 |
| I was forced to remove the turd I'd had here, then the rotten banana. So fuck 'em, here's a dumb poster. |
Like it’s predecessor, the film opens with some rather lovely aerial photography that plays behind the opening credits. This time the sunny shores of the "Mexican Riviera" are on display, and the sandy beaches and azure waters of the Pacific are an enchanting sight to behold.
Now that we’ve covered everything good about the movie, let’s move on.
To put it simply, Herbie Goes Bananas is a rancid turd. It flat-out sucks. To call it “a disappointment” would be a laughably insufficient description; Herbie Rides Again was “a disappointment” - a slip-up by a well-meaning group of filmmakers who failed to capture the simple joys of the 1968 original. Herbie Goes Bananas, on the other hand, feels like an attempt at turning the "Herbie" series into a flaming pile of wreckage. It’s one of those films that, while watchable (in the sense that it doesn’t feel like it was made by amateurs,) makes one wonder why someone didn’t stop the production at some point and say “Something’s not working, because this is horseshit.”
 |
| The (stupid) gang's all here... |
The story, such as it is, is such a mess that attempts to summarize it typically break down into a series of “then this happens, then this happens” - so let’s not even try. The script attempts to continue the narrative from the previous film, insomuch as one of our lead characters, Pete Stancheck (played with hunky blandness by Stephen W. Burns,) has inherited Herbie from his uncle, Jim Douglas (an absent Dean Jones,) who apparently ditched the little car after he stopped wanting to race. Boy, they sure try to make Douglas into a real jagoff when he’s not in the picture. The main character of the film is Paco (Joaquin Garay III,) a young orphan from Puerto Vallarta who befriends the little car and dubs him “Ocho”. In a hi-larious twist at the end, when questioned why he calls him this, Paco informs us that he was simply adding together the race numbers on Herbie’s hood: 53. That’s some real Oscar Wilde-like wit right there. There’s also a trio of crooks (John Vernon, Alex Rocco, and Richard Jaeckel) searching for a lost city or something, a cruise ship helmed by Harvey Korman (more on him in a moment,) Cloris Leachman playing yet another pathetic spinster, and Elyssa Davalos as her mousy niece, who shares a She’s All That-style romance with Stancheck that I couldn't give two shits about.
 |
| Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance silver-moon's sparkling... |
Just about every decision made in the creation of this pile of garbage was a bad one, and many mistakes that had already been made in previous “Herbie” films were repeated. Once again, the story is absent any racing scenes - instead Stancheck and his pal D.J. (a completely wasted Charles Martin Smith, whom Disney owed Never Cry Wolf after this) are planning on entering Herbie into the Brazil Grand Prix, apparently after the movie’s over. Not only that, but by the film’s conclusion they’ve appointed little Paco to be their official driver, because of his bond with the car and Christ kill me now. Like the previous film, we also get another trio of hapless crooks, because the tedious shenanigans of the diamond thieves from Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo were surely the secret to it’s middling box office success. These three (who are American this time, because they wanted to cast John Vernon to please all the fans of Dean Wormer from Animal House) plan to make off with a large golden blah-blah-blah from a lost Inca city, and must be stopped because villains. To the film’s credit, the crooks here do pose a more tangible threat than the bumbling Brits from the last entry, since they seemingly transcend all laws of time and space. Paco can drive Herbie all the way from Panama to Mexico to avoid them, but they’ll already be waiting for him at a random spot along the way. As a matter of fact, every character in this film has the uncanny ability to find one another, illogically appearing all over the fucking continent no matter what distance separates them. One minute a character will be in Puerto Vallarta, and minutes later they’ve apparated somewhere hundreds of miles away to join in on some hijinks they’d have otherwise missed.
 |
| Villains, or menswear models from the 1979 Gottschalks catalog? |
The cast, while made up mostly of fine actors, seems completely lost. Each actor (and therefore each character) is playing at odds to one another, as if no one told them all just what kind of movie was being shot. Stephen W. Burns has all the charisma of a handsome cardboard cut-out, and seems as though he wants the film to be a soap opera. Charles Martin Smith, tasked with a role seemingly written for Don Knotts, half-heartedly throws out goofy one-liners like a flailing stand-up comic. John Vernon seems to think he’s still in a Dirty Harry movie, and plays the villain completely straight until he finds himself slipping on banana peels in the climax. Poor Cloris Leachman was apparently doomed to keep repeating variations of her love-starved Last Picture Show character for years after, and honestly had a much more rounded character to work with in the previous years’ North Avenue Irregulars. Here her Aunt Louise character spends most of the film clumsily reacting to others’ pratfalls (a lot of the off-screen “Oh my goodness!”, “Oops!”, “My word! Are you okay?” variety,) and bewilderingly fawning over Harvey Korman’s character.
 |
| Cloris Leachman induces her gag reflex… |
Which, unfortunately, brings us to Harvey Korman. I know I’m going to ruffle some feathers here, but for the life of me I’ve never understood Korman’s appeal as an actor or comedian. Perhaps best known for numerous appearances in Mel Brooks' comedies (including his turn as villainous Hedley Lamarr in the venerable Blazing Saddles,) Korman excelled in roles that required a measure of pomposity. If we’re being honest, though, playing a jackass is not difficult for any caliber of actor to pull off. One need look no further than Keenan Wynn playing the bad guy back in Herbie Rides Again for a better example of a crazed egoist; he really sold the idea of a blowhard barely keeping himself together. Korman, on the other hand, usually comes off as someone acting like a blowhard, merely playing at being unhinged. Hell, he couldn’t even pull off being a straight-man either, since he’s gone down in history as the guy who nearly pissed himself trying not to laugh at Tim Conway on The Carol Burnett Show.
However, I’m almost willing to give the guy a pass, just because he had to do this for a national TV audience in 1978's Star Wars Holiday Special:
In Herbie Goes Bananas, Korman plays the dictatorial captain of a cruise ship, named (I shit you not) Captain Blythe. Get it!? Like Captain Bligh of Mutiny on the Bounty fame, only it's Blythe!! But the word “blithe” means cheerful indifference or euphoric happiness - which describes the opposite of Korman’s character here. One could argue that they were trying to be ironic, but honestly I think it was just a stupid pun amongst innumerable other dumb jokes in this cinematic grab-bag of shitty gags. Blythe, as written and performed, is the biggest asshole on the seven seas, going off on long diatribes about the days of tall ships sailing across uncharted seas, when insubordinate crew could be punished with “lashes from the cat.” The dickhead seems to barely tolerate being the captain of a pleasure vessel, thundering angrily at passengers and crew members alike - especially ones that don’t play along with his Horatio Hornblower fantasies. While the character is clearly supposed to be a pompous ass, and suffers a number of slapstick humiliations over the course of the film, the really unfortunate thing is that we’re also supposed to find him funny. Witness a rib-tickler early in the film, when the camera cuts to the exasperated expressions of gathered passengers as Blythe admiringly recounts the following tale:
The booty was taken aboard the man-of-war, and the enemy vessel scuttled. The women were then turned over to the crew, the select ones going to the officers, naturally. The wenches were escorted below, and believe me, there was no poetry, or "by your leave," or "how lovely you look tonight". One got to the matter at hand in short order!
 |
| Grumpy Cap. |
One of the biggest “I can’t believe I’m watching this shit” moments in Disney’s entire film library comes about halfway through this film, courtesy of our delusional captain. Blythe, enraged following Herbie’s wrecking of the ship’s hold (after Paco is discovered stowed away in his trunk,) abides “by the traditions of the sea” and orders the little car thrown overboard. Now up to this point, the film has been stupid, unfunny and full of lousy acting choices. But this scene, in which a Volkswagen was actually dumped off the side of a cruise ship while cameras rolled (and was never recovered afterward,) serves as a “point of no return” - the moment when the film loses all hope of redemption. Rather than “jumping the shark,” this film (and perhaps the franchise itself) has “dumped the Bug.” After this point, any attempt at making a cohesive movie falls apart, and the shit just piles up higher and higher until the credits roll. We get more of Cloris Leachman throwing herself at Captain A-hole, Herbie participating in a bullfight before driving across the country incognito under a pile of bananas (Aha! The title!), and finally using said fruit as artillery to bring down the fleeing villains (because hardened criminals with guns are no match for a car flinging bananas at them.)
 |
| Ocho swims with the fishes... |
Looking over the list of the behind-the-scenes crew, it’s hard to figure out just where to place the blame for this abomination. Screenwriter Don Tait, a veteran of TV and movie writing (who’d written episodes for Maverick and The Virginian, as well as The Apple Dumpling Gang and The North Avenue Irregulars for Disney,) may’ve been past his prime by this point, though that’s hardly an excuse for a script this horrible. It’s telling, however, that this would be Tait’s final theatrical screenplay - his following pair of scripts being for TV shows broadcast in 1982. It’s also conceivable to lay some blame at the feet of returning director McEveety, as his previous Herbie film may've been the best work he did at Disney. A generally uninspired filmmaker at best, McEveety can also be credited with heading up such previous Disney-produced duds as 1973’s Superdad and 1975’s The Strongest Man in the World (the movie that killed off the "Dexter Riley" film cycle.)
 |
| I knew we should've taken that left turn at Albuquerque… |
So far I’ve failed to talk about the music in the "Herbie" films, other than mentioning George Bruns’ "Herbie Theme" from the original. The Love Bug found the gifted musician in fine form, showcasing both his proficiency for jazz (in the high-spirited comedic segments) and exotica (in his eastern-tinged underscore for Tennessee Steinmetz’s philosophical musings). His score for the second film, while still enjoyable, wasn’t quite as inspired, leaning more heavily on the "Herbie Theme." Bruns was then replaced by prolific songwriter and TV theme-song writer Frank De Vol, whose credits include the music for Family Affair and The Brady Bunch. De Vol’s score for Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo was serviceable though not especially memorable, again making extensive use of a slightly-adapted "Herbie Theme." His score for Herbie Goes Bananas, on the other hand, is an ugly-sounding mélange of goofy orchestrations overdubbed with synthesized burbles and cheesy variations of "La Cucaracha" and "Jarabe Tapatio" (AKA the “Mexican Hat Dance”.) After all, this is set in Mexico, amigos!
 |
| Why grab the bull by the horns when you can just drop a car on him? |
In another departure from the previous films, Herbie Goes Bananas features a pair of original songs. The first, a disco ballad entitled “Look at Me,” underscores the love scenes between Pete and Melissa, and is so breezy it barely exists. Hell, maybe it doesn’t, since I can’t seem to find any credited performers for it online, beyond a writing credit for De Vol himself. Maybe the singer wished to remain anonymous? Smart move. The second song - oh my fucking God. Also credited to De Vol, “I Found a New Friend” plays against the “heartwarming” scenes between Paco and
So, yes - De Vol namechecks Charro in order to rhyme “tomorrow,” proving himself a true wordsmith to be reckoned with. Additionally, a new verse is added to the end of the song's reprise, in which the word “friend” is spelled out in song - only misspelled “f-r-e-n-d,” because the gods of rhythm demanded it. Already knee-deep in the waste that is this movie, it was all I could do to get through this insult to songcraft without shoving kabob skewers through my eardrums.
 |
| Here in my car, I feel safest of all... |
It should come as no surprise that Herbie Goes Bananas was (and still is) the least successful film of the franchise, earning less than half of what Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo did - though I nearly spat out my coffee reading that enough people were apparently suckered into giving this dung heap $18 million. Garnering mostly bad reviews, one wonders if those few critics who gave the film any sort of plaudits are into sadomasochism or something; I honestly can't fathom how else they could've found anything to enjoy in this cinematic cluster-fuck. By this point, it was clear that Disney, in it’s current state, was no longer equipped to deliver on the franchise possibilities of the 1968 original. Thus, with Herbie left in the care of a Mexican orphan and covered with rotting banana peels, we wouldn’t be seeing the little VW Beetle with a mind of his own up on the big screen again for quite some time. Until then, the worn-out little car was in desperate need of a rest - save for a few TV appearances, of course.
No comments:
Post a Comment