Misunderstood Masterpieces: ¡Three Amigos!
Posted by Will Helm on 05.11.2004
…or, Short, Martin, and Chase Versus … Tim Meadows?
I don’t know whether it’s interesting or frightening that a lot of the same names keep re-appearing in the annals of my column. For example, do you know what National Lampoon’s Animal House, Spies Like Us, and Blues Brothers 2000 have in common? No, Dan Ackroyd, Official Mascot of Misunderstood Masterpieces, wasn’t in all of them . . . although he almost was. You see, Ackroyd was originally slated to play Daniel “D-Day” Day in Animal House, but declined. If you said that they all shared the same director, you’re right! And if you said “why are you asking me this?” it’s because I can!
Yes, friends, none other than John Landis was at the helm for one of my all time favorite movies, one of my all time guiltiest pleasures, and one of the worst sequels I have ever seen, in addition to many other movies and Michael Jackson projects. Speaking of Wacko Jacko, I was watching the film That’s Dancing! on PBS one Saturday night and, toward the end of the picture, I witness Gene Kelly himself extolling the virtues of Mr. Jackson’s fanciful footwork. Of course this was the mid-‘80s, but if we had known then what we know now. . . . Anyway, it can be argued that Landis is either one of the best bad directors in Hollywood or the worst good director in Hollywood, or he just has very bad taste in projects. Any combination of those factors could be the truth – well, except for the first two; they cancel each other out.
Anyway, enough of my rambling and on with the proceedings. During his bittersweet ‘80s career, Landis followed up a former entrant to the hallowed halls of this column, Spies Like Us, with another comedic-actor fueled work. This time, instead of the Cold War, the time and place was Mexico in the 1920s. Quite a change of pace, wouldn’t you say? And this time, instead of the one-two punch of hilarity that is Chevy Chase and Dan Ackroyd, Landis called in reinforcements. Yes, the audience was to be treated with the three-pronged humor attack of Chase, intellectual genius Steve Martin, and rubbery spitfire Martin Short. These fine comedic specimens were to be the leads in the Misunderstood Masterpiece ¡Three Amigos! . . . and it’s quite deserving of that honor.
You know you’re in for quality when the first thing you see is the Orion Pictures title card. Ah, Orion: the mark of bankruptcy. This picture, quite unlike many of the others I’ve covered here, begins with a musical number. Of course, it isn’t a spectacular musical number by any stretch of the imagination; instead it’s just Lucky Day (Martin), Dusty Bottoms (Chase), and Ned Nederlander (Short), the titular Three Amigos, crooning their theme song and comically holding a note. Inducing hyperventilation: always funny. After their sonorous interlude, the opening credits proper begin to the strains of “Variations on the Theme to Spies Like Us.” I’m not kidding, either; the two songs sound very similar. Of course, this time, proper for the idiom, the credits have a Western flavor to them. Mmmm . . . yummy saddle. Ending the credits, of course, is a name that should make regular readers’ hearts skip a beat: the aforementioned John Landis. Oh, yeah . . . you know it’s going to be good now.
After the credits finish, somewhere in Mexico a car drives around and a HOT CHICK rides a horse. The HOT CHICK, Carmen (Patrice Martinez), and her little assistant Rodrigo (Philip Gordon) walk into a cantina. Perhaps they’re looking for a fast ship to Alderaan, but I could be wrong. Instead, like much like in Akira Kurosawa’s Shichinin no samurai, they’re searching the bar for valiant defenders. Instead of righteous do-gooders, they find nothing but rogues and curs in that hive of scum and villainy. Sadly, there isn’t a Wookie to be found. To console themselves, the duo go to a church to watch a movie . . . a movie which features none other than (drumroll please) the Three Amigos! Wow. Isn’t that wonderfully fortunate for them? If they had been late for the film, the movie as a whole would have turned out much differently. I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or not. Later, after reading the Amigos’ studio address of the side of a truck, the HOT CHICK dictates a letter to them but, due to budget constraints, the telegraph operator edits the message. Because we all know there’s nothing funnier than editing. Whoo! Hold me back.
Some unspecified amount of time later, in Hollywood, Joe Mantegna impersonates Jimmy Durante. Of course, he’s playing neither himself nor Mr. Durante, but instead Harry Flugleman, motion picture studio chief and all-around class act. How classy is he? Well, he has John Lovitz and Phil Hartman as his assistants. Now that’s classy. The reason for the Durante impression is quite simple: Flugleman wants the Amigos to make a new kind of picture and possibly break out of their hackneyed genre in favor of something more critically viable. In return, the headstrong Amigos, spurred on by de facto leader Lucky, eschew greater fame in favor of more money from the studio. Flugleman, as would any film baron, freaks out and has the Amigos evicted from their apartments and stripped on the spot. Umm . . . evicted I can understand, but stripped? I know that the clothes were from wardrobe, but did they have to do it right there? Methinks Flugleman is a very very warped man; remind me never to sit on his casting couch without laying down a towel first. And to top it all off, the Amigos get fired as well. Could this day get any worse for them? And why do I have so many rhetorical questions?
Outside the studio, the Amigos receive the HOT CHICK’s telegram which proposes that they come to a little Mexican village and put on a show with the “infamous” El Guapo. Just to improve the hilarity quotient of this scene, the Amigos humorously misinterpret the world “infamous,” believing that it really means that someone is “more than famous.” Just for your reference, from Webster’s: “in-fam-ous – having a very bad reputation.” Of course, harping on the hidden meaning of the word “infamous” misses the greater part of the story here: El Guapo. You see, while el guapo is traditionally translated as “the handsome one,” Babelfish helpfully and uncannily translates this piece of Spanish as “the lady’s man.” Does that mean the Amigos are going to have to face off against Leon Phelps himself? Think it’s impossible? One of the co-writers of the film is a fine gentleman who is not only the basis for Dr. Evil but also a creator of Saturday Night Live (which at one time featured “The Ladies Man”), Lorne Michaels. It all makes sense now, doesn’t it? Anyway, that night, the Amigos sneak into the studio and Lucky impersonates a bird. They heroically don their costumes and escape the evil clutches of melodramatic security guards.
By the way, if “Ladies’ Man” means that a particular guy is popular with women, shouldn’t “Man’s Man” mean something completely different than what it actually does? That always bugged me for some reason.
Back at the cantina, Charles Lindbergh shows up! Wow . . . now that’s a celebrity cameo if ever there was one. Actually, it’s just some random German guy (Kai Wulff), which, ironically enough, isn’t terribly different from Lindbergh if you knew his political views. Some greasy cowboy flirts with the well-dressed Teutonic gentleman, because I guess it gets really lonely out there on the range. Either that, or he’s a “man’s man,” if you catch my drift. The German doesn’t take the cowboy’s advances too kindly, so the lonely, horny cowpoke and his buddies find themselves on the losing end of a rather quick gunfight. The German warns the bar patrons to treat some friends of his with a little more respect and then he leaves . . .
. . . and who should arrive to take his place but the Three Amigos! Isn’t that just a serendipitous sequence of events. The bartender (Fred Asparagus), as well as the rest of the customers, think that the Amigos are the “friends” the German was referring to and therefore treat the American entertainers with much reverence. Actually, I’d probably say they were scared out of their wits, but I’m giving them the benefit of the doubt. When in Mexico you do as the Mexicans do, so the Amigos collectively down a shot of tequila. Hmm . . . I wonder if it’s Cuervo Gold. Why do I ask? Well, in college, Chevy Chase was an erstwhile drummer for the band The Leather Canary. Two of the member of this band, Walter Becker and Donald Fagan, later went on to form the jazz-rock ensemble/Naked Lunch-reference Steely Dan. Steely Dan once had a hit with the song “Hey Nineteen” containing the lines “The Cuervo Gold / The fine Colombian / Make tonight a wonderful thing” off the album Gaucho. A gaucho is a cowboy. ¡Three Amigos! is a Western. Chevy Chase is in ¡Three Amigos!. Chevy Chase also drank tequila in Caddyshack. See; it all makes sense. Of course, there could be a hefty application of pretzel logic at work as well. And, just to keep the musical vibe going, a song and dance number breaks out in the bar for no particular reason. OK, then.
Later that day, Ned tells a bad joke about airplane testicles and then some little guy and Mark Messier walk into the cantina in the Amigos’ wake. OK . . . so he’s not really National Hockey League legend Mark Messier; it’s just noteworthy character actor Brian Thompson, who looks remarkably like the hockey star. The Moose and the little guy, both Germans, are hastily insulted by the drunkards at the bar, so they respond as any German or rap star would: by shooting up the place. OK, then. In town, the Amigos meet the HOT CHICK who brings them all on one horse to the sleepy little hamlet of Santa Poco. The band Poco featured Timothy B. Schmidt and Randy Meissner, who later went on to stardom as part of the Eagles, famous contemporaries of Steely Dan. See . . . it all makes sense! ¡Three Amigos! is just one big inside reference to the music industry! Of course, that shouldn’t be surprising, as another of the co-writers is lauded songwriter Randy Newman. Now it’s just too bad that the HOT CHICK wasn’t named “Rosalita” . . . but that might have made it all too obvious. Once in town, some scamp asks to inherit Dusty’s watch after the hero’s demise and then they all have dinner together. That night, the Amigos share a bed together and talk about everything they’re going to do with the plethora of pesos they’ll receive for their performance. Oh . . . wait. I haven’t gotten to the “plethora” part yet. I’m sorry for ruining a future joke, folks.
The next day, some drunken hoodlums ride to Santa Poco to cause some trouble and steal some tequila. Meanwhile, we learn that one of the town’s HOT CHICKS (they must breed them down there or something) lusts for Dusty. Good to know. Moments later, the hoodlums arrive in town, but the Amigos confuse the ne’er-do-wells with their antics and showmanship. The gang members retreat to inform Leon Phelps about the town’s resident vigilantes and the citizens freak out like it’s Cinco de Mayo or something.
Elsewhere, the “Lady’s Man” (Alfonso Arau) learns of the Amigos’ presence and plans their demise . . . all while practicing photography. Sadly, it isn’t erotic photography; I thought that El Guapo would at least live up to his nom de guerre, but I guess I was wrong. Hmm . . . Spanish and French in the same sentence . . . I wonder what other Romance languages I can work in here. Sorry; thinking out loud again. Or on paper, at least. Over in Santa Poco, the town continues their Pyrrhic victory celebration in which Lucky dances and Dusty sings. Later, Lucky does rope tricks, HOT CHICK #2 hits on Dusty, and Ned reminisces with some kids. I guess that’s supposed to be poignant or something.
The next day, the “infamous” El Guapo arrives in Santa Poco to terrorize the town. The heroic Three Amigos assemble against him; their mode of attack: to ride around and entertain El Guapo so that he leaves town ne’er to return. Of course, El Guapo decides that the best course of action isn’t retreat, but to instead shoot one of the Amigos. Unfortunately for Lucky, he’s the one chosen to catch a bullet. He miraculously survives and yells at the guy who shot him in a huff. Because that’s the first thing I’d think to do if someone shot me. Yell at a man with a loaded gun . . . always a wise strategic move. Like Buddha under the bodhi tree, the Amigos finally realize that the “infamous” El Guapo isn’t “infamous” at all, but a real live nasty, brutish, sadistic, infamous crime lord. Oops. See kids, that’s what happens when you assume: you get shot by a Mexican crime lord. The now-cowardly Amigos collectively have a nervous breakdown and request permission from El Guapo to quickly exit town, stage right. “The Lady’s Man” acquiesces and the Amigos get out of Dodge . . . or, in this case, Santa Poco. El Guapo celebrates his symbolic victory by finally living up to his nickname as he kidnaps the HOT CHICK! His men also blow up the church and the town; I guess one of them must be El Fuego, then.
Sometime later, for no particular or wise reason other than there’s still quite a bit left of this movie, the Amigos return to Santa Poco as pariahs. Ned, feeling a flood of heroism wash over him, decides to play for real against El Guapo and, surprisingly, the other Amigos join him. Their first act is to teleport into the middle of the desert where they sit around a campfire and eat roasted bats. Yum. For some helpful exposition, they review their mission objectives as outlined by the people of Santa Poco. After the missing bits of film are filled in, Ned drifts off to sleep while Dusty plays the guitar and sings. Too bad he doesn’t bust out any Chicago Transit Authority or anything like that.
The next day, the Amigos meet a singing bush (Newman) . . . but it’s not just any singing bush; it’s the singing bush! And here I thought it was a shrubbery. I guess they told me wrong then, didn’t they. Wow. It’s not every day you can work in a Monty Python reference and a Young Frankenstein reference in quick succession. I’m proud of myself. Anyway, the Amigos each exclaim their decidedly goofy chants and fire their guns into the air, which should summon the “invisible swordsman.” The “invisible swordsman” is summoned but, of course, Dusty accidentally kills him with an errant gunshot. Oops. I hate it when that happens. Usually it just ends up going into a buttock. Forrest Gump would be proud.
Back at El Guapo’s headquarters, we learn that it’s his birthday and that he’s also very selfish in the sack. One of those two bits of news is too much information; I’ll let you guess which one it is. El Guapo also has some very strange birthday wishes: the Germans’ guns and a plethora of piñatas. It seems that not only is El Guapo a “lady’s man” and a villain, but he’s also an intellectual as he quizzes his henchman Jefe (Tony Plana) on the meaning of the word plethora. You know, I’m getting really sick and tired of intellectual villains. We had one in The Postman, we have one here now . . . it’s almost as if the screenwriters of Hollywood think that intelligence = evil. Then again, that may be true, because, according to Spaceballs, “Good is dumb.” Anyway, just so we don’t start liking El Guapo due to his intellect, he also says that if Carmen doesn’t give it up that night, he’s going to kill her. The nice thing is that if he does that, she can’t say “no.” Ah . . . it’s not a proper column without a necrophilia joke.
Later, the Amigos stake out El Guapo’s headquarters . . . while wearing their garish uniforms and spurs. Because nothing says “silent reconnaissance” like garish uniforms and spurs. Inside the compound, the Germans bring the guns and a birthday party breaks out! Yay! After the Amigos scale the walls in their garish outfits and spurs, Dusty swings into Carmen’s room, Ned gets stuck on a piñata (yet somehow finds time to flip over after getting stuck), and Lucky falls into the middle of the party. Lucky, perhaps as a bizarre defense mechanism, proposes democracy for no particular reason. El Guapo, who must not be in the mood for political debate, sentences Lucky to death . . . and then a mariachi band starts playing. Wow. Who knew capital punishment could be such a celebration! Only in Mexico.
While the fiesta commences outside, Dusty disguises himself as a guard and Lucky, the wannabe liberator, ends up chained to a wall. There’s irony in there somewhere. Carmen, because she’s just a HOT CHICK and not terribly heroic (as of yet), goes to get the horses. Ned is still stuck up in the piñata. Good for him. Down at the party, Jefe sentimentally gives a toast in honor of El Guapo; say what you will, but he’s a classy henchman. Then, just to prove his worth yet more, Jefe presents El Guapo with a token of the gang’s esteem: a sweater. Now, why you would need a sweater in the hot barren parts of Mexico is beyond me, but it gives El Guapo that wizened, avuncular look he’s probably going for. It’s too bad they didn’t give him a tweed sport jacket or a calabash to go with it. Maybe next year. Meanwhile, in the underground holding cell (it’s too bad Philadelphia’s Veterans Stadium isn’t standing anymore or I could insert a joke about that), Lucky pulls a lever but gets comically slammed back against the wall.
El Guapo, reveling in the revelry, reminisces with his men; when he comes to the disguised Dusty, the incognito Amigo confesses to nefarious bestiality and landscaping in an effort to fool the crime lord. El Guapo, since he doesn’t have the intelligence quotient of a spoon, quickly sees through the ruse. Ned, for no reason other than because it’s funny from a comedic timing perspective, falls from his perch high above the festivities. While El Guapo plans on ending his Amigo problem once and for all, the German intercedes in Ned’s favor as our Teutonic friend idolizes the former child star. Of course, when you’re face to face with your idol, what’s the first thing you’d think to do? If you said challenge him to a gun duel, you REALLY need some therapy. Oddly enough, the German does just that; elsewhere, Lucky pulls another lever and escapes while Dusty gets changed back into his uniform without ever leaving the area. Continuity? What’s that? Ned and the German line up for their showdown and Jefe gives Ned a bigger gun . . . then he kisses him. Umm . . . OK. Ned and the German squint at each other and then Ned kills the German. Wow. That was anticlimactic.
Moments after the German’s not-so-shocking defeat, Lucky triumphantly leads the Amigos’ escape; although it’d be rude of me not to mention that Carmen did get the horses, so they don’t have to walk. That’s good. El Guapo, loathe to have his birthday party crashed in such a manner, gives chase. Somewhere away from the base camp, the Amigos find a biplane in the middle of the desert and, miraculously, Ned steals it! Of course, this little plot point was set up long ago in the movie. Continuity? That’s what it is! I love it when even the column has continuity. The three heroes (and Carmen) fly back to Santa Poco, where they lead the community in a patriotic pep talk. Of course, this all leads to enthusiastic and inspired sewing. Makes sense. Meanwhile, all those guys that thought that it was fey to learn how to sew are made to dig a ditch. That’ll teach ‘em to embrace their feminine sides.
Later, El Guapo rides into a seemingly deserted Santa Poco; after a few moments of deliberation, a multitude of Amigos shoot down some of El Guapo’s men! They’re everywhere! Who knew all that sewing and digging was the secret to human cloning! OK, maybe not. Due to the overwhelming abundance of Amigos, the bulk of El Guapo’s gang retreat, leaving him only with Jefe, who is quickly killed. So it’s down to El Guapo against the entire town of Santa Poco, who donned Amigo uniforms to confuse the villainous villain to the point where he would become cross and make a mistake. Oh, wait . . . that was a killer rabbit. El Guapo, because he has to as if this were a Gabriel García Márquez novel, gets shot and, as his last dying act, shoots Lucky in the foot. I guess you have to take the bad with the good, then. In the aftermath, Dusty gives the loveable scamp his watch anyway (Continuity! Ask for it by name!) and the Amigos make out with their respective HOT CHICKS, including Ned’s HOT CHICK (Rebecca Underwood, a.k.a. Rebecca Ferratti), who we’ve never seen until this point. I think she’s just there to dispel the rumors people probably had about Ned. Of course, I might be cynical like that. The Three Amigos, confident in their heroism, ride off into the closing credits! ¡Olé!
And so that’s it. Yes, ¡Three Amigos! is a bad movie, but it’s yet another “so bad it’s good” movie. It’s just so cheesy and unbelievably dumb that you can’t help but be entertained as I always have by this film. I just have to wonder just what John Landis thinks when he sees these scripts, though.
Anyway, join me next week as I break out of this “so bad it’s good” ‘80s funk and get REALLY weird with someone you know and someone you may not know. Oh, and there’s naked women. Lots of naked women. ¡Adios, amigos!
