Police Academy
How ironic is it that one of the most seminal and definitive comedies of the 1980s is also one of the most maligned and misunderstood as well? Perhaps because it spawned a long running franchise with its low cost lineup of B and C character actors which literally became recognized as almost being like fast food comedy? Or maybe it was the edgy sense of humor that compelled Roger Ebert to compose a bizarre Zero Star Review where he complained of technical mistakes related to the editing that supposedly cut away from various scenes that were possibly going to be funny but never delivered on the punchline (an utterly baseless claim that clearly can be seen to not be the case by anyone who watches it with their own two eyes)? But the fact that this 1984 release (and Part 2) still hold up today as examples of peerless comedy timing and chemistry is based upon its use of the “ensemble” format, featuring a motley collection of mostly one shot actors who are each assigned a goofy character who all carry a “gimmick”, i.e. a personality trait that defines them every time that we see them onscreen. The plot concerns The Progressive Mayor of a major metropolitan city removing all the known standards for admission to the local Police Academy (including the allowance of convicted criminals to enlist) which results in every misfit within a 50 mile radius making a beeline towards the Academy to become actual law enforcement officers. This puts them under the watchful eye of Lt. Thaddeus Harris (G.W. Bailey, the real star of this first entry who was truly underrated as an actor due to spending most of his career in television including four seasons as a regular on MASH), the twerpy yet taciturn head instructor who is instructed by The Chief Of Police to “make all of them quit”, a task which Harris is more than willing to take on and the beauty of the whole enterprise is in watching each character here as played by each actor blossom right in front of us based almost solely (with a couple of exceptions) through their onscreen interactions with Bailey’s Harris, a generous tour de force performance where Harris can elicit laughs simply by rolling his eyes all while bringing out the best in his costars for the maximum amount of onscreen humor as Bailey (in some ways giving us a subtle parody of Strother Martin’s Prison Camp Captain from Cool Hand Luke since R. Lee Ermey in Full Metal Jacket had not yet been released) literally schools the other cast members in fleshing out their characters enough in order to sustain most of them for a full franchise. The new recruits include Bubba Smith (who insisted for the rest of his life that the Namath guaranteed Super Bowl 3 game was rigged because he had been playing for the Colts in that game) as Hightower, a literal giant who had been stuck working as a florist despite his ability to kill anybody with his bare hands, Donovan Scott as Leslie Barbara, a mama’s little fat boy who decides to join the force due to having severe issues from being bullied, George Martin (Andrew Rubin), a Latin Casanova who is irresistible to women even as he often makes inappropriate remarks to others, David Graf as Eugene Tackleberry, a psycho gun nut with a clear history of mental illness who nonetheless became one of the cornerstones of the series, Michael Winslow (graduating from bit parts in Cheech and Chong movies to a starring role) as Larvell Jones, a half insane in his own right street performer who specializes in making incredible sound effects with just his mouth and vocal cords (a trait that served Winslow well on the stand up circuit), Bruce Mahler as Douglas Fackler, a nerdy (and possibly gay) married man who’s so accident prone that you could use him in a war zone just to take out enemy combatants, Marion Ramsey as Laverne Hooks, a meek and mild black country girl who is always so nervous that she can only talk in a whisper and (of course) Steve Guttenberg as Carey Mahoney, the resident major non conformist of this piece who also shares the most screen time with Harris since Mahoney’s freewheeling style of defying authority earns him the lion’s share of Harris’s wrath. Mahoney is also the de facto leader of the recruits, despite Harris appointing the two biggest misfits of them all to be the lead cadets, Copeland and Blanks (Scott Thomson and Brant Von Hoffman), two hateful racists who had celebrated their arrival at the academy by shaving their heads and convincing Harris that they were hardcore, resulting in them becoming resident snitches who are shunned and ignored by the others before they are finally set up and dropped into the middle of a gay bar (the celebrated Blue Oyster Bar with its equally celebrated theme song El Bimbo) and left for dead. Meanwhile, Mahoney decides to target for pranks none other than the gently senile Commandant Lassard (George Gaynes), resulting in a legendary podium scene and slideshow. But Harris ups the ante when he gets caught in an embarrassing situation himself of which only Mahoney knows about, but not for long as Harris must now face the recruits for their daily inspection, pretending not to notice their straining to keep straight faces as he looks at them while even his fellow instructor Callahan (Leslie Easterbrook, legendary for her amazing body and massive breasts) is also literally quivering from not laughing in his face. Certainly a scene that would be in any Comedy Hall Of Fame, but there are actually several other amazing bits of all sorts with this crew with almost everything being facilitated through the Harris character with the exception of the completely wasted Kim Cattrell in a nothing role as Mahoney’s current love interest, a female cadet with a lame gimmick of being from a wealthy family and literally NOTHING else of any remote substance whatsoever. It all winds up with a massive Rodney King style riot in the big city with the cadets sent in accidentally instead of the real riot squad as hijinks occur. Amazingly, almost all the main cast members would find themselves routed into the sequels, creating career highlight reels that at least guaranteed them cinematic immortality in each of their given roles with the exceptions of Cattrell, Rubin’s George Martin (who was offered a spot but turned it down) and Scott’s Leslie Barbara, who wasn’t even offered the chance to return which he has stated in interviews that he was disappointed about (although Barbara’s sad sack, pathos laden schtick didn’t fit in that well with the others as opposed to the equally put upon yet still much funnier Hooks). But Harris’ innate ability to whip both the characters AND the actors into shape to continue the series on their own is quite impressive as Harris himself would sadly sit on the sidelines until Part 4, leaving Guttenberg and the others to create a second comedy classic in Part 2 which depicted them as full fledged cops on the job taking on Bob Goldtwait’s insane gang leader Zed. But it all wasn’t for lack of trying on Harris’ part, as his fair minded yet prickish attitude would actually inspire the misfits to band together and graduate as one big team, an inspiring ending about making something out of your life even if it means becoming a police officer…
9/10