Trailer Park :: Hail! And Happy Birthday to the King :: Finding a Soft Spot in Norman Taroug's Spinout (1966)

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"Moose pudding!"

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As we hit the ground with the pedal already to the metal, race car driver/ singer Mike McCoy (Presley) takes his eyes off the road to make the goo-goo with a perky little number in a souped-up coupe only to wind up forced off the road and into the drink by the same. (Hands at ten and two, buddy.) And wouldn't you know it? Said Perky McPerky wants McCoy and his band to play at her birthday party with a little snogging and cake to follow. And whatever the perpetually spoiled Perky McPerky wants, Daddy McPerky will dole out whatever it takes to make his baby girl happy no matter what. However, turns out she's not the only one drawing a bead on our boy, Mike...

Video courtesy of OldHollywoodTrailers.

Only ten minutes into this tale of Jedi mind-tricks, music and mayhem, when Jack Mullaney (comedius reliefi odious) genuinely made me bark out loud with laughter on three separate occasions, I knew I was in for something truly ground-breaking with Spinout; one of the many reasons why Tickle Me has now been officially dethroned as my favorite Elvis movie. Well, that and the fact the Big E and his 1+2+1/2 back-up band immediately brought to mind The Impossibles helped a little, too.

Also, Deborah Walley being so freakin' adorable that I couldn't care less that she played the drums with a slow right AND left hand probably sealed the deal.

Yeah, Spinout is another one of Presley's "stone-age" flicks, that just so happened to mark the 10th Anniversary of his film career, one should note, which had devolved both minerally and cinematically since the golden heyday of  Loving You and King Creole. Nope. Spinout doesn't have a single coherent thought in its head aside from one simple notion rattling around in a lot of empty space; a notion to keep stringing together one song or gag after another as Elvis butts heads with the local big-wig, who is bound and determined to get our hero for his daughter and on his racing team, and not particularly in that order, while trying to avoid not one, or two, but three women (maybe even four) who've got 'em locked in their matrimonial sights, when all our boy wants to do is be left alone to play his music and race his roadster his way, baby.

E'yup. Spinout is dumber than a bag of peanut-butter and 'nanner sammiches. But, You know what? I don't care. Not anymore. If you've read any of my old reviews of Presley's less than stellar foray into feature films on the mothership, the bitterness over the wasted potential is readily palpable. Most of those were written over a decade ago, from a very angry and cynical place, apparently, but something's changed. And changed fundamentally, thanks to Spinout. (That's me shrugging right now) And so, from here on out, I will be watching these later Presley pictures with a fresh eye and a keen for taking them at face value for being the cinematic goofs, studies in escapism, and sheer stoopidity they are and celebrate them as such. If I want serious Elvis, I'll watch Jailhouse Rock or Wild in the Country. If I want goofball Elvis, I'll start with Spinout and work my way out in a spiral pattern from there. You hear that? I am done moping and grumping about this kinda shit.

Anyways, the film does have some actual merit. From Adam and Evil to the hideously infectious Never Say Yes, Spinout probably sports one of the better soundtracks of these later pictures, too, including a cover of Bob Dylan's Tomorrow Is a Long Time, though one should note the number did not appear in the actual film. I'll get to the leading ladies in a sec, but, as I already mentioned, Mullaney is a helluva lot funner here than he was in Tickle Me, and teamed up with Jimmy Hawkins these two make a great pair of second-bananas for Elvis to play off of.

 Presley and Taurog did nine pictures together.

And let's give Norman Taurog some credit, as well. The veteran director rode herd on nine of Presley's post-army flicks, starting with G.I. Blues and ending with Live a Little, Love a Little. I don't know, to me, Taurog just seemed to have an uncanny knack for cajoling Presley into really cutting loose with the slapstick elements that dominated these later pictures, and his actor always appears more at ease being the goof than he did in the likes of Harum Scarum and Girl Happy.

And on top of all that, we've got Walley being spunky and adorable, Dian McBain being seductive and gorgeous, Shelley Fabares being adorable and perky, Dodie Marshall being completely out of her mind, and Elvis being, well, Elvis. And sometimes, that's all we ask and all we need.

 Other Points of Interest:

Newspaper ads for Spinout at the Morgue.

Spinout (1966) Euterpe :: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) / P: Joe Pasternak / AP: Hank Moonjean / D: Norman Taurog / W: Theodore J. Flicker, George Kirgo / C: Daniel L. Fapp / E: Rita Roland / M: George Stoll / S: Elvis Presley, Shelley Fabares, Diane McBain, Dodie Marshall, Deborah Walley, Jimmy Hawkins, Jack Mullaney

In Memoriam :: They Aren't Guilty Pleasures, Folks, if there is No Guilt Involved :: Beach Party 4VR!

For his work on I Love Lucy (directing 100 out of 180 total episodes) and Bewitched (produced and directed for his wife, Elizabeth Montgomery), along with countless other TV shows, William Asher deserves the credit for being the king and originator of the situational-comedy as we know it on the tube. However, having given credit where credit is due, I will always be thankful to Asher for his credulity crunching contributions to the big screen.


As the legend goes, when the brass at American International Pictures took a meeting with Asher on the possibility of producing and directing a feature for them, what Jim Nicholson and Sam Arkoff had to offer was a script by AIP regular, Lou Russoff, that was basically a rehash of their exploitative teen-angst product, like High School Hellcats and The Cool and the Crazy, of which the company had been churning out since the mid-1950's, and hoped to squeeze a few more dollars out of the waning formula. Turns out Asher wasn't really interested in another take on the horrors of drugs, failed parenting, and the generation gap, but took the opportunity to make a pitch of his own...


His was a novel idea for the time: a movie where the kids weren't in any trouble at all -- except for the eternal pursuit of a good time, usually with the opposite sex; and being a surfer himself, Asher wanted to base the film around the gung-ho surf-culture of southern California. Not completely sold on the idea, the executive producers took a gamble and rolled the dice -- just like they had done a few years earlier when they turned Roger Corman, Richard Matheson, Danny Haller and Vincent Price loose on the collected works of Edgar Allan Poe.


But you have to realize Nicholson and Arkoff took an even bigger monetary risk by backing Asher's proposed teenage-fueled, surfside romp-n-stomp. When Hammer Films introduced vibrant Technicolor to their gothic horror revival in 1957 with The Curse of Frankenstein, the writing was on the wall and AIP's old B&W double-bills just weren't gonna hack it anymore. This led, of course, to Corman's The House of Usher -- a gamble, to be sure, but with Hammer already paving the way, there was already a built in and proven audience for horror pictures to help hedge the bet. Not so for Asher's cinematic brainstorm about 10,000 kids with 5000 beach blankets and what they did on them when the sun went down, the moon came out, and the water got too cold to surf.


History proves American International won both of those bets, big time. And when his inaugural Beach Party started raking it in at the box-office, Asher was expecting a call from AIP to cash in with a sequel. And that call came soon enough, but Asher quickly scuttled the idea of letting the characters mature to the next step of adulthood, thinking the sequel should be nothing more than a literal continuation from the last one, resulting in one of the longest summers in motion picture history that lasted for over three years and seven sequels and spin-offs. And though some may scoff at the knee-deep cheese of Frankie and Annette, the all out buffoonery of Harvey Lembeck's Eric Von Zipper, or the thunderous chords of Dick Dale, I unabashedly wallow in it. And for that, Mr. Asher, I would like to say thank you from the bottom of B-Movie lovin' heart.

William Asher
(1921-2012)

The Easier it Comes, the Easier it Goes :: A Beer-Gut Reaction to Jonh Rich's Easy Come, Easy Go (1967).

One of the things I always look forward to at the beginning of every new year -- after the hangover wears off that is, is to celebrate m'man Elvis Presley's birthday by taking a look at one of his fine, fractured forays into feature film. Producer Hal Wallis had a hand in a ton of these things -- usually used for some quick cash to bolster his other productions; and here, kicking off just the first of three films The Big E walked through in 1967 ( -- the others being Double Trouble and Clambake), was this tale of Navy Frogman Ted Jackson, who accidentally stumbles upon some sunken treasure on the last day of his enlistment while trying to deactivate an old underwater mine.


And once his gig is up, with a little help from his best pal and some diving equipment rented from the kookie father of the inevitable loopy love interest, he efforts to salvage the gold. Of course, a disastrous chain-reaction of misunderstandings soon has these lovebirds at odds and on the outs. Will they be able to reconcile before a couple of pirates sneak in and steal the treasure out from under them?


You know, it was while digging up some artwork for this update that something hit me: Somebody really needs to come out with a line of Elvis Presley action figures and accessory kits based on his movie characters. I mean, you could have Rodeo Elvis [Tickle Me], Scuba Elvis [Easy Come, Easy Go], Combat Elvis [G.I. Blues], Chopper-Pilot Elvis [Paradise, Hawaiian Style] or Racer Elvis [Speedway]. Hell, he's already got a built-in kung-fu grip. Seriously, this guy was a walking G.I. Joe doll, cinematically speaking -- all you had to do was just change the uniform, plug him into the same script on a different playset and there ya go -- about 85% of his movies.


In the end, that's all Easy Come, Easy Go is: just another rehash of the same hi-jinx and general foolishness. But, sometimes that's all we come for and all we ask. And besides, this film contains the absolute zenith, the pinnacle for all perpetuity, the most absurdest buffoonery ever befallen, the most absolute gob-smacking brain-bending smack-down to ever occur in cinema ... a dueling duet between Elvis and Elsa Lanchester. That's right: the King of Rock and Roll vs. the Bride of Frankenstein in a little number I like to call "Yoga is as Yoga Does."

Oh, mama ... That is a whole six-pack of awfulsomeness.

Other Points of Interest:

Newspaper ads for Easy Come, Easy Go at the Morgue.

Easy Come, Easy Go (1967) Paramount Pictures / EP: Joseph H. Hazen / P: Hal B. Wallis / AP: Paul Nathan / D: John Rich / W: Allan Weiss, Anthony Lawrence / C: William Margulies / E: Archie Marshek / M: Joseph J. Lilley / S: Elvis Presley, Dodie Marshall, Pat Priest, Pat Harrington, Skip Ward

Hey, Rube! :: A Beer-Gut Reaction to John Rich's Roustabout (1964)

 

This review has been officially overhauled. 

You can read the new version right here.