Bandit Goes Country (1994) review – a shoddy new coat of paint

While film studios used to draw their power from the marquee stars they had under contract, it seems like the more valuable resource in the entertainment industry these days is intellectual properties.

So instead of focusing a lot of time and money on producing the next “John Wayne” or “Jimmy Stewart” picture, these movie executives are far more interested in cultivating big money-making franchises that allows them to produce as many sequels, prequels, spin-offs, and ancillary TV shows as possible.

Because of this, a significant amount of online discourse is now being dedicated to how these various studios are managing their IPs, with Disney and WarnerMedia currently catching a lot of heat for their handling of Star Wars and DC Comics projects, respectively.

Even though these multi-billion-dollar companies should be subject to public criticism, we should always keep things in perspective and realize that this dynamic could always be alot worse.

Because in my experience, I don’t ever think I’ve seen a film studio fumble the ball harder than Universal’s stewardship of the Smokey and the Bandit franchise.

After all, the original Smokey film starring Burt Reynolds became a cultural and box office juggernaut in 1977 by tapping into the rebellious spirit and easy-going attitude that characterized that particular decade.

And while the sequel that followed in 1980 was still financially successful, a lot of the magic had been lost by that point, causing director Hal Needham to sit out Part 3 altogether.

The third Smokey movie turned out to be such a thermonuclear disaster both in front of and behind the camera that the studio didn’t even touch the property again until the mid-1990s, greenlighting a series of four made-for-TV movies for Universal Television’s “Action Pack” programming block.

The first of these TV movies to emerge was Bandit Goes Country (1994), which starred Brian Bloom as the title character and saw the return of Needham to the franchise for the first time in over a decade.

Despite these familiar trappings, it’s pretty obvious that Universal was just hoping to produce a generic, low-effort action-comedy series with the “Bandit” name slapped on it.

Because without that title, this movie has no personality of its own and seems like it is riding off the coattails of other mid-90s TV schlock like Renegade or Walker, Texas Ranger more than anything.

Before you even get into the plot, Bandit Goes Country is already a mess from a conceptual level, since it’s very hard to figure out how it relates to the original three feature films.

IMDB describes this TV movie as something that “appears to be a prequel to the Smokey and the Bandit films” based on, I’m guessing, how young Bloom is compared to Reynolds during his first appearance as the character.

However, that theory goes right out the window as soon as you realize that Bandit Goes Country takes place in the 1990s and not in the 1960s like a proper prequel would require.

Additionally, the cast of this TV movie don’t feature any younger versions of the characters from the original trilogy, including Snowman (Jerry Reed) or Sheriff Buford T. Justice (Jackie Gleason).

Even some of the more superficial elements of those original movies are missing, with the Bandit’s iconic Pontiac Trans Am being traded in for a Dodge Stealth.

So based on that information, I can only conclude that Bandit Goes Country is more of an attempt to reboot the franchise with a fresh coat of paint, completely unburdened by any past continuity or canon.

While I can respect the impulse to try something different and not rely on Baby Boomer nostalgia to get by, it’s clear that the filmmakers didn’t have any clear idea of where to take the character using this blank canvas.

This lack of direction is most visible in the movie’s story, which just meanders for 90 minutes and gets bogged down in a bunch of useless subplots.

The main storyline here involves Bandit returning to his hometown, where he attempts to make peace with a rival community that’s held a grudge against his people for generations.

But instead of sticking to that simple premise, the filmmakers constantly take you on these narrative detours that don’t amount to much.

These distracting subplots include:

-Bandit being hired to transport country music star Mel Tillis to his upcoming concert.

-Bandit being hounded by government agents who are investigating his cousin’s music pirating business.

-Bandit attempting to rekindle a romance with his childhood sweetheart (Elizabeth Berkley).

-Bandit trying to help another one of his old girlfriends marry her new beau in secret (since he hails from this rival community).

-Bandit picking up this random female hitchhiker, who does nothing throughout the whole movie until she decides to shack up with his cousin at the last minute for no reason (the pair had previously shared one small scene together).

With all these things happening at the same time, Bandit Goes Country feels like you’re watching someone play a redneck-themed RPG, where they decide to tackle all the side missions and completely ignore the main quest.

Story structure aside, what really sinks this television reboot is the noticeable lack of impressive automotive stunt work.

After all, this kind of thing was Needham’s big claim to fame as a director and you think that he would cook up something really special for his grand return to the series that made him a household name.

But outside of an early scene involving a light aircraft landing on a moving flatbed truck, the movie plays it pretty safe and seems reluctant to put its main character in any kind of mortal peril behind the wheel.

While I’m sure that Needham and his crew were constrained by a modest TV budget, that doesn’t excuse the sheer lack of imagination that ends up on screen.

To try and compensate, the filmmakers really lean into Bandit Goes Country’s status as a comedy, with Mel Tillis and his manager (Charles Nelson Reilly) taking on the lion’s share of the movie’s slapstick gags.

Unfortunately, most of these jokes fall completely flat and feel just as half-baked as the stunt work, something that’s become a recurring pattern in Needham’s career through films like Smokey and the Bandit II (1980), The Cannonball Run (1981) and Body Slam (1986).

The cast also don’t make a very strong impression overall, with Bloom being the worst offender as the Bandit.

To be fair, the actor was definitely set up to fail from the beginning. Stepping into Reynolds’ boots is no easy task, especially if audiences were only familiar with Bloom’s work through the long-running soap opera As the World Turns at that point.

While Bloom would later showcase his range in the realm of voice acting, he’s completely lost in this project, being content with playing a smirking douche instead of a charming rogue like the role requires.

He’s also not done any favors by the wardrobe department, who decided to dress him up in the worst kind of mid-90s fashion, including a belt buckle with a giant “B” printed on it (like he’s a low-rent superhero).

But in Bloom’s defense, I imagine even Laurence Olivier would have trouble wringing a good performance out of this piss poor material, which seems like it was slapped together over a weekend.

Ultimately, I’m still kind of baffled that Universal Television saw fit to broadcast Bandit Goes Country at all.

It’s so flavourless and devoid of any similarity to the original source material that I can’t imagine it being a great starting point for the studio’s Action Pack programming block (that launched the same month this movie aired).

At least Another Midnight Run (1994), which I screened back in 2019, bore some resemblance to the feature film it was spinning off from in terms of characters and plot, ensuring that someone must have enjoyed it.

With Bandit Goes Country, it seems like Needham and his crew couldn’t even be bothered to put in the bare minimum effort to satisfy old Smokey fans or to even reel in new viewers.

And while I haven’t seen the three remaining TV movies in this series, it’s obvious that Universal’s poor management of this franchise in the 1990s lead to its untimely death, since all other attempts at another revival have sputtered out.

But at the end of the day, that might be for the best.

Our current media landscape is completely built on the cynical resurrection of old nostalgic properties, and we don’t need another re-animated corpse added to its foundations.

Having said that, I could totally see Universal dusting off this property once again if the company needed a new, high-profile TV show to help launch its own streaming service.

Maybe Bandit could wear a fedora and drive a Tesla instead of relying on the classic cowboy hat/Trans Am combo. That would get Twitter buzzing.

Verdict:

2/10

Corner store companion:

No Name Salt and Vinegar Potato Chips (because if you’re watching this movie, you already have an appetite for some off-brand entertainment)

Fun facts:

-Release date: Jan. 30, 1994

–Bandit Goes Country was followed by three other made-for-TV movies that aired the same year. This series includes: Bandit Bandit (March 13, 1994), Beauty and the Bandit (April 3, 1994), and Bandit’s Silver Angel (April 10, 1994). All four movies starred Brian Bloom and were directed by Hal Needham.

-Elizabeth Berkley’s role in Bandit Goes Country represents an interesting transitional period for the actress, since her time on the TV sitcom Saved By the Bell (1989-1992) had come to an end and she was a year away from attempting to launch her movie career by starring in Paul Verhoeven’s Showgirls (1995).

-Outside of serving as a supporting character in Bandit Goes Country, Mel Tillis also appeared in Smokey and the Bandit II as an amusement park owner.

-Musical highlight: “Coca Cola Cowboy” by Mel Tillis (the country music star gets rewarded for being in this turd by having his song play as Bandit rides off into the sunset)

Smokey and the Bandit Part 3 (1983) review-when a franchise runs out of gas

People often say that “good things come in threes,” but those folks obviously never watched the Smokey and the Bandit trilogy.

Sure, the series started off on the right foot in 1977 with an easy-going sleeper hit that defined “cool” for an entire generation of moviegoers.

Unfortunately, the Smokey name quickly nose-dived into sellout territory with a 1980 sequel that was in short supply of laughs, charm, and impressive stunt work.

That film was so bad that director Hal Needham declined to take part in Smokey and the Bandit Part 3 (1983), with star Burt Reynolds only agreeing to make a brief cameo.

As such, the focus of this movie shifted to Jackie Gleason’s bumbling sheriff Buford T. Justice, who (mostly) serves as the protagonist this time around even though the first two films in this series were bristling with anti-authoritarian energy.

To make matters worse, Part 3 was plagued with conflicting creative visions during production, resulting in a bunch of expensive reshoots that forced the filmmakers to cobble all these disparate pieces together in the editing room.

Because of this, the theatrical Smokey and the Bandit trilogy ends on a pretty sour note, with a lazy, unfocused final entry that’s totally content with coasting on cruise control.

While the absence of Burt Reynolds is already a tough pill to swallow, the plot of Part 3 doesn’t help matters by being completely inane.

Even though Buford T. Justice serves as the protagonist here, the writers basically recycle the same story from the last two films, where a pair of wealthy Texans task the recently retired police officer with transporting some precious cargo across the American south for $250,000.

This kind of premise might have worked for an outlaw character like the Bandit, but Gleason’s cop seems like a square peg that the filmmakers are trying to stuff into a round hole.

After all, Justice never seemed preoccupied with material concerns like money throughout his first two big-screen appearances, with his motivation to catch and arrest Reynolds’ charming rogue being primarily ego-driven.

I guess the logic behind Part 3 is that Justice is bored after retiring from the force and is looking for some kind of action to relive the glory days.

But that element never gets addressed in any meaningful way, with the filmmakers being far more preoccupied with staging zany car chases and bad comedy skits.

The plot gets muddied even further with the re-introduction of Bandit’s sidekick Cledus Snow (Jerry Reed), who is hired to disguise himself as the famous outlaw and distract Justice on the road so that he doesn’t arrive at his destination in time.

It’s at this point that the movie goes from being lazy to outright shameless in terms of its attempt to hoodwink the audience into thinking they’re watching the first film.

Not only do the filmmakers dress Reed up in Reynolds’ iconic red shirt and cowboy hat, but they also give him the keys to the Pontiac Trans Am and have him pick-up another runaway woman who isn’t Sally Field.

Even though Reed tries to put his own spin on the Bandit character, he comes across as a cheap imitation of Reynolds and not even an amusingly absurd one like Norm MacDonald’s work on SNL.

This element of the movie also highlights the behind-the-scenes production woes that plagued Smokey and the Bandit Part 3.

According to multiple sources, Reed wasn’t even supposed to be involved, with the original plan being that Gleason would tackle a dual role as both Sheriff Justice and the Bandit.

However, this version of the film, titled “Smokey is the Bandit,” was disliked by test audiences, which encouraged Universal Pictures to order re-shoots with Reed’s participation.

While the severity of these re-shoots is still a matter of debate, it’s clear that these last-minute production changes had a significant impact on the final product, given how disjointed everything feels.

Since the filmmakers don’t fully commit to Justice or Reed as the main character, there’s no emotional throughline to lead the audience through this razor-thin story that mostly consists of throwaway car stunts, janky editing and bad ADR.

In fact, if one were to take out the end credits and the two-and-a-half minute introductory recap that consists of archive footage, this movie is barely feature length, which is undoubtedly a consequence of all the “Smokey is the Bandit” footage being scrapped.

But with that being said, Part 3 isn’t a total bust and actually does improve on its predecessor in one key area.

While the team behind Smokey and the Bandit II (1980) were surprisingly reluctant to stage any car chases until the very end of that film, director Dick Lowry and his crew do a much better job of pacing the action this time around.

Admittedly, a lot of the stunt work here is pretty basic and way too reliant on slow motion to artificially crank up the excitement of every chase.

But at least the automotive destruction is in good supply here and should satisfy anyone who just wants to see a police cruiser plow through a milk tanker.

Part 3’s soundtrack is also surprisingly strong, offering a variety of original tracks from country music heavyweights like Lee Greenwood and Ed Bruce.

So on a purely surface level, this film provides all the sights and sounds one would expect of a road comedy from this era, although there’s not a lot to praise beyond that.

Overall, the project feels like a lot of the cynical sequels and remakes that get made these days, where the audience is constantly bombarded with winks and nods to the original property they like, without anything fresh or original being offered in return.

But whereas these soulless cash-grabs keep racking in major box office returns today, moviegoers in 1983 at least had the good sense to stay away from Smokey and the Bandit Part 3 in droves.

In stark contrast to the $120 million that the first Smokey film generated, Part 3 couldn’t break even on a $9 million budget, meaning the franchise had officially run out of gas.

Of course, the Bandit name didn’t completely die out after this bomb, with Hal Needham eventually bringing the character back just over a decade later, this time on the small screen.

But that’s a story for another time.

For now, I just hope the lost “Smokey is the Bandit” footage eventually sees the light of day, since the surviving promotional image of Gleason dressed up like Reynolds is way funnier than most of the jokes in Part 3.

Verdict:

4/10

Corner store companion:

Diet Pepsi (because it’s that thing you like, without some of the key ingredients that make it cool)

Fun facts:

-Release date: Aug. 12, 1983

-Box office: $5,678,950

-Budget: $9 million

-Roger Ebert named Smokey and the Bandit Part 3 one of the worst movies of 1983, calling it an “annuity in action” for how blatantly it was trying to capitalize off of the box office success of the first two films.

-In 1983 Jackie Gleason also starred in The Sting II, another maligned sequel to a beloved film that retained none of the original leads.

–Smokey and the Bandit Part 3 marks director Dick Lowry’s only theatrical release. Lowry spent the rest of his career helming television projects.

-Remnants of the old “Smokey is the Bandit” footage can be glimpsed in certain sections of Part 3, since Reed’s stunt double is sometimes a heavy-set man who was obviously meant to be a stand-in for Gleason.

-Musical highlight: “The Bandit Express” by Lee Greenwood (plays during one of the movie’s many car chases).

Smokey and the Bandit II (1980) review-a sellout sequel

Few movies have captured the zeitgeist quite like Hal Needham’s Smokey and the Bandit (1977).

Not only did this road action comedy include cultural touchstones like muscle cars, CB radios and country music, but the film’s breezy attitude and blatant anti-authoritarianism was pervasive in many other pieces of media that were popular at the time.

As such, Smokey and the Bandit became the second highest grossing film of 1977 behind George Lucas’ Star Wars, which also featured a colourful cast of characters trying to deliver some precious cargo under the eye of buzz-killing fascists.

Of course, nothing good lasts forever, and the rebellious spirit of the 1960s and 70s quickly turned to corporate pandering in the 1980s, where Wall Street and Reaganomics were the new flavour of the day.

Unfortunately, Needham also decided to sell out at the very start of the decade, making an uninspired sequel to Smokey and the Bandit that contains almost none of the charm or energy that made the original film so special.

One of the most immediate problems with Smokey and the Bandit II (1980) is its plot, which doesn’t even try to mix up the formula.

Just like last time, Bo “Bandit” Darville (Burt Reynolds) is tasked with delivering a big rig worth of illegal product to a client in record time, all the while dodging members of local law enforcement like Texas sheriff Bufford T. Justice (Jackie Gleason).

In order to pull this job off, Bandit enlists the help of his best friend Cledus (Jerry Reed) and old flame Carrie (Sally Field), who also serve as his moral barometer along the way.

The only major difference to the plot here is a matter of aesthetics, with Bandit and his crew delivering an adult elephant instead of 400 cases of beer.

A couple new characters are also thrown into the mix for good measure, including a shouty Dom DeLuise who adopts one of the worst Italian accents in cinema history.

But honestly, the uninspired nature of the plot could have been palatable if Needham also replicated the fun, easy-going tone of the first film, while maintaining his trademark automotive stunt work that thrilled audiences back in 1977.

Instead, Smokey and the Bandit II is mostly a slow, plodding affair that sidelines adrenaline-pumping car chases in favour of bad slapstick comedy, which sometimes comes across as an attempt to appeal to a younger demographic.

For example, a lot of the scenes involving the adult elephant are ripped right out of a live-action Disney movie, with an accompanying score that relies way too heavily on farty brass instruments to artificially pump up the humour.

Another consequence of writing a literal elephant into the script is that the characters have to make a pit stop every five to ten minutes to check on her wellbeing and participate in more unfunny schtick.

Because of this, the film’s pace consistently grinds to a halt, with any kind of impressive vehicular destruction being pushed far into the background.

To give you a better idea of what this dynamic looks like, the first genuine car chase in the movie takes place at around the one-hour mark and is over before you can blink.

While Needham does try and compensate for this imbalance by staging a massive demolition derby for the film’s climax, it’s too little too late by that point, and the entire exercise feels like a waste of time.

However, the movie’s poor pacing pales in comparison to the way Needham and his screenwriters treat their principal characters, some of whom have devolved into complete cartoon characters.

Burt Reynolds’ Bandit, for instance, receives an unflattering comedic makeover in this sequel, being portrayed as an incompetent clown and drunk as opposed to the charming rogue that audiences were introduced to in the first film.

While exploring a new layer of Bandit’s personality sounds interesting on paper, the filmmakers’ approach here is completely misguided, since they repeatedly subject this supposedly rugged hero to a bunch of humiliating skits.

This isn’t helped by the fact that Reynolds seems to be completely disengaged with the material, constantly smirking for the camera like he is reprising the character for an episode of SNL instead of a big-budget sequel to a sleeper hit.

Sally Field’s character isn’t done any favours by the screenwriters either, since they backtrack on all the development she underwent in the original film.

If you’ll recall, the entire plot of Smokey and the Bandit revolves around Field hitching a ride with a complete stranger to get away from marrying Sheriff Justice’s son Junior, since he repulses her that much.

However, she’s back at the altar with Junior at the beginning of the sequel like nothing happened, because I guess the screenwriters couldn’t think of anything interesting to do with her except hit the reset button.

To make matters worse, Field’s character doesn’t contribute anything meaningful to Bandit’s smuggling operation once it gets underway, beyond serving as his love interest and becoming an increasingly vocal backseat driver.

At least Jerry Reed comes away from this sequel relatively unscathed, with his best friend character still coming across as down-to-earth and relatable despite all the over-the-top shenanigans surrounding him.

Unfortunately, not even some decent chemistry between the three leads can save Smokey and the Bandit II from being a lazy, cash-grab sequel, where it feels like the cast and crew all showed up due to financial obligations rather than some creative drive.

Reynolds even straight up admitted this in a 2016 interview with Ain’t It Cool News, calling himself and Needham “whores” for signing on to this project in the first place.

Even though critics shared Reynolds’ disdain towards this sequel, audiences still showed up in droves, making Smokey and the Bandit II the eighth highest box office draw of 1980.

However, everyday movie-goers must have sensed that Needham’s heart wasn’t really in it anymore, since the action-comedy franchise would never fully recover in terms of its popularity.

Not only did Smokey and the Bandit Part 3 (1983) fail to retain much of the first two films’ cast and crew, but all future “Bandit” projects would be banished to the realm of mid-90s made-for-tv movies.

And while a new tv series is apparently in development, no real update has been given out to in almost a year, which says to me that this project may never see the light of day.

In this sense, Smokey and the Bandit II serves as a cautionary tale for ambitious filmmakers who would rather cash in on their intellectual property than pump it up with some creative passion: it probably won’t work out in the long run.

Verdict:

4/10

Corner store companion:

President’s Choice Virginia Variety Party Peanuts (because … the movie features an elephant, I guess. Hey, if the filmmakers aren’t going to put any effort into their craft, then why should I?)

Fun facts:

-Release date: Aug. 15, 1980

-Budget: $17 million (estimated)

-Box office: $66, 132, 626 million (worldwide)

-The film’s demolition derby finale was reportedly one of the biggest collective car stunts in movie history at that point. According to IMDB, it involved 60 stunt people, 100 cars and 18-wheeler trucks, and $250,000 worth of damages.

-Bandit’s 1980 Pontiac Trans Am is given its own credit at the end of the movie. The car is billed as “Son of Trigger,” which is a reference to actor Roy Rogers’ horse.

–Smokey and the Bandit II was released under the title “Smokey and the Bandit Ride Again” in the UK, New Zealand, and Australia.

-Surprise cameo: While the film is littered with real-life country singers, the most amusing cameo actually belongs to former Pittsburgh Steelers stars Terry Bradshaw and “Mean” Joe Greene, since they get to act as literal roadblocks for Bandit.

-Musical highlight: “Texas Bound and Flyin’” by Jerry Reed (it’s no “Eastbound and Down,” but this fun little number still grabs your attention at the very beginning of the film).