40 years since The Blues Brothers (1980)

"There's 106 miles to Chicago, we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark out, and we're wearing sunglasses."

"Hit it."

Yup, just wanted to take the time to natter about one of my favorite flicks of all time--before Ghostbusters, before Coneheads, before Dan Aykroyd's brain was taken over wholly by an octopus, this was the first big movie spinoff from Saturday Night Live courtesy of one John Landis. The eighties was the height of Landis' career for me, and between classics like American Werewolf in London and Trading Places, this one was his best far as I'm concerned.

Why? Well, there's a few reasons. I can talk about the insanely quotable script, between the awesome music, between the spot-on chemistry between Aykroyd and the unfortunately departed John Belushi, between some of the most spectacular car chases put to celluloid, between all the little details and touches that delightfully complement a myriad of scenes, between Carrie Fisher toting a rocket launcher...y'know, just a few.

I suppose we need to start as always with the context. The Blues Brothers started off as a tribute-band-cum-sketch on late seventies SNL, apparently because then-comedians Aykroyd and Belushi just started jamming one time and liked what resulted. Both of them were genuine fans of the music, inspired by all the greats like John Lee Hooker and Muddy Waters, and the contemporary bands of the time--and it's that sort of genuineness that always forms the bedrock of great projects. Aykroyd was an actual believer in paranormal 'lore' when it came to Ghostbusters, and here, bringing that same passion for a great genre of music, combined with the talents of Landis and Belushi, likewise gave us something you can't just replicate at a whim by film executives.

Of course, what we got still wasn't guaranteed. There wasn't exactly much story to their little tribute band, besides the notes on the inside cover of their first album release. It's not like SNL skits convey Deep Canon to forge masterworks from after all. This showed when Aykroyd delivered his first script to Landis, which by all accounts was less of a script and more like a phone book of fan fiction from whatever his nascent brain octopus felt sounded good at the time.

Filming didn't go smoothly either. It was the early eighties, and you know what that means--cocaine! Cocaine for everyone! Belushi apparently consumed so much yeyo that Tony Montana would faint at the excess, and even by the standards of the movie biz of the time his addiction got more than worrisome. The budget went over, producers starting getting antsy, but fortunately, Landis managed to get Belushi's drug consumption under control, and the shoot was, after many literal pile-ups later, thankfully finished.

And so we get to the movie itself. On the off chance you don't know, Aykroyd and Belushi play Elwood and Jake Blues, two rather shady musicians, with the latter freshly released from prison onto the streets of Chicago. It turns out their childhood orphanage, run by an ambiguously supernatural nun, is facing a tax issue threatening to shut them down (which we can chuckle at, but that was raised on serious legislation at the time). And so, they go about reassembling their blues band by means savory and unsavory, along the way making enemies of the police department, a country and western band, a bar owner, Jake's heavy weapon wielding ex-girlfriend, and of course, a bunch of fuckin' Illinois Nazis.

They replicated the parking system of Rome perfectly. 

You've got car chases that decimate entire shopping malls, you've got cameos from music greats like Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin, and the indomitable James Brown as what would be the world's greatest preacher. The film both tributed these artists and in some cases boosted them back into the fore again--I myself might've not heard of someone like John Lee Hooker otherwise. There's not a scene I can think of that flops, between the leads sticking it to a posh restaurant or trying to placate a rowdy redneck crowd.

And, at the end, it all gloriously culminates with them racing to the tax office while the entire state authorities basically declares war on them. It's simply awesome to see Elwood outrace Nazis (literally sending them flying), cops, and eventually, hundreds of SWAT gunners and National Guardsmen just by being that physics-defying good of a driver. Likewise, what adds another layer of genuineness to the film is the city of Chicago itself--and, yes, Ferris Bueller can suck it, this is The Chicago flick for me. Between all the namedrops of landmarks, between the opening industrial vista, between the long shots down its boulevards...you can't exactly mistake it for being set in Albuquerque.

There's all the little things to spot, like cameos from Steven Spielberg and Frank Oz, and all the subtle and not so subtle supernatural touches that suggest that the brothers really are on a 'mission from gawd'. To say nothing of all the scene-stealing guest stars like John Candy as a rather easygoing cop. It's something that's just great to rewatch for all of these cumulative fun touches, and four decades on, it holds up just nicely.

Now, we gotta talk the legacy. Belushi tragically passed away a couple years later, which normally would be just the end of it. Aykroyd, however, kept the tribute band going, and eventually, between a couple of inane videogame spinoffs and a proposed animated series that got nowhere, he and Landis once again teamed up in the late nineties for a sequel! Yup, in 1998 we got Blues Brothers 2000, which substituted Belushi with...John Goodman, and a couple other additions to the not-so-related siblings.

I don't hate that one as much as some do, but I'll agree it's a shadow at best of the original. Storywise it's largely a rehash, except it turns out the orphanage they went through so much trouble for in the original closed anyway, so...they're just doing their band thing for the hell of it apparently. The supernatural aspect is on full fore here, as by this point in time Aykroyd's brain octopus had taken over completely--hence voodoo witches with explicit magic powers in the ending. It's awkward, it's got nearly as much charm...but the musical numbers are decent I guess.

Imagine a crossover between this and Coneheads. You'll never sleep again. 

Still, it fortunately doesn't diminish the original, which is still adored, still beloved in the Windy City and beyond, and a true personal great for me. Sure, Landis' career slumped going into the nineties, and sure, Aykroyd might lately be hustling skull-shaped vodka bottles that supposedly manifest Mayan magic or something...but I can't help but salute them both for this. That goes extra for all the other stars, musicians, and folks that helped make this what it was. Get your blues on, get your blessed mother of acceleration with you, and give it a watch if you haven't already.