Misunderstood Masterpieces: Blues Brothers 2000
Posted by Will Helm on 01.20.2004
...or, This Is What Happens When a Movie Has No Soul
Do you like good music? That sweet soul music?
Well, good . . . so do I. Even though I grew up in the late ‘70s and ‘80s, the bulk of what I listened to when I was younger was music like Motown and Doo-Wop, as well as British and white soul. To this day, artists like The Temptations, Smokey Robinson, Otis Redding, The Animals, and so on, find their way into my CD players on a regular basis. Yes, I have soul. A few years later, in college, I added blues to my repertoire; even though I was already a fan of bands like the aforementioned Animals and Led Zeppelin, both of which were heavily influenced by American blues, I needed to expose myself to their predecessors. The next thing I knew, I found that I was listening to Howlin’ Wolf and other Chicago blues artists and digging it. Even now, blues and soul music is some of the best chill out music I can ask for . . . you can keep your “smooth jazz” (which is just politically correct for “easy listening”) and your Enya; I’ll take “Smokestack Lightnin’” or “Green Onions” anytime.
Anyway, back in 1980, one of the most successful films based off of a Saturday Night Live sketch premiered and, since then, has gained a cult following of epic proportions: The Blues Brothers. Even though I am a HUGE fan of John Belushi, I had never seen this movie until one of my high school teachers showed it in class on a throwaway day toward the end of one year. Needless to say, its cult status is well deserved. With hilarious situations, memorable quotes, and a killer soundtrack, the original The Blues Brothers remains an unbelievably entertaining film even to this day. Some jokes never get old . . . if they did, then it’d be much harder to write these columns. Anyway, eighteen years after the fact, it was decided that a sequel would be released, even though John Belushi had died not long after the release of the first film. Of course they needed a replacement and, logically, who should it be but . . . John Goodman? Yeah. That makes sense. It’s a good thing that John Belushi didn’t have any siblings or anything, other wise that’d be a little unfair. Featuring about a zillion cameos and . . . well, that’s about it, The Blues Brothers 2000 (released in 1998) pales in comparison to the original. Doubting my claims? Well, I’ll prove it to you . . .
Alright, since there are a multitude of bizarre cameos, I’m not even going to bother naming half the characters. It’s really not important anyway.
Now, this movie wastes no time in angering me by opening with a dedication to John Belushi, Cab Calloway, and John Candy. I guess they want me to feel guilty for making fun of it. Too bad, movie; it’s not going to work. At beautiful Joliet Penitentiary in Joliet, Illinois, someone is humming while being released from prison. Perhaps it’s Dolemite! We could be that lucky. Instead, it’s just one half of the original Blues brothers, Elwood (Dan Ackroyd). He’s walking . . . and walking . . . and walking yet more. Alright then. Oh! Now he’s standing. Unfortunately, it’s not at the crossroads; that would have been more apropos. Dan Ackroyd was in Crossroads, so I guess that’s close enough. Back inside the prison, warden Frank Oz looks at Elwood just standing outside on a monitor. That’s funny . . . the warden’s last name is Oz. Perhaps they planned it that way. It turns out in the eighteen years since their last adventure, Elwood’s brother Jake may or may not have died . . . they’re kind of vague about this plot point. Perhaps Schillinger got him.
After standing outside for a near-eternity (in movie-time, at least), a random woman named Matara (Shann Johnson) arrives to pick up Elwood. It seems that Willie, the brothers’ former drummer, sent her. She takes Elwood to B.B. King’s used car lot, where he finds a car very much like the original Bluesmobile. He doesn’t have the money for it, so he goes back to the orphanage from the first film to meet with the nun (Kathleen Freeman) from the first film. She’s still alive? Nuns are creepy like that. She’s not happy to see her former charge, though; she starts whipping him unmercifully with a pointer and I begin to wonder if later she’ll take on a demon lipstick. It could happen. Anyway, through the nun’s helpful exposition, we learn that Curtis, the janitor from the first film, had a bastard son. Elwood, master of dubious lineage, deduces that they must be stepbrothers or something. Makes sense. You need some connector to keep the plot going, I suppose. And then the nun brings in some kid named Buster (J. Evan Bonifant) for Elwood to babysit, which means that The Blues Brothers is jumping the shark! Oh no! For those who don’t know, whenever you see a little kid show up in a television show, it usually means that that show is in danger of going downhill quickly, which has become known as “jumping the shark.” I guess it can happen in movies too, sadly. Right, Jake Lloyd?
After exiting the orphanage or wherever he was, Elwood and Buster go to Chicago to meet with Elwood’s “stepbrother.” In the meantime, Elwood informs Buster to stay away from drugs, gangs, and cyber porn. Dirty movies and liquor are just fine, I guess. Then, we learn that Elwood’s “stepbrother” is none other than The Brother from Another Planet, Joe Morton. I thought that the T-1000 killed him; I guess I remembered wrong. Oh, and he’s a commander in the Illinois State Police as well as being Cab Calloway’s son (Cab Calloway starred as Curtis in the original film). That’s one busy guy. At the news of his illegitimacy, Joe has a nervous breakdown; meanwhile, I wonder when this movie will start being funny. Elwood asks Joe to join the band, which Elwood is in the process of re-forming, but Joe responds by flipping out and throwing Elwood out of his office. Outside the building, Buster runs into Joe and picks his pocket, just so that Elwood can have the $500 for the used car he wanted to buy off of B.B. King. Got all that? Good . . . we’re moving on.
Buster and Elwood go cruising while a soul horn section plays in the background and I wish that could happen in real life. The best I can do is turn my radio up REALLY high. And then Swedish supergroup Abba comes on and I feel so totally not cool. After Buster proves himself to be a loveable scamp, they pull up in front of Willie’s club . . . Willie’s STRIP club. Oh great; now I’m going to have Showgirls flashbacks. Thank you, movie. Upon entering the reputable establishment, Matara, the dancer from before, (and her giant fake breasts) introduces Elwood to the bartender, John Goodman. Willie, legitimate businessman, refuses Elwood’s offer to rejoin the band, so Elwood takes a job as an emcee and singer in the club’s house band. Umm . . . there’s still strip clubs that have house bands? Really? Or are we just stretching the plot. Oh, wait, we’re just stretching the plot, as we discover, as well as Elwood, that Willie is being shaken down by the Russian mob for protection money. Meanwhile, Joe Morton orders a search for Elwood during the day . . . even though the two scenes buttressing Mr. Morton’s scene take place at night. So either the filmmakers are trying to infer the passage of time or the editor was Ed Wood. Perhaps both.
Some indeterminate time later, Elwood meets with the Russians and gets them drunk. He and John Goodman, then, strip the two thugs and leave them duct-taped and in an alley. That’s a little . . . weird, to say the least. When he returns to the club, Elwood gives Willie an impromptu Russian history lesson to justify his actions, because that makes so much sense. Later still, the humiliated Russians report to their bosses who, stereotypically, vow to destroy the club. So they do the smartest thing they can: they book Great White to play there! Actually, the next act on the bill at Willie’s is none other than John Goodman, but only because Elwood promised him a number. Who knew Elwood could be that nice? Maybe he learned some things in the pokey. After John sings and random HOT CHICKS dance, the very angry Russians arrive and start shooting up the place. Then they douse the club in gasoline and set it ablaze, but the evil Russian mob boss makes the fatal mistake of leaving Elwood and John Goodman alive for the fire to take care of. Because it’s just so hard to lift that gun in your hand and SHOOT THEM. Let the fire take care of the evidence; you should take care of the killing. Morons. John and Elwood escape and the Russians give chase, but the sinister Slavs are foiled by a bag full of drywall nails. No, really.
Sometime in the future, Elwood, Buster, and John, all in uniform, stop in front of a Mercedes Benz dealership. Two more members of the band are there and Elwood has to complete this level of the game for them to rejoin the band. It’s going to be tough, though, because the boss of the car dealership level is none other than . . . Aretha Franklin! No one can defeat the Queen of Soul! She returns from shopping (with her backup singers, no less), sasses at her husband, and then starts singing about respect or something. Elwood and the gang withstand her vocal barrage, however, so she allows her husband and his partner to rejoin the band. That’s so nice of her. Later, Elwood calls up a radio show hosted by Steve Cropper and “Duck” Dunn, two more members of the band; they join up with little fuss. Damn that was an easy level. The next one’s probably the most difficult: the cemetery level! Why? Even though the former trumpet player, who is now a funeral director, is very reluctant to join the band, the Russians are conveniently having a funeral at that very moment! Of course, Elwood breaks up the funeral and hilarity ensues. Yay.
Elsewhere, the gang meets with the ex-keyboard player, who now works for a phone-sex company run by Eddie Floyd and Wilson Pickett! Of course, everyone (including the operators) starts singing. Midway through the song, for absolutely no reason, someone wheels out Jonny Lang, who always reminds me of what would happen if Joe Cocker were a Hanson brother. Next, Elwood and the rest meet with their manager, crusty crooner Steve Lawrence! Next thing you know, Eydie Gormé will show up! Steve, being a slimy manager, books the Blues Brothers Band at a Voodoo queen’s Battle of the Bands somewhere in Louisiana. Elsewhere, the Russians vow to kill the Blues Brothers. Meanwhile, the band is also booked as a bluegrass band at a state fair in Kentucky while John Popper accosts Elwood! (I love it when you call me) Big Popper invites Elwood to a little backyard show that his band is playing at; Elwood, instead of attending, spurns the invitation, but the band we know as Blues Traveler plays anyway. They’re troopers, they are. On the road, Elwood eats Doritos and I celebrate the wonder that is product placement. Ah . . . sweet marketing goodness.
Back in Chicago, the nun calls the police because she thinks that Elwood kidnapped Buster. Uh-oh. The Indiana State Police finds Elwood and the rest of the crew at a diner in the middle of nowhere. Seeing no other option, Elwood does the only thing he can think of to escape the long arm of the law: he covers his head in shaving cream. Simultaneously, John Goodman yells a lot. The unbelievably convoluted ruse works, to a degree, and the requisite chase scene ensues because of it. The rest of the band, left behind unscathed thanks to Elwood’s distraction, leaves the diner post-haste. Unfortunately for all of them, the FBI is now on the case! The combined forces of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the Indiana State Police, and the Illinois State Police guard the only bridge into Kentucky, so Elwood just drives the Bluesmobile UNDER the Ohio River to escape the roadblock. OK then.
And where does the Bluesmobile come ashore? In the middle of a white supremacist rally led by none other than . . . Darrell Hammond! Of course, he blames the Russians and the Jews for the unexpected incursion. To protect themselves, the supremacists have a boat full of explosives, which somehow comes to rest on top of the Bluesmobile, becomes airborne, and lands on Darrell and explodes. Remember this for later. Speaking of later, later, at the Kentucky State Fair, the Russians and the cops are there! Everyone’s entitled to some wholesome fun now and then, you know. And then, for no reason whatsoever, Elwood, Buster, and John Goodman drive a flaming car around a loop and land in front of the stage. After they trio take the stage, John Goodman orders the audience to form a mosh pit while the band, all dressed like ZZ Top look-a-likes, breaks into a rousing country-blues ditty. Midway through the song, an apocalyptic bank of clouds rolls in and skeleton cowboys ride out of it! And I’m not lying either! Buster than starts playing harmonica as a downpour starts. Elwood, crafty bluesman that he is, pulls out a remote control for the Bluesmobile; up in a light tower, a Russian assassin gets struck by lightning! They need an ambulance over by the scaffolding! The Blues Brothers escape so that hilarity may ensue in the near future.
Later on down the road, the gang runs out of gas in the middle of nowhere . . . oh, it’s just Mississippi. Same difference. The band, surly individuals as they are, decides to mutiny and Elwood, his morale broken by the ongoing ordeal, lets them go. Buster, that loveable scamp, gives Elwood a totally unrehearsed and unscripted pep talk; Elwood responds by attempting to motivate the band with a speech that runs down modern music and references more obscure blues artists than you can shake a stick at. And that, my friends, is a lot of blues artists. The group walks to a revival in the middle of the woods while the cops still give chase! Give it up already, guys! At the revival, the reverend starts singing and the crowd is absolutely feeling it. That’s the kind of old time religion the world needs. Outside the revival tent, the police arrive; Joe Morton, then, enters the tent and stops the proceedings in order to arrest the Blues Brothers. Officer Morton doesn’t make his collar, however, as he is rudely interrupted by Rev. James Brown! Hallelujah! It’s the Godfather of Soul! Rev. Brown and his partner then use the combined force of their superpowers to make Joe Morton fly. Damn . . . this movie is an acid trip. In midair, Joe has a moment of clarity and then changes into the Blues Brothers’ uniform. Upon his return to solid ground, he starts singing! Moments later, the police bust in, but the Bluesmobile miraculously tears through the wall of the tent. During the requisite chase scene, the Blues Brothers Band escapes by jumping over a construction crew. In their wake, all of the police cruisers following behind pile up . . . and pile up . . . and pile up some more. Great. We get the idea. The Blues Brothers are cool, the cops are square.
Somewhere in the middle of the bayou, the Blues Brothers search for their audition for the Battle of the Bands. Just look for the local YMCA, guys; that’s usually where you’ll find things like that. I’ve heard that it’s fun to stay there and you can have a good meal as well. The odd thing is that it was a guy dressed all in leather and wearing ass-less chaps who told me. Very strange. They drive onto an antebellum estate guarded by black cowboys. Ooh, it’s like a Haunted Hayride! And this one’s got alligators in addition to the dirty hay and head lice. Once they find the mansion, a creepy old plantation house (where’s Lestat!), Paul Shaffer, complete with grey dreadlocks, lets them in. Then, all of a sudden, Erykah Badu magically appears . . . and I wonder just why THESE people run a Battle of the Bands. A Voodoo queen and David Letterman’s bandleader. Makes sense in context, I suppose. Erykah requests a little “Caribbean” music, but Elwood refuses . . . so she turns him, Joe, and John into green-skinned zombies. Yeah. Now, wouldn’t that make them the “Green Brothers Band”? Just wondering. They end up winning the audition, but they’re turned to stone statues immediately afterward. It must be the awesome power of Erykah’s Medusa-style hair.
At the Battle of the Bands, a giant, all-star blues band opens the show . . . while the giant head of Albert Einstein looks on. It seems that none other than B.B. King left his garage to front the band while Conan O’Brien plays keyboards. Oh, wait; that’s Steve Winwood. Sorry about that, Mr. Winwood. On trumpet, meanwhile, is none other than a resurrected Dizzy Gillespie, while some guy that looks like a dorky science teacher plays guitar. He’s pretty good too, but he’s no Eric Clapton. They finish their number and leave the stage, just so that they can make fun of the now-unzombified Blues Brothers. The Blues Brothers, meanwhile, confirm my earlier suspicions about the acid trip by playing a Grateful Dead cover. Another clue is the fact that they’re not really in synch with the actual music. Really, in the long run, it all makes sense.
What doesn’t make much sense is that the Blues Brothers actually LOSE the Battle of the Bands, so they just jam with the all-star band until, conveniently, the Russians show up. But, surprisingly — shockingly, even — the white supremacists arrive as well, led by none other than Darrell Hammond, who’s PERFECTLY UNHARMED! You would think that having an explosives-laden boat land on you and then explode would, at the very lease, muss one’s hair, but then you’d be wrong. Go figure. And then, in case you thought this movie still made a little sense, Erykah uses her awesome Voodoo powers to turn the Russians and the supremacists into rats. And then the cops show up; they don’t get turned into rats.
Then the jam session restarts, because the Blues Brothers know that no one can rock a tambourine like Clarence Clemons. He must be good, because he induces dancing in the ranks of the gathered gendarme and there’s much rejoicing. Unfortunately for Elwood and Buster, the nun from the first film appears at the concert, which leads to Elwood and Buster bugging out and leaving the stage in a hurry. Buster, one more time because you demanded it, gives yet another loveable scamp speech and the duo plan their final escape. They drive off, clasp their hands together, and plummet off a cliff. Oh, wait, that’s Thelma and Louise. Instead, Elwood and Buster drive off in the Bluesmobile with the police hot on their tails . . . and then the movie ends. What the?!? Gee, thanks for the denouement, movie.
There’s one very noticeable thing about this movie: it really isn’t funny. The first film was laugh-out-loud funny and thensome; this one is just there. It’s almost as if the filmmakers decided to replace funny with weird, thinking that no one would notice. Well, I noticed. The inordinate amount of cameos also seems to be there for the same reason. It is almost as if they serve as a distraction from the lack of humor in the film. Sorry, movie, but I wasn’t distracted. I am starting to feel bad about Dan Ackroyd, though; this is the third movie that I’ve written about in which he’s starred. If he keeps this up, he might just find himself in the Misunderstood Masterpieces Hall of Fame . . . and we all know what an honor that is!
Join me next time, when we shall analyze yet another terrible sequel . . . I bet you can’t wait!
