, John Landis was drafted to direct. I'm guessing Landis was still eager to keep working after the “Twilight Zone” deaths. “Spies Like Us” would roll into theaters a mere nine months after “Into the Night.”

The Cold War continues to simmer. An ICBM launcher rolls through the Soviet mountains. The Defense Intelligence Agency sends a duo of spies behind enemy's line to capture the bomb. However, for the mission to be a success, they need a decoy team to draw attention away from the real deal. Two underachieving agents are recruited for this purpose. The first is Emmett Fitz-Humes, a pencil-pushing slacker. The second is Austin Millbarge, a genius code breaker who is hated by his superiors. Both are selected while at a foreign service exam, where Emmett tries to cheat and Austin is given no time to prepare. Soon, they are dropped overseas into the middle east, with no idea what they are getting themselves into. However, the duo stumbles into a real adventure.

In an interview with Mick Garris, years after the fact, John Landis expressed an one-time desire to make a James Bond movie. I like to think “Spies Like Us” was a chance for the filmmaker to kind of fulfill that dream. The comedy does feature some machine gun shoot-outs and explosions, as well as beautiful enemy agents being bedded. The last third of the movie features high-tech gadgets and big laser beams being bounced around an abandoned movie theater. There's multiple shots of satellites and missiles in orbit around the Earth, which remind me a little bit of “You Only Live Twice.” If nothing else, brief moments like this give you an idea of what a Landis-directed Bond flick might look like.

However, 007 is not the main source of inspiration here. “Spies Like Us” was largely intended as a homage to the Bob Hope and Bing Crosby “Road to...” movies. Bob Hope even stops by for a cameo, knocking a golf ball through a tent, that makes zero sense unless you understand the reference. Those classic comedies would slot Bob and Bing into popular genres of the day, like sailor movies or jungle adventures. It's easy to imagine “Spies Like Us” being “Road to Moscow,” dropping the two into a spy narrative. As in those films, the script is a fairly loose affair, largely built around goofy gags, that sees our heroes traveling across several different countries and locations. The “Road” movies often featured call-outs and references to other Hollywood flicks, which was already something John Landis did anyway.

Throughout John Landis' movies have always been this sense that authority figures, whether those are cops or college deans, are all full of shit. In “Spies Like Us,” that belief is extended to the top officials inside our government agencies. The guys who recruit Emmett and Austin are shifty, lying and manipulating everyone around them to further their own goals. As “Spies Like Us” nears it conclusion, even higher ranking officials reveals themselves as totally willing to bring about the nuclear apocalypse, wiping out million of lives, rather than fess up to the mistakes that have been made.

More than anything else, “Spies Like Us” is a big, goofy gag comedy. This becomes apparent very early on. After parachuting into a secret location, our heroes are confronted by back-flipping ninjas who chop down trees. That's your first clue that this movie is essentially a live action cartoon. A series of silly jokes – involving centrifuge, faces getting stuck that way, planes dropping to the ground, and flame throwers – follow in quick succession. Like “Rambo III,” this is another eighties Hollywood production that sees American heroes teaming up with Afghani freedom fighters. That subplot concludes with an extremely silly sequence of horseback soldiers chasing the guys as they flee in a truck. There's expected bits about mistranslated language and unexpected bits about Russian spies who look like clean-cut guys in cardigans. “Spies Like Us” keeps things silly and loose throughout. By the time our heroes are pretending to be aliens, the audience is totally settled in with its cartoonish tone.

Through it all, “Spies Like Us” does generate laughs fairly consistently. The exam sequence has Chevy Chase cheating in increasingly ridiculous, obvious ways, the absurdity growing as the minutes go by. Once Emmett and Austin's spy adventure begins, the film digs into that old structure of a fish out of water. A set-up, where the guys have to pretend to be surgeons, amusingly has the two attempting to move forward with no clue of what they are doing what hoping not to alert those around them. Once on the Russian side of the border, the heroes end up mingling with the Soviet soldiers in an amusingly off-handed manner. None of these gags are all-time greats but they are reliable chucklers, which count for something.

In 1985, Chevy Chase's career as a bankable leading man hadn't yet flatlined. In fact, Chase was just coming off of “Fletch,” one of his biggest and most iconic hits. As in that film, Chase is playing very much to type here. Emmett is essentially a conman, slacking his way through his job and cheating when he's required to do anything more than that. Throughout, Chase gets chances to deliver multiple sarcastic one-liners. Snide comments about bands, guys having swords, or his discovery of a rock are pretty funny. Chase hadn't yet gotten complacent and was still able to inject some smart-ass energy into his acting, making for a frequently amusing role here.

If Chevy Chase is very much playing a Chevy Chase type, Dan Aykrody is similarly playing to type. Austin is a socially awkward nerd, with occasional burst of genius. Despite his off-beat personality, he still knows how to wiggle his way out of a tight situation. Such as how he stalls for time during that attempted surgery. Like a lot of Aykroyd character, he also inexplicably ends up in bed with a beautiful woman. (In the film, it's softcore princess Vanessa Angel and, in real life, it was co-star Donna Dixon.) Even if Chase gets most of the one-liners, Dan still gets off a couple of solid jokes. Such as the revolving circle of doctors greeting each other or his perfectly deadpan reaction to a question about dickfurs.

It works out that Chase and Aykroyd are playing so closely to type. The audience, familiar with both performers, immediately latch onto their established on-screen personas. This is a good thing because, otherwise, their characters aren't developed much. In fact, “Spies Like Us” never devotes much time to how its duo became friends. For no discernible reason, Austin decides to help Emmett cheat on his exam and, after that, they are best buddies. It feels like some scenes were deleted, that showed the two guys growing closer to each other. Otherwise, this is a buddy movie where the buddies never seem that close. This is far from “Spies Like Us'” only flaw. Like many eighties flick, the hero's flirting plays as nothing but sexual harassment in a modern context. But it's probably the biggest issue.

As is the tradition by now, John Landis pulled together a solid supporting cast for this silly movie. Bernie Casey plays the guys' instructor at boot camp. Casey, super stern with an action hero's capacity for violence, makes for a strong straight man to the goofball heroes. Bruce Davidson is amusingly obnoxious as the agent that cooks up the scheme. The way he dismisses someone as an idiot made me chuckle. Steve Forrest plays General Sline, the military officer perfectly okay with the world ending. Forrest keeps a totally straight face as his character grows increasingly unhinged, a good example of an authority who totally buys into his own bullshit. Dixon is a bit disappointing as Chase's love interest, given little else to do besides look lovely. Landis, of course, includes a number of cameos. Keep an eye open and you'll spot B.B. King, Sam Raimi, Larry Cohen, Terry Giliam, and Ray Harryhausen.

“Spies Like Us” isn't just a movie. It was also a hit single by Paul McCarthney, that went all the way to #7 on the Billboard charts. That McCarthy was hooked into writing the movie's theme song confirms the Bond connection. The song itself is fairly terrible, McCarthney at the doldrums of his eighties output. It features a meandering structure that awkwardly mashes together three different musical styles, including a halting sort of pseudo-rap. There's big chunky synth chords and some of McCarthney's most phoned-in lyrics. Perhaps in an attempt to recreate the success of “Thriller,” Landis would direct a music video too. It features Chase and Aykroyd watching Paul sing and dance in the studio, along with several mildly disturbing shots of the guys ripping away “Mission: Impossible” style hyper realistic latex masks of each other's faces. What I'm saying is it really needed some dancing zombies.

”Spies Like Us” opened to mediocre notices from critics but decent box office, allowing Landis' career to bounce back after “Into the Night's” failure. (I wonder if critics would have reacted differently if the original ending, where the world ended in a “Dr. Strangelove”-style rain of nuclear fire, had been maintained.) Over the years, likely because of countless cable screenings, the movie has acquired a reputation of a minor classic. Among a certain crowd, just dropping a quote from the movie will produce a smile and a nod of recognition. There was even a whole “Family Guy” episode built around referencing the movie. “Spies Like Us” made me laugh several times, which is all you can really ask for from a comedy. None of the jokes linger in the memory very long and it gives the impression of a tossed-off, low effort work from all involved. Go in with low expectations and you'll probably enjoy yourself. [Grade: B-]

Director Report Card: John Landis (1985) Part One

8. Into the Night

The tragic incident on the set of the “Twilight Zone” movie should have ended John Landis' career. Instead, his friends at Universal Studios – especially Sean Daniel, the company's president – rallied around him. Production started quickly enough on a new film, a thriller with comedy elements called “Into the Night.” Three weeks into filming, Landis was called away to stand trial for manslaughter. What the hell was the studio going to do if he had gone to jail? That didn't happen but, perhaps, there is some karmic justice in the universe after all. “Into the Night' would become the first big flop of Landis' career.

Ed Okin, a middle-age engineer, can't sleep for some reason. He feels a lack of satisfaction with his life. After discovering his wife is cheating on him, he goes for a late night drive. Driving to the airport, about to leave Las Vegas on a friend's recommendation, something unexpected happens. A beautiful woman named Diana, pursued by mysterious Iranian hitmen, leaps into his car. The two are soon pursued through Los Angeles by the men. Diana, it turns out, is an amateur jewel smuggler and has been drawn into an international conspiracy. Ed, quite unexpectedly, is pulled along on an adventure that will change his life.

“Into the Night' is one of those tiresome narratives about a mediocre white man having a mid-life crisis. Ed, by all accounts, has his shit together. Dude is married, with a nice home and a comfortable job. Yet, for whatever reason, he feels utterly empty inside presumably because he has no real problems in his life. Naturally, the movie introduces a series of events that will sweep him away on a wacky adventure, making him a hero, and earning him the love of a beautiful woman. The script was by Ron Koslow, best known for creating the “Beauty and the Beast” TV series. He's written at least three other movies about people having existential crises, so I guess this was his things. This kind of facile wish fulfillment story can't help but come off as the desperate pleading of a boring guy who, I don't know, should just have an affair instead.

In order to justify its set-up, “Into the Night” cooks up a needlessly convoluted plot. It starts out simply enough. Diana is being chased by some bad dudes, working for the nationally recognized enemy-of-America at the time. It starts out simple enough, with the reveal that she's smuggling some priceless crown jewels. From there, more false leads and entanglements are introduced. Eventually, three different parties, possibly in the employ of different nebulous forces, are after her. Unrelated outside individuals get caught up in the crossfire. It's all an awful lot to keep track of and the script eventually collapses under its own weight.

There's another big difference between “Into the Night” and John Landis' earlier movies. It's not funny. The film has elements in it that seem like they should be jokes. Diane's brother is an Elvis impersonator, his apartment covered with memorabilia and his car painted in a similarly ostentatious manner. It's silly but the movie never uses this absurd situation to generate any laughs, just putting the weirdness up on the screen. Similarly, there are multiple drawn-out scenes of the Iranians tearing up a fancy yacht, which feels like it should be some sort of excessive joke. Instead, no punch line ever comes. There's a lot of moments like that in “Into the Night,” absurd situations that never generate any laughs. I'm not even sure if they are meant to be jokes.

There are some laughs in “Into the Night,” brief though they may be. The funniest moment feels almost thrown in, simply for the heck of it. While hanging out on a film set, Ed makes repeated attempts to lean against various props. Each one collapses against him. It's an amusing bit of physical comedy, making good use of Jeff Goldblum's ability to react to events around him with increasing befuddlement. The group of Iranian hitmen get one or two decent gags to themselves, such as the direct way they open some pistachios while sitting or a waiting room. Or the way they are stymied by simple things like a toll gate or locked door. Other than these brief moments, the laughs simply never come.

Maybe the reason “Into the Night” doesn't work as a comedy because the tone is off. This is a violent movie. Ed comes across four bodies littered across a floor, their throats slashed. In the last act, numerous people are bloodily gunned down, the squips exploding graphically. The film even stops at one point to linger on a minor female character being drowned to death. The violence in “An American Werewolf in London” was sudden and intense but with a reason. Here, the severity of the death scenes come off as needlessly mean-spirited. In light of what was going on in John Landis' life at the time, it even feels distasteful. (The director himself gets gorily gunned down in a hail of gunfire, a choice I can only ponder about the motivation behind.) The movie even kills a dog for no reason, seemingly treating that like a punchline in of itself.

“Into the Night” was made during that brief period when Jeff Goldblum was a commercially viable leading man. Occasionally, Goldblum displays flashes of brilliance throughout “Into the Night's” overlong run time. When stalling for time in the last act, he distracts the bad guys by delivering a series of increasingly bizarre job descriptions. In that scene, you can see the oddball glee in Goldblum's eyes that would make him a living meme thirty years later. Throughout most of the movie though, Goldblum seems more dazed than anything else. He perhaps does too good of a job of playing a man suffering through soul-draining ennui.

Starring opposite Goldblum is Michelle Pfeiffer, in her first big role after “Scarface.” Pfeiffer is, easily, one of the highlights of “Into the Night.” There's a moment, in-between the various shoot-outs and car chases, where Ed and Diane get a quiet moment in a diner. The two bond over some banana split sundaes. You see the sparkle in Pfeiffer's crystal blue eyes, the gleam in that dynamite smile. She's absolutely charming. She also has the kind of vulnerability that is irresistible, which is good for a character who spends the entire movie imperiled by one set of bad guys or another. When you see the combination of qualities Pfeiffer has here, easily rising above the mediocre material, you wonder why she wasn't an even bigger star.

Landis and his team gathered together an eclectic blend of actors, for the various supporting roles. Dan Aykroyd appears earlier on, as a friend of Ed's, and gets prominent billing. You'd think he'd play a bigger role but, after that one scene, he's never seen again. Clu Gallagher is typically blustery as a FBI agent hat shows up near the end. Bruce McGill reappears from “Animal House,” this time playing the Elvis-obsessed brother. He doesn't get to display the same comedic energy he showed there. Most prominently, two musician appear in notable roles. David Bowie has a brilliantly entertaining role as a rival hitman, pulling off a unique mix of charm and threatening. He gets into a knife fight with Carl Perkins while “Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein” plays in the background, a truly bizarre sequence of events.

These are not the only examples non-actors appearing in the film. Landis packs “Into the Night's” minor supporting roles with director friends of his. At times, the movie feels like a game of Who's Who for movie nerds. Roger Vadim and Paul Mazursky even have prominent roles as characters part of the film's tangled conspiracy. David Cronenberg, a year before directing Goldblum in “The Fly,” appears as his boss here. Jack Arnold is the man with the dead dog, Paul Bartel is a hotel doorman, Jim Henson is a man talking on a phone Amy Heckerling is a clumsy waitress, and those are just the most obvious ones. Apparently Jonathan Demme and Don Siegal, among many others, are in there somewhere too. Some have theorize that all these cameos exist because Landis' friends and colleagues were gathering around him during his difficult time. If that's true, it honestly might make me like some filmmakers I respect less...

I have no idea what attracted John Landis to this material, as the script contains few of the trademarks I associate with his work. It doesn't have the peppy editing and pacing that characterized his earlier comedies. You can see some of his trademarks here. There's some establishing shots of Los Angeles and Vegas, perhaps an attempt to establish a sense of place like in “Trading Places.” “See You Next Wednesday” is spotted briefly in the background. B.B. King is on the soundtrack, though the synth-laden theme song has to be among his weaker songs. (Landis directed three King music videos that tied into the film, two of which feature cameos from Goldblum, Pfiefer, Aykroyd, Steve Martin and Eddie Murphy.) There's also plenty of gratuitous nudity.

Otherwise, I'm really not sure why John Landis wanted to make “Into the Night.” Maybe he was just happy to get any job at all, after killing two kids and a beloved character actor. The movie, on account of not being very good, earned poor reviews and apathetic box office.  Despite the film's seeming disconnect with the rest of his output, the director is apparently fond of it. He's defended it a few times over the years. Many were baffled then by just how much “Into the Night” simply doesn't work. I still think that's true. There's something deeply off about “Into the Night,” the movie's many elements all seeming at odds with each other. [Grade: C-]

Director Report Card: John Landis (1983)

7. Trading Places

In 1982, John Belushi died of a fatal drug overdoes. His hard partying ways had finally caught up with him but the entertainment world mourned the loss of a great talent. Yet the same show that brought Belushi to fame, “Saturday Night Live,” would also birth another great star in the early eighties. After becoming popular on the sketch comedy show, Eddie Murphy would co-star with Dan Aykroyd in a John Landis film, much like Belushi did before him. The three would collaborate on “Trading Places.” Originally conceived for Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor, it would instead become another early success for Murphy and another iconic comedy hit for its director.

Louis Winthorpe and Billy Ray Valentine could not be more different. Winthorpe is the manager in the employ of Randolph and Mortimer Duke, two obscenely wealthy commodity brokers. He lives a life of refinement, with his money and high society girlfriend. Valentine is a homeless con man, who pretends to be a double amputee blind veteran to panhandle for cash. After a chance encounter between the two, the Duke brothers decide to make a wager. One brother believes success is entirely genetic, while the other thinks circumstances plays a role. So they ruin Louis' life, framing him for theft and drug dealing, stripping away his entire fortune. They grab up Valentine and teach him how to be a commodity dealer. Soon, Louis is living with a hooker and plotting murderous revenge, while Billy Ray adapts to the rich life with ease. However, the two men cross paths again and realize they've both been screwed by the Dukes, deciding to take revenge.

“Trading Places” largely concerns itself with the idea of nature vs. nurture, a debate people have been arguing about for hundreds of years. It's pretty clear which side of that argument the film comes down on. His riches and life of luxury being torn away leaves Louis a broken mess. When given all the opportunities money can provide in America, Billy prospers. The film exaggerates this idea for comedic effect. Within the span of weeks, Louis is a drunken Santa Claus grunting nonsensically while stealing whole plates full of food. A degree of fish-out-of-water humor arises from Valentine's initial induction into his new life, an inspired gag involving a vase. Yet he's soon chastising his old friends for their behavior in his new house. Though it plays these changes for laughs, “Trading Places” clearly makes its point.

Yet the film is truly not too concerned with the age-old question of nature vs. nurture. A life of disadvantages leading someone to desperate decisions is almost self-evident. Instead, “Trading Places” targets the rich and powerful. The Duke brothers are cartoonishly evil. They treat other people's lives like a game. As ridiculously rich as they both are, it's still not enough for them, as they plot throughout the film to make themselves even more money. Louis' friends are no better. The minute he falls on hard times, they – including his fiance – abandon him. The message is clear: If you're not part of the elite class, the rich don't even see you as human. Oh, and did I mention that this is a Christmas movie, this story of greed playing out against the season of giving and consumerism?

This, secretly, makes “Trading Places” a hugely prescient film. The original script was entitled “Black and White.” In a revealing moment, one of the Duke brothers drops a racist epitaph. That makes it astoundingly clear that the lower class that the rich dismiss obviously includes any one who isn't white. Billy ended up in jail by simply walking into a rich, white man. The cops, of course, believe Louis' story over Valentine's, the black man being accused of a serious crime simply by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The film presents a world in which racist old white guys operate under a philosophy of unfettered greed and needless cruelty. It is, in fact, our world. By humiliating this system, John Landis makes his most anti-authoritarian film yet. It was subversive in 1983 and, as things have gotten worst, has only become more relevant.

Putting all politics aside, “Trading Places” is also valuable for showing the world how damn funny Eddie Murphy could be. The film proves definitively that Murphy knew how to deliver the hell out of a line. Simple little moments – a glance in a bathroom, a series of questions to a limo driver – are turned into huge laughs by Murphy's smart-ass delivery. Murphy is perfectly cast as a con man, as someone who can outsmart most anyone with his sheer gumption and guile. Murphy was also an incredible physical performer. Whether it's playing the part of a limbless vet or a Camaroon exchange student, or the way he steals stuff that is technically his, Murphy reveals a smooth confidence in his abilities. He's frequently hilarious, perfectly suited to the part.

Dan Aykroyd is equally well cast as Louis Winthorpe. As displayed in “The Blues Brothers,” Aykroyd's particular ability, always slightly off-beat and stiff, makes him an ideal straight man. That inherent weirdness makes him well suited to stuck-up rich guy, who seems like he's from a different world because he basically is. Watching that facade of civility crumble as Louis suffers one misfortune after another also reveals Aykroyd's fearlessness as a comedic performer. He has no problem letting a little dog piss on him or pocketing a slice of roast beef. I'm surprised Akyroyd and Murphy didn't do more films together, as their energy compliment each other so well.

Presumably after working together on “Coming Soon,” Jamie Lee Curtis would re-team with John Landis here. From a certain perspective, it's not the most flattering of parts. Curtis' Ophelia is a stereotypical Hooker with a  Heart of Gold. She lets Louis into her apartment, out of sheer kindness. Though we never actually see them get sexual, it's heavily implied the two are sleeping together soon enough. She doesn't do drugs or have a pimp – the “distasteful” parts of being a sex worker, I guess – and is smartly saving her money. Especially from a modern perspective, this is an embarrassing reductive roles, both objectified and put on a pedestal. Yet you can hardly care about that stuff because Curtis is so damn charming. No wonder Louis falls in love with Ophelia. Who wouldn't?

Backing up these three wonderfully effective leads is an equally strong supporting cast. Two cinema legends play the Duke brothers, Ralph Bellamy and Don Ameche. Both are nicely relaxed in the roles of unrepentant greedy old snobs. Ameche is even sort of likable, with a gleeful spark in his smile, even if he's playing a totally despicable character. Bellamy is more self-assured in his greed, which is ideal for the part. Also quietly hilarious is Denholm Elliot as Coleman, Winthorpe's butler. The contempt with which he regards his boss, quietly shown through snide asides. As Coleman becomes a participant in the scheme to defraud the Duke brothers, Elliot's performance happily goes to even more ridiculous levels. Paul Gleason is also nicely cast as the Dukes' henchman, the actor having no problem playing a huge asshole to the hilt.

In many ways, “Trading Places” has aged really well. Its politics couldn't be more relevant in the modern day. Even its racial elements are less clumsy than you'd imagine. Valentine is never a stereotype. Even the goofy supporting characters of color are funny more because of absurd gags, like the burly black guy who only says “Yeah!” Landis, being a sexploitation filmmaker at heart, can't help but get as much gratuitous nudity in the film. Yet one scene, in particular, has aged really badly. During the extended confidence act in the film's last third, Dan Aykroyd dons black face, a dreadlocks wig, and an embarrassing Jamaican accent. Yep, there's just no getting around that. It's awkward, to say the least. I wish I could say it fits into an overall feeling of absurdity within the film but, even playing by the world of 'Trading Places'” own rules, it feels out-of-place.

“Trading Places” generates most of its laugh from great comedians knowing their way around clever dialogue and increasingly silly situations. In its last third, that goofy streak goes to previously unseen level. That unfortunate moment of black face is part of a whole series of cultural stereotypes displayed in quick succession. That also involves an obnoxiously broad Jim Belushi, appearing in a minor role most probably meant to be played by his late brother. The calculatingly broad physical comedy and disguises climaxes with Paul Gleason being raped by a gorilla. Which would be offensive if the entire situation wasn't so ridiculous. The gorilla even makes goo-goo eyes at the disguised bad guy, as if the sequence couldn't get anymore cartoonish.

“Trading Places” is set in Philadelphia. They provides another ironic layer to the story, the premise of men being betrayed for greedy reasons playing out against the City of Brotherly Love. Landis sets up both the theme of class division and the urban location with the opening montage, which contrasts the soup kitchens, adult bookstores, and pawn shops with the fine dining and fancy nightclubs. This gives us an idea of the two worlds the film occupies, which are also the two worlds the city is made up of. The sweaty and gritty streets provide gives us a sense of Billy's world, while the bustle of the trading floor and the fancy clubs tells us what Louis is about.

Though he didn't write “Trading Places,” John Landis thoroughly makes the material his own. There's the aforementioned gorilla. Bo Diddly has a cameo as a pawn shop owner. “See You Next Wednesday” appears in the background, as some sort of melodrama. The soundtrack, when not focusing on Elmer Bernstein's classical-influenced (and Oscar nominated) score, is filled out with golden oldies. Despite getting a little too goofy for its own good in its last act, and loosing sight of its own moral a bit with that final scene, “Trading Places” is a satisfying and often hilarious comedy. Audiences in 1983 agreed. It would become the fourth highest grossing film of the year, quickening Eddie Murphy's ascent towards superstar status. [Grade: B]