smokey and the bandit

There’s a point about 20 minutes into Smokey and the Bandit (1977) in which Burt Reynolds, having just successfully left another inept local cop in the dust, leans halfway out of his tricked-out TransAm convertible, looks up at the camera and cracks an ear-to-ear grin, his famous moustache curled up in smug celebration. That shot encapsulates all one ever needs to know about the appeal and success of the film, which in most other respects is one of the most simplistic, juvenile, sexist and just plain stupid movies ever made. It was also one of the highest grossing movies of 1977, right behind beloved classics like the original Star Wars, Close Encounters and Saturday Night Fever. So what was the appeal?

In a word: Reynolds.

Already a proven sex symbol (he appeared nearly nude on the 1972 issue of Cosmopolitan) and a man’s man thanks to roles in Deliverance and The Longest Yard, he was that unique star that appealed equally to both sexes with a country-fried sense of humor that greased the wheels in middle America. Add in some car chases, CB radios, a catchy theme song, Sally Field, Jackie Gleason and a beagle named Fred and you’ve got yourself one can’t miss formula for box-office success circa 1977!

Bootlegging a truckload of Coors beer from Texarkana to Georgia on a bet, Bandit picks up “Frog” (Sally Field) by the side of the road, still in her wedding dress and on the run from her groom. That groom’s daddy happens to be none other than Buford T. Justice (one of the few characters in the film to get a full name, let alone a middle initial), a loud-mouthed Texas Sheriff who pursues them across several state borders to avenge the family honor.

It’s safe to say director Hal Needham, a former stuntman and racing enthusiast, knew his way around the asphalt. And although the stuntwork is rather tame by today’s standards (heck, Bo and Luke Duke jumped a bridge every week just a few years later) one can still appreciate the driving skills on display…even though it’s easier than ever to spot Burt and Sally’s stunt doubles on Blu-ray.

Speaking of which, the new hi-def edition, part of Universal’s 100th Anniversary, is a particularly good-looking affair, gathering all the extras from past DVDs (including a Making Of and CB Radio Tutorial) along with a digital copy so you can take Bandit on the road yourself. Just watch don’t get caught by a “Kojak with a Kodak,” good buddy.