We
have all had those days where nothing, literally nothing, ever seems to
go right. As we leave the comfort of childhood and make our way into the
battlefield of adolescence and then ultimately into the often-nonsensical world
of the adult, the issues that we face grow daily and exponentially. Traveling
during the holidays is a small albeit often infuriating annual torture that most
of us put ourselves through (often begrudgingly) for purposes of keeping the
peace with significant others or ensuring that our names are included in our relatives’
last wills and testaments or for other reasons too numerous to entertain.
One
of the most traveled days of the year in the United States is indubitably
Thanksgiving. Cinematic depictions of the Fourth Thursday of November tend to mirror
the insanity of hosting a meal for family members while others are more
innocuous. The fine Showtime series Brotherhood from the mid-aughts depicts
the inner workings of a Rhode Island family embroiled in politics and organized
crime, two areas they excel in, though in the twentieth episode of the series
no one can seem to cook a Thanksgiving turkey to save their life. Woody Allen’s
Hannah and Her Sisters (1986) is a rare outing that paints Thanksgiving
the way that it should be (though I would have thrown in a TV somewhere on the
set with a broadcast of March of the Wooden Soldiers (1934) for good
measure).
A
scenario that anyone who has traveled by public transportation prior to the
holiday can easily relate to is the marathon run by Neal Page (Steve Martin) which
begins innocently enough as he attempts to casually bolt from a soporific advertising
meeting with a New York client to make his way back home to Chicago in the late
John Hughes’s comedy Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, which was released
on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving in 1987. Neal manages to hail a cab, but
it is commandeered by another passenger at the last minute. Making his way to
JFK Airport, Neal sits opposite the very person who took the cab he wanted, a jovial
and highly talkative shower curtain ring salesman named Del Griffith (John
Candy). In true-to-life form, Neal and Del sit next to one another in the plane.
Del chews Neal’s ear off because he loves talking, and this quality makes him
an expert sales rep. Neal grimaces and does his best to hide his umbrage when
Del removes his shoes and socks which, while comedic in the film, has now
become a common breach of etiquette on flights to the point that airplane
personnel should be given permission to discharge the offenders down the
inflatable raft prior to take off. A snowstorm hijacks their plans, and the
plane is rerouted to Wichita, KS wherein they share not only a motel room, but
the same bed.
Del’s
idiosyncrasies come to light and receives a hasher-than-expected tongue lashing
from Neal who just wants to get home and whose intolerance for the situation at
hand is slowly reaching a boiling point. A burglar swipes cash from both of
their wallets limiting their options to get back home. Despite an amusing and
understandable vituperative outburst laden with F-bombs that Neal suffers at the
airport counter (the sole reason for the film’s unfair R-rating), Planes
ends with a heartfelt and emotional denouement that anticipates Martin Brest’s
best film, Midnight Run (1988), another great “road” comedy film that
also has an emotional story at its center – to say nothing of both films’ uses
of “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall”.
Planes has been released on home video a
multitude of times in all recent formats. Its latest incarnation is in the form
of a two-disc set. The first disc contains a 4K Ultra High Definition (UHD)
Blu-ray and presents the film in Dolby Vision and High Dynamic Range (HDR).
Other reviewers have complained about the picture quality and its lack of
color(?), but it looked fine on my 4K setup. For the subject matter and the age
of the film, I believe that one could do much worse. Among the extras on this
disc:
Getting
There is Half the Fun: The Story of Planes, Trains and Automobiles – this piece runs about 17 minutes and
is a panel discussion from the time of the film’s release with reporters and
the stars and director, interspersed with comments from the supporting
performers. Mr. Hughes was initially a writer for National Lampoon Magazine and
his articles brought him to screenwriting.
John
Hughes: Life Moves Pretty Fast
– this is a roughly 54-minute piece that, unfortunately, is told in the past
tense as Mr. Hughes tragically passed away in New York at the age of 59 while
jogging in August 2009. Much of the interviews in this piece are reminiscences
about working with him and are tinged with poignancy and sadness. It is
comprised of two smaller pieces: John Hughes: The Voice of a Generation
and Heartbreak and Triumph: The Legacy of John Hughes.
John Hughes for Adults – this piece is
four minutes and discusses his transition from making movies about young adults
(he hates the word “teenagers”) to films for adults.
A
Tribute to John Candy –
this is a three-minute tribute to this comic who brought out the best in those
he worked with.
The
second disc is where this release really shines. This is a standard Blu-ray
disc (BD) in 1080p very cleverly titled Lost Luggage that contains a
treasure trove of both deleted scenes and extended scenes that made their way on
to the proverbial cutting room floor. Aside from one sequence that contains a
hilarious visual gag that I refuse to spoil (it is HD quality and is in
finished form), all the other presented scenes are taken from VHS cassettes
found in director Hughes’ archives/estate. While the video quality is what you
would expect from VHS, all the scenes seem to be mined from raw footage and
lacks sound effects and are by no means a finished product. However, despite
this drawback, the footage presented is entertaining and definitely worth
seeing. It also includes Dylan Baker’s onscreen audition for Owen, as well as
more extended blabbering from Del in Neal’s ear prior to takeoff. I wish that
they had also included onscreen bloopers.
True
fans of this film should splurge for the upgrade for this reason alone. John
Candy was a treasure, and his absence is truly missed and still felt today.