Seeing "Smokey and the Bandit" for the First Time

Last night, my spouse was scrolling through the endless possibilities of stuff to watch; we have a Roku stick and no streaming services except for Amazon Prime, and still the possibilities can be overwhelming.  He clicked on Smokey and the Bandit.  I realized I had never seen it and had never really wanted to see it.  Still, it seemed as good as any other choice, so we settled in.

The film inspired odd nostalgia in me--odd in some ways, because I hadn't seen the film.  But still, it is so much a period piece of the late 70's and with a bit of Southeast U.S. thrown in.  Ah, the 70's, when you couldn't get Coors beer east of the Mississippi River.  There are street scenes that capture the pay phones that once dotted every intersection.  There are scuzzy diners and kids doing activities (football and band) on a field.  The cast was more racially mixed than I expected--hey, a black sheriff, who seems like the more rational law enforcement dude than the crazed sheriff that chases Bandit across state lines.  And that Trans-Am--I remember how much kids in the 70's longed to grow up and have one of those cars.  And CB radios!  I'm surprised by how much of that lingo I remember, particularly because our family didn't have a CB radio.

I didn't expect to like Sally Field so much in this movie:  a runaway bride!  She's adorable and spunky and vulnerable and invincible.  She has agency, which I worried she might not.

It is interesting to think about this depiction of law enforcement, along with other shows of the 70's.  The Dukes of Hazzard comes to mind--shows where the law breakers are much more appealing than the deranged law enforcement folks.  It's hard not to think about our current day and wonder how much these types of shows might have played a part in forming the current muddle we seem to be in, where people can attack the Capitol in Washington D.C., and a huge part of the nation sees them as heroes.

Of course, I've read history and lots of literature, and I realize the appealing outlaw figure has always been with us, and in the U.S. more so than other countries.  

Last night, for the most part, I was able to just enjoy a film for what it is, with all of its overacting and strange plotline and car wreck after car wreck.  Today, I'll get in our sensible car and drive across the mountains keeping mostly to the speed limit, delivering a sermon about how a Canaanite woman schools Jesus in the narrow vision of his mission.  It's a different kind of spunkiness, a different woman with agency, but vital for our time.