That Bandit Express

You ever find yourself watching something and asking yourself: why?  That's what I'm experiencing right now as I sit through Smokey and the Bandit, Part 3, which is currently showing on ITV4.  Most people don't even know this film exists (they don't know how lucky they are), damn it, it doesn't even have Burt Reynolds, (aside from a tiny cameo right at the end).  This time around Snowman (Jerry Reed) steps up to fill the Bandit's boots.  It does have Jackie Gleason as Sheriff Buford T Justice, though.  Indeed, this last desperate attempt to wring some mileage from the Smokey and the Bandit franchise was originally entitled Smokey IS the Bandit.  According to some sources, in the original version, Gleason played both Justice and the Bandit, others claim that his character merely adopted his nemesis' techniques in order to win out.  Either way, it clearly didn't work as the film was re-shot, with Reed standing in for the Bandit, instead.  Not that this helped - the film was still a flop.  So, just why am I watching it?  I guess it is down to a residual affection for the original.  Sure, I know that Smokey and the Bandit was a broad action comedy about a bunch of rednecks crashing cars, but it had Burt Reynolds.  For anybody who didn't experience the era, it is probably hard to grasp just how huge Burt was at the box office in the late seventies and early eighties. His name alone could sell a film - let's not forget that Smokey and the Bandit was only outgrossed at the box office in 1977 by Star Wars.  With his easy charm, self deprecating humour and obvious attraction for the ladies, he was a big influence on young men like myself.  (Damn it, he inspired me to grow a moustache, which had rapidly been becoming a 'gay thing', until Burt reclaimed it for straight guys).

But Smokey and the Bandit didn't just feature Burt Reynolds.  Oh no - it featured Burt driving a Trans Am!  The Pontiac Firebird has long been epitome of the US pony car for me and the Trans Am was the top option of the range: bristling with spoilers and air dams and, more often than not, sporting a big block V8 - not to mention that phoenix spread-eagled across the bonnet (sorry, hood), it still looked remarkably elegant.  The new 1977 model, (I say 'new', but in reality it was merely a face-lifted 1976, with a restyled front end), featured prominently in Smokey and the Bandit, forever cementing its place in popular culture.  In many ways it established the 1977 model as the definitive version of the Trans Am in many people's minds.  Of course, it wasn't the only Trans Am the Bandit drove: in 1980's Smokey and the Bandit II (aka Smokey and the Bandit Ride Again), he drove a 1980 Trans Am Turbo (with, as the name implies, a 4.9 litre turbo charged small block V8), but it never quite captured the public imagination in the way the 1977 Trans Am had.  Smokey and the Bandit, Part 3 also features a Trans Am.  This time it is 1983 Trans Am with full body kit - a third generation model similar to the one KITT the car was based on in Knight Rider.  But aside from showcasing another Trans Am, the film is an unworthy sequel to the first film.  The fact is that, despite its lack of sophistication, its over abundance of Good Ol' Boy stereotypes and redneck humour, Smokey and the Bandit remains an amiable film.  Largely improvised by the cast, it provides ninety six minutes of undemanding entertainment, carried along by the sheer charisma of its star.  By contrast, Part 3 just seems tired - Gleason's foul mouthed schtick, while fitfully amusing, has run out of steam and, without Reynolds' charisma, the whole thing is utterly charmless: just a roughly assembled series of unfunny skits and car chases. 

Still, to this day I have an enduring fantasy that I'm going to buy a Trans Am, (curiously, despite my liking for them, I've never owned a Firebird of any kind - the closest I've come is its Chevrolet cousin, the Camaro), put on a white stetson and stick on moustache, slap 'Bandit Express' into the Eight Track and hit the road with a screeching of tyres.  You never know, it could be my next mid life crisis.