Speed Zone

First things first: yes, this is technically the third outing for the cross-country, no-rules road race concept, following The Cannonball Run (1981) and Cannonball Run II (1984). However, due to pesky rights issues, it couldn't use the original name in the US, hence Speed Zone (or the more revealing Cannonball Fever title it sported elsewhere). This legal tangle feels almost symbolic of the film itself – related, but definitely running on a different, arguably lower-octane fuel. Gone are Burt Reynolds' swagger and Hal Needham's knack for orchestrating truly chaotic vehicular mayhem. Instead, we get director Jim Drake, fresh off helming Police Academy 4: Citizens on Patrol (1987), which perhaps tells you something about the comedic altitude we're aiming for here.

Stepping into the de facto lead is the utterly lovable John Candy as Charlie Cronan, a portly parking valet who gets swept up in the race alongside Tiffany (Donna Dixon, looking radiant). Candy brings his signature warmth and gentle giant appeal, but the script by Michael Short doesn't give him the sharp material his SCTV cohort Eugene Levy (also appearing here, naturally) might have cooked up. Still, Candy is always a welcome presence, a comforting anchor in the escalating silliness.

And oh, the silliness. The plot, thin as a worn-out fan belt, involves another illegal race, this time seemingly originating from a packed Washington D.C. parking garage and heading... somewhere. The real point, much like its predecessors, is the sprawling ensemble cast and their episodic misadventures. Matt Frewer channels his Max Headroom energy into the perpetually stressed race organizer, Alec Stewart. We get SCTV reunion vibes with Joe Flaherty and the aforementioned Eugene Levy as bumbling TV reporters. Tim Matheson pops up as a millionaire funding a driver, Shari Belafonte is a high-tech competitor, and Peter Boyle plays a perpetually exasperated police chief trying (and failing) to shut the whole thing down.

This is where Speed Zone truly leans into its late-80s identity: the sheer, unadulterated randomness of the cast. It’s like someone threw darts at a board covered in headshots from 1988. You've got the Smothers Brothers as sombrero-wearing assassins (yes, really), Melody Anderson (Flash Gordon's Dale Arden!), Jamie Farr reprising his sheik character yet again, country singer Mel Tillis, and, in perhaps the most wonderfully bizarre piece of casting, Olympic track legend Carl Lewis as... a competitor named "Flash." Seeing Lewis behind the wheel, delivering lines with earnest stiffness, is a unique kind of retro fun fact brought to life. And then there's Brooke Shields, playing herself (or a version thereof), bewildered by the chaos. There's a persistent rumour that many of these cameos were favors called in, or perhaps the result of agents trying to keep their clients busy during a slow period. Whatever the reason, the effect is less "star-studded extravaganza" and more "wait, they're in this?"

Okay, let's talk action. The Cannonball films were known for their car stunts, often performed by legendary stunt coordinator Hal Needham himself in the earlier entries. Speed Zone tries to keep that tradition alive, and you can see the effort. We get glimpses of practical stunt work – cars weaving through traffic, near misses, a few minor smashes. Remember how real even a basic car chase felt back then, before CGI smoothed everything over? There's a tangible quality to the vehicles actually being there, driven by nervy stunt performers. Much of the driving action was filmed around Tucson, Arizona, providing dusty backdrops for the vehicular antics.

However, compared to the genuinely impressive and often dangerous-feeling stunts of the first film, Speed Zone's action feels... muted. It lacks the kinetic energy and feeling of barely controlled chaos that made the original so memorable. The editing feels a bit choppy, and the gags involving the cars often fall flatter than a punctured tire. It’s trying, bless its heart, but the spectacle just isn’t quite there. The budget was reportedly around $18 million (a hefty sum for the time, roughly $45 million today), but it doesn't always translate to screen-shattering excitement.

The humour, like the action, is hit-and-miss, leaning heavily on slapstick, caricature, and those aforementioned celebrity appearances. Some moments land with a goofy charm, often thanks to the inherent likability of performers like Candy or the sheer absurdity of seeing someone like Carl Lewis trying to act opposite Peter Boyle. But much of it feels forced, like retreads of jokes that worked better the first or second time around. The film wears its late-80s sensibilities on its sleeve – the fashion, the synth-pop elements in the score, the specific brand of broad comedy. It's a product of its time, for better or worse.

Critically, Speed Zone was DOA. It got savaged by reviewers and barely made a dent at the box office, pulling in a paltry $3 million or so. It even snagged three Razzie Award nominations, including Worst Picture, Worst Director, and Worst Supporting Actor for Brooke Shields. Ouch. It quickly faded, becoming one of those titles you’d see lingering on rental shelves, perhaps rented by mistake or out of sheer SCTV-alum curiosity. I distinctly remember picking up the slightly battered VHS copy, hoping for that Cannonball magic, and being met with... well, this amiable mess.

Speed Zone isn't a hidden gem waiting to be rediscovered as a misunderstood masterpiece. Let's be honest, it's a pretty ramshackle vehicle. But viewed through the fuzzy lens of VHS nostalgia, it possesses a certain weird, chaotic charm. It's a testament to John Candy's enduring appeal, a fascinatingly bizarre time capsule of late-80s celebrity cameos, and a reminder of an era when studios would still throw decent money at goofy, star-stuffed comedies, even sequels-in-name-only.

Rating: 4/10 - The rating reflects the film's undeniable weaknesses in plot, humour, and action compared to its predecessors. However, the 4 points are earned purely through the sheer force of John Candy's presence, the baffling-yet-entertaining cavalcade of cameos, and its undeniable status as a quintessential piece of late-80s video store fodder – objectively flawed, but nostalgically fascinating.

Final Thought: It never quite captures the lightning in a bottle of the original Cannonball Run, but for a dose of pure, unfiltered late-80s weirdness and a chance to see John Candy be effortlessly charming amidst chaos, Speed Zone is a VHS oddity worth maybe one nostalgic lap around the block. Just don't expect it to break any records.