Belushi, His Rise and Fall

 

 

 

 

BELUSHI (2020)

Directed by R. J. Cutler

Showtime, 108 minutes, MA (drugs, language)

★★★★

 

I would not be the first to say that Saturday Night Live simply isn’t very interesting anymore. After 51 years, so much has changed that it’s hard to see it as the pathbreaking comedy that it once was. Many oldsters, despite some brilliant cast restructuring during the decades– Tina Fey, Eddie Murphy, Billy Crystal, Jeanene Garafalo, Joan Cusak, and Maya Rudolph top my list– the original Not Ready for Prime Time Players (Dan Aykroyd, Chevy Chase, Jane Curtin, Bill Murray, Garrett Morris, Gilda Radner, and John Belushi) has never been topped.

 

Note that this is my opinion and that I’m speaking of an ensemble cast. Ultimately, SNL viewers are like superfans of a sport; the “G.O.A.T.” is the stuff of barroom debates and who you pick often gives away your age. Gen Xers often cite figures such as Will Ferrell, Norm Macdonald, Jimmy Fallon, Amy Poehler as favorites; if you’re younger still, you might cite Kate McKinnon, Cecily Strong, or Mikey Day. I’d grant Pohler, but the rest strike me lame. Chacun ses goúts. But any way you slice it, SNL is now merely a TV “sketch” show; it lacks the rebellious out-of-control mania of Belushi and Radner. Once upon a time, Saturday Night Live was as close as American TV got to anarchy. Eric Idle hosted SNL several times. In his mind, only Belushi would have held his own as a member of Monty Python’s Flying Circus. More fodder for barroom arguments (or coffee klatches for those of us who go to bed earlier).

 

For me, Gilda was funnier, but Belushi was the Harpo Marx of the cast, the guy who could walk on the set, raise an eyebrow, and people would laugh. Like Harpo, he could destroy a set before you could daub your eyes. Replace Harpo’s horn with a samurai sword and that’s Belushi, a brilliant physical comic. (Okay, Harpo never took drugs!) I had never seen the 2020 Showtime special, but Belushi is now on video and other streaming services. It comes close to explaining what made him tick and what resulted in his early death in 1982 at age 33. (At least he got past the 27 Club.)

 

I found parallels between Belushi and Kurt Cobain. Belushi couldn’t get past his belief that TV was homogeneous. It’s no secret that Belushi and Dan Ackroyd were pals, but few realize the depth of their friendship. It was so strong that each was ready to give up acting to tour as The Blues Brothers. That’s ironic as we learn from a look into John’s Wheaton, Illinois, childhood. He disliked Wheaton, but always stated his wish to be an actor. Belushi pushed SNL toward anarchy, but it was never far enough to suit him. (Or should I say the “suits” at NBC?) Shades of Cobain and his hatred of corporate rock.

 

An on-set legend holds that Belushi and Chevy Chase hated each other, but Chase is on screen saying nice things about John. I suspect that given Belushi’s erratic work habits that most cast members hated him at some point, but if you deeply hate someone you say no thanks when asked to comment on their legacy. Most of his SNL colleagues are on screen to sing his praises, including oft-exasperated producer Lorne Michaels.

 

Perhaps the biggest revelation is that John was a one-woman man. He fell in love with Judy Jacklin when they were in high school, married her, and leaned on her during his darkest drug-addled moments. We become voyeurs to the letters John wrote to Judy in which he bares his fears, anxieties, and depression. Behind all the craziness, Belushi was analogous to Robin Williams. In the end, Belushi was an addict and admitted to Judy he was so hooked that he couldn’t quit.

 

This is a very good biography of Belushi, though I disagree with a few of decisions made by director R. J. Cutler. It is a mix of real-life video and animation, the latter of which isn’t expertly drawn and seems like filler-looking-for-content. It also seemed a glaring omission to say little about Jane Curtin’s allegation that Belushi was a misogynist.   

 

Rob Weir:

 

Postscript: In many ways, the Showtime documentary was a farewell letter from his widow Judy. She became an actress and producer. Judy married Victor Pisano in 1990,  divorced him in 2010, and died of cancer in 2024.