John Belushi

In The Blues Brothers (1980), John Belushi’s Jake carries on as though there were nothing ridiculous about the undertaking. He keeps a straight face and lets the situation provide the absurdity, without allowing the joke to become mechanical. We laughed at that stubborn composure because he makes acknowledging the obvious seem beneath Jake’s dignity. It is a good reminder that an actor known for explosive physical comedy need not spend every scene making a commotion.

That reputation took shape in the original Saturday Night Live ensemble in 1975, with characters such as the belligerent samurai. His film breakthrough was Bluto, the anarchic fraternity member in National Lampoon’s Animal House (1978). Belushi could establish these characters with his face and body, without needing much dialogue. The manic pilot of 1941 (1979) fitted that strength. Later films, including Continental Divide (1981) and Neighbors (1981), had to contend with audiences expecting more of the same.

John Landis’s The Blues Brothers makes better use of his willingness to share a scene than that reputation might suggest. Dan Aykroyd’s Elwood is an effective partner because he does not continually ask for our attention, leaving Belushi room to give Jake a more forceful personality. Their differences sustain passages where the script supplies little beyond a determination to carry on. They also accept being hosts to the musicians. That modesty matters: the singers are often more compelling than either lead, and the film is more enjoyable for letting them be.

There are limits to what either actor can hold together. The comic destruction goes on too long, and their steadiness cannot disguise the untidy storytelling. Yet Belushi supplies enough character to keep the partnership from becoming a device for getting to the next musical performance. The music makes those stretches worth forgiving, though a shorter film would have served both actors better. Start here for Belushi, and give the singers your full attention.