Annette Funicello

  • Beach Party (1963)

    Beach Party (1963)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) While Gidget may have sparked interest, it’s Beach Party that formally launched the “Beach Party” movie subgenre of the 1960s, featuring Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello in a series of seven films that spawned about twice as many imitators. This first instalment, as usual, doesn’t quite have the formula nailed down: While most of the recurring players are there, while the tone is very similar, there’s some narrative weirdness in spending so much time on an academic character (played by Bob Cummings) studying teenage mating habits—with a beard so thick and out-of-place that it’s fated to come off at some point. It’s a character that exemplifies how dumb movies portray smart people, but the caricature is very much in line with the absurdist comedy style of the film, with some fourth-wall breaks along the way. It’s all in good fun—even Vincent Price joins in with a special cameo that heralds more to come in the series—although the musical numbers are a bit weaker than in the follow-ups. The key to the series is probably found in the unobjectionable material featured here—some flesh but no nudity, some inept bikers but no real threat, some tension but no breakups. Plus, an academic who learns better from the teenagers.

  • Bikini Beach (1964)

    Bikini Beach (1964)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, October 2019) Considering that Bikini Beach is the third of the Beach Party series films that I’ve seen, it’s fair to say that I’ve developed not only a slight fascination for these films, but also a better sense of what they share (Frankie Avalon, Annette Funicello, beach parties, surfing, dancing, teenage antics, and the least threatening biker in film history) and what they don’t. In Bikini Beach, we have a millionaire aiming to close the beach, a British rock star that could have been played by Mike Myers, some drag racing and a chimpanzee who’s not as smart as the teenagers as much as the teenagers are as dumb as it is. As with other films in the series, it’s meant to be dumb fun rather than high art and it succeeds reasonably well at giving us a taste of this very particular variation of the 1960s atmosphere. There are a few decent set-pieces here and there despite (or sometimes because) of the low budget and straightforward style. Avalon has fun portraying the British pop star (the influence of The Beatles isn’t subtle), drag racing is actually kind of interesting, and Harvey Lembeck once again gets a few smiles as Eric Von Zipper (a character that actually grew on me throughout the series). Bikini Beach isn’t the finest film of the series nor a particularly enlightened choice by itself, but it’s amusing enough in a time-capsule kind of way to be worth a look if that’s your kind of thing.

  • How to Stuff a Wild Bikini (1965)

    How to Stuff a Wild Bikini (1965)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2019) In the universe of sub-subgenres, the early-sixties beach party musical comedy is as weird and charming as it comes. The basic ingredients were a beach, a few teenagers, Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello (both here in secondary roles), silly bikers, songs, and as much dumb comedy as one can stand. The result is … oddly refreshing, especially when compared to far more serious material. How to Stuff a Wild Bikini, sixth-of-seven movies in the series, features some magical nonsense headed by Buster Keaton in a supporting comic performance, staring at the screen after a particularly inane bit of dialogue saying “and that’s all the plot you’ll get from me.”  Keaton, despite a somewhat racist role, is quite funny—probably funnier than the rest of the film, which is light and dumb and quite proud of it. The ending motorcycle race must be seen to be believed, since it blatantly uses terrible special effects (rear projection, sped-up film, footage running backwards) to portray simple safe stunts as dangerous as possible. Among the musical numbers, Harvey Lembeck gets a bit of a highlight with “Follow your Leader” as he temporarily abandons the biker image for a suit. The gender roles are terrible and that’s part of the film’s dated charm, forthright in what it tries to be. Both Keaton and the Beach Party series would end soon after How to Stuff a Wild Bikini—not exactly a high note, but not an embarrassment either.