Back to the Beach (1987)

Back to the Beach (1987)
Directed by Lydell Hobbs
Starring Annette Funicello, Frankie Avalon, Lori Loughlin
Rated PG
USA

"What the hell is a kahuna, anyway? And is it good to have a big one?"

Annette Funicello and Frankie Avalon were the stars of the wildly popular Beach Party movies from the early to mid 1960's, and have come to represent the boundless optimism of those post-war boom years. Annette was the top-heavy virgin goddess and Frankie was her surfer-king dreamboy, and their G-rated fantasies were played out on the scorching sands of Malibu Beach to the beat of thumping rock n' roll. But every summer ends, and by the late 60's, Frankie and Annette went their separate ways. Annette's most high profile gig after the beach party movies was as a TV spokeswoman for Skippy peanut butter and Frankie, well who knows? And that's the premise of Back to the Beach. Released at a time when the baby-boomers who came of age in the early 60's were now settling in middle-age and feelign nostalgic for theit idyllic youth, the film presents us with an alternate universe what if: what if Frankie and Annette were actually their characters in the movies, and it was a couple decades later? Where would they be? What would they be doing? Would Frankie still be the king of the beach? And would Annette still fill out a one-piece so perfectly after gulping down all that peanut butter? Let's find out!

It's 24 years since their first beach party together, and Frankie AKA the Big Kahuna and Annette are married and they have an asshole teenager who explains the story so far. His name is Bobby (Damian Slade), and he's dressed more like the leather dude from the Village People, but I think he's supposed to be a punk rocker. Anyway, somewhere after the beach party movies, Frankie had a surfing accident, and he's afraid to go back into the water. Instead, he moved the family to Ohio and now he owns a car dealership. They live in one of those 1950's space-age houses and Annette gobbles peanut butter all day, you know, because of the TV commercials. As our story opens, Bobby is getting his lunch from mom, and he is not happy about what's in it. She's gone completely batty with the goddamn peanut butter. It's all they eat. There's jars stacked everywhere.

So, mom's gone insane, dad's stressed out from work, Junior is on the edge. Time for a vacation! So the family heads to Hawaii!

But first they have to stop off in LA to see their daughter, Sandy. Sandy? We'll find out about her in a minute, first roll the neon 80's credits and the neon 80's Eddie Money theme song! We're gonna catch a ride on a wave all over the world!



At LAX. Annette runs into OJ Simpson, who appears to be in a big hurry. You know, from those commercials. And also because he might've just murdered somebody.

So Sandy (Lori Laughlin) is living with some surfer creep named Michael and she hasn't told her folks yet because dad won't like it. So this surprise visit is really gonna open up a can of worms unless she thinks fast!

Frankie uses Bobby's head to bust the door down, but Mike gets out just in time.

Frankie figures it out though and he and Bobby head out to go find the guy and kill him. On the way, they run into a post-apocalyptic surfer gang, but even though Frankie knocks over their surfboards and goofs on their hair, they let him go. Some gang.

And then Frankie just gives up and they go shopping. Later on, they drop Sandy off at her job at Daddy-o's on their way back to the airport to catch their flight.

Annette insists that they go in because their old pal, Dick "King of Surf" Dale is playing, so what the hell, they go in. Frankie runs into Ed "Kookie" Burns, a reference lost to almost everybody at this point.

Annette gets hit on by some sleazy dude in a mesh shirt, which really pisses Frankie off. He demands they get the fuck out of there, but on their way out, he runs into his old flame Connie Stevens. She starts smooching up on him, and that really throws a monkey wrench into the works.

Turns out she has a Big Kahuna shrine in the bar. That's not too weird, is it?

Connie insists Frankie sings a song before he leaves. And so he does. Frankie and Dick Dale and Connie all rock out to a really terrible, really 80's rendition of California Sun. Dick Dale's hair is fucking crazy in this.



Because of all the carrying-on, they end up missing their flgiht to Hawaii. Annette's pissed and Frankie's pissed, and then he says he's going back to Ohio, and she tells him to fuckin' go, she's staying to hang out with Sandy and have some goodtimes. So Sandy kicks Michael out, and mom and Bobby move in. Sandy is not entirely sure this is the best idea, but what the fuck, she can do better. That guy is no big Kahuna.

Meanwhile, back at Daddy O's, Frankie is having a few drinks, and he notices that the bartender looks very familiar.

Back at Sandy's, they have a goddamn pajama party. More of a lingerie party, really. With dancing and mutant surf punks.

After a long night of drinking, Frankie wakes up in surf shack where, ironically enough, he meets Michael, who gives him the Keith Richards hangover cure (Coca Cola, instant coffee, and Alka Seltzer), and then politely informs him about his intentions for Frankie's daughter.

Frankie's first instinct is to kill him, but he's too hungover, so they try and work things out. Later on, in an unsuspected twist - spoiler alert! - we find out that Michael is Connie's son!

Also, meanwhile, Bobby joins the surfpunk gang. You might think, why would they let a poser like him join? Because he has his dad's American Express gold card! Surf punk partytime!

And then out of nowhere, Annette does a ska tune with Fishbone. It's better than Frankie's song, but the dancing is very complicated.



But listen, forget the dancing, we have three to four relationships to repair here. First off, Frankie finds out Michael paints surfboards, so he agrees to go into business with him. Problem solved there. But how do the fellas patch things up with the girls? Frankie has the solution: beach party. That always worked in 1964! Problem is, the harbormaster won't give out permits for night-time parties on the beach. But Frankie's got a plan. Incidentally, at this point, they're back at Daddy-O's and now Stevie Ray Vaughn is playing with Dick Dale, and his hair is even poofier than it was before.


Hey, that harbormaster looks familiar!

The fellas trick the harbormaster into thinking the party is in his honor, so now it's on! And it's working great! Michael and Sandy get back together, no sweat, But Annette goes looking for Frankie, and he's goofin' around with that housewrecker Connie. To make him jealous, Annette goes matte-screen surfing with Troy-the-asshole.  She looks pretty foxy in her hot pink surfer suit.

Anyways, Frankie fuckin' punches his lights out. Which makes Annette mad, but not really. Then she stomps over to Connie to give her the business, but Connie straightens her out. And also compliments her on her tits. They get mentioned alot in this movie.

So she takes her advice and then they make up and make out and everybody is happy. The end. I mean, it seems like the end, but then Pee Wee Herman shows up and performs Surfin' Bird! The 80's version, so he throws in some "radicals" and "gnarlys".  He's not very good at lip synching. And everybody gets on stage and dances with him! And then he gets on a flying surfboard, and ascends into heaven! What a party, the end.


But wait, can we really end the movie without Frankie getting over his fear and surfing again?

No, we can't, so he tells his goddamn story.

But then the mood is shattered by Bobby, who is now the king of the surf punks, because he bought them all dune buggies. He shows up to the ruin the shindig, but everybody just laughs at him, because he's an idiot. But as Frankie points out, we do have a territorial despute, so they'll have to surf for the beach. Michael versus the surf puhk dude. Except Frankie accidentally breaks Mike's foot, so now they're gonna lose the beach to the creeps unless..unless Frankie can get over his fear and surf again! Can he do it?

Of course not, he's a middle-aged car salesman. They get on the next flight back to Ohio. Fuck the beach.

Or do they? We will not reveal the shocking, but I will say this: the Beaver is involved.

In 1987, this was considered satire. We live in an age of sarcasm and snark and ill-will now, so you can't even tell that they were shooting for 'edgy' here, because at this point, it seems just as good-natured and fun-loving as the original beach party movies did. And that's good, because we need to be reminded once in a while that there is genuine joy out there to be had, and it may only be a conga line away.

Packed with fun cameos and goofy musical interludes and corny gags and good vibes, Back to the Beach is everything you'd hope a Frankie and Annette reunion would be. Except maybe for an Annette wardrobe malfunction. You don't get that. They didn't have those yet in the 80's. Anyway, goodtimes and not a hassle for miles.


- Ken McIntyre

PS: Listen to the MAG gang discuss Back to the Beach on Episode 169 of the Movies About Girls podcast!

Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine (1965)

Directed by Norman Taurog
Starring Vincent Price, Frankie Avalon, Susan Hart
Rated G
USA

"What's a rotten girl like you doing in a nice place like this?

Goldfinger meets Muscle Beach in this fizzy spoof of the 60's superspy cycle starring everybody's favorite mad scientist, Vincent Price. Goldfoot (the doc wears gold shoes, hence the name) was directed by Norman Taurog (very RIP), Jackie Cooper's uncle and one of silent cinema's most prolific writers/directors. Taurog also made more films with Elvis Presley than any other director and is responsible for some of the King's most well-known flicks, including GI Blues (1960), Blue Hawaii (1961), and Girls! Girls! Girls! (1962). Taurog was smack in the middle of his Elvis cycle when he made this, which means the singer must have been asked to star at some point. What was Elvis so busy with in 1965? Anyway, on to the show.

After a very snazzy claymation credits sequence by Art "Gumby" Clokey and a groovy theme song by the Supremes, we journey to mid 60's San Francisco, where a dramatic looking brunette(Susan Hart, Pajama Party) in a gumshoe get-up wanders the streets. She appears to be indestructible: she gets hit by a car, and it doesn't leave a scratch; two panicky bank robbers shoot her point blank in the tits, and she remains unfazed.

Meanwhile, Craig Gable (Frankie Avalon) is striking out with his dame (Deborah Walley, star of Gidget Goes Hawaiian) at a local cafeteria. It seems she is not impressed with the lunch he bought for her - a cheese sandwich and a glass of milk - so she bails on him. Just then, in walks indestructible girl, who snatches Craig's glass of milk and glugs it down. Unfortunately, the milk spills out of all the bulletholes. So that's embarrassing.

The two get acquainted. She's a southern belle named Diane, he's a secret agent named Craig.
Good enough. She suggests they smooch, and then she invites herself to his place. When they get there, she slips out of her raincoat to reveal that she's wearing a gold bikini underneath. Craig is flustered by this odd turn of events, and tries to get her to put her clothes back on. Lord knows why. She just wants to bone, so the two roll around on the floor in a sexual tug of war.

This whole tawdry event is being monitored, via futuristic video technology, by one Igor (Jack Mullaney, RIP) in an underground, mad scientist-y bunker. He's pretty impressed with his work until his boss, Dr Goldfoot (Vincent Price) storms in. Goldfoot is wearing a spiffy gold paisley smoking jacket and one of those Col Sanders ties, but he's in no mood to party. It seems as though Igor sent the doctor's fembot - for that is what Diane is - to molest the wrong dude.

The good doctor reprograms Diane. She starts speaking in a German accent and shoves Frankie into a closet. Goldfoot locates her intended target, bazillionaire Todd Armstrong (Dobie Gillis himself, Dwayne Hickman) and takes over his car, making it drive crazily down the street in reverse, until he screeches to a halt in front of Diane, who's pretending to have car trouble.
"Thank heavens you came along, darling," she coos. "I'm completely flat."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," quips the new rube.

Turns out, incidentally, that Diane is merely fembot #11. Goldfoot's got ten more in the bunker.

His nefarious plan has each girl assigned to a different millionaire. He uses some high-tech gizmo to download pertinent info into each girl - for the girl who's assigned to a doctor, for example, he implants vast medical knowledge into her cyborg brain. This way, they'll all appear perfect to their unsuspecting targets. Then, once they're in the rich bastard's graces, they can funnel all that sweet cash back to Goldfoot. Seems like a solid plan.

Diane and the dude go to a club where a band dressed up like the Flinstones flail away, while a chick in a white dress go-go dances furiously in front of them. It's pretty awesome. Anyway, all of her nuzzling works, because, after a two-hour whirlwind romance, he proposes to the robot. And she accepts.

Fast forward to some time later. Craig stops at a newsstand and is shocked to find Diane - who he is still pining over - has married some rich jerk. The happy couple are on the cover of Day magazine. So that's a bummer.

Meanwhile, things are up and down over at Goldfoot's. Emboldened by Number 11's success, he sends out another three girls. But his latest creation, Number 12, comes out all wrong. She speaks in a husky male voice and karate chops Igor. She's going to need some additional work.

Across town, Todd is quickly learning that Diane may not be the perfect match for him. For one, she refused to sleep with him on their wedding night ("My battery wasn't charged," she tells him). Also, she demands his stocks for a wedding present. He gives them to her, figuring it'll get him laid, but instead she tells him to get dressed and make her some more money. This is not a good way to start a lasting marriage.

One afternoon while Diane is out spending Todd's money, Craig spots her and tries to drag her into his car. Somebody should tell him that's kidnapping. Goldfoot shows up to save her, and in the ensuing struggle, Craig pulls her hand off. And then he faints. As you probably would, given the circumstances. When he comes to, he calls his uncle/boss and to tell him what happened, and to ask for his opinion on it all.
"Alright," says the agitated uncle. "I'll give you my opinion. You're nuts!"

Undaunted, Craig - who is a secret agent, after all - follows Diane's trail to Dr Goldfoot's lab. He spies on the doctor as he activates his new improved Number 12. He is suitably impressed with the doctor's work. Then he sees what the dastardly deviant has done to poor Diane. As punishment for not stealing enough of Todd's assets, she's strapped into an electric chair and shocked. Yikes!

Craig escapes - barely - and high-tails it over to Todd's place. The two get loaded, and Craig gives him the sad news that his wife is actually a robot. after a well-time spit-take, Todd recovers from this shocking news, and the two drunks devise a plan to nab Diane. When she gets home, Todd is supposed to wait until she asks for him to sign away another stock or piece of property, and then Craig will swoop in to arrest her. I guess he can do that. However, when she does get home, she puts on a slinky negligee and makes out with Todd first. By the time she ends up asking him to sign on the dotted line, he's too horny to care. He signs the paper, but gives Craig the Power of Attorney, making it impossible for Goldfoot to profit from it. Good thinking.

Todd and Craig decide to visit Goldfoot's place again. I'm not sure why, but I reckon they had their reasons. While they're snooping around outside, Goldfoot pushes a button and they fall through a trap door into his laboratory. Panicking, they try to escape, but every exit is booby-trapped. Goldfoot asks the fellas to join him for dinner, and when they sit down at the table, their legs are shackled. Diane is at the table as well, and when Todd tries to talk to her, he finds out that Goldfoot reprogrammed her; now she only speaks Japanese. So that's not helpful.

After dinner, he shows them his torture chamber, complete with a talking skeleton in an iron maiden.

Bonus: Annette Funicello, who is sorely missing from this bikini-clad romp, is locked in one of Goldfoot's stockades!

Double Bonus: Eric Von Zipper is trapped in the chamber as well!

Goldfoot threatens to torture the men unless Todd signs his property over to him. He refuses, and the movie suddenly switches to a Pit and the Pendulum homage, with Price recreating his role from the Corman movie. The only difference is, this time Frankie Avalon shows up to save the day.
The fellas tear ass out of there. They are almost killed by the fembots and their laser shooting lipsticks on the way out, but they manage to make it safely outside. They steal Goldfoot's hearse and zip off to find some cops or something. Goldfoot and Igor chase after them in a motorcycle with a sidecar. Sidecars are always good for a few laughs. They end up crashing - comically, of course -into a trolley car. And so they get on the trolley to continue chasing Craig and Todd, who are now on a motorcycle. Etc.

So how does it all end? In a bloodbath, how else?

Goldfoot was originally planned as a musical, but somewhere along the way, all the musical numbers were cut out. They later surfaced in a 1965 episode of Shindig. I'm not sure if a little singin' and dancin' would have put Goldfoot over the top, but it is certainly missing something. Nobody seems to be having as much fun as they should, and for a film that features "Bikini" in the title, there just isn't enough of 'em to satisfy. One of the many Beach Party offshoots that were churned out throughout the 60's, Dr Goldfoot is still worth a look for it's kooky cast and the great SF scenery, but it sorely lacks the exuberance and gyrating girl-flesh of the Beach Party movies.

Goldfoot did well enough in the box office to merit a sequel: 1966's Dr Goldfoot and the Girl Bombs. Girl Bombs was produced in Italy and directed by horror auteur Mario Bava. Vincent Price returned as the sinister doctor, and teen idol Fabian stood in for Frankie Avalon. Unlike the original, which still enjoys a robust cult following, Girl Bombs is rarely seen, hard to find, and is often considered amongst Bava's worst films. This will not dissuade me from scouring the Earth for a copy, however.

Three decades after its release, Goldfoot's fembots were resurrected for the Austin Powers franchise.

- Ken McIntyre

Pajama Party (1964)

Directed by Don Weiss
Starring Annette Funicello, Tommy Kirk, Elsa Lanchester, Jesse White, Don Rickles
Rated G
USA
Buy this bitchin' poster!

"What are we looking for?"
"Anything suspicious."
"The only thing suspicious is us."

Pajama Party is the fourth in what would be a seven-film series in the early-to-mid 1960's, loosely known as the "Beach Party" movies, for obvious reasons (i.e. they often begin or end with a party at the beach). Produced by b-movie legends American International Pictures, who brought us, among many others, the Corman Poe pictures, most of Pam Grier's movies, half a dozen late 60's biker flicks, Dr. Phibes, Six Pack Annie, Unholy Rollers, Sisters, and Squirm, the Beach Party series kicked off with (naturally) Beach Party (1963) and ended, quite abruptly, with the very screwy (and Beach-less...and Annette-less, as well) 1966 haunted house romp, The Ghost in the Invisible Bikini. The Beach Party films were helmed by various directors and the plots didn't necessarily coincide with one another, but for the most part, they centered around Annette Funicello's heaving bosoms and Frankie Avalon's bitchin' haircut. There were dance numbers and goofy bad guys and crazy cameos from Boris Karloff and Don Rickles and Buddy Hackett and every other slumming matinee star that wanted to reconnect with 'the kids', but most of all, there were girls. Stunning, world-quaking girls in tiny bathing suits, shaking their firm young thangs with wild abandon.

Not surprisingly, the Beach Party films were huge hits.

Of course, they weren't the only places to see pretty girls at the movies in the early 60's. There was a growing nudie-cutie movement afoot, propelled by saucy auteurs like Russ Meyer and Doris Wishman. But it wasn't exactly easy to see Mondo Topless or Nude on the Moon in 1964, especially if you were a teenager. The Beach Party movies offered nearly as many boner-popping moments, only they were slathered in so much good-natured, wholesome, all-American fun that mom and dad had zero problems dropping the kids off for an afternoon of sun, sand, and Susan Hart's relentlessly jiggly girl-parts.

By the early 1970's when the game-changing The Cheerleadershit the screens, dance numbers had somehow devolved into all-nude under-aged gang-gropes in the boy's locker room, and Annette Funicello's top-heavy good-girl fell sway to druggy, barely-legal maneaters like Stephanie Fondue and Rainbeaux Smith. That's what Charles Manson, Vietnam, and Altamont will do to a nation's psyche. But The Cheerleaders and Pajama Party both had the same primary goal, to provide fleshly eye-candy for over-amped teenage boys, and both went above and beyond the call of duty to do it. They just approached the concept in different ways. And although the Beach Party movies are tame enough for children to watch them, every gag, prank, and cheap come-on that would litter the teensploitation genre for the next 30 years originated in these seven films. All the tits-out buffoonery that would clog up drive-ins and top-loading VCRs in the 70's and 80's, everything from Porky's to it's inevitable hardcore-porn parody Piggy's, it all started here. Annette Funicello is the original Linnea Quigley. Wait, those proportions are way off. Umm, Annette Funicello is the original Sybil Danning, at the very least.


And so, to the beach.

Scriptwriting in the teensploitation business is a lot like punk rock. Two chords will do; three is positively extravagant. So it is with movies about horny pizza delivery boys or video game champions with glandular problems. Why bother with subplots when there are shower scenes to film? The Beach Party films, stuffed, as they were, with Disney contract players and beloved matinee stars, were not about to drop tops or bare asses, so to keep the kids and their eye-rolling moms happy, they had to rely on story. Tons of story. Reams of plot.

Pajama Party's main storyline, as far as I can tell, is Susan Hart's ass, and all the stuff that happens when she wiggles it (the caps on Dr. Pepper bottles fly off, plants wilt, marshmallows burst into flame, candles melt, etc). Her name in the film is Jilda, by the way. How could it not be? Personally, that seems like plenty story to me, and if they wanted to go with an all-Jilda booty-shake theme, I would have certainly paid my nickel (or whatever a movie ticket cost in 1964), but the overachievers behind Pajama Party supply us with no less than three major subplots to mull over while we wait around for another beach-side frug scene.

First and foremost, there's the Mars Attacks angle. The King of Mars (Frankie Avalon), sends down a numbskull named GoGo (Tommy Kirk) to kick off the Martian invasion. They sent a dumb guy first to do recon, apparently, because no one would be likely to take him seriously. He's got 24 hours to set up the teleporter, and once he does, angry red hell will be released. Minus the reanimation angle, it's not all that different than Plan 9 from Outer Space. Maybe it's Plan 8.

Don Rickles is some sort of Martian sergeant, and he thinks the whole plan is ridiculous.
"What's the big idea?" He asks the all-knowing fearless leader. "What are we gonna do with a crazy planet?"

Indeed.

GoGo lands in the backyard of Aunt Wendy (the Bride of Frankenstein herself, Elsa Lanchester), and tries to convince her that he's a hostile visitor from another world, using various half-assed interstellar gadgets to prove it. Wendy just thinks he's a bad magician, and possibly a retarded nephew of hers. So that's going on.

Then there's Eric Von Zipper (Harvey Lembeck) and his co-ed biker gang, the Rat Pack. They decide to go to war with the volleyball team, because they've been messing up the beach with their footprints. I could've probably written that so it'd sound funnier, but facts are facts.

I suppose the sub-set of that sub-plot is Connie's (Annette Funicello) sexual frustration. She's currently dating Big Lunk (Jody McCrea), the captain of the volleyball team, and he refuses to show her any affection, physical or otherwise. Did she not notice how tight that fucker wears his shorts? He's clearly on the other team, Connie.

Finally, there's the awesomely named J Sinister Hulk (Jesse White, known to most Americans as the original Maytag Repairman). Hulk is a cigar-chomping, face-slapping conman, who rents a lavish home next door to Aunt Wendy and plots an intricate plan to swindle all the dough she's supposedly hoarding in her mattress. To achieve this goal, he's assembled a crack team of goons and bunglers, including silent-era funnyman Buster Keaton, who plays a wisecracking Injun, Chief Rotten Eagle (ok, so maybe that bit hasn't aged too well), a basketball-breasted Swedish beauty named Helga (Bobbi Shaw), and a potato-nosed stooge named Fleegle (Ben Lessy). With that sort of muscle, how could anything possibly go wrong?

Amazingly, as Pajama Party rolls on, all these loony subplots start to overlap, but not before we take a break for an (awesome) beach-side musical number by Donna Loren, radiant (yes, I said radiant) in her demure red one-piece as she belts out one of Annette's chestnuts, Among the Young. Again, this gives us ample (and I do mean ample) opportunity to watch Jilda wiggle. Song over, back to our story.

Aunt Wendy really is somebody's aunt - Big Lunk's. She's well aware that he'd rather play with the boys and their balls than with Connie, and you can see how that would bother your average fuddy-duddy in 1964, so she concocts a plan to make Lunk jealous: get GoGo to take Connie out on a date. Tromping down to the beach with the disoriented GoGo in tow, Wendy announces her plans to Connie.

"Try to look seductive," Wendy says, prompting Connie to thrust her already heaving bosom in Go-Go's direction. This would strike most men blind, but our screwy alien just starts babbling about chasing naked women and Indian dudes with tomahawks around the backyard. All that shit did just happen, but it sounds nuts coming from a kid wearing bright blue, skin-tight swimming trunks that go over his belly button.

"Psst," Connie whispers to Wendy, "I think this guy is a kook."
"He's not a kook," Wendy tells her, "He's a Martian. You know, from Mars."
"I think both you birds belong in a clock." Says Connie.

Then there's a musical number in the dress shop where the girls do their crazy 60's dances to the chagrin of the proper dress-maker. One of the shimmying-shes' is none other than future 'Hey Mickey' new-wave cheerleader Toni Basil, poured into a purple-metallic bikini, doing one of the most aggressive dances this side of a New Guinea cannibal tribe. It's pretty wild. Oh, and then Jilda shakes her ass some more, and a volcano explodes. Suggestive!


Not to get too bogged down in all this nonsense, but Buster Keaton and the big-titted Swede are dispatched to kidnap Big Lunk at the same time Von Zipper and the gang decide to stomp him. GoGo, however, is wearing Lunk's signature red baseball cap, resulting in a case of mistaken identity that causes a city-wide riot, complete with howlingly bad rear-projection car-chase scenes, sped-up motorcycle hijinks, guys crossing the street holding ladders and plate glass, all that nutty stuff.

Later on Helga is dispatched to seduce Big Lunk. It works (seriously, it'd work on you, too), but Aunt Wendy knew he was too stupid to keep a secret, so she never told him where the money was hidden. Also, for whatever reason, Connie falls in love with GoGo, even though he's a space alien sent to destroy the planet. But then you never choose who you love, do you?

Right, so what about the goddamn pajama party, already? Hulk decides to throw one, I don't even understand why, he just does. He sends Fleegle out to find some "clean-cut American youth" to attend, and being an idiot, he invites Von Zipper and the Rat Pack, which will surely cause problems later. No matter, the party is on. There is boozing and pranks, vociferous dancing and lots of sandwiches.

And just when you think the party can't get any better, out pops Annette Funicello in a lacy white number to sing the skronking Pajama Party theme song.
"Don't you know, it's the latest craze," she sings, "Having a party in your PJs!"
It's a pretty great song. When it's over, some dudes throw her in the pool. Does she freak out and ruin the evening? She does not. She laughs. Anything goes at a pajama party, dude.

I swear to god I am totally in love with this Annette Funicello. She is clearly the coolest girl in the world. Joan Jett notwithstanding.

So then Von Zipper and his crew, dressed like the Polyphonic Spree in red robes, show up to bust up the place. The party descends into chaos. There's a disturbing, David Cronenberg-esque gag where Jilda has four legs.

Hulk seizes the opportunity to sneak into Wendy's house and search for the missing loot, but accidentally turns on the Martian teleporter. Yikes. So, how will it all end? Will the Martians show up with their death machines to rape and pillage? Maybe. But probably not. I mean, the fucking movie is called Pajama Party.

In Summation: Surely, there are those among us who feel the teenage kicks offered here are too antiquated for their modernized, digital-age sensibilities, that their boners would be better popped by skin-baring almost-porn starlets than by madly frugging Disney actresses in polka-dot bikinis. But if you're taking that sorta stance, why not just grab a copy of Forced Entry and some Crisco and a gun and a bottle of Ether and get it over with already? Girl watchers with discriminating tastes, on the other hand, are heartily encouraged to dig into the Beach Party movies and soak up the sun, fun, and killer curves. I'm not saying that Pajama Party will change your life - I don't know you, man, and the odds are, you're already too far gone - but it certainly has it's powers. New hope for the wretched, that kinda thing.


After the Party: Well, considering the movie is, as of this writing, 45 years old, a good portion of the cast are now dead. Not Don Rickles, though. I saw him in Atlantic City last year, and he was as funny as ever. He said I looked like a German U Boat captain. I dunno what that means, but the bottom line is, Rickles is still the balls. Annette and Frankie kept the beach parties rolling for another few years and then went their separate ways. They made a glorious comeback in 1987 with Back to the Beach, but Annette was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis soon after, and she hasn't acted since. Currently, she's doing charity work and has her own perfume business. Frankie I'm pretty sure I saw at the Saint Whoever festival down the street a few months ago. I live in a Portuguese neighborhood, they have big parties, I think he was singing on the street. It was either him or Frankie Valli. Either way, he's doing alright.

Tommy Kirk got sacked by Disney not long after his appearance here, amidst rumors that he was gay. I knew something was up with those shorts. After that, Tommy battled the bottle for awhile. I don't know whether or not that had anything to do with his choice of movie roles over the years, but he's done some pretty incredible z-movie work, appearing in everything from Al Adamson's patchwork disaster Blood of Ghastly Horror (1972) to Fred Olen Ray's Attack of the 60 Foot Centerfolds (1995). Obviously, Tommy sounds like an awesome dude to hang out with.

Director Weiss (RIP) did a ton of television, included the ill-fated Animal House-inspired sitcom Delta House (1979). He died of natural causes in his 80's in New Mexico. I should be so lucky. Toni Basil wrote the cheerleader song. She teaches dancing now. She's on VH-1 every five minutes going "Pop...and lock!" Donna Loren made a bunch of great records and was the Dr Pepper girl for awhile. And what of the sultry, volcano-erupting Susan Hart? Well, Jilda stuck around for the whole Beach Party run and then left the acting business. She was a country western singer for a while, and then she joined the ice capades. Current location is unknown, but wherever she is, I am sure she still makes soda bottles pop whenever she wiggles.


Availability: Pajama Party is available on DVD.

-Ken McIntyre