Alright fellow tape travellers, gather 'round the flickering glow of the metaphorical CRT. Tonight, we're digging deep into that mid-90s section of the rental store, past the guaranteed blockbusters, landing squarely on a title that probably caught your eye thanks to a familiar, lanky goofball on the cover: 1995's Bushwhacked. Remember this one? Maybe you rented it expecting Home Alone 3: Marv Goes Camping. If so, you weren't entirely wrong, and that's part of the fun.
This wasn't just any fish-out-of-water comedy; it was originally conceived as a spin-off vehicle for Daniel Stern's iconic Wet Bandit character, Marv Merchants! While the final script (credited to a whole team: John Jordan, Danny Byers, Tommy Swerdlow, Michael Goldberg, Tom Nursall) severed the direct ties, the DNA is unmistakable. Stern plays Max Grabelski, a loudmouthed delivery guy mixed up with shady characters (Jon Polito enjoying himself as the perpetually exasperated Agent Palmer pursuing him) who, through a series of increasingly improbable events, ends up impersonating a legendary Ranger Scout leader, taking a troop of kids into the wilderness of Devil's Peak.
Lost in the Woods with a Goofball
Let's be honest, the plot is pure 90s family comedy formula, stretched thin like worn-out elastic waistbands. But the reason this tape likely saw heavy rotation in some VCRs is purely down to Daniel Stern. He throws himself into the role with the same manic, rubber-faced energy he brought to Marv. Max isn't quite Marv, maybe a bit smarter (low bar, I know) and slightly less prone to stepping on nails, but the physical comedy chops are on full display. Watching Stern try to bluff his way through knot-tying, fire-starting, and bear-avoiding using sheer bravado and wild gesticulation is the film's main engine. It’s the kind of broad, physical performance that felt right at home sandwiched between cartoons on a Saturday morning, or discovered late at night on cable.
Director Greg Beeman, who had previously given us the delightfully 80s teen flick License to Drive (1988) and would go on to become a prolific TV director (Heroes, Smallville), keeps things moving at a brisk pace. He understands the assignment: put Stern in increasingly ridiculous situations and let him react. The scenery helps immensely; filmed largely amidst the stunning landscapes near Lake Tahoe and Washington State, there's a genuine sense of scale to Max's predicament. It feels bigger than a soundstage, adding a touch of actual adventure to the comedic chaos.
Action? More Like Frantic Flailing!
Okay, Bushwhacked isn't exactly Die Hard in the woods, but its brand of "action" is pure 90s physical comedy. Think less intricate choreography, more desperate scrambling and slapstick peril. There’s a frantic chase early on, Max tumbling down hills, narrowly escaping danger – it's all played for laughs, but relies heavily on Stern doing the physical work. You see him actually scrambling, actually reacting to the environment (and the increasingly suspicious kids). Remember that scene where Max tries to cross the rickety rope bridge? The tension might be comedic, but the stunt work feels tangible in that pre-CGI way. It’s not about seamless digital doubles; it’s about seeing the actor (or a very game stunt performer) genuinely interacting with a precarious physical setup. It might look a bit rough around the edges now, but there's an undeniable charm to its practical, grounded feel.
That VHS Shelf Charm
This film absolutely feels like a product of its time. The earnestness of the kids, the slightly cartoonish villains, the reliance on one central comedic performance – it’s pure mid-90s comfort food. It wasn't exactly a smash hit; reportedly made for around $17 million, it only pulled in about $7.9 million at the box office, and critics were generally unkind. It quickly found its natural habitat: the video store shelves and cable TV rotations, becoming one of those movies you've probably seen bits and pieces of countless times.
Alongside Stern, you get reliable character work from Jon Polito as the sweaty, determined federal agent, adding a necessary foil to Max's antics. Brad Sullivan also shows up as the grizzled hermit, Erickson, adding another obstacle (and potential reluctant ally) in Max's path. The kids fill their roles adequately, serving mostly as bewildered straight men (and women) to Stern's escalating panic. The score is suitably jaunty and adventurous, hitting all the expected beats for a family comedy of the era.
Final Verdict
Bushwhacked is far from a comedic masterpiece. The plot is thin, the jokes are often predictable, and it leans heavily on Daniel Stern's familiar shtick. Yet, there’s an undeniable nostalgic appeal here. It's a breezy, unchallenging watch powered by a committed comedic performance and some genuinely beautiful scenery. It perfectly captures that specific mid-90s family film vibe – slightly goofy, slightly heartwarming, and entirely reliant on practical gags and star power.
Rating: 6/10
Justification: It gets points for Daniel Stern's energetic physical comedy, the amusing (if unrealized) Home Alone connection, the decent location work, and its status as a genuine artifact of 90s family filmmaking. It loses points for a weak script, predictable plot points, and failing to be truly memorable beyond its lead performance.
Final Thought: It might not be Devil's Peak Taffy (if you know, you know), but Bushwhacked is a harmlessly sweet, occasionally funny trip back to a time when a familiar face and a silly premise were often enough for a weekend VHS rental. Worth revisiting? Maybe just for that specific flavour of 90s nostalgia.