The title “Cheech & Chong’s Last Movie” suggests another carefree, improvised buddy-comedy adventure from this duo, where it’s hard to tell what’s scripted and what isn’t. Given their age – Tommy Chong is approaching 87 while Cheech Marin is still relatively young at 78 – one might think they wanted to make one final foray into the stoner comedy genre, a style they pioneered, which has now become as commonplace as local marijuana dispensaries.
However, contrary to expectations, “Cheech & Chong’s Last Movie” is not a conventional comedy but rather a revealing documentary, spanning two hours to delve into the lives and careers of these iconic comedic pioneers. Their fascinating backstories are unveiled (Chong had a musical career with Motown, while Cheech was an avid potter), their serendipitous encounter, the development of their act, their meteoric rise to fame…and what makes this film particularly engaging is seeing them today, cruising through the desert in a Rolls Royce adorned with a marijuana leaf emblem, reminiscing about old times. Despite seeming like a leisurely trip down memory lane, the film’s authenticity is questionable due to its likely scripted nature. Yet, as we journey along, the duo begins to squabble and argue, and these disagreements feel genuine, revealing how they can still irritate each other, a dynamic that was instrumental in their act’s success, even though it’s also apparent that they still cherish each other. They are, in essence, the Lennon and McCartney of stoned humor.
I was raised alongside Cheech and Chong, however, I never considered myself a die-hard fan of theirs. I laughed at their first album during my middle school years, found them entertaining but also silly and redundant, and felt that their movies, aside from the decent “Up in Smoke,” varied from excessively long to downright terrible. Nevertheless, I was taken aback by how much I enjoyed “Cheech & Chong’s Last Movie.” I had never pondered over how they developed their act, but the progression of their career, which essentially unfolded based on the improvised comedy bits, is an intriguing and captivating tale.
Cheech and Chong seemed as if they were destined to be, emerging spontaneously like an unexpected plant from the cultural movement of the counterculture. They arrived at the ideal time, transforming the entire hippie community into a form of satire, and the subtle humor in their acts – which many long-haired drug enthusiasts in the audience may not have fully grasped – was that the counterculture was coming to an end. It had already started to morph into a caricature of itself, and Cheech and Chong merely accelerated this transition towards absurdity.
They appeared as if they’d materialized from a dreamlike haze, causing anyone who encountered them to feel a sense of shared euphoria. However, this wasn’t their intention to become the equivalent of Martin and Lewis during the aftermath of the ’70s hippie era. The documentary starts with a flurry of clips from their peak popularity, where they seemed omnipresent, delivering clever and drug-tinged remarks on various talk shows (Chong: “Drugs don’t hide what they do to you.” Cheech: “They make you wealthy!”), propagating their unique philosophy (“Our goal is to boost America and inhibit its growth”), while many others made jokes at their expense (Johnny Carson: “Did you hear about the new capital punishment? You must stand between Cheech and Chong for a full half hour”).
The film briefly delves into their past, showcasing their formative years. Born to a Chinese father and Scotch-Irish mother, Chong spent his childhood in economically struggling rural Canada. From this hardship emerged his unique blend of borderline Buddhist philosophy: Whatever transpires is predestined, so accept it. Cheech, on the other hand, was raised in South Central Los Angeles, a hotbed of violence. He recalls witnessing three murders by the age of seven. Being one of the few Chicanos in a predominantly Black neighborhood, his life took another turn when his father, a hardened L.A. cop, relocated the family to Grenada Hills in the San Fernando Valley, an area predominantly inhabited by whites. These experiences significantly shaped Cheech’s comedy persona, as he portrayed his laid-back, otherworldly Chicano character as if fresh off an alien planet. This added to the charm of it all. Cheech Marin played a pivotal role in shaping Latino-American pop culture, with a personality so novel to the mainstream that he paved the way for figures like Freddie Prinze and John Leguizamo.
In Vancouver, He and Tommy crossed paths. During that time, Chong managed a strip club while leading an unconventional life with two distinct families – his wife Maxine, mother to his children including Rae Dawn Chong, and Shelby, who conceived a child after they both took LSD together. His existence grew more complicated when he linked up with Bobby Taylor and the Vancouvers, who were recognized by the Supremes. Chong co-wrote their hit single “Does Your Mama Know About Me?”, which reached number 9 in 1968. However, as the new decade approached, his music career started to lose its appeal, pushing him towards comedy. He founded an improv group called the Committee within the strip club and was later recruited by Canada’s Rolling Stone equivalent magazine. Eventually, Cheech joined this troupe. As the counterculture movement subsided, so did all the other Committee members, except for Cheech and Chong. They acknowledge that many of their famous routines, like the one where they mimicked dogs, were borrowed from the improv group.
The careers of Cheech and Chong, much like their comedy acts, were a fortunate blend of coincidences. Just as Andy Kaufman developed his foreign-man character from an acquaintance in college, Chong adopted his laid-back “Hey, man!” style from a homeless stoner named Strawberry in Vancouver. Interestingly, Cheech modeled his persona on a hitchhiker who was more engrossed in admiring women than maintaining conversations due to his constant distractions.
Before comedy clubs became popular, Cheech and Chong found themselves performing in soul clubs across L.A., sharing the stage with acts like the Isley Brothers, Ray Charles, and the Delfonics. Being comedians of color, they stood out as they satirized a predominantly white counterculture. One fateful night, they graced the stage at the Troubadour, a venue that had previously launched Elton John into stardom. It was there that Lou Adler, a renowned record producer known for his work with the Mamas and the Papas, Sam Cooke, and Carol King’s “Tapestry,” happened to be in the audience. Raised in Boyle Heights, the Jewish neighborhood of East L.A., Adler recognized the characters that Cheech and Chong portrayed. Impressed by their act, he signed them to his record label in April 1971, thereby launching their career into the limelight.
The most captivating tale in the film revolves around their journey of mastering the recording studio. Initially, they were clueless about their tasks and had to adapt on the fly…within the creative realm of the studio. However, when they did, in a sketch titled “Dave,” although fans refer to it as “Dave’s Not Here,” the outcome was remarkable. Lou Adler held the key to broadcasting that sketch to radio stations nationwide. It resonated with listeners. They were following in the footsteps of the Firesign Theater and National Lampoon Radio Hour, but Cheech and Chong were the energetic, dimwitted, racially charged, insatiable version – it seems they anticipated the future of comedy in Hollywood, which embraced the concept of “how low can you go.
The films that began with “Up and Smoke,” which Adler directed, further catapulted their stardom, despite Adler having signed them to a financially disadvantageous contract. Despite the movie earning $50 million in the U.S. (a substantial sum for 1978), they each received only $25,000. They capitalized on “Cheech and Chong’s Next Movie” (1980), but in my view, this was when their creative golden era started to dwindle – and apparently, some of the positive aspects of their partnership as well. When Chong directed their second feature, it led to a power struggle – and in the desert-ride conversations of “Cheech & Chong’s Last Movie,” it’s evident that they were still at odds over this dispute. Cheech felt that Chong became overly controlling, while Chong acknowledges assuming control as the director, but insists he made Cheech the main focus of the films. I believe both overlooked the essence: their movies began to lose quality, and they should have collaborated with a seasoned filmmaker instead.
In ‘Cheech and Chong’s Last Movie,’ the ending is simply brilliant, as they find themselves lost in a desert, but spot a mirage of salvation on the horizon – a place called The Joint, with a massive joint emblazoned on its roof. It felt like stumbling upon a dreamland for us fans. Initially, smoking marijuana was seen as a rebellious act, a means to seek ‘freedom.’ It was a way to escape the shackles of traditional thought processes. Over time, however, it transformed into another escapist luxury enjoyed by the middle class. Yet, ‘Cheech & Chong’s Last Movie’ commemorates the hilarity that Cheech and Chong derived from the juncture where these two ideas intersected. They made us chuckle at our collective journey towards embracing the bong as a symbol of relaxation.
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2025-04-28 07:17