Showing posts with label Skidoo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Skidoo. Show all posts

Thursday, November 3, 2011

“I See Mathematics!!!”—98 Minutes of AWESOME: Otto Preminger’s SKIDOO!


Skidoo (1968)
Produced and Directed by Otto Preminger
Written by Doran William Cannon (with, uncredited, Otto Preminger, Elliott Baker, Stanley Ralph Ross, and others, including Mel Brooks and Rob Reiner)
Original Music and Songs (Harry) Nilsson
Cinematography Leon Shamroy
Film Editing: George R. Rohrs
Art Direction: Robert Emmet Smith
Costumes: Rudi Gernreich (who also created the costumes for the first season of Space: 1999)


Starring: Jackie Gleason, Carol Channing, Alexandra Hay, John Phillip Law, Frankie Avalon, Cesar Romero, Groucho Marx, Austin Pendleton, Mickey Rooney, Arnold Stang, Michael Constantine, Frank Gorshin, Richard Kiel, Peter Lawford, Burgess Meredith, Fred Clark, George Raft, Doro Merande, Slim Pickens, Thomas Law, Roman Gabriel, Harry Nilsson, Donyale Luna.


Originally released in 1968 by Paramount Pictures, in July 2011 the film was finally made available in DVD and Blu-Ray formats by Olive Films

Released in 1968 to almost-universally scathing reviews, the film Skidoo was never released to VHS, and shown rarely in cinemas—
a screening at NYC’s Film Forum in the late-1990s used a work print of the movie because copies are so rare (although the MOMA had a beautiful print just a few years earlier)—
and TCM’s miserable pan & scan presentation (at 2am on a Sunday into Monday!) a few years ago was pathetic, a new low for an ill-treated film—TCM of all people should know that Preminger’s films, with their exquisite use of the widescreen Panavision frame demand letterboxing!

Now, Otto Preminger’s masterpiece and downfall, SKIDOO, is finally available on DVD from Olive Films.
Hooray for Olive Films! And Thanks!

“She has my ears!”

Yes, the widely and unfairly reviled Skidoo is one of my favorite films, right up there with 2001: A Space Odyssey (released the same year as Skidoo—something was in the air!)—another flick that still has too many detractors!

Kubrick has been a favorite filmmaker of mine since I was a kid seeing 2001 for the first time in a 1975 re-release.
And although I’ve loved Skidoo since first seeing it in the mid-1990s, lately, in search of cinematic kicks, I’ve been checking out more and more of Otto Preminger’s flicks

And I must say that I have been very pleasantly entertained by several of them
(sometimes for the wrong reasons, I’ll admit, like Michael Caine’s wonderfully ill-advised Southern accent in Hurry Sundown (1967)—as well as the brain-smashing awesomeness of seeing sexy Jane Fonda fellate a saxophone!),
disappointed by others (while recognizing their status as classics or sentimental/audience favorites,
like the used-to-be-always-shown-on-WOR-Channel-Nine-during-the-Jewish-holidays Exodus (1960)),
and others are just plain dopey, like 1949’s Whirlpool, where The Preming reunited with Laura star Gene Tierney—
and worse than the ridiculous script, he makes her unsexy! Sheesh!
If you’re a fan of Brooklyn’s own Gene Tierney, or think she’s hot—check out 1945’s Leave Her to Heaven: in it, she’s a fucking incredible Nietzchean goddess too willful to live in “our” world of busybodies and feebs. She even drowns a crippled boy to get closer to the man she loves: niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice!

Don’t forget: As dated and lumbering as Preminger’s flicks may appear today (Does The Cardinal (1963) really NEED to be over three hours long?),
they were EVENT movies back in the day—just like Big Stanley K.’s flicks became since the mid-1960s.

But with the exception of his noir films (like the classic Laura), Preminger does not seem to be too well remembered these days—
Perhaps because his “style” was so…invisible, so quasi-documentarianistic—yet so completely “Hollywood.”
The obvious epic, perhaps?


“Skidoo! Skidoo! Between a one and three, there is a two!”

Honestly, it is kind of hard for me to explain how or why I love SKIDOO—but every time I watch the flick, I am amazed—almost stunned.
Perhaps even flabbergasted.
But so far every time I’ve screened the flick (and now thanks to The Missus, I own the legally-released DVD!),
I feel joy as well—the movie is a total and complete source of enjoyment for me.
(And I feel a bit of vindication: in the late-1990s, I found out via conversation with filmmaker/photographer and all around swell guy Richard Kern that
Skidoo was also one of artist/writer David Wojnarowicz’s favorite films.)

Because Skidoo is one of the greatest movies ever made.
Perhaps it’s an insane mess, but it’s an insane mess I LOVE.

Why do I love Skidoo? One man’s meat is another man’s poison: all I can say is that the combination of ingredients that comprise Skidoo all synergistically connect with those influences that create my sense of taste (or lack thereof, some may say) and we find ourselves in cinematic nirvanarmaggedon: a joyous meltdown.

(Another more sinister theory as to my Skidoo-love is that since I have no love for the hippies, that specific era or Baby-Boomers in general, the film isn’t a “violation” of anything that I hold sacred.)
If I may quote Christian Devine, world’s greatest Skidoo fan—a man with whom I agree on Skidoo:
Skidoo is always entertaining, never boring, with some terrific performances, an infectious Harry Nilsson soundtrack
“The tonal shifts are positively kinetic as each scene manages the impossible feat of being more bizarre than the previous one. Just when you think Skidoo can't get any stranger, it does, all the way until the transcendent final shot, one of the greatest in Hollywood history.”


Yes, in 1968, it was an almost revolutionary act to end a film with Groucho Marx, a Legend of the Old Square Hollywood, wearing monk’s robes and smoking a joint, sailing away in a psychedelic sailboat—scene co-star Austin Pendleton’s joy at getting stoned with Groucho is OBVS—especially when that expensive movie is financed by Paramount Pictures, which was, at the time, a unit of scary mega-corp Gulf & Western.

“While AIP movies like THE TRIP had to show Peter Fonda's head crack open in the final freeze frame and run disclaimers to appease nervous producers, SKIDOO sets sail with God on a candy-colored sailboat tab on tongue... pro-LSD down to its prison-striped socks,”
wrote Erich K. of Acidemic, and I agree!

Is a synopsis of Skidoo even necessary? A detailed one is pointless, but the film is “about” Tough Tony Banks and his family—he’s an ex-mobster, his wife’s an ex-whore and his daughter’s a teeny-bopper dating a hippie.

The Mob wants him to rub out Mickey Rooney (in a brilliant cameo) because Tony is his best friend, and the only one who could get close to him. But Mickey’s in prison—

To force Tony to do it, they (The Joker and Annette Funicello’s boyfriend) shoot Top Cat’s Voice in the face.

An opera singer confuses the guards, and Tony sneaks onto Alcatraz where the Riddler speaks but doesn’t move his lips and Richard Kiel looks like he’s still serving man.

Introducing righteous & groovy Austin Pendleton as a hippie—he’s smuggled a bunch of LSD into prison because that’s what you do.
The Principal from Room 222 wants to rape you.
Jackie Onassis Minnesota Fats Domino takes a trrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiipppppppppp.
And y’know what? I think it gets it more “right” than a lot of “hipper” and “cooler” flicks do—
—The extreme close-ups of Jackie’s face when the acid is kicking in are perfect!

—Watch Preminger-regular Burgess Meredith’s hands when he’s tripping: They add so much to the performance!

—The mindfuck of a gangster playing a god named Groucho! (Uhhhh…)—and if interpreted in a religious manner, nearly ever mention of “God” is blasphemous!

—And the flick is certainly disrespectful towards then-Governor Reagan of California!

And synopsis-synapse overload-wise, I haven’t even gotten into Carol Channing’s Whorey McWhoring around;
Preminger’s patented-long-take scenes of hippies that spill into documentary territory;
optical printer overload with massive solarizations;
Harry Nilsson’s songs;
Harry Nilsson’s cameo (put that tongue away, boy!);
THE TRASHCAN BALLET (!!!);
the kitchen sink (literally!)—and MORE.

A perfect candy-colored freak-out triple feature?
Skidoo, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T, and Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
With a midnight screening of Timothy Carey's The World’s Greatest Sinner!

(For more intellectually-existentially inclined viewers, we have the Wednesday-Thursday triple feature of Skidoo, The Holy Mountain and Last Year at Marienbad.)

"Gimme a flower!"

A lot of the hatred Skidoo had heaped on it on its initial release, and by snooty snobs since then, stems from, I think, the film’s pedigree—that it’s a grand Hollywood production of the Old School taking a look at what should be the sole province of the young.

“A very expensive major studio version of a three-dollar AIP beach blanket Psych-Out Easy Rider money train,” is what Acidemic has called it, and from a description like that, you can see why both young and old avoided Skidoo.

Had the flick been made in, say, somewhere in Eastern Europe in a foreign language, I think it would have been much better received at the time (and more fondly remembered today). Think bourgeois middle-brow Dušan Makavejev.

Skidoo’s also part of a zeitgeist: the sympathetic—or at least curious—squares taking a gander at the counter-culture: The Love God? (another of my faves);
Ann-Margaret in The Swinger (imperfect but worth a peek—still on Nflix Streme, I believe), and
Riot on Sunset Strip (which I need to see again, but remember fondly).

Like I said: “zeitgeist”—a term Vienna-born Preminger would appreciate:
“1968 in fact was a big year for acid movies,” wrote Millie de Chirico for TCM. “Psych-Out, Wild in the Streets, Alice in Acidland, Mantis in Lace and others were released in the wake of Roger Corman's The Trip (1967)—
and Easy Rider (1969) was just around the corner.”

While Reverse Shot’s Leah Churner is a bit of a snob regarding the film, she does make some interesting points—
Skidoo, she writes, “may also be seen as a middle-aged, bummer-trip version of Bob Rafelson’s Head (1968)….”
—which I think sounds incredible, like this film is a bloodbrother with something like The Swimmer or Seconds
“…[and] the disturbing consequence of Otto Preminger left too much to his own devices.”

Annnnnnnnnnd maybe that’s a good thing!

Critics of Skidoo should compare it to the craptastic The Big Cube (1969), where Lana Turner is repeatedly dosed with LSD to drive her to suicide, for an inheritance.
The Big Cube uses LSD as a gimmick for a crime thriller, sort of like in John D. MacDonald’s Nightmare in Pink, but not near as smart or cool.
It’s too bad the script isn’t up to it, more fit for some third-rate overwrought telenovela.

However, I did like The Big Cube’s old school attempts at psychedelica via optical printer, and various location scenes and outdoor shoots showing off modern Mexico City.

For me, Skidoo works because it is sincere, especially in its treatment of hippies.
Preminger may not understand them, but he sympathizes.

Meanwhile, the gangsters are all clowns (many of whom were cartoonish villains on the Batman TV show—just like Preminger, who played Mr. Freeze).
But basically all the adults in the film are gangsters—thus clowns. What is Preminger saying?

Now, I’m not completely sure what Preminger is trying to do with this film—but Big Otto is trying to do something: he believes in this project, and it shows.
(“…the disturbing consequence of Otto Preminger left too much to his own devices...”)

He’s now a True Believer—like Jodowrosky or Coffin Joe or Timothy Carey or Brando when he made One-Eyed Jacks
He’s created a personal symbology—and Skidoo could only have been better if Otto himself played Jackie Gleason’s part—
Or Carol Channing’s—or even better, both.

The film is weird and inappropriate and “off” at times—but in its “failure,” Skidoo catches the LSD experience on a metatextual level—things appear “normal” but everything is “off”—a sense of giddy disquiet.
Christian Devine says: “To understand the LSD experience in the script, the 60-year-old German director took acid under the brief tutelage of Timothy Leary, who later appeared in the Skidoo trailer.
During his trip, Preminger had a vision that would be used for Gleason's. He recalled, ‘My wife appeared very, very small. I told her, “You are so little, so charming.” ' ”

(BTW, Sammy Davis Jr.—who had appeared in Preminger’s Porgy & Bess (a flick that will probably never get a proper release in any home format, thanks to the George Gershwin estate)—
also appeared in trailers for Skidoo, referring to the flick as a “the gassiest, grooviest, swingingest, trippiest movie you’ve ever seen!” And Sammy, God bless him, is right.)

And the whole movie is all “off” on a big budget—sets are tacky but elaborate.
Churner thinks she’s griping, but she’s really giving a compliment when she writes that
Preminger “recreates [Batman’s] singularly grotesque Pop Art camp.
Throughout, Skidoo has the dull gaudiness of so many LBJ-era sitcoms, with a ‘jazzy’ score of flutes, bongos, xylophones, and occasional sound effects from the Hanna-Barbera library. (Stang bumps into Gleason: “BA-WOING!”).”

(I don’t really see the problem…)

The film is also a collision (mélange?) of different cinematographic styles and tricks: split-screens; B&W herky-jerky silent movie style footage; TV channel visual salad courtesy of a War of the Remotes; I think the Trashcan Ballet could be a short film of its own…

I especially am taken with Mickey Rooney’s scenes, where he’s “speaking” with Tony through an electronic gizmo—and Mickey is staring right into the lens of the camera—speaking to Tony, but at us, with some particularly menacing dialog.


"No, I never watch films on TV…. They always cut them to pieces.”

As New York Times reviewer Vincent Canby wrote about Preminger’s style in his review of Skidoo (published March 6, 1969),
“Whenever possible, he shoots his films on location; yet his films, despite their often marvelous mise en scène, are as unmistakably Hollywood as anything ever turned out by Monogram Pictures.”

(Dude, that’s a good thing! Sheesh!)

The director became famous for widescreen frames—there are hardly ever any close-ups in his flicks from the 1950s and 1960s—Skidoo is a notable exception—
And loooooooooong takes—two minutes without a cut is amazing—especially these days—
and Preminger was doing this routinely in his “Epic” flicks, staging frighteningly complicated scenarios, with big chunks of dialog, pushing his big Panaviz Kamz alongside—stuff that’s brobdingnagianly complex!

That’s why huge stretches of his films feel so much like a documentary to me—Preminger has planned this to the nth degree—and then sets the camera back, somewhat distant—and lets it roll.
I’m referring especially to how Preminger shoots in Exodus, The Cardinal, Hurry Sundown, In Harm’s Way (an underrated flick) and somewhat in Advise & Consent.

The very long takes and semi-elaborate camera moves are also there in The Man With the Golden Arm (a film I actually don’t like), Bunny Lake Is Missing (also underrated—it’s Preminger’s William Castle movie: beautiful B&W cinematography accents a super-creepy paranoia-thriller only spoiled by a conclusion that needed a rewrite from Robert Bloch to spice it up), Anatomy of a Murder (a classic, nuff said) and Angel Face.

[BTW: Angel Face (1952) is an insane noir with Robert Mitchum being given the Big Headache by jailbait sweetie Jean Simmons—fans of 1940-1950s melodrama or noir need to see it.
Angel Face is also a flick Destructible Man simply MUST do a posting on—sometime in the next decade, if possible—there are TWO wonderfully nasty car-over-the-cliff crashes in this movie, and in both, the dummies/victims splay about in such obvious—but brutally horrific—manners that the scenes required multiple rewindings. Chillingly brilliant!]


Meanwhile,
Preminger gave a LOT of work to Saul Bass, too.
Gotta love that.
(The director gave Bass his first Hollywood gig, hiring the designer to create the poster for his Carmen Jones (1954), but, according to The Title Design Project, “an initial commission to produce a poster design for the film developed into a title commission after Preminger was impressed by Bass’ initial work.”)

Suffice to say, I’ve been enjoying discovering Preminger’s body of work—once you realize that he makes MASSIVE soap operas, you’ll be fine—his films are melodramas through and through, unrepentantly so—and why not?

For YEARS, he was the tits as far as Hollywood was concerned: his flicks came in on time and under budget; they garnered press; they were prestigious productions, aimed at BIG, IMPORTANT THEMES—and most importantly:
They reaped boffo box.

Until Skidoo.

“It's a great, big, beautiful blob of nothing!”
Skidoo was also the first film that Preminger had made in a long time that wasn’t from an already established source, like a best seller or a hit play--
Is this where he went “wrong”/“right”?

I think Dave Kehr hits on something, even when it’s for a review of Such Good Friends, Preminger’s 1971 follow-up to Skidoo:
“Preminger is drawn to the new freedoms but also unsettled by them: they create clutter, not clarity, a circle of endless possibility in which there is no satisfaction and from which there is no escape.”

And I think this schizophrenia was there during the making of Skidoo—as open-minded as Otto was to the youth culture, old men tend to be reactionary, although it might be only subconsciously so…
(“…the disturbing consequence of Otto Preminger left too much to his own devices...”)

[A Kubrickian aside since we’re on the subject of Youth Culture Movies and zeitgeists—
While Stanley’s
2001 in 1968 may have been the apex of the “ACID” movie, while solidly being the creation of another genre, his follow-up was born out of the fallout of Youth Culture flix.
According to John Baxter’s Kubrick bio (and as memory serves), Warner Bros.’ deal with SK was heavily reliant on his tackling a more commercially viable product, preferably in the Youth Culture genre/market—or one that could be marketed that way.
Big Stan the K. subsequently delivered
A Clockwork Orange.]


Looking at Otto’s resume, you can chart topical subjects regarding civil rights, government, sexuality, race, religion, and so on.
With LSD in the news, and the counter-culture exploding—especially in well-off Hollywood/Los Angeles, no wonder the producer-director took an interest.

Originally, OP was going to adapt John Hersey’s anti-LSD novel, Too Far To Walk.
To do that would have meant OP was sticking to form: adapting from already-established source material with a built-in fan-base.

But the brother of actor John Phillip Law convinced the director that many more people had had positive LSD experience than negative.

Screenwriter Doran William Cannon (who had worked on pre-production for The Graduate) had initially been hired to adapt Too Far To Walk.
Preminger had already read Cannon’s spec script Skidoo, and after his “conversion,” he wanted to buy it.

Cannon had been inspired to write Skidoo after reading a newspaper article: “I saw an article about two prisoners who had escaped in a hot-air balloon. I thought, ‘Oh, that's so neat.’ That's how it got started,” Cannon said to Christian Devine in an interview.

Advised by Francis Ford Coppola, Cannon sold the screenplay for $75,000 (!).
At TCM, Cannon is quoted as saying his script “delivered an important message of peace and love at a time when America was engaged with the war in Vietnam.”

After buying the script, writes Christian Devine, “Preminger immersed himself in the world of the hippies with a paisley vengeance,” including taking LSD (as already mentioned), and “wearing Nehru jackets, too,” Cannon said.

Supposedly Preminger was drawn to Skidoo’s script because of its “irreverent vibe,” wrote TCM’s Millie de Chirico. However, “Cannon's script was, in fact, written in earnest.”

Uh-oh.

Although seeing it as a comedy, Preminger wanted to up the mayhem and violent quotient, but Cannon, a pacifist, refused and was shown the door.
Others, including Preminger and Elliott Baker (author of A Fine Madness, made into a film by Irvin Kershner), Mel Brooks (who quit after a day) and Rob Reiner (hired because he was a hippie), took stabs at the screenplay, and eventually songs were added.
About halfway through shooting, Preminger brought in Stanley Ralph Ross, former writer for Batman, The Man From U.N.C.L.E. and The Monkees, to add jokes.

[The NYPL has some of Cannon’s original scripts and I’m trying to get ahold of them for further R&D. Cannon also scripted the Ivanlandia favorite Brewster McCloud. Directed by Robert Altman, that film has a similarly twisted screenplay history. Cannon and Brewster McCloud are subjects for a forthcoming Ivanlandia post, please be patient…]
Just as the LSD was probably opening up all sorts of strange emotional memories and feelings in the 63-year-old Otto Ludwig Preminger, he meets the 22-year-old son he never knew he had!

Churner writes,
“According to the screenwriter… Preminger revised the story to emphasize Tony’s paternity anxieties, arguing that the character needed more of a ‘realistic’ psychological motivation.”
Then throw in that grotesque cast! Really, such human abominations hadn’t been together on the screen like this since Tod Browning’s Freaks….

Cannon said: “I told Otto if he directed Skidoo the way he directed a serious drama like his In Harm’s Way (1964), that it would turn out to be very funny. He couldn't get that. Comedy is subtle; comedy is timing. Otto's Germanic persona just couldn't do it.”

Well, Big Otto rewrote most of the script as he went along—with further tinkering, I’m sure, in the editing room—and voila!

One of the greatest movies ever made: Skidoo.
It deserves our love.

(“…the disturbing consequence of Otto Preminger left too much to his own devices…”)



“I'm an angel! I'm a goddamn angel! Hallelujah!”

However, I will heap scorn on Olive Film’s art department for the awful cover art they’ve chosen for the DVD/Blu-Ray release—

It’s a mediocre photoshopped pic of Gleason looking haggard! Using that instead of the original poster? Ugh…
Or at least try something somewhat psychedelic!
Or how about at least colorful?
Are you trying to sabotage your own release?

Is this history repeating itself?
When a befuddled and confused Paramount released Skidoo in 1968, it had no faith in the movie, and put it on a double-bill with another flick the studio resented/despised, Jules Dassin’s incredible Up-Tight! (1968), a brilliant social commentary disguised in a quasi-blaxploitation crime thriller.

As you might have guessed, The National Film Board of Ivanlandia LOVES Up-Tight! and would have killed to see that double-feature back in the day—
Although Skidoo and Up-Tight? Whew, my joy would’ve caused my head to explode.


And YES, if you count, this is now officially the 200th post of The United Provinces of Ivanlandia!
Huzzah!

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

The Screaming Hot Dog Express to Trip City, Track 47—All Aboard!


April 7 is a special day in the United Provinces of Ivanlandia.

April 7 is not only the birthdays of Francis Ford Coppola and Billie Holiday.

Twenty-five years ago today, something special, something magical, something…mind-expanding happened in the United Provinces of Ivanlandia…

Sure, the Anti-Gravity Society had something to do with it, but we’ve never regretted taking the plunge.

Which makes it all the more wonderful that the seventh day in April can be written:
4/7!

[click on the quotes to see who said what]

"Marijuana is the flame, heroin is the fuse, LSD is the bomb. So don't you try to equate liquor to marijuana, mister, not with me. You may be able to sell that jazz to another pothead, but not to somebody who holds some sick kid's head while he vomits and wretches on a curbstone at four o’clock in the morning. And when his legs get enough starch into them so he can stand up and empty his pockets, you can bet he'll have a stick or two of marijuana. And you can double your money he'll turn up a sugar cube or a cap or two. So don't you con me with your mind expansion slop. I deal with kids every day. I try to clean up the mess that people like you make out of 'em. I'm the expert here, you're not."

“I did LSD in the hospital, never on my own. I did it in a controlled environment to try to find things out about myself. A psychiatrist told me I should take some LSD trips.”

According to Easydreamer, the Lockheed Aircraft Corporation put out “Screaming Hot Dog” in 1969. Damn, I wished I’d been a fly on the wall during that pitch meeting…

“I first dropped acid when I was 18…”




"Always that same LSD story, you've all seen it. 'Young man on acid thought he could fly, jumped out of a building. What a tragedy.' What a dick! Fuck him, he’s an idiot. If he thought he could fly, why didn’t he take off on the ground first? Check it out. You don’t see ducks lined up to catch elevators to fly south—they fly from the ground, ya moron, quit ruining it for everybody. He’s a moron, he’s dead—good, we lost a moron, fuckin’ celebrate. Wow, I just felt the world get lighter. We lost a moron! I don’t mean to sound cold, or cruel, or vicious, but I am, so that’s the way it comes out. Professional help is being sought. How about a positive LSD story? Wouldn't that be newsworthy, just the once? To base your decision on information rather than scare tactics and superstition and lies? I think it would be newsworthy. 'Today, a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration. That we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively. There is no such thing as death, life is only a dream and we're the imagination of ourselves...Here's Tom with the weather.' "



The most beautiful tripper in the universe—I understand what she’s saying; do you?




“The Pranksters had what looked like about a million doses of the Angels’ favorite drug—beer—and LSD for all who wanted to try it. The beer made the Angels very happy and the LSD made them strangely peaceful and sometimes catatonic, in contrast to the Pranksters and other intellectuals around, who soared on the stuff…. The Angels were adding LSD to the already elaborate list of highs and lows they liked, beer, wine, marijuana, Benzedrine, Seconal, Amytal, Nembutal, Tuinal. Some of them had terrible bummers—bummer was the Angels’ term for a bad trip on a motorcycle and very quickly it became the hip world’s term for a bad trip on LSD. The only bad moment at Kesey’s came one day when an Angel went berserk during the first rush of the drug and tried to strangle his old lady on Kesey’s front steps. But he was too wasted at that point to really do much.”


“…more important than reading the Bible six times…”



“That was the fatal flaw in Tim Leary’s trip. He crashed around America selling ‘consciousness expansion’ without ever giving a thought to the grim meat-hook realities that were lying in wait for all the people who took him too seriously…. All those pathetically eager acid freaks who thought they could buy Peace and Understanding for three bucks a hit. But their loss and failure is ours, too. What Leary took down with him was the central illusion of a whole life-style that he helped to create…. a generation of permanent cripples, failed seekers, who never understood the essential old mystic fallacy of the Acid Culture: the desperate assumption that somebody—or at least some force—is tending the Light at the end of the tunnel.”

"I don't like any of the stronger psychedelics. I would never take LSD... I hate it…I've tried it. I just hate it. I don't like the feeling.... It makes me nervous. My coordination isn't good and there's a metallic taste in my mouth and there's nothing I like about it. I've taken mescaline, psilocybin. The only one I've been able to use with consistency is cannabis."


Watch this one all the way through, it’s worth it.



"If God dropped acid, would He see people?"

“The whole LSD, STP, marijuana, heroin, hashish, prescription cough medicine crowd suffers from the Watchtower itch: you gotta be with us, man, or you're out, you're dead. This pitch is a continual and seeming MUST with those who use the stuff. It's no wonder they keep getting busted.”

A classic—check it out. I miss EBN.
EBN: Psychoactive Drugs
Watch this one all the way through, it’s worth it.



“Psychedelics had become an issue of general interest. Black-market LSD seemed to be readily available in all parts of the country and for all age groups. Self-experimentation with psychedelics flourished on university campuses, and many large cities had their hippie districts with distinct drug subcultures. The casualties from the psychedelic scene were making newspaper headlines; almost every day one could read sensationalist reports about psychotic breakdowns, self-mutilations, suicides and murders attributed to the use of LSD. At the same time, the psychedelic movement was profoundly influencing contemporary culture - music, painting, poetry, design, interior decorating, fashion, movies, theatre and television plays.”

“I think that in human evolution it has never been as necessary to have this substance LSD. It is just a tool to turn us into what we are supposed to be."

What do Peter Fonda, Vincent Price and Jackie Gleason have in common?

They’ve all played characters that have dropped acid in movies!
(The Trip, The Tingler, Skidoo)


Personally, I feel every fan of Psychotronic movies or the Cinema of Weirdness needs to see Skidoo: it’s like the hajj to Mecca—everybody’s gotta do it at least once. Just because.

Don’t bother watching Skidoo on pan-&-scan like some bootlegs do it and how it was broadcast on TCM in January: In fact the film really needs to be seen in a theater, so you can feel you’re in it—maybe one of those new giant home video systems could reproduce that feeling—because the framing of each scene is important, and the widescreen allows room to breathe.

Of course, all this is tough as Skidoo is not on DVD, and rarely screened. I’ve been lucky enough to catch Skidoo twice in a theater, once at the Museum of Modern Art (no lie), and then at the Film Forum—where they screened the flick’s workprint, grease pencil marks and all. That was weird—and utterly fascinating.

Skidoo is hardly flawless, but so what? It’s great.
Skidoo is earnest in its misguidedness: these are Hollywood squares trying to make sense/fit in/appreciate/make a buck off of the youth culture…and failing so spectacularly that it falls through the anti-matter universe and returns pure gold.

The whole endeavor is like the document of some South Seas cargo cult—they understand how much of these strange gifts work, but they’re not sure why.

I mean, Carol Channing’s striptease makes you want to throw up—it’s a scene that’s painfully long—and that’s brilliant!

The Trashcan Ballet is also long—but because it keeps getting layered with weird opticals and winds up being just so gosh darn sweet, you wish it wouldn’t end.

The scenes of hippies hanging out have a real documentary quality to them—but “spoiled Hollywood brats playing hippy” documentary feeling.

I love, love, love the intense close-ups of Jackie Gleason when he’s tripping: the Great One, indeed!

And not only are the credits by Saul Bass (or a very good lookalike style-wise, since he’s not credited), the flick’s got a whole soundtrack by Harry Nilsson! Slap your forehead, what else do you want?!?

And check out this site to witness a true Skidoo-head.

The film is not “so bad, it’s good”—Skidoo is great because it is what it is. Dig?

It’s one of late artist David Wojnarowicz’s favorite films (I was told by a friend of his in conversation), and that’s a fact I find awesome—and makes some level of sense if you’re familiar with Wojnarowicz’s work.

And then a flick like The Tingler is not a LSD movie, per se—but it is a film whose characters take LSD. And then a weird lobster crushes your spine—unless you scream, SCREAM, SCREAM!!!

Of course there are flicks, like Yellow Submarine or El Topo or 2001 that many say seem like they were made by and for regular LSD users—but that sort of reductiveness is counter-productive in the appreciation of art and weirdness for its own sake, I feel.

Besides, the truth be told, all films can be said to be made by and for regular LSD users, right? It’s the old false reality/Plato’s cave/are-you-watching-the-screen-or-is-it-watching-you whammy.

LSD has had, in contemporary society, quite the Jekyll-and-Hyde reputation, first being touted as a great psychiatric cure-all (and in the espionage world as the ultimate truth serum), then, after its criminalization, as a chromosome-damaging mind melter.

Meanwhile, taking LSD combines three aspects of genre movies: sci-fi (ingesting some new strange chemical to discover something new), fantasy (the trip itself), and horror (reality, or, on the other hand, what the trip does to you, blah-blah-blah-mom-&-dad-were-right).

Although entertaining and gratifying, films about taking drugs never seem as satisfying as films that were either influenced or appear to have been influenced by drugs. Like humans, films should only use LSD as a means to an end.

And as cool as they may be, can The Trip, Psychedelic Sexualis, and Psych-Out stand up against 2001, Apocalypse Now or Videodrome? Against Watchmen? I haven’t seen that movie yet, but it sure looks lysergic.

And the best—i.e. consistently entertaining, timeless—flicks specifically about LSD made at the time when acid was making headlines tend to be the ones that are violently, almost psychotically anti-drug, like those two great Dragnet episodes about acid, “The LSD Story” (usually known as “Blue Boy”) and “The Prophet.”

Now those are far trippier than Psych-Out could ever hope to be. But of course, that’s because Jack Webb had a philosophy.

Not to say that diamonds can’t be found here and there…
In Psych-Out, there’s a great moment where Jack Nicholson confronts Dean Stockwell. Their characters are both in the same rock band, with Nicholson playing the ambitious stardom chaser, and Stockwell as the one who’s sick of it all, especially the “plastic hassle” of the fame game.

Take a step back now. They’re both playing themselves as they were at that particular moment of history:
Nicholson’s star is rising, but so far it’s just been B-movies and the occasional bit part on The Andy Griffith Show, and
Jack knows he’s got to keep working hard to grab that big brass ring.
Going back to Neptune City, New Jersey, a failure is not in his game plan.
(But isn’t it neat to think that Jack Nicholson grew up on Neptune?)

Meanwhile, Stockwell is tired, his career waning; he’s been a child star, a teen idol, and as an adult (like pal Russ Tamblyn), he’s now only taking these funky roles that allow him to keep his long hair and act all freako.


Forget it Jake, it’s Tokyo
Horrors of Malformed Men, sort-of recently released to DVD, also sure looks like it was made by folks who’ve dropped some acid—but that’s neither here nor there: as with Yellow Submarine or El Topo, this movie is beautiful weirdness.

It doesn’t matter if a movie doesn’t make sense as long as it keeps your interest, and Horrors of Malformed Men is one of the most unique exploitation movies ever. The script is convoluted and crazy, but there’s a psychedelically lurid visual style, and plenty of nudity and violence to keep your attention.

Lysergically schizophrenic, that’s what this movie is.




Basically, if you’re interested in the films of Alejandro Jodorowsky, John Waters or David Lynch, check out Horrors of Malformed Men.
Director Teruo Ishii is called an “exploitation auteur,” and I was grateful.

Watching Horrors of Malformed Men, I realized that in the hands of a “serious artist,” this movie would have probably been dull and ponderous—that you need the B-movie maniacs and weirdos to keep things hopping.