Smokey and the Bandit (1977) [Special Edition] – DVD

*/**** Image B Sound B+ (DD)/A (DTS) Extras B
starring Burt Reynolds, Sally Field, Jerry Reed, Jackie Gleason
screenplay by James Lee Barrett and Charles Shyer & Alan Mandel
directed by Hal Needham

by Travis Mackenzie Hoover One thing is inescapably true: Smokey and the Bandit was not aimed at people like me. Only the most casual, least demanding filmgoer need apply to this good-ol'-boy version of Vanishing Point–people with as much beer in them as possible, ready to laugh at cheap jokes and root for a speed demon. They are welcome to the movie, but the fact remains that anyone with even a scintilla of interest in film as art is pretty much left out in the cold. As I can hear a mountain of e-mail forming denouncing me for my perceived elitism, let me be perfectly clear: anyone in the market for Burt Reynolds driving fast and making Jackie Gleason apoplectic will find this the sort of thing that they like.

The barest hint of a set-up involves Big Enos Burdette (Pat McCormick) and his runty son Little Enos (Paul Williams) challenging Reynolds's Bandit to transport 400 cases of Coor's from Texarkana to Atlanta within 28 hours. (As this takes the then-regional beer across state lines, it qualifies as bootlegging–hence the "challenge.") Bandit rallies buddy Cledus "Snowman" Snow (Jerry Reed) to drive the rig while he runs interference in his black Trans Am, strangely stopping along the way to pick up hitchhiking runaway bride Frog (Sally Field), thus earning the ire of the groom's father, out-of-state Sheriff Buford T. Justice (Gleason). Bandit is an impertinent man who likes to speed; Justice is a self-important lawman given to the occasional racial slur. Needless to say, a chase ensues.

And that's it. It isn't really a narrative, just a bunch of excuses for car-related insolence, with various CB users helping out and various police cars being sent into creeks–never have so many lawmen gotten so completely soaked in one motion picture. The slack approach to scripting extends to the dialogue, as Bandit utters sub-James Bond quips ("You can't drive a forklift!" "I can drive any forkin' thing around!") while Gleason heaps abuse on his son. (Unforgivably: "The first thing I'm gonna do when I get home is punch your momma in the face.") The lines are rotten plums in a thin pudding of natural-light shooting and lackadaisical mise-en-scène, leading to a total lack of care that adds up to a cineaste's nightmare.

Of course, it could be argued that a more controlled approach would have made it less than the #2 film of 1977. Smokey and the Bandit isn't a movie for people who pay attention to artistic niceties–it's as relaxed and unbuttoned as its audience, delivering the straight goods instead of the fancy stuff, thereby freeing you to sit back and have a good time. The thing is, it's still a terrible movie, one that I could never recommend or momentarily enjoy–yet it's not delusional about its rather limited importance or place in the cultural landscape. Every aspect of it is bland and unattractive, but I can't be bothered to get worked up: even its less savoury political elements (including a Japanese trucker who screams, "Banzai!") don't come off as anything other than tired. Though I'm obliged to tell you it's bad, I'd prefer to simply sleep it off and move on.

THE DVD
Universal reissues Smokey and the Bandit on DVD in a Special Edition touting remastered A/V elements. Although the 1.85:1, 16×9-enhanced image sports unnaturally 'thick' colours and overdoes it with the edge enhancement, the source print is minty fresh. The 5.1 audio–in DTS and Dolby Digital flavours–is a little better, but while Reed's country tunes resonate, the attempts to bring surround cues out of what was an uncomplicated mix often come across as forced and inorganic. For what it's worth, the DTS option is the far more harmonious of the two, panning car/truck sounds across the front speakers to the rears with better transparency. Still, considering the simplicity of the sound design, one wonders why they bothered. At the very least, they could've included a mono track reflecting the film's lo-fi origins.

Extras begin with the retrospective making-of "Loaded Up and Truckin': Making Smokey and the Bandit" (20 mins.), in which archival footage of Gleason cutting up appears alongside new interviews with Reynolds, Williams, and director Hal Needham. With its wealth of pre-production and production detail, it's not exactly uninformative, but there's a predictable lack of perspective and insight that befits the slapped-together nature of the movie itself. Meanwhile, in "Snowman, What's Your 20?: The Smokey and the Bandit CB Tutorial" (8 mins.) trucker Steve "Big Dog" Cronin leads us through the film's CB lingo. If it sheds light on the more arcane phrases used in the film, it's somehow unsatisfying for not elaborating on the genesis of these terms. Trailers for Brokeback Mountain, Munich, The Blues Brothers, "Saturday Night Live: The Best of Cheri Oteri", and "Saturday Night Live: Commercial Parodies" begin on startup. Opening the velcro-sealed slipcover reveals a few bits of production trivia.

96 minutes; PG; 1.85:1 (16×9-enhanced); English DD 5.1, English DTS 5.1; English SDH, French, Spanish subtitles; DVD-9; Region One; Universal