Skidoo

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!

Ex-gangster Tony Banks (Gleason) is contacted to do one more hit by mob leader god (Marx), or Banks' wife (Channing) and daughter (Alexandra Hay) will be hurt. Thus the film is a series of skits tied to that idea.

The few highlights: a series of commercial and television parodies that open the film, followed by Gleason and Channing's dueling remote controls. Frank Gorshin's explanation of how one is supposed to talk in prison. Channing ruining one of gangster Avalon's planned dates, and the malfunctioning of Avalon's remote.

Channing is in there trying to make her scenes work and actually getting her laughs. Gorshin is funny in his one-joke role. Slim Summerville is amusing in a bit part. Peter Lawford underplays his role as a corrupt politician, and gets laughs. The rest of the cast sinks with the script.

"Skidoo" is the only film I've seen where the entire end credits are sung. If my ear is correct, that's Preminger's voice introducing the end credits. Ironically because it is trying so hard to be unique it seems like so many 60s films - It is a weird time capsule.

This is actually about a 4.5 out of 10 - not quite mediocre.

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.

In a way this could also be titled "The Day the Mob Dropped Out." Anyway, a good roster of late-60s Hollywood appears at least briefly in this LSD-laced caper gone wrong. Retired hitman Tony Banks (Gleason) is approached by old pal Hechy (Romero) to do one last job--on his one-time best friend "Blue Chips" Packard (Rooney), who's turning state's evidence. Tony refuses, but is "pressured" into going along, and gets sent to a remote prison, where Packard is being held.

In the meantime Tony's wife Flo (Channing) seeks help from Hechy's protegé Angie (Avalon) in contacting crime-kingpin "God" (Marx, in his final film appearance), to persuade him to let Tony out of it. Angie refuses to take Flo to see "God"--but doesn't mind taking their teenaged daughter Darlene (Hay) and her hippie boyfriend Stash (Law) out to "God's" yacht. Flo follows them with a gang of Stash's friends.

Tony, after an accidental acid experience via his cellmate the Professor (Pendleton)'s stationery, plots with him to escape by tripping out all the guards and inmates. This done, they fly out of the compound in a makeshift balloon, which the hallucinating tower guards (Clark and singer-songwriter Harry Nilsson, who also composed the soundtrack) mistake for a flower. The balloon heads seaward, drifting toward "God's" hideaway. Channing sings the title song during the big finish.

Some good laughs and insights, and social commentary of the day, not to mention tons of cameos. Raises a few points about LSD's former psychiatric uses, and leaves you wondering if it wasn't all just a bad trip. --A late-70s issue of "High Times" claims Groucho 'dropped' as a way of preparing for his role, and had a pleasant experience. Nilsson said later in an interview he had never used LSD at the time of filming, and merely played drunk.