Revved-Up and Running on Fumes
Released at the height of America’s love affair with muscle cars, big personalities, and good-old-boy charm, The Cannonball Run is a movie that thrives on chaos, coasts on celebrity charisma, and crashes when it comes to anything resembling structure or storytelling. It’s loud, it’s brash, it’s juvenile—and depending on your mood, that’s either a recipe for fun or for cinematic indigestion.
Directed by stuntman-turned-director Hal Needham (of Smokey and the Bandit fame), The Cannonball Run is less a movie and more a 95-minute excuse for celebrities to hang out, goof off, and break speed limits in fast cars. Based on the real-life illegal cross-country race from Connecticut to California, the film barely disguises its central idea: pile a bunch of famous people into different vehicles and watch them improvise their way to the credits.
If you’re looking for narrative momentum, thematic depth, or even coherent editing—keep driving. But if you have a soft spot for old-school stunt work, 1970s burnout humor, and the sheer oddity of a cast that includes Burt Reynolds, Dom DeLuise, Farrah Fawcett, Roger Moore, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., and Adrienne Barbeau, then maybe The Cannonball Run is a pit stop worth making… once.
Let’s be honest: this one’s not a personal favorite. But there are things worth appreciating—even if they’re surrounded by smog.
Plot? What Plot?
Calling this movie’s storyline “thin” would be generous. The setup is as simple as it gets: an illegal cross-country race is about to begin, and various contestants with tricked-out vehicles and ridiculous gimmicks are all vying to win. That’s it. There’s no deeper purpose, no character arcs, no stakes beyond bragging rights.
Burt Reynolds plays J.J. McClure, a laid-back racer with a permanent smirk and a knack for bending the law. His best friend and sidekick is Victor (Dom DeLuise), who occasionally transforms into “Captain Chaos,” a delusional superhero alter ego in a cape and mask. They drive an ambulance, faking an emergency to bypass police.
Meanwhile, Roger Moore plays a version of himself—or rather, a James Bond parody named Seymour Goldfarb Jr. who believes he is James Bond. He drives an Aston Martin and oozes smugness, martinis, and raised eyebrows.
Then you’ve got Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. as priests driving a red Ferrari, Jackie Chan in a high-tech Japanese supercar (in one of his earliest American roles), and a duo of gorgeous women—Adrienne Barbeau and Tara Buckman—using their sex appeal to talk their way past cops in a sleek black Lamborghini.
And somewhere in the middle of all this, Farrah Fawcett appears as a tree-hugging environmentalist kidnapped (yes, literally) by Reynolds and DeLuise to serve as their “patient” in the ambulance. Her involvement shifts between Stockholm Syndrome and road trip flirtation. Welcome to 1981.
The Positives: Fawcett, Barbeau, and the Last Hurrah of Star Power
Let’s talk about what does work, starting with Farrah Fawcett. While her role is underwritten and veers into uncomfortable territory—being abducted should not be a meet-cute—Fawcett manages to bring charm and levity to the proceedings. She glows on camera, her feathered hair bouncing with every frame, and her smile remains as iconic as ever. She’s not given much to do, but she elevates what little she has.
There’s a scene where Fawcett and Reynolds share a rare quiet moment, watching the stars and exchanging quasi-philosophical banter. It’s probably the most grounded part of the movie, and it reminds you that under all the noise, The Cannonball Run occasionally stumbles into moments of sincerity.
Adrienne Barbeau, on the other hand, is pure camp. She and her co-driver Tara Buckman are essentially playing live-action cartoon characters: tight leather jumpsuits, excessive cleavage, and zero scruples. Every time a cop pulls them over, they lean into the car window with a pout and a jiggle, and the cop lets them off. It’s dumb. It’s sexist. It’s also weirdly effective in the film’s anything-goes tone.
Barbeau, however, is no airhead. Her dry delivery and knowing glances suggest a woman fully aware of the movie’s ridiculousness—and willing to milk it for all it’s worth. In many ways, she’s the smartest person in the movie because she’s in on the joke.
The same can’t be said for everyone.
The Negatives: Pretty Much Everything Else
Here’s the thing: The Cannonball Run isn’t really a “bad” movie in the traditional sense. It’s just lazy. The comedy is 80% mugging, pratfalls, and ethnic stereotypes. The characters are caricatures. The editing is abrupt. The score is forgettable. And the pacing, even at 95 minutes, drags by the third or fourth slow-motion crash.
The movie relies heavily on the chemistry between Burt Reynolds and Dom DeLuise, but even that feels strained. Reynolds coasts on autopilot, smirking his way through scenes with the confidence of a man who knows he doesn’t need to try too hard. DeLuise, meanwhile, vacillates between charmingly goofy and painfully grating. The “Captain Chaos” routine wears thin fast.
Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. bring some Rat Pack nostalgia, but they’re both clearly coasting. Martin looks half-asleep in most scenes, and Davis mugs for the camera like he’s in a bad nightclub act. The less said about their priest outfits and jokes about religion and race, the better.
Roger Moore is a clever idea in theory, but the joke—“I’m not Bond, I just think I am!”—never really evolves. Jackie Chan gets to show off a few moves, but he’s saddled with a stereotyped role and barely speaks. It’s a huge missed opportunity considering what he was capable of even then.
The movie’s biggest problem is that it never builds tension or excitement. Despite being about a race, there’s no clear sense of competition or urgency. Cars zip around. People argue. The police show up and vanish. It’s all noise, no rhythm. You don’t really care who wins because you’re not even sure what the rules are.
A Product of Its Time, For Better or Worse
It’s important to view The Cannonball Run in context. This was the tail end of the post-Smokey and the Bandit boom, when car chases and good-ol’-boy charm were box office gold. Hal Needham was the king of vehicular chaos, and audiences just wanted to see fast cars, big stars, and bigger crashes.
And the film did deliver on that, at least commercially. It was a hit. It even spawned two sequels (Cannonball Run II and the unofficial Speed Zone), neither of which improved on the original formula. But success doesn’t equal quality, and revisiting the film now is more of a nostalgic curiosity than a satisfying experience.
It’s a time capsule of a more innocent—and more problematic—era. The jokes about women, race, disability, and mental health wouldn’t fly today, and for good reason. The movie’s worldview is that of a 12-year-old boy giggling at fart jokes and boob shots. That might have been enough in 1981, but it’s a harder sell now.
The Stunts: Undeniably Impressive
If there’s one area where the film truly shines, it’s in the practical stunt work. This was an era before CGI, when stuntmen risked life and limb for our entertainment. Cars flip, skid, and launch off ramps with gleeful abandon, and it all looks great on screen.
Hal Needham’s background as a stunt coordinator means the action scenes, while silly, are well-executed. There’s an authenticity to the crashes and car gags that gives the movie a physical weight modern films often lack. Even when you’re not emotionally invested, you can’t help but admire the craftsmanship.
Still, when the best thing you can say about a comedy is “the car crashes are great,” it’s a sign the humor isn’t doing its job.
The End Credits: A Last Laugh (Sort Of)
The film ends with a blooper reel, something that would become a Needham trademark. It’s arguably the most enjoyable part of the movie—watching the cast crack up, flub lines, and break character reminds you that this was basically a paid vacation for most of them.
And that’s both the charm and the problem with The Cannonball Run. It’s a movie made by people who were clearly having fun—but forgot to make sure the audience was, too.
Final Verdict: A Joyride That Mostly Stalls
The Cannonball Run isn’t offensively bad. It’s just coasting on fumes, fueled by star power and a paper-thin premise. It’s a party you weren’t invited to, and once you’re there, you realize the jokes aren’t that funny and the drinks are watered down.
That said, it does have its moments—thanks largely to the presence of Farrah Fawcett and Adrienne Barbeau, who bring class and charisma to an otherwise juvenile affair. The stunt work is commendable. The nostalgia factor is strong. And for some viewers, that may be enough.
But as a film? It’s more of a footnote than a feature. A curiosity rather than a classic. A movie to put on in the background at a party, not one to revisit with reverence.
Rating: 5/10 – A few bright spots in a lot of exhaust. Worth a watch for the names, the cars, and the chance to see Fawcett and Barbeau light up an otherwise disposable road trip.
