Sergeant Dead Head (1965)

Sergeant Dead Head is what happens when American International Pictures forces the Beach Party formula to enlist in the military. With nary an Annette in sight, Frankie Avalon bumbles his way through the title role, pratfalling all over the U.S. Air Force’s Smedley Missile Base. It’s exactly the kind of locale you don’t want the accident-prone, where one might, say, plop his rear on the panic button sitting uncovered atop the general’s desk.

Despite never have expressing love for her, Dead Head is engaged to fellow enlistee Lucy (Deborah Walley, It’s a Bikini World). The nuptials are at risk when Dead Head catches a nap in a rocket, only to wake up as the spacecraft — commandeered by a chimpanzee in an astronaut suit and paid in bananas — lifts off (in black-and-white footage, mind you). It’s even stupider than it sounds …

… and gets stupider than that, because when he’s back on Earth, Dead Head and the chimp have somehow switched brains. Now he’s a stone-cold cad!

Avalon gives it his all, coming off like a cartoon character living in a cornball sitcom — purely on purpose, with frequent Jerry Lewis director Norman Taurog at the helm — even more so than the great Buster Keaton, who does his phys-com shtick! With lots of no-harm explosions and flowing water, Sergeant Dead Head hasn’t a mean bone in its body, but I’m afraid it doesn’t have much of a heart, either. Although every bit as colorful as its AIP brethren, the movie lacks that special something: unadulterated charm. And that’s with a cast that includes Eve Arden, Harvey Lembeck, Dwayne Hickman, John Ashley, Pat Buttram, Gale Gordon, Fred Clark and Cesar Romero, some of whom sing and dance.

Oh, did I mention this is also a musical? But its songs are lifeless and lackluster, plopped in like flung wall spackle to highlight how bereft of effort Louis M. Heyward’s script is. I can’t help but wonder if the movie was greenlighted just to get in the “JAMES BOND WILL RETURN”-style plug of the then-forthcoming Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine in the end credits, because Heyward and Academy Award-winning Taurog clearly saved the goods for that one. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

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