La fureur du danger

Well, another funny-profane-interesting-irreverent Burt Reynolds movie of the 1970s. He made so many of these type of films, several with his girlfriend at the time, Sally Field. Almost all of them have the same feel to them.

Field echos Reynolds good looks and bad morals by running around in a tight shirt with her nipples showing and pair of short shorts with a butt sticking out. This is not untypical of the movies in the 1970s, where "freedom" had arrived and many filmmakers abused it. No one had more fun with those low-moral characters than Reynolds (and Fields, I suspect, too).

Yet, I have to admit most of the Reynolds films, including this one, were never boring and usually fun to watch. Being young and a bit immature helped us appreciate these movies back then.

My parents ushered the young me into an 8-plex one fine afternoon prophesying an epic -- a cinematic triumph unparalleled since the days of Bergman. Disgruntled at my forebears' refusal to consent to a screening of Jaws 2, I nonetheless acquiesced and slumped into the screening room.

When I emerged a scant two hours later, I was no longer a callow youth. I had become a man.

Screen legend Burt Reynolds offers one of his most insightful, well-rounded performances as Sonny Hooper, an Achilles with a mustache, seemingly foredoomed to the stuntman slag heap by the onset of middle age. Playing the part with the gusto and verve of a man four-fifths his age, Reynolds achieves newfound heights without seeming to crack a script, winking slyly at the merry romp he has conjured. Sally (The Flying Nun) Field (who by some incredible chance happened to be dating Reynolds) plays the groundbreaking role of Hooper's common-law girlfriend, Gwen Doyle (a name so lilting and memorable, I promptly bestowed it upon all six of my goldfish). Field embodies the universal theme of a woman struggling to come to terms with a life she has neither chosen nor can escape. Kneepad-deep in beer cans, forced to wear short shorts, physically lifted and repositioned like an arc light or rubber tree, she personifies the objectification of women by the stuntmen who are themselves objectified by the studio hacks (Robert Klein) who employ them. As the winsome, perky daughter of stunt-osaurus Jocko Doyle (Brian Keith), Field set the standard by which all future stuntman's daughter roles would be be measured.

Central to the success of this story are the providential appearances of such childhood icons as James (Rosco P. Coletrane) Best, Pittsburgh Steeler Terry Bradshaw (utterly convincing as a man who gets hit in the face), and the impeccable Adam (Batman) West, who plays an actor respected enough that a film crew protectively prevents him from jumping over the side of a building. The absence of the sublime Dom DeLuise marks this film's only flaw, forgiveable considering that by this point in his trajectory, DeLuise had priced himself out of the market.

Shining through it all, dazzling in his wit, pathos, and imperfect grandeur, stands the linchpin, Burt Reynolds. Whether baring his bottom for a Xylocaine booster or outwitting the police by driving his pickup backwards, Reynolds inhabits the role so effortlessly, he seems to glide along like Clark Gable atop his Rhett Butler waltzing simulator.

Although this film had an unintentional rite-of-passage effect upon me, I was subsequently disillusioned to learn that Mr. Reynolds was not a stuntman, but an actor. Granted, the greatest actor to grace the silver screen since John Larroquette (who actually came later, but the comparison still stands), but still an actor.

It took years of therapy before I again began to trust.

"Hooper" is yet another example of Burt Reynolds at the top of his game. Burt was a superstar who enjoyed making these action comedies for the summer drive-in crowd. The films usually made bundles of money and were usually pretty enjoyable. "Hooper" is one of Burt's better comedies of the 70's. He plays the title character, an aging Hollywood stuntman looking to make that last great stunt for the money and retire before his body gives out on him and serious damage occurs. Sally Field yet again plays Burt's girlfriend and, yet again, isn't given a whole lot to do. Jan Michael Vincent plays the new, young, hot shot stuntman that worries Burt. Brian Keith has a nice turn as Sally's father who happens to be a veteran stuntman himself.

The characters are not the important thing though. You go to see "Hooper" to laugh and enjoy the action scenes. The filmmakers deliver the goods on both counts. One standout scene involves a bar fight involving such tough guys as Terry Bradshaw. Burt confronts Terry one on one and it's the comic highlight of the film. The stunts are sensational and the final stunt is, thematically, totally ridiculous. But it's so well filmed we forgive the obvious silliness.

"Hooper" is a fun film to watch but make sure to see it uncut. It seems that many of Burt's PG-rated movies of the 70's stretched the limits to get as close to the R-rating as possible without going over the line. "Hooper" is no exception.

"Hooper" is a delightful tribute by star Burt Reynolds and director Hal Needham - both of whom began their careers as stuntmen - to those brave men and women who risk life and limb for the movies. It remains endearing and upbeat throughout, sometimes getting serious but never melodramatic. It's naturally jam packed with amazing stunt work, and quite a few explosions as well. The cast is completely engaging, and everything is played with a respectable amount of humour.

Burt plays Sonny Hooper, an old pro stuntman who realizes that a new day is coming, and that a new breed is emerging: younger, tougher, more daring. A prime example is up and comer "Ski" (Jan-Michael Vincent), who comes to work on the same movie that Sonny is currently gaffing. It's Ski who encourages Sonny to try one of the riskiest car stunts ever filmed.

"Hooper" has just enough story to be involving, and one can't help but like these characters. Burt is charming, with an incredibly foxy Sally Field playing Gwen, the girlfriend who stands by him. Vincent is very likable, as are the supporting performers such as Brian Keith, John Marley, James Best, Adam West (in what is really a nothing role, as the actor for whom Sonny doubles), George Furth, Don 'Red' Barry, Robert Tessier, and Tara Buckman. Comedian Robert Klein is good as Roger Deal, the jerk director of the movie-within-the-movie, who cares not for going over budget or risking lives as long as he gets his shots.

Burt has a great moment right at the end as he acknowledges us in the audience before providing us with an appropriate and satisfying punchline.

Eight out of 10.

You're not going to find a moving story about a man coming to terms with his own mortality here, but from just a look at the cover of the DVD, you probably weren't expecting it. What we have here is a very pleasant diversion that never takes itself too seriously. Just before things start to get a little too sentimental, someone always jumps off a tall building or flips the car he's driving. Overall, the film has a nice pace. The gags (as in slapstick) are occasionally hilarious, and the gags (as in stunts) are outstanding--I believe this film holds the record for longest rocket car jump. And Burt is his usual self, so utterly unself conscious, he can deliver lines like, "If you don't try to do any stunts, I won't try to do any acting." Make of that what you will. ;-)