Skidoo

After watching Skidoo tonight all I can ask is what was Otto Preminger thinking when he did this film? Better yet what were all these talented people thinking when they signed on?

The plot has Jackie Gleason, once the mob's number one hit-man, but now retired and living with wife Carol Channing and daughter Alexandra Hay who has taken up with the hippie lifestyle and some hippies, much to the consternation of Gleason and Channing. Those two alone as parents might make anyone want to join a commune.

Cesar Romero and Frankie Avalon bring a message from God or at least that's what syndicate boss Groucho Marx. Groucho wants mob informer Mickey Rooney killed, but Mickey's in prison. Never mind the mob can do anything, bust Gleason into prison and bust him right out once the job is done. But Rooney won't let people near him, but since Gleason's an old friend he'll be vulnerable to him. Which is what Groucho is thinking.

Since Gleason balks, Groucho captures Alexandra Hay and brings her on his yacht from where he runs things. At that point with Marx having him by the short hairs, Gleason agrees to the contract.

The big idea is to get the entire prison tripping on LSD so no one will interfere. But of course things do go wrong as you'll see if you care to watch the film.

No matter how many big names were packed into Skidoo, nothing could get this picture off the ground. Otto Preminger packed the film with a whole lot of people he had used in previous films like Peter Lawford, Burgess Meredith, Slim Pickens, but all to no avail. The jokes fell flat as a punctured soufflé, the situations were just not funny, in fact even Groucho apparently wasn't in the mood to ad-lib any of his patented humor.

In fact Groucho playing a character called God WAS the funniest thing in the film. It has serious theological implications for those of us who thought George Burns or Morgan Freeman was God.

In its own way Skidoo was as big a disaster, even bigger than Plan Nine From Outer Space. And Preminger had a much bigger budget to work from.

I like a good bad movie. I can go on and on about how wonderful "The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies" is - and I have. And I don't need those MST3K idiots adding lame improv chatter to make a bad film more enjoyable! So I had been looking forward to "Skidoo" for years. I finally watched it last night, after procuring a copy on eBay (pretty much the only place where you can find this film, currently).

My reaction, in a nutshell: Blah. Yuck. Ho hum.

It's pointless to say more, especially when so many "Skidoo" fans have already weighed in - quite eloquently, I might add - within these comments pages. But I will say this: Usually on the IMDb, when you see so many well-written praises for a famous train wreck of a film, you get the feeling that this is something to see. Don't be snowed as I was! What most of these folks are not telling you is that "Skidoo" is meant to be a wacky comedy. But it's simply a deadening, painful-to-watch document of the twilight of many a great performer's career, where, before either dying or retreating to the safety of TV movies, the cast - some game, some barely even trying (I'm looking at you, Groucho Marx) - flounder in this pathetic attempt by the dinosaurs of 1950's Hollywood to try to stay relevant by making a "hippie movie."

This film is flat, boring, pretentious and hopelessly uncampy. It has the distinctively ugly look of late 60's studio cinema, and like many of those other strident, unfunny all-star comedies of the era ("The Great Race," "The Russians Are Coming! The Russians Are Coming!" et al), it's just plain awful.

It's very hard to describe SKIDOO. It starts as a spoof of gangster movies. Jackie Gleason plays a hoodlum who is forced into prison so he can bump off a possible informant (Mickey Rooney) In prison, Gleason accidently helps himself to a dose of cell mate's (Austin Pendleton) acid laced stationary, and has an LSD trip hi-lighted with cruddy special effects, dancing co-stars, etc. In the meantime, Gleason's adoring wife (Carol Channing) allows their hippie daughter to bring over about a hundred of her hippie friends. Throw in a tired looking, unfunny Groucho Marx as "God", an actually funny Frankie Avalon, a trip-out scene where Hollywood old-timers like Peter Lawford, Burgess Meredith, Fred Clark, and Slim Pickens get embarassingly stoned. Channing is down right frightening when she leads the finale musical number. It's also impossible to fathom Otto Preminger behind this hoo-hah!

After years of hearing about this, I finally tracked down a pirate cassette of this unbelievable film. Oh My God, any fan of bad movies must see this for the thrill of a lifetime!

This is the film that dares to ask the question, `what happens when a director of bloated epic dramas tries his hand at screwball comedy?' Now ask what happens when he and most Hollywood are desperate to get `with it', and you'll be approaching the bizarre truth of `Skidoo'. If you thought Otto Preminger couldn't get any worse then `Hurry Sundown', this will prove you quite wrong.

I'm tempted to compare this film with late 60's wrecks like `Casino Royale', but it's really in a different league. Its more like a big budget "Love American Style" episode or a middle-aged embarrassment like `The Mother's In-Law'. Perhaps there was once a scenario lurking at the bottom of all this, or someone had a screenplay and it blew away. Either way, the whole thing appears to have been edited with a lawn mower.

But incoherent structure is only part of this remarkable cinematic experience, it also contains the wackiest cast of middle-aged actors ever, all of whom should have known better. Beyond embarrassing for all concerned, which is why it's so great to watch. Everyone on screen just looks confused, as if Otto's only direction to them was `act crazy now'. Burgess Meredith chews at his small part like bubble gum, even out doing himself in `Hurry Sundown' or 'Such Good Friends'. Carol Channing is the real mind blower here! I thought I would die when I saw her groovy striptease, but then I saw the film's climax where she leads a hippie flotilla in a freaked out royal navy uniform as they board Grocho's yacht while Carol sings the ridiculous theme song. Your life as a film fan is incomplete until you've watched this scene and played it back to make sure you really saw it. Jakie Gleason's acid freak out is even better than Vincent Price's in `The Tingler'.

This film had a big budget but from the jailhouse freak out scene, it's pretty clear that no one working on this acid movie had any idea what tripping was like. Imagine Peter Lawford, Burgess Meredith and Slim Pickens all acting kooky and pretending to freak out. It all ends with Grocho in his last film getting stoned with Austin Pendlton in his first film as drift away in a lifeboat with a tie-dye sail. Then Otto Preminger announces the film is over as Harry Nelson sings the entire credits!

What could they have been thinking? This has got to be one of the biggest missteps in Hollywood history. The film seems to have barely been released. I've only read one contemporary review of it, and that one describes Carol Channing as `a walking sight gag'. It seems that everyone involved with this film sobered up and decided to quietly bury the evidence. Even today, few bad movie fans know of `Skidoo', since it is not shown on TV and has never been released on video. Reportedly, Preminger's daughter controls the negative and is sitting on it to protect here father's reputation. I found a copy of the film's soundtrack album in a thrift store a few years back, and it too is a dusey. Once you've heard Ms. Channing scream `Skidoo, skidoo, do what ya wanna do' over & over again, you may never been the same. Seek out `Skidoo', it smells like pumpkins!

A much-maligned classic, this psychedelic gem came late in the career of director Otto Preminger, possibly at a time during which he was hoping to find a new niche. Clearly, this wasn't it, as the films he went on to do became far slower and subdued. Too bad, really, as there's some great stuff herein. An excellent cast weaves its way through a confusing plot, as follows: Jackie Gleason has retired from the mob and lives happily enough with wife Carol Channing and turtle-faced lackey Arnold Stang, the latter of whom gets iced (and prematurely, I say – let Stang stay in the picture!) when George Romero and Frankie Avalon try to persuade Gleason to pull a hit for the mob leader (`God' – Groucho Marx living in luxury on a boat with skinny Donyale Luna). Gleason finally agrees, and disappears to prison, cellmates with a peace-speaking mad scientist-looking Austin Pendelton. Meanwhile, Channing, pretty teenage daughter Alexandra Hay and her hippie boyfriend John Philip Law (who goes by `Stash') all become close friends when mom lets his hippie commune live in their house. Channing and Fay go (separately) to seduce Avalon to find out to where Gleason has gone. In prison, Gleason accidentally lets on to his hit, potential squealer (and squeal he does) Mickey Rooney (at the time in his sixth decade of filmmaking!), and further blunders when he writes a letter home and licks one of Pendelton's LSD-soaked envelopes. After a mesmerizing yet stupid trip sequence, Gleason decides not to make the hit and goes into conference with Pendelton. It's right around here that things get very manic, with an acid party in jail on the day that warden Burgess Meredith stops by to eat with the prisoners. Gleason and company make their escape while everybody's tripping their ears off (including tower guard Harry Nilsson and switchboard operator Slim Pickens), and the cast assembles for a bizarre conclusion on Marx's boat. No easy whodunit, this. That Paramount would make a production with a cast and crew like this clearly indicates that the rule-less environment of 1968 sent the studios scrambling. Furthermore, the gimmick of presenting some of Hollywood's best known faces feigning acid trips acts as evidence that in the ensuing hubbub, producers showed heart in making vehement attempts to pander to a difficult target audience. Two serious low points may leave people with a rotten taste in their ears: Channing has a musical number near the end of the film that advocates a free-wheeling hippie lifestyle, and Nilsson sings each and every word of the credits, down to the copyright.