Examiner par django-1

Directed by the legendary Phil Tucker and written by Lenny Bruce (who also appears in TWO roles--check the server with the bad accent in the dinner scene and you'll see the second role, unless I'm mistaken), this is not as focused nor as hard-boiled as the classic DANCE HALL RACKET, the other film Tucker and Bruce made together. Basically it's a burlesque film not unlike the other ones Tucker directed (Baghdad after Midnight and Tiajuana after Midnight)-- a series of statically-shot burly-Q dancers doing their routines in front of a curtain, mixed with old-fashioned baggy-pants burlesque comic doing their routines and a vague, loosely-structured "Plot" that is in itself just a series of set-up pieces and routines. If you've never seen DANCE HALL RACKET or Broadway JUNGLE, the two films that to me are Tucker's masterpieces, you may not be prepared for something like this. Obviously shot in a few days in a small part of a small studio, DREAM FOLLIES is so anti-cinematic on every level, that it almost approaches the level of a stag film or an early Warhol effort. Signs are misspelled, edits are not matched, outrageous library harp music is used at inopportune moments at the beginning and end as a kind of framing device, and the performers are right off the burlesque stage. Some of the performers will be familiar to fans of Dance Hall Racket--"Icepick" is here, as is the guy with the bad toupee. And of course Lenny Bruce and his Mom. There is actually some excellent "Stripper" jazz played during the dance sequences that gives you a wonderful window into the long-gone days of classic burlesque, where jazz musicians would slum by playing in these bands and basically improvise on familiar riffs (one of these is basically a jam on "Lester Leaps In"). The comedy scenes in the office are played in an exaggerated manner below the lowest-grade Educational Pictures 1930s comedy shorts, and some sequences are shot silent and played in a silent-comedy manner with pratfalls and over-the-top reactions. Dick Kimball, the Bud Abbott of these z-grade quickies and no doubt a man with decades of burlesque comedy experience, delivers the antiquated risqué jokes as if this is the third show of the day in Barstow and he's looking forward to getting off the stage and getting a drink, but for those of us too young to have ever seen this kind of thing in person, the film is a wonderful time capsule. Of course, this film is not for the average viewer--it's amateurish on a level that makes Jerry Warren look like Spielberg, but Phil Tucker frankly didn't care. He had to get 65 minutes on the screen, and he did, and on a lowbrow level he completely achieved what he set out to achieve. The cheapness and lack of technique give the film a kind of authenticity and anti-Hollywood ambiance that I for one find refreshing. It's like the equivalent of a locally-recorded two-chord garage-band single--badly pressed and mastered, amateurishly performed, and failing every test of "correct" technique, but full of a kind of spirit and fun that make it timeless. If I had stumbled into a skidrow grindhouse in 1955 after having had a half-dozen drinks and was attracted by the promise of burlesque skin, and this film was shown on a big screen, I'm sure I would have loved it and felt that I'd gotten my money's worth. I've watched this film once a year for a decade. If you are a fan of Tucker or 1950s z-grade exploitation films, you will be similarly enthralled. Otherwise, don't watch this in a million years.