While this may not sound
like the most enthusiastic praise, Hooper
is better than most of Burt Reynolds’ myriad car-chase comedies of the ’70s and
’80s. However, because Reynolds’ good-ol’-boy charm was among the most
appealing textures in mainstream ’70s cinema, noting that he was at the height
of his powers when he made Hooper
underscores why the movie works: Despite a story so thin it sometimes threatens
to evaporate, Hooper offers 99
minutes of comic escapism driven by the macho charisma of its mustachioed
leading man.
One of several late-’70s/early-’80s film and TV projects
celebrating the work of Hollywood stuntmen, Hooper
stars Reynolds as Sonny Hooper, an aging daredevil who realizes a career
change is imminent because his body can’t take much more abuse. When we
meet him, Sonny is employed as the stunt double for Adam West (who plays
himself) on the 007-style action picture The
Spy Who Laughed at Danger. Despite being a pro who regularly delivers
spectacular “gags,” Sonny clashes with the movie’s asshole director, Roger Deal
(Robert Klein), since Deal demands impossible results on budget and on
schedule, then takes credit for the footage Sonny and his team make possible.
Sonny is involved with Gwen (Sally Field), the daughter of a retired stuntman (Brian
Keith). Because Gwen has seen firsthand what stunt work does to the human body,
she’s adamant that Sonny quit, but Deal’s pressure and Sonny’s own vanity
become obstacles. Then a hot new stuntman, Delmore “Ski” Shidski (Jan-Michael Vincent),
arrives on the scene. Although Sonny recognizes that he’s being replaced with a
younger model, he insists on going out with a final super-stunt. The gentle drama
of the picture, which obviously takes a backseat to action scenes and jokey
interplay, stems from the question of whether Sonny will push his luck too far
or succeed in providing Deal with the gag to end all gags.
Hooper was a bit of a family affair for Reynolds, and the pleasure
he presumably derived from making the picture is visible onscreen. The movie
reunited Reynolds with his longtime buddy, stuntman-turned-director Hal
Needham, following their success with Smokey
and the Bandit (1977), and Field was Reynolds’ offscreen paramour in addition to being his frequent costar.
Needham’s intimate familiarity
with the stunt world benefits the movie greatly, because many details—from the
preparations of car engines for jumps to the application of Ben-Gay on aching
knees—feel effortlessly authentic. And while the character work and dialogue
are as simplistic as one might expect from this sort of picture, the key actors
are so watchable that we want Deal to get his comeuppance, we want Sonny to
succeed, and so on. Plus, of course, the stunt sequences are fantastic, like
the elaborate bit during which Sonny and Ski drive a sportscar through an
entire town as it’s being demolished.
Hooper:
GROOVY
1 comment:
This film was my very first experience of movie nudity. I was 11 at the time and actually flinched (from surprise, not disgust) in the theatre when the stripper popped out of the cake.
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