by Victoria Silverwolf

Independence Day

It's fitting that this article should appear on the Fourth of July, when we here in the USA celebrate the American Revolution, because I'm going to take a look at a film dealing with another kind of rebellion.

Thank You, AIP

Speaking of American, the American International Pictures company (how's that for a segue?) is responsible for releasing many of the low-budget, teen-oriented films that I rush out to see at my local drive-in. Whether they be Roger Corman's loose adaptations of stories by Edgar Allan Poe, silly beach movies, or motorcycle melodramas, good old AIP provides the kind of lowbrow entertainment I crave.

Naturally, my attention was riveted by a poster for a coming attraction that appeared on the wall of the theater's snack bar.

Suggested for mature audiences, and thus sure to draw in the young folks.

The title suggests another biker flick, but the poster (and the trailer) indicate something unusual. Intrigued, I decided to do a little research.

The teeny-tiny line on the poster stating written by Robert Thom (that's how they treat writers in Hollywood) led me to an issue of Esquire from about a year and a half ago.

Scantily clad young lady on the cover? Must be a science fiction magazine.

The movie is based on Thom's own short story The Day It All Happened, Baby, which appeared in the December 1966 issue.

Does this literary background lead to something more sophisticated than, say, AIP's classic Beach Blanket Bingo? Let's find out.

Meet Max Frost

Right away, we get our antihero's background, from before his birth to adolescence. The first thing we hear is his mother-to-be saying that she doesn't want a baby. Little Max Flatow is born anyway. We hear his mother shouting at him for fooling around with a little girl. We see the furniture in his house covered with plastic.

Teenage Max rebels by destroying the furniture and blowing up the family car with homemade dynamite. After this dramatic scene, we find out the name of the movie we've been watching.

Oh, it's not Gone With the Wind.

A few years later, twenty-four-year old Max has changed his name to Max Frost. He's a rock star now, and a multimillionaire surrounded by a retinue of young folks. The film implies that his popularity makes the Beatles look like small potatoes.

Christopher Jones as Max Frost, doing the thing that makes him an object of devotion to everyone under 30.

Max's mother happens to see her estranged son on TV and recognizes him at once. Instead of resenting her rebellious child, she's proud to be the parent of a smashing success.

Shelley Winters as the mother, entranced by her son's performance.

By the way, the other members of the band are an interesting bunch. One guy is a super-genius who takes care of Max's financial situation. Another has a hook for a hand. A third happens to be a gay man, and the film avoids stereotyping him.

There's also this fellow, an anthropologist called Stanley X. He's played by a young actor named Richard Pryor. I understand he does stand-up comedy as well. You may have seen him on an episode of The Wild, Wild West.

A liberal Democratic politician is running for Senator. His major issue is lowering the voting age to eighteen. Max agrees to appear at one of his rallies.

Hal Holbrook as the candidate. He won the Tony Award a couple of years ago for Best Actor in a Play, based on his performance in the one-man show Mark Twain Tonight!, and got the Emmy last year for repeating the role on TV.

Max surprises him by singing the groovy song Fourteen or Fight. Eighteen just ain't good enough!

(Like all the songs in this film, it's pretty darn catchy. Most of them relate directly to the plot, too.)

The candidate convinces Max to compromise by changing the bellicose Fourteen or Fight to Fifteen and Ready (which loses the alliteration, unfortunately.)

Front cover news!

Max also agrees to tell his millions of fans to avoid violence at the gigantic rallies held for the candidate. (Cue stock footage of real demonstrations full of young people.) Well, you know what the road to Hell is paved with.

A police officer fires his weapon during a riot.

Twelve people die in the ensuing violence. This leads to the best song in the movie, a hauntingly prophetic number called The Shape of Things to Come (with a nod to the novel of the same name by H. G. Wells.)

The cover of the first edition. Who knew Max Frost read classic science fiction?

After the tragedy, the candidate is elected by a landslide, and states rush to lower the voting age.

As luck (and the script) would have it, an elderly congressman dies of cancer. Max's girlfriend just happens to reside in the deceased representative's district, and is barely old enough to run for office. With the help of Max's overwhelming power over the newly enfranchised teens, she wins the vacant seat.

Diane Varsi as ex-child actress, nude model, and perpetually stoned member of Congress Sally LeRoy. She was nominated for an Oscar as Best Supporting Actress in 1957's Peyton Place.

Meanwhile, Max's mother transforms herself to resemble one of her son's followers.

Shelley Winters, hippie chick.

If you think this has been an improbable series of events, wait until you see what happens next.

In their continuing effort to put political power in the hands of the young, Max and his minions dose the members of Congress with LSD. In the chaos that follows, the age requirement for being President is lowered far enough to allow the unstoppable Max to run for the highest office in the nation.

Not a surprise, if you saw the poster.

Ironically enough, Max runs as a Republican. The Grand Old Party knows that young people are in control now, and they want a winner.

To nobody's surprise, Max wins every state except Hawaii. Note the image of Eisenhower behind him.

In one of her many chameleon-like transformations, Max's mother turns into the perfect President's mother.

Winters chews the scenery, in appropriate fashion, throughout most of the film. In this scene, however, she is wonderfully elegant and refined. It's really a fine performance.

The Senator who got elected with Max's help — remember him? — realizes that the rock star is mad with power, and is well on his way to becoming a dictator. He takes desperate measures.

A failed assassination attempt. Given recent events, this is a particularly disturbing scene.

It's at this point that the film really bares its teeth. Max declares that all Americans must retire at the age of thirty. When they reach thirty-five, they are forced to relocate into concentration camps, where they are kept docile with LSD.

Welcome to Paradise.

And for those reluctant to go? Max has stormtroopers ready to deal with that.

Note the peace sign instead of a swastika.

Guess who winds up in the camp with other older folks?

No one is safe.

The movie ends with a final scene that implies things will only get worse.

The end?

This is a biting satire, worthy of Sheckley at his most cynical.  At first, the viewer is tempted to sympathize with Max's acts of rebellion against a smothering mother and a society that sends young men to war but doesn't let them vote.  After all, he becomes rich and famous; isn't that the American dream?  Once he becomes President, however, he reveals himself to be a monster.  It's the old, old story.  Power corrupts.  The final scene provides a chilling bit of dark irony.

And hey, the music is far out.  Dig it, baby, before you get too old.

Four stars. 

And read the book!

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