This is one of those movies that is only interesting as a mystery--why was it made? Who did they think it would appeal to? It has no exploitation elements that might have appealed to drive-in or grindhouse audiences. Yet the production values are barely above the level of a Herschell Gordon Lewis movie (or something like "Las Vegas Hillbillies"), so without those salable aspects it hardly could have played mainstream houses, even in the South.
Ostensibly it's about a child evangelist brought to the big city (L. A.) to be on television. But the film doesn't really seem aimed at churchgoers, and the romantic-triangle angle among other factors (like a display of gaudy runway fashions) would bore younger viewers to death. It's a musical, albeit without any production numbers--often songs are thrown in as characters' "internal thoughts." Those generic songs are composed and produced in a style that would have already have seemed retro in 1967, the type that might be suitable material for "Sing Along With Mitch." It would make sense if the film was somehow contrived and bankrolled as a showcase for the composer & lyricist, since while the music here is instantly forgettable, it's also given more polish than anything else here.
The adult actors seem to be professionals (female lead Gloria Castillo, who'd had a significant 1950s career, was married to the director). But they have nothing to work with here, so they feel like stand-ins for real stars, with no opportunity to demonstrate any personality. And the kid who plays boy preacher Methusula is just godawful. Did he get cast simply because he has white-blond hair and freckles? Because he was a producer's nephew or something? Whatever the case, he can't sing, is stiff as a board, and a faux "country" accent makes his dialogue hard to understand.
An hour in or so the big "guest star" turns up--Mamie Van Doren as a platinum bombshell who lures the not-so-nice male protagonist (Tom Stern as a conniving talent agent) away from the nice heroine (Castillo as a TV manager) who loves him when she ought to be loving nice Roger Perry (network executive) instead. She just gets a handful of scenes; this assignment was sandwiched for her between "Navy Vs. The Night Monsters" and "Voyage to the Planet of Prehistoric Women," and is perhaps more unwatchable than either. Golden-age Hollywood star Preston Foster also turns up briefly, in a pinstripe suit he may well have worn in some major-studio film 20 years earlier.
There's not a lot much else to say--the performances, staging, story, pacing and songs are all tedious, in a way that borders amateurism closely enough you might feel you're watching the movie-musical equivalent of a home movie. There isn't even the camp value of unintentional laughs, it's all so soporific. Again, the only thing to keep you intrigued is wondering who if anyone the makers thought they would appeal to. (Maybe the project, apparently barely released, was just a tax shelter.) It's understandable that in the wake of "The Sound of Music," even low-budget filmmakers (though the director here, who'd previously made a couple OK indie kid flicks, had done a lot of mainstream TV work) thought maybe the musical genre would rebound for them, too. But this enterprise makes the same year's "The Cool Ones" or "The Happiest Millionaire" look like "Singin' in the Rain." Its extreme obscurity makes it a curio, but sitting through it is a chore.
