PLANES, TRAINS AND AUTOMOBILES: Blu-ray (Paramount 1987) Paramount Home Video

Neal Page (Steve Martin) cannot believe his luck – or lack thereof. Hurrying home from a business trip to be with his family on Thanksgiving, he encounters one reckless setback after another. The worst of it is Neal cannot seem to shake Del Griffith (John Candy) his very own ‘bad luck’ charm - a brutally lovable salesman. After encountering Del, Neal makes every attempt to ditch the loud-mouthed schnook, but to no avail. Over the years, I have had a personal ‘love/hate’ relationship with director, John Hughes’ Planes, Trains and Automobiles (1987). I remember, so well, sitting through it in a theater back in the day and remaining fairly unimpressed by all except a handful of marginally ‘cute’ moments, the best – Neal’s wicked confrontation with a portly Hertz rent-a-car clerk (Edie McClurg), whom the thoroughly frustrated Neal badly maligns, applying one particular ‘four-letter’ obscenity to the point where it has lost all potency, only to have it flung right back in his face with punctuated finesse. While I was not altogether a fan of Martin’s ‘wild and crazy kind’a guy’, I really had no use – then – for John Candy, whose entire modus operandi in the movies was as the proverbial obnoxious ‘fat guy’. And yet, over the years, my affront towards Planes, Trains and Automobiles, flying in the face of most every other critical assessment of the movie, has mellowed – some - and, enough, where I can marginally enjoy its thoroughly wacky premise and incidents, finding the ‘charm’ of the piece in its caustic camaraderie sparking off these two vintage hams.

In retrospect, Planes, Trains and Automobiles is widely regarded as Candy’s first megahit, although he had emerged from under the stigma of being a TV comedian, playing Tom Hanks's womanizing brother in 1984’s Splash – the role that changed the trajectory of his career aspirations. Other movies followed, but always with Candy appearing in cameo, support, or otherwise, and again, as the proverbial ‘fat friend’ one could never entirely rely upon, but was good for the cheap poke and sight gag. In hindsight, the trick to Candy’s stardom appears to strategically place him in close proximity to another talent further along fame’s food chain and then allow him to pick up on the scraps, feathering in a few scene-stealing moments of his own. Possibly, director, John Hughes viewed this picture as his own opportunity to break free from the celebrated stigma of being considered a director of ‘teen angst’ comedies – undeniably, and, again, in retrospect, his métier. Alas, for the most part, the adults who populate Planes, Trains and Automobiles behave much worse than those adolescent counterparts featured in other Hughes’ movies. Indeed, the dignity Hughes generally gave his teenage ensembles, is wholly absent here; Candy’s lovable, but obtuse Del, so utterly void of tact he cannot conceive how its absence has thus far cost him many friends and acquaintances. In contrast, the picture has Steve Martin’s Neal, lovably harried, emotionally stunted and socially repressed to the point where a complete nervous breakdown would be welcomed.

Enduring fire, flood and being stranded in the middle of nowhere with someone he absolutely hates and – as time wears on – begins to suspect is the cause of all his worldly woes, Neal decides he will abandon Del at the first possible opportunity – even though apart, each is doomed not to reach their respective destination. Under anyone else’s direction the misadventures of this intentionally hilarious twosome might have degenerated into garish slapstick. And, in point of fact, I am not altogether certain Hughes manages to remain ‘above’ it all and keep these elemental and lowbrow antics at bay.  Yet, what emerges from the sum total of Planes, Trains and Automobiles is much more the poignant buddy/buddy flick than mishmash served up from the topsy-turvy fallout that is Hughes’ own screenplay. We have yet to discuss Steve Martin’s involvement here, perhaps because Martin’s career, at this time, was in a curious state of limbo and flux – morphing beyond the goofy caricatures, deified on Saturday Night Live – and coming into his own in a franchise of Carl Reiner-directed gems – starting with 1979’s The Jerk, and rounded out by 1984’s All of Me.  

Planes, Trains and Automobiles begins with a harried Neal Page, a marketing account executive on a business trip in New York that will turn out to be anything but ordinary. Eager to return to Chicago for Thanksgiving, Neal fails to hail a cab during rush hour. He is further delayed after paying a greedy attorney for a cab intercepted by Del Griffith, a chatty traveling salesman. Neal thinks nothing of their first ‘cute meet’. But not long thereafter, their paths cross again – this time, at LaGuardia Airport, where they board a plane to O'Hare, diverted to Wichita due to a blizzard. To keep costs down, as they are grounded for the night, Neal and Del agree to share a hotel room. But later, Neal loses his cool and gives Del a good tongue-lashing. In response, Del admits his deficits, but also informs Neal while he is obviously not his ‘cup of tea’, he nevertheless is well-regarded by his wife, family and clients. So, no need to be rude. Sheepishly, Neal agrees. The two adversaries settle in, fall asleep in their respective beds, and, are burgled in the middle of the night. The next day, Neal and Del try to take a train to Chicago. Neal is relieved their seats are in separate cars. However, on route, the locomotive breaks down and Del and Neal are reunited yet again.

Now, stranded and penniless in Jefferson City, Del raises cash by selling shower curtain rings as earrings to passersby, and using the money to buy a pair of bus tickets for him and Neal. Unfortunately, the bus is bound for St. Louis. When Neal finds out he decides to sever all ties with Del. However, at the St. Louis airport, Neal has a hell of a time trying to rent a car for the long drive home. Frazzled in the extreme, Neal also fails to hire a taxi. Mercifully, Del once again comes to Neal’s rescue, driving his own rented car. However, Neal’s anger once more gets the better of him, resulting in Del taking the wrong cutoff and driving into oncoming traffic, narrowly avoiding a total wreck with two semi-trucks. As they pull to the side of the road to calm themselves, Del recklessly tosses a lit cigarette in the backseat, causing the car to catch fire. Satisfied Del will have to pay for the damages, Neal is disgusted when Del confides he used Neal’s credit card to rent the car – ergo, he is on the hook for the fire. As virtually all of their credit cards have been destroyed, Neal now trades his expensive watch for a night’s stay at a seedy motel, leaving Del out in the cold. Eventually, Neal takes pity on Del and invites him into his room to spend the night. Getting drunk on Del’s swiped collection of airline liquor, the guys bond over the absurdity of their time spent together. Attempting to drive the burnt-out shell of a car back home the next morning, Neal and Del are pulled over by the police. The car is impounded, forcing them to hitchhike in the back of a refrigerator truck. However, as they prepare to part company for the last time, Neal begins to piece together bits of their conversation and now realizes Del pretty much lied to him about his life. He has no wife, no family, no friends to go back to for the holidays. He is, in fact, totally alone. Compassionately, Neal invites Del to his home for Thanksgiving.

Planes, Trains and Automobiles is better than a lot of Steve Martin comedies from the eighties. Miraculously, it has not dated all that much. Most of the situations encountered are nonsensical to a fault; Hughes, pulling out all the stops, often to the point of creating general illogicality that is meant to be funny. Some of it is – but a lot of it is of the ‘oh, please’ garden variety knee-jerk and kick-in-the-crotch silliness that used to pass for the buddy/buddy comedy back in the late 70’s and early 1980’s. The antagonistic relationship that fleshes out 90% of this story begins to grate midway through the story. Indeed, Neal’s admonishments of Del, if indeed justified (and, they are) nevertheless, become less crudely hilarious and just plain crueler as the movie wears on, until Hughes pulls back on the reigns ever so gently to reveal Neal’s softer side in the eleventh hour of the plot. John Candy does the whole obnoxious bumbling idiot thing rather well. But Steve Martin’s frayed ad man, whose structured world is turned upside down, remains largely unlikable; Martin, simply going through the motions of being limited in his responses to these external detours set in his path, toggling from fatigued fury to vigorous revulsion and then back again. Are we meant to find his chronic indignation droll – even ironic? It’s the sort of ‘straight man vs. fat man’ paradigm that gave Bud Abbott and Lou Costello an entire career in Vaudeville, on the radio, in the movies, and finally, television. Alas, the difference here is in the level of contempt Martin’s rigid exec has for Candy’s crudely hewn goofball that never sits quite right, leaving Neal’s penultimate invitation to Thanksgiving dinner something of an afterthought, merely to assuage his own guilt for having been such a jerk throughout the rest of the picture. In the end, Planes, Trains and Automobiles commits a cardinal sin in the buddy/buddy sub-genre, stimulating far too much antagonism and animosity to illicit real/reel laughs. The comedy it inflicts on the audience is based on acts of Neal’s contempt, not only for Del, but humanity at large. Hughes marginally redeems this character in the end, affording Neal an ounce of compassion. But by then, the damage is done. Neal has not reformed. He has merely had a moment to sheepishly reconsider the error of his ways.

Paramount Home Video’s Blu-ray was originally a Walmart exclusive. I am still trying to figure out the logic of such decisions. What is infallible here is Paramount's commitment to a very strong remastering effort. The 1080p transfer positively glows with rich, bold colors, solid contrast levels, accurately produced levels of film grain looking indigenous to its source, and, beautifully resolved fine details throughout. The audio is 5.1 DTS and a winner. Better still, Paramount has afforded us some new extra features. Four featurettes, on the making of the film, John Hughes career, the impact of the movie and a tribute to John Candy round out our appreciation. We also get a deleted scene. The extras, it should be pointed out, are also presented in HD. This is a real class 'A' effort from Paramount. I sincerely wish more would be forthcoming from the good folks on 'the mountain'.

FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

3.5