Follicle Follies

“No one has love greater than this, that someone should surrender his soul in behalf of his friends.”—John 15:13

To what lengths will one go to help a friend? As I pushed the button to start this Netflix selection, I had no idea what to expect and no intention of reviewing it, but the best laid plans, eh? Much like the anonymous viewer’s quote on IMDB, I found it strangely addicting and though initially ambivalent, ended up replaying it a second time before reluctantly returning it to home base. It’s a late 70s movie set during what I can only guess is the autumn after the Summer of Love (1967). A naïve Oklahoma cowboy with the unlikely name of Claude, on his way to report for duty in the U.S. Army, is befriended by a ragtag band of carefree hippies who hang out in Central Park as they live life in the moment and revel in their everyday existence. Taking advantage of every opportunity, their fearless leader, the Pied Piper of free spirits, Berger, shows Claude an alternate slice of life as he enters the psychedelic underbelly of a heretofore unknown universe. While in Central Park, he locks eyeballs with a vision of pure loveliness in the form of steed-riding Beverly D’Angelo (pre-Ellen Griswold), an upper crust debutante born with the proverbial spoon in her perfectly-bowed mouth. (Yeah, she flashes her boobies several times. Remember "Vacation"?) Our hirsute Robin Hood aids his new-found friend in surmounting any obstacles in his quest to be near his new love. And it is this sacrificial willingness that leads to his downfall. Though the opening moments show Berger and his gang of merry men burning their draft cards, refusing to fight for a belief system they despise, a system that mindlessly feeds the never-satisfied appetite of a massive war machine, it is he alone that carries this lofty ideal to its furthest conclusion and pays the ultimate price. This movie begs the observer to question just what defines a true 'hero'. During the gut-wrenching final shot of Berger’s grave nestled among thousands of fellow compatriots killed on foreign soil, silent tears fall. If anyone displayed the embodiment of selfless surrender it was our cock-eyed optimist, Berger. And could the catchy ditty, "Manchester, England" puulllleeeeze vacate my noggin? Let the sun shine, indeed.