Harry Ridgway’s review published on Letterboxd:
Planes, Trains and Automobiles is classic John Hughes: The 80's soundtrack plastered over every scene, the risible and preposterously entertaining scenarios and of course, the introduction of sentimentalism that inconsistently succeeds. Hughes's distinguishable style is never seamless, but he sure knows how to fabricate an enjoyable jaunt, even if that jaunt is disjointed in its execution.
Neal Page has one modest wish for the thanksgiving holidays; to see his family. To do this he must catch a plane; seemingly simple task. However, as the title indicates, problems arise and he will have to board some trains and automobiles too. Indeed, he is not alone on this distressing expedition -- Del Griffith, a scruffy but munificent chap offers a hand and tags along on this stressful adventure, much to the displeasure of Page.
Opposed personalities hitting the road together is a concept that's been rigorously explored and persistently conquered, but Planes, Trains and Automobiles shoves most other opponents to the wayside and stands tall amongst a crowded genre. It's a witty and frenetic ride that's also an ideal vessel for one of the greatest comedic parings in movies; the straight and stern Steve Martin and the loud and proud John Candy. They emanate zip and chemistry with their odd association, and the movie only cultivates from this.
The commencement is slow, dull and purposefully boring; a John Hughes trademark. Whether it's the motionless classroom in Ferris Bueller's Day Off or the dreary detention space in The Breakfast Club, Hughes is never hesitant to decelerate and milk the awkward humour. But like all Hughes productions, the incremental cranking of the films generator infuses a steady rise of vigour and animation and seemingly runs on the potent fuel the two actors discharge. This is an actors paradise, with both Candy and Martin amalgamating into one powerful instrument of comedy, playing off each other with such rare wit and timing. The tit for tat between them is fluid and natural, as is the embodiment of each character.
The film is half moving, half disconcerting with its unison of heart with humour. The duo do have depth; a beating heart beneath their comedic concealments and feelings below their respective shells. Hughes judiciously furnishes each insult exclaimed with repercussions, letting them absorb into the character instead of bouncing off for comedy's sake. The famous scene of Neal belting Del with offence after offence whilst Del simply stares and deflates thrives on both comedic and dramatic levels -- it's humour with purpose. This scene, situated not far into the picture, is our first glimpse at the tenderness not just in the film but within the actors also -- Candy displays some fabulous restraint and dramatic proficiency, as does Martin.
Despite the brilliantly consistent acting and swift pace of the picture, the actual film's greatness is only transient. When the story is forgotten and the actors are supplied sovereignty over the movie, it thrives. There are rushed moments and heavy handed jabs of uncomfortable sentimentalism here and there, and the drama, whilst acted with the utmost brilliance, follows a predictable story arc that doesn't surprise when it hits -- culminating with a conclusion that's both unsatisfactory and a tad clumsy.
Planes, Trains and Automobiles may be visibly dated, with the patchy editing and 80's techno-esque hits bombarding each sequence, but its admirable intentions and buddy-road trip exterior is pleasing. The comedy and the performers are superlative, but the spasmodic flashes of heavy-handed, typical John Hughes sentimentalism is too hard to forget and the ultimate conclusion punctures the credibility of the picture. But still, who wouldn't endure even the most atrocious film just to see John Candy in full, magnificent flight?
"Funnily enough, I was just talking to my friend about that. Our speedometer has melted and as a result it's very hard to see with any degree of accuracy exactly how fast we were going."