Somewhere in the dark, smoky void between a bad idea and a drunken greenlight meeting, Blues Brothers 2000 was born. Not written. Not developed. Not conceived in any artistic way. Born—like a fungus that grew on a stack of unused Universal Studios press passes. It’s the kind of sequel that feels like it escaped from a marketing meeting, naked and confused, wearing only Dan Aykroyd’s leftover sunglasses and the last drop of goodwill from 1980.
This isn’t a movie—it’s an autopsy. A 123-minute-long wake for the original Blues Brothers where the corpse is trotted out, stuffed with filler, and propped up like Weekend at Bernie’s, only without the charm, the soul, or the basic motor functions.
🎺 A Plot That Smells Like Cheap Cigars and Desperation
Elwood Blues is out of prison, and that’s the good news. The bad news is that you have to follow him through a plot that plays like a deleted scene from a Scooby-Doo special written during a meth comedown.
His brother Jake is dead (because, well, John Belushi is dead), and Elwood is tasked with putting the band back together again. Again. AGAIN. At this point, the band should’ve filed for a restraining order.
Somewhere in the midst of gospel churches, car chases, voodoo queens, and a preteen orphan sidekick (we’ll get to him), Elwood ends up facing off against Russian mobsters, white supremacists, and the audience’s rapidly deteriorating patience.
👓 Dan Aykroyd: Still Wearing the Suit, Still Losing the Plot
Dan Aykroyd, God bless him, tries. You can see the sweat behind the shades. He moves like a man whose heart is in it but whose soul was repossessed sometime around Coneheads. Elwood Blues used to be a character of stoic cool and dangerous charm. Now he’s just your weird uncle who refuses to update his wardrobe or acknowledge that the world moved on after 1982.
He’s not the worst thing here, but he sure ain’t the fix. Aykroyd walks through this film like a haunted animatronic from a Chuck E. Cheese that only plays blues standards and regrets.
👶 The Kid: Because Nothing Says Blues Like a Disney Channel Orphan
There’s a child in this film. Let’s all take a moment to stare into the abyss and wonder why.
J. Evan Bonifant plays Buster, a 10-year-old harmonica prodigy who joins the band and dresses like a shrunken blues brother. You might be thinking, “That sounds horrible.” Congratulations, you’re right. He’s a walking marketing ploy designed to appeal to kids and kill off any remaining edge this franchise once had.
If you ever wanted to see The Blues Brothers turned into a “cool dad” movie where a precocious tween sings James Brown and wears Ray-Bans, well… go directly to prison. Do not pass go. Do not collect residuals.
🎶 Great Musicians, Wasted Like an Open Mic Night in Hell
The film parades out an endless conga line of legendary musicians: Aretha Franklin, B.B. King, James Brown, Eric Clapton, Erykah Badu, John Popper, Bo Diddley, Steve Winwood. You name it, they show up—only to be suffocated by a script that treats them like trading cards.
It’s less “a celebration of blues music” and more “a hostage situation with guitars.” Everyone’s here. Nobody’s having fun. It’s like watching your favorite band perform in a Denny’s parking lot while a child with a kazoo takes over the solos.
The climactic “battle of the bands” is so cringeworthy it should come with a warning label: “Prolonged exposure may cause spontaneous facepalming and spiritual regret.”
🚗 Car Chases: Now With 100% More Who Cares
The original film featured one of the most glorious car chases in movie history—pure chaos, high-speed destruction, cop cars piled like Jenga blocks. This one? It feels like a deleted scene from Power Rangers Turbo. Bland, bloated, and choreographed with all the finesse of a drunk crossing guard.
The CGI is laughably bad. The action is sluggish. And by the 47th car that explodes in mid-air for no reason, you’ll start rooting for the law just to end the movie faster.
🧛 Voodoo Queens, Russian Gangsters, and Magical Kids—Oh My!
Whoever wrote this screenplay was clearly huffing blues records and chasing it with NyQuil. Blues Brothers 2000 doesn’t have a plot so much as a wandering list of random ideas pulled from a pitch session inside a haunted Waffle House.
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Russian mobsters? Sure.
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A magical voodoo queen who turns men into zombies? Naturally.
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A musical battle in a swamp against the “Louisiana Gator Boys”? Bring it on.
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A climactic finale featuring gospel, funk, and the death of cinema? Why not?
You could drink a gallon of cough syrup and write a more coherent story on the back of a napkin. This film is narrative whiplash in a fedora.
💀 The Humor: Buried Next to Jake
It’s a comedy in theory. But so is tax fraud.
The jokes land like broken cymbals. There’s a scene where Elwood gives a motivational speech about “raising your orphan right.” There’s another where the band narrowly escapes the law by driving through a Ku Klux Klan rally. It’s like someone took The Benny Hill Show, removed the charm, and added jazz hands.
Even the cameos—usually a saving grace in Landis films—feel phoned in. Frank Oz looks like he’s aged 40 years in one scene. And John Goodman, as Elwood’s new partner “Mighty Mack,” mostly stands around like a confused substitute teacher forced to dance for his supper.
🎷 Final Thoughts: This Ain’t No Revival—It’s a Blues Funeral
Blues Brothers 2000 is less a sequel and more a crime scene. It takes everything that was cool, dangerous, and unpredictable about the original and turns it into a kids’ menu with soggy fries and an off-brand coloring book.
It’s a reminder that sometimes, it’s better to let legends die than to dig up the body, slap a harmonica on it, and force it to shuffle awkwardly across the stage one last time. Dan Aykroyd gave it his best. Everyone else looks like they’re being paid in IOUs and trauma.
At the end of the day, Blues Brothers 2000 doesn’t sing the blues—it gives them to you. And unlike Elwood, most of us don’t have a prison to go back to. We just have the memory of this mess… and the quiet knowledge that John Belushi was spared from ever seeing it.
Final Score: 1 out of 5 — You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll question the concept of sequels.
