Dreams Are What Le Cinema Is For: The Blues Brothers - 1980

THE BLUES BROTHERS 1980 lecinemadreams.blogspot.com/2019/01/the-blues-brothers-1980.html

"We're on a mission from God."

The first thing I think about when I think about The Blues Brothers is that it opened in Los Angeles on the exact same day as Can’t Stop the Music. Yes, on Friday, June 20 th 1980, two big-budget, heavily-promoted Hollywood musicals played within blocks of one another on Hollywood Boulevard. One R-rated, the other PG, each a pre-fab pre-marketed project pitched to a specific (polar opposite) audience demographic. The timing of the release of CSTM couldn't have been less fortuitous, the unanticipated success of TBB spearheaded an R&B music resurgence and spawned a sequel. But as dissimilar as these two films appear to be on the surface, they actually have a great deal in common.

Both are expensive pop musicals structured as the fictionalized biographies of real-life "manufactured" musical acts which found unexpected success and a curious form of legitimacy during the late 1970s. I say curious because, to some extent, both The Blues Brothers and The Village People are novelty acts that were taken seriously as musicians after becoming chart-topping record sellers and popular touring acts. The acts themselves: The Village People was chiefly a collection of costumed dancers marching behind a talented lead vocalist; The Blues Brothers, two costumed Saturday Night Live alumni assuming alteridentity roles as the fictional characters fronting a band of genuinely accomplished musicians.

It can be argued that both bands benefited significantly from white America’s preference for the watered-down interpretations of musical styles rooted in the Black American experience. Disco having developed from dance R&B and funk, while the blues came out of jazz and classic R&B. The "novelty act" identities of both bands was a form of winking popcultural pretense allowing the bands to market themselves in ways that expanded their 1/15

appeal beyond the scope of their music. The Greenwich Village "types" that gave the Village People their costuming enabled the band to have it both ways: they were a gay band for those who "got" the coding, to the rest, they were just a party band. The Blues Brothers more or less updated an ages-old music industry trope: white audience resistance to Black artists allows mediocre covers performed by white musicians to outdistance the far earthier (re: too Black) originals.

In order to achieve the kind of mainstream success necessary to turn a profit, the PG-rated, $20 million Can’t Stop the Music needed to downplay The Village People’s gay disco origins and hopefully attract the same clueless pop/teen record-buying audience that incredibly never picked up on the group’s homoerotic costuming or the gay subtext of songs like YMCA and Macho Man. For The Blues Brothers to succeed, this R-rated, $27 million well-intentioned “Tribute to African- American music” (sentiments expressed by both by Aykroyd & Belushi) had to play up the faux “soul” personas of its two white male stars whose chief demographic, via SNL and Animal House, was 20-something straight white males, while exploiting the fleeting “guest star” presence of Black entertainers who were the genuine article: i.e., true legends from the worlds of blues, jazz, and R&B. In short- Can’t Stop the Music featured a gay band playacting as straight, The Blues Brothers band featured two frontmen playacting at being Black.

But that’s where the similarities end. Can’t Stop the Music had banked everything on the enduring popularity of disco, but by the time the film hit theaters, disco had fallen out of favor. CSTM died a swift and ignominious death at the boxoffice. The Blues Brothers, however, took a gamble on music that hadn’t been popular among young people for many years. The film’s unexpected blockbuster success sparked a renewed interest in classic R&B, and wound up rejuvenating the careers of the Black artists showcased in the film.

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In 1980, I was personally far too much into disco to even consider going to see The Blues Brothers, the first two weekends of its release finding me at the Paramount Theater (now The El Capitan) on Hollywood Blvd watching Can’t Stop the Music playing to a near-empty house. I didn’t actually see The Blues Brothers until after Xanadu had opened the following month, by which time the poorly-reviewed Belushi/Aykroyd starrer had already emerged the hit of the summer... coming in second only to The Empire Strikes Back .

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I can’t profess to ever have been a big fan of SNL, I've never seen Animal House, and the appeal of John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd was largely lost on me. When they began appearing in concert as The Blues Brothers, opening for a young Steve Martin, I was among those baffled by their success. I genuinely thought their chart-topping 1978 LP "Briefcase Full of Blues" was a comedy album. I suspect my reaction to The Blues Brothers as a legitimate musical act was very likely similar to the way rock fans reacted to The Monkees back in the ‘60s.

Chaka Khan has a cameo as a member of the Triple Rock Baptist Church choir

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But despite my initial misgivings, John Landis’ The Blues Brothers ultimately did more than win me over, I actually fell in love with it. This ragtag tale of two musical miscreants on a mission of reform took me back to my childhood; the film struck me as a hip update of those overblown slapstick chase comedies like The Great Race (1965), crossed with a hip Bob Hope Bing Crosby vibe, all added to one of those all-star cameo epics like Around the World in 80 Days (1956). Set in contemporary Chicago, the tone of The Blues Brothers and its depiction of Black culture is forever skirting the fine line between veneration and patronization (the Black artists are the supporting cast in a film dedicated to the music they invented), but the overall cleverness and humor of the film allows it to coast a great deal on good intentions, goodwill, and the exhilaration that comes from The Blues Brothers being a bang-up, enjoyably silly musical comedy.

Kathleen Freeman as Sister Mary Stigmata (The Penguin)

Carrie Fisher as the Mystery Woman

WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS FILM 5/15

That The Blues Brothers is now considered by many to be a classic (and deservedly so, in my opinion) has a lot to do with its age. Now almost 40 years old, many of the film's biggest fans discovered it on cable TV as kids, citing it as the first R-rated movie they ever saw. It also doesn't hurt that the film was a major boxoffice success, ranking as the 10th highestgrossing film of 1980. But, linked as it is to the glory days of SNL, The Blues Brothers earns its status as a classic because it's remembered fondly for its guest roster of musical greats.

Even if you don’t care for the film, there’s no denying that something about The Blues Brothers seized the public's imaginations enough for the group to become a household name and pop phenomenon. And like the film it most resembles—the equally unwieldy and intermittently funny car chase comedy It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (1963) —The Blues Brothers is a product of a distinct era (the post-‘70s blockbuster days of pre-CGI excess) and features the final or only screen appearances of several so many entertainment industry greats no longer with us. In that respect, it can’t help but look great from a rear-view perspective.

John Candy as Corrections Officer Burton Mercer

I was a huge fan of The Blues Brothers back in 1980, seeing it so many times I could repeat jokes and recite bits of dialogue, verbatim. I still enjoy it a great deal, but upon revisiting it recently via the extended Blu-ray edition (approximately 15-minutes longer than the theatrical), it became clearer to me that the music and musical sequences are where my heart lies. They're so good they tend to make me forget that the deadpan give-and-take between Jake and Elwood can feel a little draggy. The film's soundtrack is a major saving grace, the personal nostalgia dredged up by the songs reminding me of the music my parents used to play around the house when I was a kid. It's only humor-wise where things start to get dicey for me. Aykroyd comes off as a nice kind of goofus type, but (and I know I'm alone in this) I honestly don't get Belushi's appeal. I kept waiting for him to catch fire on the screen, to show some flash of comic brilliance... but, zip. He starts out and remains a fairly inert presence. The contributions of the guest stars and cameos are fun, as are the almost surreal touches of over-scale lunacy that give the film the feel of a live-action Bugs 6/15

Bunny cartoon.

Twiggy as The Chic Lady

But retro-romanticizing aside, I must confess my refamiliarizing myself with The Blues Brothers did leave me at a bit of a loss when it came to accessing what the hell I once thought was so outrageously funny about it all. Some bits still get me, like the scene where a car driven by Nazis launches off an unfinished freeway overpass to an absurdly high altitude. Or the way Elwood zeroes in on a toaster oven (a slice of white bread materializing from his pocket) while the band members examine musical instruments at Ray’s shop. But did I really laugh that loud and long at the mere sight of so many scenes of cars crashing into one another back in 1980? (Answer: Yes.) Did I really not notice how women figure so marginally (and dismissively) in this puerile boys club demolition derby fantasy?

(Regrettably, yes.)

The whole viewing experience reminded me of the time I tried relistening to one of those ‘70s Cheech & Chong comedy albums that were all the rage when I was in high school.

Verdict: WTF?

Henry Gibson as the Head Nazi 7/15

Comedy tastes change, I know. And while I never tire of some ‘70s comedies like What’s Up, Doc? and Young Frankenstein, perhaps the style of comedy that came into vogue at the start of the ‘80s—the cocaine-fueled variety, anyway—just has a shorter shelf-life for me. (I’m equally immune to the comedy of early Steve Martin and Robin Williams.). The biggest laugh The Blues Brothers elicited from me this time around is courtesy of footage not even found in the original release. It’s a scene where Cab Calloway is explaining to the band that Jake and Elwood plan to give the proceeds from their Palace Hotel concert to the orphanage. The band members’ collective reaction is great.

Steve Lawrence as Maury Sline

THE STUFF OF FANTASY For many, The Blues Brothers endures because of its standing as a filmed record of so many now-deceased legendary Black artists from the worlds of jazz, R&B, gospel, and blues. In a year that saw the release of many large-budget musical films--Xanadu, Popeye, Coal Miner’s Daughter, The Apple, The Jazz Singer (which gave us Neil Diamond in blackface, fer chrissake), and Can’t Stop the Music --The Blues Brothers was the only one with soul. Too bad the only way one could get to it was after Belushi and Aykroyd had relinquished the spotlight.

The Blues Brothers shines brightest in its musical interludes. And what a treat it is to see 8/15

Aretha Franklin in her first movie appearance, James Brown singing gospel, Cab Calloway in Technicolor, and a street full of Chicago residents doing the twist to Ray Charles (the latter being the image that most stuck in my mind the first time I saw the film's trailer.)

Choreographed by the late Carlton Johnson (familiar to many as the only Black male member of the Ernie Flatt Dancers on The Carol Burnett Show), each number is a standalone set-piece staged with witty exuberance and cinematic panache. My favorites, in order of preference:

Ray Charles - "Shake a Tailfeather" Ray Charles really blows the roof off with his driving rendition of this upbeat R&B dance tune first sung by The Five Du-Tones in 1963, making it more than fitting that the number spills out into the Chicago streets, inspiring the first flash mob. Playing the proprietor of Ray's Music Exchange where the band goes to purchase instruments, Charles' infectiously soulful vocals are so raw and playful, he fairly dares you to stay in your seat. Which makes it so ideal that the throngs of amateur dancers outside his store so enthusiastically accommodate his requests for a rundown of the popular dances of the '60s. I love absolutely everything about this number, which is the most assured in terms of choreography, staging, and editing. Just brilliant.

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The center member of the Soul Food Chorus is Aretha Franklin's younger sister Carolyn

Aretha Franklin - "Think" Although she briefly sang and acted in a 1971 episode of TV's Room 222, The Blues Brothers marks Aretha Franklin's film debut. Cast as the wife of Blues Hall of Fame inductee Matt "Guitar" Murphy, Franklin's now-iconic performance of her 1968 hit "Think" is both rousing and an uncontested high point in the film. Many consider it the best number in the film, something I wouldn't necessarily argue with, save for a quibble or two. No one can fault Franklin's peerless performance and star quality, but my problem (and this is likely due to the multiple takes required due to Franklin's discomfort with lip-syncing) but the editing feels soggy and screws with the song's rhythm. Plus the imprecise staging frequently leaves Franklin not knowing what to do with her arms or body as she waits for the next verse.

James Brown - "The Old Landmark" Jake and Elwood find religion and a higher purpose at the Triple Rock Baptist Church listening to the sermon of Rev. Cleophus James. And who wouldn't in the presence of The Godfather of Soul himself, James Brown? When the Reverend and his choir break into this 1949 gospel standard (which Brown had never heard of before) the church erupts into a jubilant revival production number that literally defies gravity. James Brown (a personal favorite) is dynamic as all get-out in this, the film's first musical set-piece, whose contagious 10/15

energy and gymnastic, high-kicking dancers get things off to a very spirited start.

Cab Calloway - Minnie the Moocher A delightful moment that I recall brought a round of applause from the movie theater audience I saw this with, was when 72-year-old Cab Calloway, as Curtis, the janitor at the orphanage where Jake and Elwood were raised, entertains a restless audience by magically morphing into the 1930s incarnation of the Big Band Cab Calloway we all remember (transforming the stage and the motley band members along with him). In the theatrical release, this stylish highlight was marred by cutaways to the tardy Blues Brothers trying to make it to the theater. The restored Blu-ray allows us to see more of Calloway's hep rendition of his 1931 signature song. A song he co-penned with Irving Mills, and which was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 1999, five years after Calloway's death.

Paul Reubens (Pee Wee Herman) as a waiter at the Chez Paul restaurant

THE STUFF OF DREAMS As my partner can attest, a favorite phrase of mine is “Two things can be true at once.� A phrase that comes in particularly handy when writing about film. Take, for example, the observation that Faye Dunaway is an unrepentant ham, while at the same time being an absolutely brilliant actress. Both are circumstantially true, resulting in the truth of one not 11/15

negating the truth of the other. It's all a matter of perspective.

As per The Blues Brothers: It’s true the film and its makers provide a respectful and, in some instances, classic showcase for Black artists ignored by Hollywood. It’s a fact that Aykroyd and Belushi used the privilege of their fame and took a risk on the moneymaking potential of the film by insisting on hiring these legendary Black stars and featuring so many Black faces in the supporting cast. (Theater distributors like Mann’s Westwood, not wanting what they perceived to be a “Black film” in their neighborhoods, wound up cutting The Blues Brothers opening venues by more than half.) It’s also true The Blues Brothers was instrumental in a whole new generation of people discovering music and artists that white record companies and radio stations had long ignored.

All that being said, it’s also true that The Blues Brothers is almost an embarrassing example of cultural appropriation. When my parents (who grew up on real blues and jazz) watched The Blues Brothers on cable TV many years ago, their takeaway was that the Black performances in the film reminded them of the days when Lena Horne would appear in isolated numbers in MGM musicals so that her scenes could be edited out when the films played in the South.

Subtextually, Black culture is used as a backdrop in The Blues Brothers, a thing Jake and Elwood have free access to lay claim to and use in any way they wish. Black music is theirs to perform, Black personas are theirs to adopt; all the while they’re secure in the fact that they don’t even have to be any good to succeed—they merely have to be not Black. An icky fact borne out by the mind-blowing statistic that both The Blues Brothers soundtrack and the aforementioned Briefcase Full of Blues are the top-selling blues albums of all time. My head hurts just thinking about that one.

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Critics of the film rightfully question whether the humor of The Blues Brothers is rooted in merely seeing whites occupying Black spaces

None of this should detract from the obvious merits of The Blues Brothers. It's mentioned merely to call attention to talking points and food for thought impossible to ignore when watching a nearly 40-year-old film.

I consider The Blues Brothers to be a classic, but to true fans of blues and R&B, Aykroyd and Belushi are a bit like the Jayne Meadows and Nanette Newman of Soul: if you want to see Aretha Franklin and James Brown on the screen, you have to take Jake and Elwood in the bargain.

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Steven Spielberg as the Cook County Office Clerk

BONUS MATERIAL A poorly-received Blues Brothers sequel--Blues Brothers 2000--was made in 1998, some 16years after John Belushi's death. Co-written by Aykroyd and Landis, this PG-13 misguided venture brought back several members of the original cast (Aretha Franklin, James, Brown, Steve Lawrence, Kathleen Freeman) but to less entertaining effect. Budgeted at $28 million, it grossed something in the neighborhood of $14 million. I tried watching it, but the introduction of that kid Blues Brother did me in.

Choreographer Carlton Johnson staging Franklin's "Think" musical number

The sixty-minute 1998 behind-the-scenes documentary "The Stories Behind the Making of The Blues Brothers" is currently available on YouTube. Click Here.

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Copyright © Ken Anderson

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