Hollywood never fails to give us something to talk about, and 'Skidoo' is one of the most bizarre examples. Released in 1968, directed by Otto Preminger, and featuring a cast including Jackie Gleason, Carol Channing, and even Groucho Marx, this film was meant to capture the spirit of the psychedelic '60s. But boy, did it miss the mark! Written by the screenwriter Doran William Cannon, 'Skidoo' is a counterculture comedy that tries so hard to be hip that it collapses under its own absurdity.
Right from the start, ‘Skidoo’ sets off on a journey through a fantastical world of anarchy and chaos—sound familiar? What makes it stand out is the bewildering mishmash of slapstick comedy, crime caper, and anti-establishment rhetoric. It's like someone threw a handful of confetti made of counterculture clichés into the wind and hoped it would make a masterpiece when it landed. Spoiler alert: it didn’t.
Preminger, traditionally a director known for serious dramas, wades into uncharted comedic waters here, and the result is something that's both perplexing and intriguing. It was released at a time when America was drowning in counterculture movements and anti-government sentiments. 'Skidoo' was intended as a satirical commentary, poking fun at political and social norms through exaggerated and surreal depiction. Yet, somehow it comes off as a poorly-timed joke that leaves you scratching your head while occasionally producing an inadvertent chuckle.
Let’s dissect the absurdity, shall we? Jackie Gleason plays a retired mobster named Tony Banks, who is blackmailed back into action. He’s forced to break into a prison to take out an inmate who supposedly knows too much. In the process, our protagonist, played by Gleason, ends up consuming LSD and, unsurprisingly, hilariously loses all grip on reality. It's a plot that's almost too wild for its own good, much like the political climate of late 1960s America.
Speaking of climate, it's almost as if 'Skidoo' sought to capture the chaotic vibes of that era but ended up losing itself in its own narrative fog. The movie purports to be an anti-authoritarian art piece, trying to make a case against institutional authority, crime, and hypocritical social norms. However, this tale is wrapped up in a psychedelic haze that lacks a coherent narrative. It’s cinematic madness that couldn’t resonate even with the peace-loving, authority-questioning audience of the ‘60s.
In one of the film's most infamous scenes, singing sensation Carol Channing cavorts about in underwear as she bursts into a surreal musical number. And if the spectacle wasn't odd enough, Groucho Marx makes an outlandish appearance as God—a decision that makes you wonder if the casting sessions involved more cocktails than seriousness.
So, why bother writing about 'Skidoo'? Because it's just one of those rare, unintentional gems that present how Hollywood can misfire so dramatically when it chases fleeting cultural trends. What we end up with is a curiosity—a relic that’s so indicative of its time that it becomes an interesting study in how not to make a film. We behold the awkward comedy as a reminder of when Hollywood tried too hard to be rebellious and chic, which is eerily similar to certain political ideologies trying to push the boundaries beyond logic today.
In a world where people take positions that swing as wildly as those in 'Skidoo', the film almost feels prophetic. Few will remember 'Skidoo' as a hallmark of great cinema, but it sure serves to caution against the cultural bandwagons of transient popularity. To plenty, this movie is irrelevant, but to anyone interested in the past missteps of Hollywood, it’s a case study in creative overreach.
Sure, some might say that watching 'Skidoo' is like watching a dumpster fire, you know it's a disaster, but you can't look away. And while it’s not exactly a beacon of filmmaking genius, it does hold a mirror up to society, reflecting the times when ambition outpaced execution and where liberal ideals often bucked against the wall of traditionalism.
If you find yourself intrigued or even mildly amused by attempts to satirize fanaticism in all its forms, 'Skidoo' stands as an awkward testament. Flawed in its delivery but somehow endearing in its earnest attempt to stand for something, it's a film that achieved cult status for being exactly what it shouldn’t have been.