A real cool cat (played by Russ Tamblyn) transfers to a new high school, where he wants to "rumble", and "make the scene" as the "top stud" of the "wheelers and dealers". He's "got four big ones and he's lookin' for junk". It's a blast from the past, where hot rods aren't the only thing that's smokin'; where high school teachers are from squaresville; and where the "kittens" include a very three-dimensional Mamie Van Doren. Can ya' dig?
Our cool cat tells the old biddy who works in the principal's office: "You know, if you were twenty years younger, even then I'd hate to be stuck with you on a date". Far out, man. You can call him "daddy-o", cause like, he's hip. He's "got the gold", and he wants "to score like the Yanks".
The dialogue's a hoot. But I didn't dig the cinematography ... too much light. Needs more dark interiors and smoke ... could have used some bongo drums and guys wearing "shades".
But it does have poetry. Cool! In one of the better sequences, as Jackie Coogan hits the keys, Phillipa Fallon recites a hip poem that in part goes like this: "I had a canary who couldn't sing. I had a cat that let me share my pad with her. I bought a dog that killed the cat that ate the canary. What is truth? ... We cough blood on this earth. Now there's a race for space. We can cough blood on the moon soon. Tomorrow is dragsville, cats. Tomorrow is a king-size drag". Spoken in the proper rhythm, it's out of sight!
Like, the jive is all in code, see? You have to get a fix on the lingo to gain entry into the rebellious in-crowd. The Eisenhower-era straitjacket is too tight. Needs some breathing space.
There's a nifty plot twist near the end, if you haven't been plastered already with spoilers, which are like king-size drags.
Casting and acting are groovy, especially Russ Tamblyn.
As a razzle-dazzle retro to 1950s teenage hipsville, "High School Confidential" is the cinematic bull's-eye. What a king-size hoot.
Our cool cat tells the old biddy who works in the principal's office: "You know, if you were twenty years younger, even then I'd hate to be stuck with you on a date". Far out, man. You can call him "daddy-o", cause like, he's hip. He's "got the gold", and he wants "to score like the Yanks".
The dialogue's a hoot. But I didn't dig the cinematography ... too much light. Needs more dark interiors and smoke ... could have used some bongo drums and guys wearing "shades".
But it does have poetry. Cool! In one of the better sequences, as Jackie Coogan hits the keys, Phillipa Fallon recites a hip poem that in part goes like this: "I had a canary who couldn't sing. I had a cat that let me share my pad with her. I bought a dog that killed the cat that ate the canary. What is truth? ... We cough blood on this earth. Now there's a race for space. We can cough blood on the moon soon. Tomorrow is dragsville, cats. Tomorrow is a king-size drag". Spoken in the proper rhythm, it's out of sight!
Like, the jive is all in code, see? You have to get a fix on the lingo to gain entry into the rebellious in-crowd. The Eisenhower-era straitjacket is too tight. Needs some breathing space.
There's a nifty plot twist near the end, if you haven't been plastered already with spoilers, which are like king-size drags.
Casting and acting are groovy, especially Russ Tamblyn.
As a razzle-dazzle retro to 1950s teenage hipsville, "High School Confidential" is the cinematic bull's-eye. What a king-size hoot.