I don't like films on TV. They always cut them to pieces.
It's hard to imagine just what Otto Preminger was thinking when he embarked on 1968's Skidoo. Perhaps appearing on Batman as Mr. Freeze led him to believe he had a knack for campy comedy. This leaden disaster must have disabused him of that notion in a hurry, though. Written by Doran William Cannon, who later penned Brewster McCloud for Robert Altman, Skidoo stars Jackie Gleason as a retired mafia hit man whose home life consists of fighting with his wife (Carol Channing) over control of the TV remote, hanging out with his old pal (Arnold Stang, who was soon to be paired up with Arnold Schwarzenegger in Hercules in New York), and worrying about his teenage daughter (Alexandra Hay), especially when she brings home one of those dirty hippies (John Phillip Law). Then the word comes down from on high that Gleason needs to rub out one last squealer to be square with "God" (Groucho Marx in his final screen appearance). This requires him to be smuggled into prison, which is easier than getting him close enough to his target (Mickey Rooney) to get the job done, but before he can even attempt it he gets dosed with his cellmate's (Austin Pendleton) LSD, and after he comes down finds he can't go through with it. Good thing Pendleton smuggled in enough acid to dose the entire prison so they can escape in an improvised hot-air balloon and Gleason can save his daughter from a vengeful God.
In addition to Preminger (who appears in animated and voice-over form), other Batman villains in the cast include Cesar Romero (as a messenger), Frank Gorshin (as a trustee who's always accompanied by Richard Kiel), and Burgess Meredith (as the warden, who picks the wrong day to eat with his charges). The overstuffed cast also includes Frankie Avalon as an up-and-comer in the organization who has an eye for the ladies, Peter Lawford as a senator touring the facility with Meredith, and Slim Pickens as a switchboard operator who loses all motor control while under the influence. I haven't even mentioned the songs (which were composed by Harry Nilsson) or the naked football players or the garbage can production number. Is it any wonder I spent most of the movie with a perplexed look on my face? (Trust me, I didn't have to see it to know it was there.)