When the most indelible moment of a film comes from the Sir Mix-A-Lot track running over the end credits it speaks volumes. The 1993 people-coming-together-from-different-worlds comedy Amos & Andrew tries to reveal societies’ problems with race relations in a light-hearted yet poignant manner. The message however is so heavily tacked on to this lacklustre comedy that the film fails to achieve the social relevance it so desires.
This film, trying entirely too hard to be tongue in cheek by playing off the title of the popular African-American radio and television program Amos n’' Andy, stars Samuel L. Jackson as Andrew Sterling, a talented, highly educated African-American writer who recently bought a new summer home somewhere in New England (location never revealed, just described as being on an island). He is a Pulitzer Prize winner, on top of a number of other impressive achievements. The point is to clearly establish the man as cultural and scholarly, an affluent and successful member of society regardless of race.
Sterling's tremendous wealth and success allows him to buy this summer home, and this is his first trip there himself. Some of the neighbouring summer home folk, unaware that Mr. Stirling recently moved in, stumble upon the sight of Sterling in his home, immediately assume he’s a burglar and call the cops. This kicks off the theme of racial profiling, and of course all the 'zany misadventures to come' via the police department.
After the bumbling Chief of Police Cecil Tolliver (Dabney Coleman), with political aspirations in the upcoming fall election, discovers they are in the process of trying to arrest a well established celebrity and owner of the house, he formulates an exit strategy. They send in a petty, half wit criminal named Amos Odell (Nicolas Cage) as a front. They broker a deal to send Odell in, arrest him and save face for almost arresting Andrew in his own home. The deal is sweetened with the promise to let Odell leave town afterwards.
As a result Amos and Andrew are matched up, and together the two come to conclusions about the way the world works and how to fight back against the cops, who have now been a nuisance to both men.
The film does make sure to show the follies of both sides of the racial coin, which is a plus. It starts with the nosy neighbours and local police assuming a black man must be a thief in the area, and moves to the Reverend friend of Sterling - presumably from New York City - and his failed attempt at calls for social justice. Grouping together a few busloads of African-American protesters from the big city they head up to the summer home in the middle of the night to call attention to the injustice by plastering themselves all over the local television coverage. They only make matters worse however through one miscue after the next.
While this is a comedy, presumably to keep discussions on race relations serious but not heated upon exiting the theatre, the silly moments of the film are not quite slapstick or satire. As a result the serious moments of social commentary feel rather out of place. There are a few occasional chuckles, but they are few and far between. And the message is delivered so consistently that it is pretty much insulting to the audience when it is finally spelled out by the main characters.
Writer and director E. Max Frye tries to create a film that exposes the problems of race relations in the early 90’s, and while that is admirable it is so poorly delivered that one almost questions the project altogether. A quirky comedy produced no doubt with the highest of hopes and best intentions, Amos & Andrew falls short of the memorable and important status it strives to achieve.
