Alright fellow tapeheads, slide that worn copy of Coneheads into the VCR, maybe give the tracking a little nudge, and settle in. Remember grabbing this one off the shelf at Blockbuster or maybe catching it late night on cable? It felt like such a wild idea back in '93 – taking a recurring, frankly pretty thin, Saturday Night Live sketch and stretching it into a full-length feature. Could the deadpan alien antics of Beldar and Prymaat possibly sustain 90 minutes? The answer, much like the Coneheads themselves, is surprisingly endearing, if undeniably strange.
### From Sketch to Suburbia
The journey from late-night TV skit to the big screen wasn't exactly swift; Dan Aykroyd had been trying to get a Coneheads movie made for years. When it finally landed, it arrived with a premise as simple as it was bizarre: Beldar (Aykroyd, reprising his iconic role with gusto) and Prymaat (Jane Curtin, equally perfect returning to her part) are Conehead scouts from the planet Remulak. After crash-landing on Earth (specifically, in the waters off New Jersey), they're forced to assimilate into human society while awaiting rescue, eventually settling in Paramus and raising their daughter, Connie. This suburban setting provides the perfect backdrop for their delightfully awkward attempts at blending in. It’s classic fish-out-of-water comedy, filtered through Aykroyd’s unique, highly specific brand of humor.
### Consuming Mass Quantities of Cameos
One thing that immediately hits you watching Coneheads now is the absolutely stacked cast of familiar faces popping up. Seriously, it’s a who’s-who of early 90s comedy talent. We’re talking Phil Hartman (in a typically brilliant sleazy role), Sinbad, Adam Sandler, David Spade, Chris Farley, Michael McKean, Jason Alexander, Ellen DeGeneres… the list goes on and on. It feels like half the SNL cast, past and present, dropped by the set. This avalanche of cameos was actually a deliberate choice, hoping to bolster the film's appeal, though sadly it didn't quite translate into box office gold – the film cost around $33 million but only brought in about $21 million domestically. A real shame, as seeing all these folks interact with the utterly committed Aykroyd and Curtin is a huge part of the fun.
### That Perfectly Weird Conehead Look
While not an action flick demanding intricate practical effects, the movie absolutely nails the Conehead aesthetic. The prosthetic cones themselves, designed by legendary effects artist Stan Winston's studio (yes, the same folks behind Terminator and Jurassic Park!), look fantastic – seamlessly blended and allowing Aykroyd and Curtin full expressive range despite the cranial additions. Michelle Burke steps into the role of teenage Connie (originally played by Laraine Newman on SNL), navigating high school awkwardness amplified by her alien heritage, and she fits right in, cone and all. The production design leans into the slightly off-kilter vibe, with the Coneheads' home filled with bizarre gadgets and their interactions marked by gloriously formal, literal-minded dialogue ("Maintain low tones," "We will consume mass quantities"). It’s this commitment to the bit, the unwavering deadpan delivery from the leads, that makes the whole thing work better than it has any right to.
### Navigating the INS and Teenage Angst
The plot, such as it is, involves the Coneheads dodging a persistent INS agent, Gorman Seedling (a perfectly cast Michael McKean, bringing smarmy bureaucratic menace), and his weaselly subordinate Eli Turnbull (David Spade, doing his signature snark). This pursuit provides some gentle narrative thrust, but the real heart of the film lies in the family dynamic and Connie’s attempts to live a normal teenage life, complicated by her pointy-headed parents and their peculiar customs. Her relationship with Ronnie (Chris Farley), the sweet but dim-witted mechanic boyfriend, provides some genuinely funny and even touching moments. Remember Farley trying to explain the nuances of fixing a car, only for Beldar to instantly understand the complex mechanics? Classic.
The director, Steve Barron, was no stranger to bringing beloved, slightly weird properties to the big screen – he’d previously directed the surprisingly gritty and successful Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (1990). Here, he keeps things moving at a decent clip, letting the character comedy shine and embracing the inherent absurdity without ever winking too hard at the audience. The humor isn't rapid-fire jokes; it's observational, situational, and deeply rooted in the characters' alien perspective on mundane human life.
### Legacy of the Pointy Heads
Critically, Coneheads got a pretty rough reception back in '93. Many felt it was, indeed, a sketch stretched too thin, a common complaint leveled against SNL-to-film adaptations. But time, and perhaps the comforting glow of nostalgic CRT screens, has been kind to Beldar and Prymaat. It’s developed a definite cult following among those who appreciate its gentle weirdness, its surprisingly warm heart, and the sheer commitment of its lead performers. It might not be high art, but it’s a unique artifact of 90s studio comedy – slightly ungainly, packed with familiar faces, and possessing a charm all its own. I remember renting this from the local video store, drawn in by the bizarre cover art, and finding myself chuckling consistently at the sheer oddity unfolding on screen.
Rating: 6/10
Justification: While the plot meanders and some jokes land better than others, the film earns points for its unwavering commitment to the central conceit, Aykroyd and Curtin's perfect deadpan performances, the surprisingly sweet family story at its core, and that incredible roster of cameos. It overcomes its sketch-based limitations often enough to be genuinely entertaining, even if it never quite reaches comedic greatness.
Final Take: Coneheads is a prime example of that specific brand of 90s high-concept comedy – endearingly awkward, undeniably weird, and probably funnier now than you remember, especially if you appreciate seeing future comedy legends in early roles interacting with perfectly realized suburban aliens. It’s a gentle transmission from a bygone era of studio filmmaking, best enjoyed with mass quantities of your preferred snack.