Smokey and the Bandit II (1980)

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve rewatched Smokey and the Bandit Part II, but it’s safe to say I’m part of a select group of enthusiasts who have seen this film far too many times. As a kid, it was my go-to film for repeat viewing on rainy days. First taped off the TV and later proudly owned on VHS once I could get my hands on a copy. There was something about Burt Reynolds’ charisma that drew me in, making him the epitome of cool to me.

In those days, Reynolds starred in a string of films that perfectly captured my teenage sensibilities: The Cannonball Run, Hooper, Stroker Ace, White Lightning, Gator, and, of course, the Smokey and the Bandit series. He was the wisecracking good ol’ boy who always charmed the ladies, brawled with the bad guys, outwitted the law, and tore up the roads in fast cars. No one else seemed quite as much fun to watch.

Looking back, I realize that Smokey and the Bandit II was a product of its time – bigger, louder, and more juvenile than its predecessor. As a kid, I devoured it for its silly, undemanding, and pure fun nature. Reynolds famously called it “shit” during the end credits, but honestly, that might have worked better as an opening line.

Rewatching it now, I’m convinced that Jerry Reed is the real heart of the film. His lovable charm, comedic timing, and physical performance make the whole thing watchable. Burt Reynolds seems to be there mostly for the sake of hanging out with friends, while Jackie Gleason likely showed up for the paycheck (and Sally Field probably needed some serious convincing to return).

As much as I adore Gleason, even he struggles to wring laughs from Sheriff Justice’s shtick on his second appearance. The chemistry between him and Mike Henry as his son suffers as the joke from the first film has really overstayed its welcome. It’s a shame, because there are moments where their banter works – but those are few and far between.

Then there’s Dom DeLuise, a brilliant comic actor who often flies under the radar. Pairing him with an elephant, Charlotte, is an ambitious move that doesn’t quite pay off. The idea that she helps redeem Bandit’s narcissism is noble, but not particularly well executed. Still, I appreciate the attempt to bring some warmth and humanity to the film.

The climax of Smokey and the Bandit II delivers exactly what a kid playing with toy cars on the bedroom floor would dream up: chaotic, over-the-top car crashes and stunts. It’s gloriously juvenile, and I have to admit that it’s a lot of fun. The addition of Justice’s twin brothers is a misfire, though – they’re broad stereotypes with little comedic payoff, reinforcing the sense that Gleason wasn’t in this one for the laughs.

Despite its many flaws, Smokey and the Bandit II has moments that are easy to miss. They’re like hidden Easter eggs or fleeting glimpses of something better beneath the surface. I’ll defend it the same way I do Casino Royale (1967) and Kingdom of the Crystal Skull – I know it’s bad, but there’s something endearing about finding joy in a film so flawed.

Looking back, Smokey and the Bandit II was a always disliked by the critcs – a byproduct of the excesses and absurdity of the 1970s and early 1980s. As a child I loved it’s stupidity and cartoonishness, as an adult it’s a tough watch and I hate to say the critics were right but I can’t hate it, it’s a film that wears its heart on its sleeve, flaws and all, and I’m grateful for that. Even if it’s not a great film, it’s still a fun one – and that’s something to be cherished by those who are able to.

And to note, the orignial title Smokey and the Bandit Ride Again doesn’t translate well these days. II or Part II is much, much better.

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