An experiment wherein we revisit the movies we were crazy about back when we were young and clueless ...
CADDYSHACK (1980) (B+) - I have to laugh. Like with Bill Murray's other half of his back-to-back classics, I lived this movie and quoted it ad nauseam, especially the lines of Murray's assistant groundskeeper, Carl Spackler, the young Cinderella story who came out of nowhere (in his tetched mind) to lead the pack at the Master's. In the kitchen of the catering place on the near Southwest Side of Chicago, we batted the dialogue around and organized theme days to honor the defining comedy of our era, or so it felt at the time.
"Caddyshack" is the bridge from the '70s to the '80s. If "Animal House," just a few years earlier, was a capstone of Boomer nostalgia, then Bill Murray was the pied piper for Gen X. Famously David Letterman's first guest on "Late Night" in 1981, those two Boomers ushered in the age of irony that swallowed us first X wavers. Whereas "Meatballs" was cute and '70s, "Caddyshack" was absurd and raunchy, a turn of the wheel, less earnest and more insurgent.
Yet it is very much of its time -- sexist (a frisky Barbie doll named Lacey Underall), druggist. Elitist, even (ironically). Some of the scenarios and line readings clunk 40 years later. Rodney Dangerfield, one of the greatest standups ever, comes off as a mugging anachronism, playing the bawdy millionaire crashing the snooty country club. Michael O'Keefe is a little awkward as our young hero, Danny the caddy; and I've never figured out why his girlfriend Maggie (Sarah Holcomb) has a heavy Irish brogue.
Ted Knight is more surehanded as the stuffy old judge, in the now obligatory "National Lampoon" role of the blustery authority figure. Chevy Chase, in a sweet spot here between TV stardom and his Goldie Hawn run, has fun playing off of everyone else as the bubble-headed playboy, Ty Webb ("I'm a veg"). Brian Doyle-Murray is the secret weapon, underplaying the role of the mid-level put-upon boss; I'll never not laugh at his order to an underling to pick up a tissue that's on the ground.
Of course, it's Brian's brother who steals the show as the gopher-obsessed sling-blader who spits out scattershot id-leakings like "I'll slack you off, you fuzzy little foreigner." In the immortal words of Jean-Paul Sartre ...
It's hard to tell if much of this was ad-libbed or part of the original script by Doyle-Murray, Harold Ramis (also in his directorial debut) and Doug Kenney (the link to "Animal House"). Whether he modified the line readings or not, Bill Murray is beyond inspired when Carl describes caddying for the Dalai Lama and asking for a tip -- "Hey, Lama, how about a little something, you know, for the effort." Rather than offering money, the Lama assures him that he will one day achieve enlightenment. "So I got that goin' for me, which is nice."
Carl's feud with the animatronic gopher is one for the ages. One of the funniest scenes involves Carl, in his hovel, constructing explosives in the form of various woodland creatures, as the gopher peaks in the window and expresses alarm at the development before scurrying off in fear. Meantime, Carl channels Sun Tzu and reasons, "I've gotta get inside this guy's pelt and crawl around for a few days." Grimy Carl also has a memorable extended scene hosting Chase's Ty, who, by contrast, comes from luxury. When offered a seat, Ty says, "No thanks; I don't want to stick to anything." "You got a pool at your place?" Carl asks. "We have a pond in the back," Ty responds. "We have a pool and a pond. (Beat) Pond'd be good for you."
I could go on. And I used to. Incessantly. "Freeze, gopher!"
So the exercise here is to commune with that 18-year-old goofball that I once was and find out if we still have some common ground. We do.
STRIPES (1981) (A-minus) - Not as ribald as "Caddyshack," Murray's assured follow-up -- where he introduces his classic character, the suave prankster -- is the better movie and yet another step away from the National Lampoon anarchy of the '70s. Murray teams up with the fundamentally funny Harold Ramis as two slackers who decide it might be a hoot to join the Army as a cure for their dead-end lives.
Ivan Reitman (who would go on to direct "Ghostbusters" with Murray and Ramis) is the adult in the room and the steady hand throughout. Ramis wrote the script with Len Blum and Daniel Goldberg (from "Meatballs"), and they provide an impressive structured narrative that you didn't get in the messy, bawdy predecessors. There is actual intrigue in the European escapades the troop stumbles into in the movie's final third.
The joy here lies in many of the supporting characters. Warren Oates does a nuanced variation on Sgt. Carter with his fuming Sgt. Hulka. John Candy updates Curly as big lovable Ox. John Larroquette plays deadpan as the inept captain. John Diehl and Judge Reinhold bring depth to the lineup. And Sean Young and P.J. Soles provide zip as the love interests for Murray and Ramis.
And the memorable lines fly throughout. In his pep talk to his squad, Murray boasts, "We're American soldiers. We've been kicking ass for 200 years! We're 10 and 1." Ramis to a recruiter: "No, we're not homosexuals, but" -- cocking an eyebrow -- "we are willing to learn." (Ramis' facial expressions as he watches the other soldiers introduce themselves are a thing of beauty. He also teaches ESL students the words to "Da Doo Ron Ron.") Murray to Soles, as he gives her the Aunt Jemima Treatment on the stove, "Who's your friend? Who's your buddy? I am, aren't I?" Downplaying the danger and distance of driving the captain's beloved tanklike vehicle from Germany to Czechoslovakia (in order to rescue the bumbling captain), Murray reasons, "We're not going to Moscow. We're going to Czechoslovakia. It's like going to Wisconsin!" Murray, introducing himself to the squad: "Chicks dig me, because I rarely wear underwear, and when I do it's usually something unusual." And, of course, Sgt. Hulka's epic putdown to Psycho (Conrad Dunn), who doesn't want anyone touching him or his stuff: "Lighten up, Francis."
There is innocent joy in watching Murray and Ramis lean into the irony not long after that loss in Vietnam and essentially proclaim a new era in Cold War ideology and global realpolitik. As Murray noted, it was time to stop licking our wounds from the depressing decade that had just ended; we were still 10-1 at the time and leading the league in spending on weapons. Time to move on. Let's get over the '70s and the '60s, and let's have fun again. Hold your heads up high, soldiers.
It's almost as if our present moment calls for the same attitude. Sure, we're out of shape, and our won-loss record continues to slide, but we're still Americans -- and at least 60 percent of us aren't traitors -- so we should be able to get out of our long-simmering funk. Whaddya, say, guys -- are ya with me?!
BONUS TRACKS
The website Uproxx has a thoughtful reconsideration of "Stripes" 40 years after its release, noting "the depiction of American Empire at arguably its greatest period of calm in 100 years" with a "patriotism [that] is heavily tongue-in-cheek" and which "still feels subversive to modern eyes."
And here is the joy that was the guilty pleasure of Kenny Loggins 41 years ago:
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