Happenstance? Fire? Skidoo!

37. Last night, on a whim, my friend Anna and I went to see a screening of the 1968 movie Skidoo, one of the biggest flops in film history. It’s an Otto Preminger film. Jackie Gleason plays a serious role in the middle of a comedic film, as a man who has been snuck into jail by the mob so that he can kill Mickey Rooney. Carol Channing tries to seduce a young Frankie Avalon. Groucho Marx, in his last film, dons his famous glasses and mustache one last time in order to play a germophobic gangster named God who lives on a boat. About a quarter of the movie is various people tripping on acid (which includes a “Garbage Can Ballet” scene). The guys who played The Joker, The Riddler, and The Penguin in the old Batman television show are in it (and the director played Mr. Freeze). There are a few hippies in the film wearing little more than body paint. And God’s lover is a black woman who wears a backless, assless chartreuse pantsuit onesie thing. And the truly famous scene of the movie is actually the credits. Every credit in the film in sung. Even the crew. By Harry Nilsson.

There is only one print still in existence of the movie (the print we saw last night) because the director hated it, the studio is embarrassed by it, and Preminger’s wife asked that it not be shown at an retrospective festival of his work last year because she didn’t want their friends to see it.

Despite this, you can find it on YouTube. Here is a link to the final 7 minutes of the movie. You will see a bunch of hippies taking over God’s boat as Carol Channing sings most of the title song. You will see an interracial wedding between God’s mistress and Frankie Avalon, followed by a hippie wedding, and then an implied gay relationship between God and a nerdy professor from the jail as they ride away on a boat. And finally, you will get to see the credits (or just skip the first four minutes or so to get right to the credits).

Here are some of the quotes I loved:

Tony: No daughter of mine is marrying a hippie
Darlene: Hippies don't even get married!

Flo: I bet you're a good dancer.
Angie: I'm a good everything.
Flo: Prove it.
Angie: *checks his watch* Okay.

God's Mistress: *trying to seduce him* You know, I've never met anyone like you before.
Stash: *trying to escape* There are plenty like me.
God's Mistress: Yes, but you're here. Relax. I'm very good at this.

Fred the Professor: If it's any consolation, there's no problem I can't solve.

Leech the Criminal: *points to envelopes laced with LSD* Hey, maybe if I took some of that stuff, I wouldn't have to rape anybody no more.

Prison Guard 1: *tripping on acid* Hey! Hey, you look like a flower!
Prison Guard 2: *tripping on acid* That's funny, I feel like a flower!

Prison Guard 2: *tripping* Do you see what I see?
Prison Guard 1: *tripping* Scrambled eggs?
Prison Guard 2: No. Jello. *cheerfully* Reminds me of my wife.

And a lyric from the title song...
Flo: Skidoo! Skidoo! Between the 1 and 3 there is a 2!

38. When I write fiction, I don’t base characters off of people I know (which I think is a common habit). But, when I get stuck, I’ll mentally cast someone in the role of the character who has similar mannerisms. Sometimes it’s a movie star, sometimes it’s a friend, and sometimes it’s someone I barely know. Sunday night, I cast someone I met a year ago but have spoken with only a handful of times in my life in a role of a random male character. Then, as I was typing my novel at work, the guy came up to me and started asking questions about what I was writing. So I told Anna all about it, and how it was weird that I was working on a scene involving that character right when he came up to me (actually, I hadn't even cast him in that particular scene, but it was still weird). I rarely actually have the opportunity to talk to him. Strange coincidence, right? Then, when I was coming home from “Skidoo”, at the L stop, I heard a voice say, “Hey! How many words have you written now?” And it was him. Apparently, he lives near me. We struck up a whole conversation. Really nice guy, turns out. Ah, happenstance. If my life were a romantic comedy, we’d surely end up together. And if it were a murder mystery, he'd be the killer (but my life is more of a foreign film… Remind me to explain eventually).

39. Instead of fighting fire with fire, I think we should fight fire with fire code. (That's your random slice of Angela Wisdom for the day).