Neal
(played by Steve Martin): “Sir?...
Sir?... Sir?” [runs to man] "Excuse me. I know this is your cab, but I'm desperately late for a plane, and
I was wondering if I could appeal to your good nature and ask you to let me
have it.”
New
York Lawyer (played
by Nicholas Wyman): “I don't have a good nature. Excuse me. Cabbie, come
on.”
Neal:
“I'll offer you 10 dollars for it.”
New
York Lawyer: [scoffs]
“Nuh!”
Neal:
“Okay, 20! I'll give you 20 dollars.”
New
York Lawyer: “I'll take 50.”
Neal:
[pauses, then begins to take money out]
“All right.”
New
York Lawyer: “Anyone who'd pay 50 dollars for a
cab, would certainly pay 75.”
Neal:
“Not necessarily...” [reluctantly
agreeing]. “All right. $75. You're a thief!”
New
York Lawyer: “Close, I'm an attorney.”
Neal:
“Have a happy holiday.”
New
York Lawyer: “This'll help!”— Planes,Trains and Automobiles (1987), written and directed by
John Hughes
Planes,
Trains and Automobiles premiered a quarter-century ago
tomorrow, but it seems fitting to run this quote today, to place it
more squarely in the Thanksgiving holiday—which, after all, is when this often
hilarious—and unexpectedly tender-hearted—film takes place. In fact, as indicated in this article by Wade Tatangelo of the Bradenton Herald, it has become "the Greatest Thanksgiving film."
In a way, the scene quoted here epitomizes the dilemma faced by
Neal (Steve Martin, exasperated to
the point of being uncharacteristically unsympathetic here). Neal's notion of a
“good nature” depends, fatally, on appearances. He assumes that the tastefully
dressed man waiting for a cab has a good nature. This not only turns out to be
incorrect, but the lawyer deprives Neal of cash that could be used later in getting home.
When he meets someone with a good nature—the boorish
shower-ring salesman, Del (played by the marvelous John Candy)—the experience
is wildly out of his comfort zone and ability to control. Del might tell one
awful joke after another, but he has an ability to “go with the flow” utterly
beyond Neal. Moreover, he has unexpected reservoirs of sorrow that uptight
businessman Neal can’t begin to understand.
On the bus coming back from New York in the last few
weeks, amid the kind of aggravating travel conditions this film captures so
expertly, a passenger told another commuter—evidently a stranger--at the end of
a long conversation, that such awful situations provided opportunities for
people to open up to each other unexpectedly in ways not normally possible. Planes, Trains and Automobiles is a
comedy (with serious overtones) about just such a scenarios. It allows us to
appreciate the talents of two talented “Johns” taken from us far before
we could wish—John Candy (dead from
a heart attack in 1994, at age 43) and screenwriter-director-producer John Hughes (dead at age 59 three years
ago).
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