Riding The Mustache: HOOPER
The first thing we see in Hooper is a close-up of Burt Reynolds’ hairy-ass leg. That seems as good an indicator as any that we’re getting into something special.
And we are. Hooper isn’t some hidden masterpiece or anything, but in the spectrum of Hal Needham, Burt Reynolds movies I’ve seen, it’s definitely a cut above the rest. In many ways, it’s the same old thing. You have your cocky Burt, cars, a sidekick, Sally Field, beer, disrespect for authority, and country music all over the place. But it also has real stakes and an actual story based on character. Burt isn’t just smiling and chomping gum through the whole movie.
Hooper also benefits from a cool bit of meta insider baseball in regards to the stunt world. Directed by an ex-stuntman and starring a guy who was no stranger to the profession, Hooper offers a knowing look (however skewed by comedy it may be) at a side of moviemaking we don’t often see. This has interesting results. While it lends the film a sense of legitimacy regarding subject matter, it also means we get strange scenes where, for example, Hooper does a stunt with a live dog because the dummy dog looks too fake. But when the actual stunt takes place, the dog used in the MOVIE is actually fake as shit. So we see the characters do a stunt the film itself refused to do. It’s interesting.
Burt Reynolds’ Hooper has been getting his ass kicked for years as a stuntman. We see him jump out of a helicopter, crash cars, and participate in all kinds of other “gags,” but his days are numbered. The film's basic plot structure revolves around Hoopers’ acceptance of his mortality and the playful competition this creates between himself and the new young buck (fucking Jan-Michael Vincent) who will inevitably one day replace him and his pals.
It’s not all a huge bummer though. The film’s first half is almost exclusively filled with dumb macho nonsense, the best of which being a big bar fight between Hooper’s crew and a bunch of SWAT guys lead by a very young Terry Bradshaw. This sequence is so much longer and goofier than it needs to be, but that kind of shaggy-dog storytelling is present in all these films. It’s just that this one eventually tries to mean something too, and the plot gains focus as it goes along.
I believe it is time for me to turn in my “I hate Sally Field” card. Not only is she apparently stupendous in this year’s Hello, My Name is Doris, but she is great here as well. As Hooper’s concerned but patient wife, Gwen, Field plays a role that requires a lot of different comedy acting muscles, many of which without the benefit of dialogue. She’s not mute or anything, but she doesn’t have much to say. Gwen loves Hooper and worries about his health, but also displays a hilarious exasperation while witnessing all this dumb boy bullshit her husband gets into. You get the idea that she’d never want him to change, which is really sweet. It might be a fantasy (she bra-lessly greets him home from work with a Tall-Boy while wearing underwear disguised as shorts), but you feel the love between them at all times and it enriches Hooper as a character because he’s not just some playboy (well, he might be a little bit of a playboy).
Hooper ultimately builds up to a maximum ultra stupendous stunt so dangerous that it’ll give Hooper enough money to retire and get the happy ending he deserves. It goes well for him because this is supposed to be a fun movie, but the journey getting there is a lot more measured and dramatic than I expected. And holy shit, that last stunt scene features about one million explosions. Of all the mustaches I rode, this was definitely my favorite.
Best Burt line:
I’ve seen my X-rays. They look like a map of L.A.
