Skip to main content

How’s it going, Frood dude?

Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure
(1989)

The news that Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter are still considering a third outing for Bill and Ted, the loveable fools who somehow manage to bring about a 27th century utopia of peace and serenity (apart from the music bit) through their band Wyld Stallions, hasn’t been met with the usual declamations that they’re bound to ruin it. That’s understandable, as they have a sequel under their belts that managed to improve on the clever-stupid original. There’s also a sense that, for all the easy catchphrases (“Party On!”, “Excellent!”) their adventures and journeys haven’t been consigned to the flash-in-the-pan dustbin the way, say, Wayne’s World has. In its own way, the cheerful abandon of these goofs remains fresh, and there’s potential in the idea that age hasn’t brought wisdom.


Added to that, the first sequel managed to take a commendably out there detour. Originally titled Bill & Ted Go to Hell, it isn’t so surprising the fear of remonstrations from religious groups saw it changed to Bogus Journey. The joyful irreverence of their afterlife adventure demands something just as original for the trilogy-capper. Last that was heard, the script was being tinkered with by the leads. Significantly, the penmen of the first two, Chris Matheson (son of Richard, no less) and Ed Solomon, are reportedly on board. I recall the screenwriters making sufficient impression with their first two movies that I actively went out and rented Mom and Dad Save the World. I didn’t really bother after that. Matheson’s output has been indifferent since. Solomon has been more prolific, with credits including Men in Black (you can see the DNA there) and Charlie’s Angels. Less joyously, he was also involved with Super Mario Bros, What Planet Are You From? (his history with Garry Shandling extending back to the It’s Garry Shandling’s Show) and Now You See Me (I know, it has its fans, but I’m not among them). Whether their contribution will rank with their formative hits remains to be seen, but hopefully Dean Parisot will still be in the director’s chair if and when it sees the light of day (as the Galaxy Quest guy, he seems ideal).


If the stars and writers have remained the same, the directors have not (there’s also no chance George Carlin will make it a hat trick as erstwhile mentor Rufus). Peter Hewitt, who brought a winningly cartoonish style to the sequel, has since been mired in mostly half-arsed family movies. Stephen Herek counts as one of the ‘90s most reliable journeyman directors. With the kind of (lack of) style that wouldn’t look out of place in a TV movie, he first got notices with Gremlins knock-off Critters and went on to land a series of hits including the live action 101 Dalmations, the first in the even-one-is-one-too-many The Mighty Ducks series. Only Bill & Ted follow up Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead had any of the anarchy of that movie. Credit where it’s due, though, what Herek lacks in visual acumen he makes up for in energy. It just hasn’t been enough to sustain him since the ‘00s and beyond. When Excellent Adventure is at is best, it’s down to the combination of that zest and Matheson and Solomon’s scattershot gags. At other times it reveals itself stretched thin, hoping to get by on merely being noisy and colourful.


I was among many who first assumed the screenwriters had essentially ripped off Doctor Who with a slacker twist. Not for the time travel so much as for the telephone box. Whether that occurred to them when they re-envisioned the initial Chevrolet van (too similar to have a time travelling vehicle after Back to the Future) I don’t know, but there’s reason enough not to have paid very much attention to possible transatlantic cries of foul (particularly since Doctor Who was on its last legs at the time). And besides, nothing about the original feels derivative. If anything, it has been hugely influential. If not for Bill & Ted, would we have seen Dude Where’s My Car? (another quite clever movie hiding behind dumb protagonists) or Harold & Kumar? As for the final reel’s non-sequiturs of time travel logic (having to remember to come back later to set up useful props having just though of them in the moment, so they miraculously appear), nu-Who showrunner Steven Moffat appears to have based his entire woeful schtick on such not-really-very-clever plot malarkey (its one thing to take the piss out of time travel logic in an outright comedy, another to set your boat alight while you are still sailing it).


A huge part of Bill and Ted’s appeal is that they’re so guilelessly good-natured. Reeves and Winter’s casting altered the original DNA of the script, since the characters were envisaged younger and more hopelessly nerdy (mentor Rufus was conceived as in his late 20s at this point). They bring them same wide-eyed , open-mouthed, affability to all their encounters, and we as viewers are let in on the joke; their excellent adventure is fastened by the slenderest of dramatic hooks (“Gentlemen, I’m here to help you with your history report”) and the added bonus of that old standby; Ted (Reeves) will be sent by his dad to military school (which would be amusing enough to see in itself) when he flunks.


Their stupidity over basic history possesses a moronic genius, part of which is down to their sure grip on stupid-clever language; it’s a mixture of big, multi-consonant, words and dumb ones, often anchored by a mannered mode of semi-Shakespearean, by way of San Dimas, vocabulary (“Strange things are afoot”, “We are in danger of flunking most heinously tomorrow, dude”). Their ignorance of history is boundless (it has to be, to service the plot), including the understanding that Caesar is “a salad dressing dude” and Napoleon is “a short, dead dude”. Albeit, they know Joan of Arc is not Noah’s wife and Marco Polo is “not just a water sport”.


There’s a certain flourish to the duo’s background as well. Bill’s bookish dad has somehow landed a gorgeous stepmom (Missy, Amy Stock-Poynton), only a few years older than them (“Your stepmom’s cute!”) leading to the rather icky moment where Mr Preston (J Patrick McNamara) decides to use Bill’s bed for some carnal business (“Now your dad is going for it in your own room!”). Captain Logan (Hal Landon Jr.) is particularly good value as a hard-ass police officer, although Landon’s crowning moment comes when he is possessed in Bogus Journey. I suspect the “Deputy Van Halen” scene was inspired by Cameron’s impression of Sloane’s dad in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.


Herek’s rendition of history comes via studio backlots, so there is much expense spared. The race through history, taking on board multiple luminaries, could be seen as leaveing one wanting more (a good thing) or not making the most of the premise’s potential. Certainly, the extended interlude in the 15th century is the weakest. It spurns any historical dudes but provides Bill and Ted’s obligatory love interests (“Those are historical babes!”). One of whom, Kimberely Kates, has clearly gone on to spend an inappropriate amount of time with the Surgeon General of Beverly Hills. Still, there’s a still-funny Iron Maiden gag (you can’t go wrong there, really).


Some of the historical figures are more successful than others. Terry Camilleri knocks it out of the park as Napoleon, which is saying something since there have been plenty of comic riffs undermining the character over the years (Love and Death, Time Bandits). He’s given the longest sojourn in 1988 and, if some of his scenes (the bowling alley, the water park) aren’t as amusing as others (“Eat the pig!”) he commendably never breaks character (“Do you realise you stranded one of Europe’s greatest leaders in San Dimas?”).


The accompanying score from David Newman includes moments of excellence and others of high irritation. Its biggest problem is that it permeates the entire movie, rather than being used to sparing effect. I love some of Newman’s compositions (Heathers is an absolute classic) but this one doesn’t know when to stop; Herek unfortunately seems to think sped-up motion and fast cutting to cheesy synths and guitar are comedy heaven, and they aren’t (its not so much this aspect has aged badly; it was as cheesy as gorgonzola even then).  Additionally, the soft rock nobody bands who populate the remainder of the soundtrack are universally awful. Which may be a nod to Bill & Ted’s Terrible Music, but it wears thin on the ears very quickly.


So; Billy the Kid (Dan Shor) is likeably uncrazy. So-crates (Tony Steedman) is amusing unponderous (“Philosophise with him!”) and there are some nice plays on insightful pronouncements (“The only true wisdom consists of knowing that you know nothing… That’s us, dude!”). Sigmund Frood (“How’s it going, Frood dude?”) is envisaged as a weiner-holding loser with the ladies, and is granted a nice moment at the police station (“Why do you claim you are Sigmund Freud?”, “Why do you claim I am not Sigmund Freud?”) but Rod Loomis doesn’t quite give him enough attitude. Regularly cast heavy Al Leong is a mostly silent Genghis Khan whose best moment is drinking out of the toilet, while Robert V. Barron aces Abraham Lincoln (even more affable than Daniel Day Lewis, and adept at intoning Valley speak in classic Lincoln mode). “Dave” Beethoven’s (Clifford David) discovery of the electric keyboard is amusing up to a point. Then there’s The Go-Gos’ Jane Wiedlin, who makes for an utterly adorable Joan of Arc (“Miss of Arc”).


Part of the problem during the last third is the assumption that dropping these characters in the mall is sufficiently amusing in and of itself. Joan does a workout routine, Dave plays keyboards; it reaches the point where you wouldn’t be surprised to see Rodney Dangerfield show up. The history talk is likewise quite laurel-resting, but is fortunately interspersed with a few gems; Frood analyses Ted, while Bill demurs (“No, I’ve just got a minor Oedipal Complex”) and there’s a lovely summary of So-crates’ influence (“And like Ozzy Osbourne, was repeatedly accused of corruption of the young”).


As for their (and our) most excellent future, well it’s little wonder Joss Ackland was seen to find it absolutely sickening in the follow-up (perhaps this was partially Solomon and Matheson’s own disposition). Even then, it yields a decent line or two (“We’d take you with us, but it’s a history report, not a future report”). And any future that produces a futuristic George Carlin must have something going for it.


Excellent Adventure was a surprise success, a modest hit for a film on an even more modest budget, back when nothing was expected box office-wise from movies released in February. It took more than a year for it to see the light of day in the UK, as much a reflection of the generally slack approach to non-US locales back then as the lack of faith that it would (time) travel.


Perhaps the most complimentary thing I can say about Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure is that it’s hardly aged at all (and despite the rumours that he is eternally young, Keanu is noticeably baby-faced here). It’s pretty much exactly as I remembered, hugely winning but a little too undisciplined to cross the threshold into classic territory. It’s in such a rush to get where it’s going it doesn’t always make the most of the fish-out-of-water gags lining up for attention. But then, I do think Bogus Journey has the considerable edge. As Rufus says, “They do get better”. Hopefully Number Three will be better still.


***1/2


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I added sixty on, and now you’re a genius.

The Avengers 4.3: The Master Minds
The Master Minds hitches its wagon to the not uncommon Avengers trope of dark deeds done under the veil of night. We previously encountered it in The Town of No Return, but Robert Banks Stewart (best known for Bergerac, but best known genre-wise for his two Tom Baker Doctor Who stories; likewise, he also penned only two teleplays for The Avengers) makes this episode more distinctive, with its mind control and spycraft, while Peter Graham Scott, in his third contribution to the show on the trot, pulls out all the stops, particularly with a highly creative climactic fight sequence that avoids the usual issue of overly-evident stunt doubles.

Exit bear, pursued by an actor.

Paddington 2 (2017)
(SPOILERS) Paddington 2 is every bit as upbeat and well-meaning as its predecessor. It also has more money thrown at it, a much better villain (an infinitely better villain) and, in terms of plotting, is more developed, offering greater variety and a more satisfying structure. Additionally, crucially, it succeeds in offering continued emotional heft and heart to the Peruvian bear’s further adventures. It isn’t, however, quite as funny.

Even suggesting such a thing sounds curmudgeonly, given the universal applause greeting the movie, but I say that having revisited the original a couple of days prior and found myself enjoying it even more than on first viewing. Writer-director Paul King and co-writer Simon Farnaby introduce a highly impressive array of set-ups with huge potential to milk their absurdity to comic ends, but don’t so much squander as frequently leave them undertapped.

Paddington’s succession of odd jobs don’t quite escalate as uproariously as they migh…

She writes Twilight fan fiction.

Vampire Academy (2014)
My willingness to give writer Daniel Waters some slack on the grounds of early glories sometimes pays off (Sex and Death 101) and sometimes, as with this messy and indistinct Young Adult adaptation, it doesn’t. If Vampire Academy plods along as a less than innovative smart-mouthed Buffy rip-off that might be because, if you added vampires to Heathers, you would probably get something not so far from the world of Joss Whedon. Unfortunately inspiration is a low ebb throughout, not helped any by tepid direction from Daniel’s sometimes-reliable brother Mark and a couple of hopelessly plankish leads who do their best to dampen down any wit that occasionally attempts to surface.

I can only presume there’s a never-ending pile of Young Adult fiction poised for big screen failure, all of it comprising multi-novel storylines just begging for a moment in the Sun. Every time an adaptation crashes and burns (and the odds are that they will) another one rises, hydra-like, hoping…

Where is the voice that said altered carbon would free us from the cells of our flesh?

Altered Carbon Season One
(SPOILERS) Well, it looks good, even if the visuals are absurdly indebted to Blade Runner. Ultimately, though, Altered Carbon is a disappointment. The adaption of Richard Morgan’s novel comes armed with a string of well-packaged concepts and futuristic vernacular (sleeves, stacks, cross-sleeves, slagged stacks, Neo-Cs), but there’s a void at its core. It singularly fails use the dependable detective story framework to explore the philosophical ramifications of its universe – except in lip service – a future where death is impermanent, and even botches the essential goal of creating interesting lead characters (the peripheral ones, however, are at least more fortunate).

He mobilised the English language and sent it into battle.

Darkest Hour (2017)
(SPOILERS) Watching Joe Wright’s return to the rarefied plane of prestige – and heritage to boot – filmmaking following the execrable folly of the panned Pan, I was struck by the difference an engaged director, one who cares about his characters, makes to material. Only last week, Ridley Scott’s serviceable All the Money in the World made for a pointed illustration of strong material in the hands of someone with no such investment, unless they’re androids. Wright’s dedication to a relatable Winston Churchill ensures that, for the first hour-plus, Darkest Hour is a first-rate affair, a piece of myth-making that barely puts a foot wrong. It has that much in common with Wright’s earlier Word War II tale, Atonement. But then, like Atonement, it comes unstuck.

You’re never the same man twice.

The Man Who Haunted Himself (1970)
(SPOILERS) Roger Moore playing dual roles? It sounds like an unintentionally amusing prospect for audiences accustomed to the actor’s “Raise an eyebrow” method of acting. Consequently, this post-Saint pre-Bond role (in which he does offer some notable eyebrow acting) is more of a curiosity for the quality of Sir Rog’s performance than the out-there premise that can’t quite sustain the picture’s running time. It is telling that the same story was adapted for an episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents 15 years earlier, since the uncanny idea at its core feels like a much better fit for a trim 50 minute anthology series.

Basil Dearden directs, and co-adapted the screenplay from Anthony Armstrong’s novel The Strange Case of Mr Pelham. Dearden started out with Ealing, helming several Will Hay pictures and a segment of Dead of Night (one might imagine a shortened version of this tale ending up there, or in any of the portmanteau horrors that arrived in the year…

Like an antelope in the headlights.

Black Panther (2018)
(SPOILERS) Like last year’s Wonder Woman, the hype for what it represents has quickly become conflated with Black Panther’s perceived quality. Can 92% and 97% of critics respectively really not be wrong, per Rotten Tomatoes, or are they – Armond White aside – afraid that finding fault in either will make open them to charges of being politically regressive, insufficiently woke or all-round, ever-so-slightly objectionable? As with Wonder Woman, Black Panther’s very existence means something special, but little about the movie itself actually is. Not the acting, not the directing, and definitely not the over-emphatic, laboured screenplay. As such, the picture is a passable two-plus hours’ entertainment, but under-finessed enough that one could easily mistake it for an early entry in the Marvel cycle, rather than arriving when they’re hard-pressed to put a serious foot wrong.

You think I contaminated myself, you think I did that?

Silkwood (1983)
Mike Nichol’s film about union activist Karen Silkwood, who died under suspicious circumstances in a car accident in 1974, remains a powerful piece of work; even more so in the wake of Fukushima. If we transpose the microcosm of employees of a nuclear plant, who would rather look the other way in favour of a pay cheque, to the macrocosm of a world dependent on an energy source that could spell our destruction (just don’t think about it and, if you do, be reassured by the pronouncements of “experts” on how safe it all is; and if that doesn’t persuade you be under no illusion that we need this power now, future generations be damned!) it is just as relevant.

Rejoice! The broken are the more evolved. Rejoice.

Split (2016)
(SPOILERS) M Night Shyamalan went from the toast of twist-based filmmaking to a one-trick pony to the object of abject ridicule in the space of only a couple of pictures: quite a feat. Along the way, I’ve managed to miss several of his pictures, including his last, The Visit, regarded as something of a re-locating of his footing in the low budget horror arena. Split continues that genre readjustment, another Blumhouse production, one that also manages to bridge the gap with the fare that made him famous. But it’s a thematically uneasy film, marrying shlock and serious subject matter in ways that don’t always quite gel.

Shyamalan has seized on a horror staple – nubile teenage girls in peril, prey to a psychotic antagonist – and, no doubt with the best intentions, attempted to warp it. But, in so doing, he has dragged in themes and threads from other, more meritable fare, with the consequence that, in the end, the conflicting positions rather subvert his attempts at subversion…

We’re going to find that creature they call the Yeti.

The Abominable Snowman (1957)
The Abominable Snowman follows the first two Quatermass serials as the third Hammer adaptation of a Nigel Kneale BBC work. As with those films, Val Guest takes the directorial reins, to mixed results. Hammer staple Peter Cushing repeats his role from The Creature (the title of the original teleplay). The result is worthy in sentiment but unexceptional in dramatic heft. Guest fails to balance Kneale’s idea of essentially sympathetic creatures with the disintegration of the group bent on finding them.

Nevertheless, Kneale’s premise still stands out. The idea that the Yeti is an essentially shy, peaceful, cryptozoological beastie is now commonplace, but Kneale adds a further twist by suggesting that they are a distinct and in some respects more advance parallel branch in the evolution of hominids (the more extravagant notion that they are in some way extra-dimensional is absent, but with the powers thy sport here wouldn’t be such a leap). Cushing’s Rollason is…