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As a kid, I loved The Blues Brothers movie and the soundtrack so much, I wore out both the VHS and the 8-track. I don’t think I saw it when it first came out in 1980—I would’ve been nine years old, and I’m pretty sure my dad wasn’t taking me to a chaotic musical-comedy-crime-blues-musical.
I’m pretty sure I found it later, around age 12 or 13, either on VHS or during one of those edited-for-TV weekend reruns. What grabbed me wasn’t just the action—though the car chases alone (a world record for smashed police cars at the time) were enough to hook any pre-teenage boy. What really blew my mind was the energy that was driven by the soundtrack.
James Brown, Cab Calloway, Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin—an impossible lineup in one movie. I had the 8-track and played it to death in my room. And the moment I started driving, my first upgrade to Bondo, and junkyard cobbled together 1969 Pontiac Tempest (not quite the 1974 Dodge Monaco Bluesmobile), was swapping out the AM Radio and installing an 8-track player.
So why did this movie hit me so hard as a kid? Sure, the legendary lines (“We’re on a mission from God”), the absurd amount of destroyed police cruisers, and the soundtrack all played a role. But underneath all that, The Blues Brothers was about something deeper—brotherhood of not just Jake and Elwood but of their band as well.
We’re Getting the Band Back Together
I’ve probably said that line and “we’re on a mission from God” more times than I can count. And you could feel the realness behind it—the genuine chemistry between Dan Aykroyd and John Belushi. Their on-screen relationship worked because they liked each other off-screen.
David Michaelis, in The Best of Friends, chronicles the bond between them, a friendship as tight as the brothers they played. Aykroyd was the disciplined writer while Belushi was the raw improvisational genius. Together, they were the perfect yin and yang—focus and fire, structure and spontaneity, Jake and Elwood Blues!
In interviews and letters collected over the years, Aykroyd often described Belushi as “my brother” and “the great creative spark in my life.” Aykroyd once said their partnership worked because “John brought the thunder and I brought the structure. Together we could make anything happen.” Their chemistry onscreen was really just an extension of the loyalty and affection that defined their real friendship.
That devotion showed up in the most painful moment—Belushi’s death.
A Final Act of Friendship
At the funeral procession on Martha’s Vineyard, Aykroyd led the line of cars riding his Harley-Davidson slowly ahead of the hearse, one final symbolic escort. At the New York memorial, he honored a private pact between them by playing “The 2,000 Pound Bee” by The Ventures—a ridiculous, buzzing electric-guitar track filled with over-the-top guitar “bee sounds” that the two of them thought was fantastic. It was an inside joke, a promise they’d made: whichever one went first, the other would play that absurd “bee song” in their honor.
Belushi wasn’t just close to Dan, he was woven into the entire Aykroyd family. He had a years-long friendship with Dan’s brother, Peter, who once said Belushi felt like “an honorary Aykroyd.” Their relationship wasn’t the typical Hollywood partnership. It was chosen kinship—messy, generous, and fiercely loyal.
We’re on a Mission From God
Beyond the music and the comedy, The Blues Brothers nails an essential truth about male friendship: men bond through missions. That’s not always required, but having a shared purpose—something you’re doing together—often makes connection easier, deeper, and more durable.
When I used to do multi-day endurance events (retired now), my friends and I trained together, suffered together, and crossed finish lines together. Our mission wasn’t as noble as saving an orphanage, but it was still a mission—one that pushed us, challenged us, and brought us closer.
In my Psychology Today post, “The Gentleman’s Code of Connection,” I talk about how men often bond shoulder-to-shoulder rather than face-to-face. Shared effort creates the conditions for vulnerability without forcing it.
In another recent Psychology Today post, “How Would Aristotle Look at Friendships Today?” points out that Aristotle saw the highest form of friendship as one rooted in shared virtue and shared purpose—friends who pursue something meaningful together. These aren’t just friendships of convenience or fun – they’re friendships that grow through mutual commitment to a mission, however big or small. What’s striking is how well this maps onto modern men: many guys connect most deeply when they’re striving toward something alongside someone else, not merely talking about it.
The Blues Brothers is a perfect example. Jake and Elwood aren’t just hanging out. They’re pursuing a purpose, however chaotic and absurd, and rallying their “band” around it. Their mission becomes the container for their loyalty, devotion, and brotherhood. It’s Aristotle with sunglasses and a harmonica.
No wonder it stayed with me.
