LSD allows Jackie to see reviews in advance. Next time drop a tab before reading the script.

SKIDOO should have been called Skidmarks, and not the kind from a car. To say this ‘comedy’ stinks is an insult to smells. A quick perusal of 1968’s lineup reveals an easy 30 movies a fair-minded person could deem “lousy”. That’s not counting a number that may be well-done and well-thought-of but that just don’t click with meyou, only those that are by any accepted definition dogs. If there’s one worse than Skidoo, in ’68, or between, say 1924 and 2024, it would be as much of a surprise as finding a positive human quality in a certain cult leading con artist (fake tan, bad hair, bone spurs, arrest record–that one). Even the shitebath that was Myra Breckinridge is easier to sit thru.

“Hey, maybe if I take some of that stuff, I wouldn’t have to rape anybody anymore.”

Retired hitman ‘Tony Banks’ (Jackie Gleason) has enough trouble dealing with spacey wife ‘Flo’ (Carol Channing) and daughter ‘Darlene’ (Alexandra Hay, 21, pretty, talent elsewhere) who’s fallen for ‘Stash’ (John Phillip Law), a proto-hippie. Then mob boss ‘God’ (Groucho Marx) orders him to go to prison to do a hit on ‘Blue Chips (Mickey Rooney), a possible squealer. In the joint, Tony gets turned on to LSD; then so does everyone else. Far out!

Blame for the ghastly script rests with Doran William Cannon, who, irony loving itself, eventually expelled “Authorship: The Dynamic Principles of Writing Creatively”. ‘Dynamic’ is not the first word springing to mind when mulling this screenplay. There are laid eggs, and then there are factory farms that roll them out. Gags aren’t supposed to make you actually gag. Bad as the writing is, the opposite of help comes from the direction, which in this crime against your time belongs to Otto Preminger. Otto Preminger: the first sadistic egomaniac you think of when “sense of humor” or “light touch” are in the name-the-puckish-wits category of a movie game. Supposedly, Otto the Terrible experimented with LSD prior to making this, but he must’ve spent too long in the gaze-into-the-mirror zone. Not a single scene works until the finale, when the credits—the complete credits—are sung by Nilsson, who gets a pass because he’s, well, Nilsson.

Roped into smaller roles are Frankie Avalon, Austin Pendleton, Cesar Romero, Frank Gorshin, Burgess Meredith, Peter Lawford, Fred Clark and George Raft. The pros all try but the writing and direction are unconquerable. Saddest of all is Groucho, 77, in his last feature appearance. He’s quite obviously reading cue cards. Other than Nilsson’s cheeky spin on the credits about the only smile garnered from this fiasco is the tidbit that, like Preminger, curious Groucho took LSD in prep and apparently—according to witness “High Times” writer Paul Krassner—had an experience that was moving and pleasant.

‘God’, dammit

Also caught up and wasted (not in the fun sense): Michael Constantine, Arnold Stang, Luna, Slim Pickens, Doro Merande, Robert Donner, Richard Kiel and Roman Gabriel. Uncredited but somewhere in the body paint van you may spot Sammy Davis Jr. and acid guru Timothy Leary. Better yet, don’t bother.

When Gleason, Pendleton, Rooney, Clark, Stang and Pickens (and Marx, for Lenin’s sake!) can’t get a single laugh something’s desperately wrong with the dealer’s supply. Life, enjoying the cosmic joke, spun a thread that made this movie a cult item. So we’re told. The obvious questions would seem to be “Who for?” and “Why?” Then again, look around you.

97 agonizing minutes drew reviews that would embarrass Lindsay Graham and only $2,900,000 was ripped off from ticket buyers, 100th place for the year. The Tet Offensive was more funny and less offensive.

* Any given year will host films that fail artistically, financially, or both. The “phew!” factor in 1968 and for a few years on either side was usually most nose-crinkly around the decade’s quick-change of societal mores, with a slew of pictures trying to either put down the rebellious youth movement (those dirty hippies!) or “groove” with it (Have Nehru jacket,Will Ball). The daze of Tet, Chicago, ‘Tricky Dick’ and Laugh-In had at least a dozen of those, mostly comedies, though the “with it” drama scene didn’t escape un-stoned. Boom! is usually cited as the turdbomb of the year, but next to Skidoo it’s Citizen Kane.

A sample of 1968s crapola crowd—The Green Berets, Candy, The Impossible Years, Finian’s Rainbow, Three In The Attic, Prudence And The Pill, Star!, The Secret War Of Harry Frigg, Secret Ceremony, How Sweet It Is!, The Wrecking Crew, The Private Navy Of Sgt. O’Farrell, Salt and Pepper, Stay Away Joe, Anzio, Don’t Raise The Bridge–Lower The River, Shalako, Inspector Clouseau, Krakatoa East Of Java, The Legend Of Lylah Clare, The Green Slime…with at rock bottom the steaming heap that is Skidoo.