Alright, pop that tape in, maybe adjust the tracking a little... there we go. Tonight on VHS Heaven, we’re diving headfirst into the glorious, messy, star-stuffed demolition derby that is Cannonball Run II (1984). If the first Cannonball Run was a loosely organized cross-country race fueled by cheeky charm and genuine automotive chaos, this sequel feels more like the after-party where everyone’s had a bit too much sugar, the script got misplaced somewhere behind the couch, and they just decided to film whatever happened next. And you know what? Sometimes, that’s exactly the kind of fuzzy, late-night viewing experience we crave.
More Stars Than A Planetarium Parking Lot
Let's be honest, the main draw here, much like its predecessor, is the sheer wattage of celebrity crammed onto the screen. We’ve got Burt Reynolds back, effortlessly cool even when wading through narrative quicksand, paired once again with the manic energy of Dom DeLuise as Victor Prinzim / Captain Chaos (and, inexplicably, Don Canneloni?). Their chemistry remains a highlight, a comfortable old-shoe routine that provides occasional laughs amidst the unfolding madness. But oh, the additions! We get Shirley MacLaine and Marilu Henner as undercover nuns (because, why not?), the legendary Rat Pack trio of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Sammy Davis Jr. essentially playing themselves (or versions thereof), and even Jackie Chan returning, albeit in a disappointingly reduced role reportedly due to his dissatisfaction with the script's direction. Seeing Sinatra in his final feature film role adds a layer of poignant trivia, even if the film itself is… well, this film.
A fascinating bit of retro fun: the casting feels like producer Albert S. Ruddy and director/stunt legend Hal Needham emptied their Rolodexes onto the casting sheet. Everyone from Jim Nabors to Ricardo Montalbán (in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it cameo) seems to wander through the proceedings. It’s less a coherent ensemble and more a series of drive-by celebrity appearances, a hallmark of certain 80s comedies that valued star power over story cohesion.
Wait, There Was a Race?
The core concept of the Cannonball Baker Sea-To-Shining-Sea Memorial Trophy Dash is technically still present, but it takes a backseat faster than J.J. McClure floors the accelerator. The plot, such as it is, revolves around a bumbling sheik (Jamie Farr, hamming it up gloriously) who puts up a million dollars for the race winner but gets kidnapped by mobsters led by the aforementioned Don Canneloni (DeLuise again). So, much of the film becomes a rescue mission intertwined with race shenanigans, feeling disjointed and episodic. It lacks the clearer (though still loose) objective of the original, often meandering into bizarre subplots that seem designed solely to accommodate another celebrity cameo or a slapstick set piece.
Needham's Signature Mayhem (Slightly Diluted)
Now, let's talk action, because even in a film as goofy as this, you can count on Hal Needham to deliver some crunchy, real-world vehicular chaos. Remember, this is the guy who orchestrated the vehicular ballets of Smokey and the Bandit (1977) and the stuntman tribute Hooper (1978). While Cannonball Run II doesn't reach the heights of those earlier films, the DNA is still there. That iconic orange Lamborghini Countach slicing through traffic? Pure 80s automotive porn, achieved with real cars, real drivers, and none of the sterile perfection of modern CGI.
There are moments where Needham's stuntman roots shine through – cars jumping, smashing, and generally causing mayhem across the Tucson, Arizona landscape where much of it was filmed. Perhaps the most memorable gag involves a stretch limousine literally splitting in half to navigate tight spots. It's utterly ridiculous, achieved through clever practical rigging, and feels perfectly representative of the film's anything-goes attitude. Was it as breathtaking as the stunts in the first film? Maybe not, but there's an undeniable charm to seeing real metal bend and real tires smoke, a tactile thrill largely absent from today’s pixel-perfect action sequences. You felt the impact back then, even through a fuzzy CRT screen.
Critical Crash, Audience Chuckle?
Let's not mince words: Cannonball Run II was savaged by critics upon release. It racked up Razzie nominations like Burt racked up speeding tickets, including Worst Picture, Worst Director for Needham, and acting nods for Reynolds, MacLaine, and Davis Jr. The budget hovered somewhere around $20 million, and while it made its money back (reportedly $28 million domestic, $56 million worldwide), it significantly underperformed compared to the original smash hit. It’s often held up as a prime example of a lazy cash-grab sequel.
And yet... watching it today, through the warm filter of nostalgia, it's hard to completely hate it. It’s undeniably dumb, scattershot, and coasts almost entirely on star power and lingering goodwill from the first film. But there's an infectious, almost innocent silliness to its chaos. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a bunch of famous friends getting paid to goof off on camera for a couple of hours, and sometimes, particularly late on a Saturday night after trawling the video store shelves, that was enough. I distinctly remember renting this tape, maybe hoping for the lightning strike of the original, and getting something... different. Less a movie, more a feature-length variety show on wheels.
***
VHS Heaven Rating: 4/10
Justification: The rating reflects the film's undeniable flaws – paper-thin plot, reduced focus on the actual race, and reliance on recycled gags and star power. However, points are awarded for the sheer nostalgic value of the massive ensemble cast (including Sinatra's final role), Hal Needham's signature (if slightly watered-down) practical stunt work that still holds a certain 80s charm, and its status as a prime example of goofy, excessive, sequel-itis cinema from the era. It’s objectively not good, but for fans of the era and the stars involved, it offers moments of brain-off, chuckle-worthy entertainment.
Final Thought: Cannonball Run II is less a finely tuned racing machine and more like a clown car overflowing with celebrities, sputtering towards a finish line nobody quite remembers setting up – pure, unadulterated, slightly baffling 80s excess on wheels.