"Is this what passes for entertainment these days?" says one cricket to another.
"Just do the thing, Jiminy."
That's right, it's ol' blue eyes in an ol' brown turd known as DIRTY DINGUS MAGEE.
Stan Laurel has really let himself go.
Sinatra plays a roguish scamp getting up to no good with sundry prostitutes, prospectors and prostate exams. But wait, there's more. George Kennedy more!!
"I've got chunks of guys like you in my stool. You look delicious, by the way."
The plot isn't hard to follow as it's shouted in the viewer's apathetic face for what feels like years hanging from a steel hook in the lowest pit of hell. There's a chest, see, filled with gold, see, and everyone has to get it, see, because... you know, that's what people in zany movies do that have no reason to exist! The Chairman dons a wacky Indian get-up and tries to fool the local constable that he can act.
"Look, let me do the scene one more time. PLEEEEAASE!"
Sinatra is fifty-five at the time of filming, but we are to believe he's super hot to every squaw and cathouse coquette this side of the Mississip. Bleccch.
"Just relax, Mia. I'm going to put Rosemary's baby in ya."
In the end, I've seen puppet shows with more complex character development. Now if I can just get that restraining order lifted I'll be able to see more puppet shows!
How does the movie know me so well?
All in all, I'd say Sinatra did at least one thing right.