One of the premier packagers of childhood dreams back then was that ballsy brother act, Sid and Marty Krofft. After decades making money off their marionette act (they even provided "adult oriented" puppets, know as the Les Poupees de Paris burlesque show for several World's Fairs) these savvy siblings saw a rift in the programming schedule for pint-sized viewers and they quickly scrambled to fill it. From 1969 until almost 1980, they produced several of the most fresh, freaked-out offerings the boob tube had ever seen. Combining massive imagination with limited TV budgets, the Kroffts created shows that evoked daydreams and nightmares, the unbelievable with the unrealistic. Even after three decades, individuals first flummoxed by the cathode ray crack they made are still feeling the bright, burning after effects. Now a new generation can get hooked. Rhino has released several of the Krofft shows on DVD. They are even providing a sampler style overview of the first seven shows in the brother's oeuvre. Saturday Morning with Sid and Marty Krofft is just that, a collection of pilot episodes of the oddball gems from whence a kid vid legend was born.

The DVD:
With the exception of Scooby Doo, no other children's show recalls the doped-up dementia of late 60s better than the Krofft brother's baffling pre-pubescent psychedelia. They are definitely crazed classics from an equally insane set of siblings. As time passed and the Peace decade de-evolved into the Me decade, the ideas offered by these puppet pioneers went from way-out to warmed over. Soon, slapstick took the place of ideas and unconventionality was replaced by tried and true. But for a while at least, no one manufactured the merriment like the Kroffts. Theirs was a singular vision, one we have yet to see replicated on the small screen (Tim Burton and Terry Gilliam are Cineplex examples of the brother's beguiling individualism) and Rhino is wise to preserve it for future viewers.

The only problem with this collection is its scope. Most of the series offered here didn't come out of the box swinging. Instead, they took a few episodes to get their frenzied footing right. As a result, a few of the examples presented seem pale in comparison to their later lunatic fringiness. Perhaps it's best to discuss each show individually, to get a better idea of what works, what doesn't and what never ever had a chance of succeeding. We begin with the Day-Glo dragon that started it all, a certain Southern-drawling city official by the name of:

H.R. Pufnstuf: Score - 4.5 out of 5
Premise: A young boy named Jimmy has a magic talking flute named Freddy. One day, they board a talking ship that kidnaps them. Jumping overboard, they wash up on Living Island, a strange cartoon-like kingdom run by dragon mayor H. R. Pufnstuf. Jimmy soon learns that a local sorceress named Witchie-poo initiated the sinister snatch. She wants Freddy for herself, and will stop at nothing to get her way. Pufnstuf decides to protect Jimmy, and help him get back home.

Episode 1: "The Magic Path" - with the help of the gang on Living Island, Jimmy searches for the mythical Magic Path that will lead him back home.

H.R. Pufnstuf is like that first sip of champagne when you were a child, or that forbidden collection of cookies atop the kitchen counter - those baked confections that had that miraculous ability to blindside your mealtime appetite with a single sweet bite. It's a sensational, surreal step back-ways into the oddball brainpans of creators Sid and Marty Krofft, and probably represents the zenith or nadir of kid's television, depending on how you feel about boys talking to dragons while playing with their magic flute. Pufnstuf is the Tabula Rosa of children's programming - a show that is simultaneously so specific and yet so infinite that any possibility or interpretation can be read into it (kind of like The Bible, only with more of a sense of humor). If you want to view talking mushrooms as drug references, if you want to misconstrue Freddie's high-pitched squeal as a symbol of an instrument alternative lifestyle, you go right ahead. Pufnstuf can handle it, and then make things even more esoteric to really toss your cerebral salad.

This first episode is rather humdrum, and doesn't deliver the sheer demented delights of shows to come. Billie Hayes doesn't really come into her own as Witchie-poo until about a third of the way in, so what you're getting here is just a micron of what this magnificent actress will do with the role. In essence, Pufnstuf is not a story about the fictional characters carousing on Living Island. Instead, it's really a battle between Jack Wild and Hayes. The cockney kid is supersonic here, never once breaking the facade that this is just some fake American broadcast buffoonery. He really sells the Pufnstuf concept, and without him, the scenarios Jimmy finds himself in would sink like the outrageously painted poster board that the sets are plastered in. Watching Wild and Hayes work together, giving a human (or in Witchie-poo's case, the half-human) heart to this whacked out weed screed is a joy to behold. Other elements of the Krofft's craft may not hold up, and they definitely tested the tolerance levels of tykes along the way, but H.R. Pufnstuf remains their gold standard as much for its casting as its psycho strange situations.

The Bugaloos: Score - 4 out of 5
Premise: Benita Bizarre lives in a jukebox on the edge of Rock City. This washed up singer dreams of making it back to the big time. She works out a deal with a local DJ - if she can record an up-to-date hit, he will pay it on the radio. With the help of her half-witted henchmen, she targets, the Bugaloos - four young insects living in Tranquility Forest - as her backup band. Courage, Harmony, IQ and Joy want nothing to do with her, and spend most of their day avoiding her precarious plans.

Episode 1: "Firefly, Light My Fire" - the Bugaloos meet up with Sparky, an insecure firefly whose had a run in with Tranquility Forest's meanest resident, Benita Bizarre.

The Bugaloos was always reminiscent of those really lame rock and roll comics from the 60s - you know the ones, the funny books where adolescent kids were whisked away to the Land of Reverb to meet Professor Wa-Wa Pedals and his gang of Boogie Bruins. Trying to tap into the long dead British invasion (the Beatles were breaking up as the series aired) as well as the rigor mortised flower power movement, this 'Johnny Come Lately' is a mess metaphorically. With each insect/musician/sprite inspired by a different positive attribute (Courage, Harmony, Joy and IQ) and a cornucopia of technologically incorrect beings (walking, talking speakers???) it seemed like an unmanageable fit. But there is something sweet and sincere about this show, a kind of knowing naiveté that plays perfectly to the pre-teen crowd. Besides, you've got to love a narrative that pits a has-been witch/singer with a Nazi rat as an assistant against three British blokes and one saucy UK bird dressed up like bugs.

Oddly enough, The Bugaloos is one of the few times the Kroffts would break their rather rigid formula (the stranger in a strange land ideal) and try to create a complete, complex fantasy. Since the entire cast lived in and around Tranquility Forest (on the outskirts of Rock City) and existed under its skewed auspices, there was no outside element to comment or reflect on the reality. This arguably would make The Bugaloos the most insular of all Krofft creations. But thanks in part to the musical focus, we actually have an easier time accepting this storyline than the cartoon craziness that accompanies, say, a sea monster living amongst people. The hipster references to rock and roll, the cloying, carefully crafted songs, and the emphasis on nature and feelings makes this a true warm and fuzzy fest. Frankly, if it weren't for the old Jewish man as firefly known as Sparky, the series would almost drown in its saccharine. But thanks to that gnat, and the sensational overacting of Martha Raye as Benita Bizarre, this is actually one of the standouts of this set.

Lidsville: Score - 3.5 out of 5
Premise: Mark goes backstage at a magic show and discovers the magician's top hat. When he picks it up, the hat grows in size. When he looks down inside, he slips and is sent soaring through a magic doorway. He winds up in the dangerous domain of Horatio J. Hoodoo, the green-faced evil overlord of Lidsville, a town made up of talking hats. With the help of Weenie the Genie, Mark will befriend the collection of caps and try to find his way back home.

Episode 1: "World in a Hat" - Mark helps the residents of Lidsville defeat the evil army of bad hats, lead by none other than maniacal magician Hoodoo.

Lidsville is nothing more than Pufnstuf perverted, both in a good way, and a very unsettling manner. For one thing, it's the first Krofft show to not feature a single overtly female human. Weenie the Genie is a man (God, what a name...) or at the very least, the most androgynous "being" since Michael Jackson went whitewash. And Hoodoo the villain is also masculine in gender (though he is played by Charles Nelson Reilly, if only to confuse things). This means that the Kroffts are out to craft a pure boys adventure tale, the kind of male-dominated narrative that's far more action oriented than most of their creative canon. The first episode is a perfect example of this super serialized cliffhanger attitude. Mark is attacked by bad hats, imprisoned by Hoodoo, left hanging over the perilous Shampoo River, part of a Chroma key motorcycle chase and ultimately fights a full-scale battle with the bad guys during the last act of the show.

Lidsville would try to balance the offbeat with the kinetic through out the course of its limited run, but there are some elements of the series that today, 34 years later, just don't seem right. There are racial slurs in abundance (albeit in jokey, cartoony form) with hats symbolizing Native Americans, Asians and the French. Some of the humor is hokey at best, befuddling at worst. The Kroffts employed a laugh track throughout all of their series, and it never works. The quips it responds to are really lame, and when the true wit arrives in the form of Charles Nelson Reilly's Hoodoo (he is tremendous in the roll) only few of the truly funny moments are electronically acknowledged. Once it got settled in, Lidsville would find ways to work out many of these confounding kinks. But it's really hard to envision why this show is such a sentimental favorite from the scattered pilot episode we get here.

Sigmund and the Sea Monsters: Score - 3 out of 5
Premise: Johnny and Scott are brothers living near the beach. One day they literally run into Sigmund, a sad sea monster who has been kicked out of his cave for not wanting to scare people. The boys adopt the collection of kelp and take him home to live in their clubhouse. But when the monster's family - Big Daddy, Sweet Momma and brothers Burp and Slurp - tries to get the cowardly creature back, it's trouble for the boys and their plankton-based pet.

Episode 1: "The Monster Who Came to Dinner" - the Ooze family must get Sigmund back from Johnny and Scott before a rich relative arrives for a visit.

Who else but Sid and Marty Krofft (and their creative cohort in entertainment, the twisted Si Rose) would come up with a combination of Beanie and Cecil and All in the Family. Yet somehow, the jarring juxtaposition works. While Johnny and Scott savor their newfound friendship with the bashful, rather irritating Sigmund, the Ooze family play out scenes from one of Norman Lear's bad shrimp induced fever dreams. Big Daddy rants like Archie Bunker gone beluga, while Burp and Slurp make all other invertebrates seem like Mensa-bound geniuses. Indeed, the Oozes are far more interesting than the humans. Part of the problem is purely reactionary. Johnny and Scott are merely catalysts for chaos, left to stand around and wait for a problem to appear before they meander into action. The result is lots of pointless chase scenes, eye-popping exposition and dreary dialogue like "Quick, run this way!" and "Oh no! Look out!".

And then there is the singing. Like all the Krofft shows before it, the brothers believed that music hath charms to soothe the savage ratings points, and they gave that tone-deaf titan, Johnny Whitaker, his own solo moments in Sigmund, the better to work out his growing vocal vileness. Whitaker's voice is bland and toneless, processed with as many pre-Britney tech tricks as were possible back in '73, and it still sounds like a seal screaming at its own scat. While the pilot piece of silly Sigmund is acceptable, the show would get even more creepy and sickly sweet as it went along, especially when Whitaker discovered a - EGAD! - love life!!! Sigmund also contains the single strangest bit of casting in the Krofft catalog. Joe Higgins plays Sheriff Chuck Bevans, a carbon copy of the character he perfected in several surreal commercials ("You're in a heap of trouble, boy!"). Ewww.

Land of the Lost: Score - 4.5 out of 5
Premise: Rick, Will and Holly Marshall get caught up in an earthquake while white water rafting. They are sucked into a time vortex and end up in a mysterious place populated with dinosaurs. They eventually learn that the realm is also inhabited by ape-like creatures known as the Pakuni, and an evil race of reptile people known as the Sleestak. As the Marshall's try to survive, they must fend off hungry Tyrannosaurs and equally odd flying objects known as Skylons.

Episode 1: "Cha-Ka" - the Marshall Family discover that they've inadvertently traveled back in time, and meet up with the ape-like Pakuni.

While it may be some manner of speculative fiction blasphemy to say it, Land of the Lost was actually pretty good. As a matter of fact, it bordered on greatness so many times that when it did go lamentably loopy, you still had to sigh in satisfied acknowledgment of the effort that went into the attempt. Land of the Lost was the rare example of a show that really did want to move beyond the limits of the typical Saturday morning children's programming to offer its audience something sincere and serious. Sure, it had to balance this straight sci-fi mentality with the requirements of the pre-teen set, but for the most part, Land of the Lost succeeded. It explored issues like intolerance, friendship, loyalty, and cooperation, and managed something magical even in light of the production values (which were decidedly on the cheap side) and network pressures (almost exclusively revolving around product merchandising). The episodes were engaging and interesting while the stories avoided clichés and crass formulas to speak honestly about important universal themes.

The main manipulator behind the scenes at Land of the Lost was ex-Star Trek scribe David Gerrold. Given free reign by the Kroffts to craft something spectacular out of a few rough ideas, it was Gerrold who devised the entire scenario for the newly christened Saturday morning series. He came up with the family, the furball Pakuni, and the reptilian Sleestak. He inserted the Pylons and their flying brethren the Skylons, and envisioned the ancient Lost City. Outside of these obvious elements, Gerrold also mandated that the show not only involve dinosaurs, but also take on many of the themes and imaginative ideas shows like Star Trek had used to make their narratives more compelling. He also brought on writers like D.C. Fontana, Ben Bova, Walter Koenig and Larry Niven. While the pilot episode offered here barely hints at the show's potential, the first full season of Land of the Lost was sensational. If you enjoy this initial offering, it will be worth your while to check out the complete season boxsets.

The Lost Saucer: Score - 1.5 out of 5
Premise: While on a standard reconnaissance mission, androids Fi and Fum land their spacecraft on the outskirts of Chicago. There they pick up young Jerry, and his babysitter Alice, and give them a tour of the ship. When the military shows up, the robots inadvertently set off the time warp, sending the saucer barreling out of control and into another dimension. Now the mechanized pilots must try and find a way back to Earth, so that their human cargo can finally get home.

Episode 1: "894X I Love You" - Fi and Fum must rescue the kids from an authoritarian government that values conformity and numbers over people.

If the concept of Jim Nabors as an android doesn't send your head spinning into fits of "why me" desperation, if Ruth Buzzi affecting a New York honk as part of her performance as a being from another world doesn't drive your entertainment factors into failsafe mode, then you'll probably get a kick or two out of The Lost Saucer. But if said boot ends up directly in your ass, don't say you weren't warned. This series, along with its equally inept morons in orbit cornball clone Far Out Space Nuts are merely variations on Irwin Allen's far more successful Lost in Space theme. It's a premise that allows the program to visit a different planet each week, giving the costume department a right workout trying to come up with imaginative alien outfits. Indeed, some of the set design and character conception is pretty novel (all except for our stars, who look like middle-aged adults running around with silver light boxes on their bodies). But with the writing stuck in the dumbbell zone, all the eye candy is for naught.

There are several additional elements in this particular show that prove that the creators were basically bereft of ideas. One of them is the dumb as a donkey flop sidekick called the Dorse (half dog, half horse - get it???). This creature was supposedly genetically engineered for some purpose, but the apparent rationale seems to have been to make an animal that contains the worst aspects of the two beasts it emulates. It is slow, lumbering, and laughable. But The Lost Saucer is happy to have it, since it allows the half hour showcase to waste a good 10 minutes per episode on this guy in a furry pelt. There are too many so-called chase scenes with this bathmatt bumbling around the set. The kids are kind of endearing, and the pilot concept of fighting against compliance is good. But The Lost Saucer is a lost cause, a dopey idea that threatens to get even stupider as the series runs along.

Far Out Space Nuts: Score - 1 out of 5
Premise: Barney and his bumbling buddy Junior are NASA lunchroom employees. While preparing a rocket for take-off, Junior pushes the "Launch" instead of the "Lunch" button. Naturally, this sends the dithering duo into orbit. They land on a weird planet and end up befriending a noisy animal named Honk. They must then repair the ship and get back home, before they meet up with aliens and other extraterrestrials who mean them nothing but harm.

Episode 1: "It's All In Your Mind" - Junior and Barney find themselves on a strange planet run by a supercomputer that wants to suck their minds dry.

Welcome to the dregs, the exact moment where the Sid and Marty Krofft legacy went more than a little wonky and eventually folded in on itself. The big problem with Far Out Space Nuts is that it is really six ideas in one. Take Gilligan's Island, reconfigure it into yet another Lost in Space replica, remove some cast members, add in one of the Marx brothers in animal form, crib some sets and ideas from Land of the Lost/Saucer and sprinkle liberally with Three Stooges slapstick and you've got the basic concept of the series. Now dumb it down a few dozen notches, amplify the obnoxiousness and ratchet up the ridiculousness and you're almost within Far Out Space Nuts' reach. While it's impossible to say if Bob Denver should have known better (he was known to make more than a few decisions while under the influence of wacky tobaccy, after all) chubby Chuck McCann must have known he was in real turkey trot territory. He was a big time star who'd made a name for himself in several distinguished films and TV projects. Sure, comedy was his forte, but never anything as amateurish and juvenile as this.

There is no chemistry between McCann and Denver. Bob is in 'little buddy' mode throughout the show, even though he's got more gray hair and wrinkles than his paternalistic partner. And then there is Honk. Looking like the Dorse costume retrofitted with cardboard trumpets, this completely irritating creature bleats, blasts and blows his way right into and through your last nerve. This never-ending cacophony of squeaks and squawks literally never shuts up. It's Harpo histrionics are like a running commentary throughout the pilot episode, grating down your resolve until there is nothing left but a pile of pissed off provocation. The storyline is stupid, the conclusion retarded, and the intervening chase scenes illogical and laughable. You know you're in trouble when a man and a whatsit are being held captive by a magnetic disc, yet neither one HAS ANY METAL ON THEM WHATSOEVER. It's plain from the pathetic nature of this series why it's never mentioned along with the other examples of Krofft craziness - because it's crap.

You learn a lot watching this DVD. The basic premise of any successful Krofft series can be summed up in the following sentence: a human being leaves reality and enters a realm of make-believe, or a fictional entity leaves its fantasy land to interact with individuals in the real world. Once the brothers abandoned this idea (Elektra Woman and Dyna Girl and Bigfoot and Wildboy, for example) their unique brand of whimsy went all über-weird. As long as they stayed within the parameter of puppets, they were usually OK (The Lost Saucer and Far Out Space Nuts aside). They also abandoned the marionette madness rather quickly. While Pufnstuf and Lidsville were filled with the manipulatable creations, by Land of the Lost they were more or less gone. Indeed, The Lost Saucer and Far Out Space Nuts are devoid of even minimal felt delights.

You can also point to the dino-rama as the last time the Krofft's crackerjack casting stayed intact. From then on, their choice of actors was rather poor. Some can argue for Denver and McCann, but Buzzi and Nabors are just nauseating as so-called androids. Neither one attempts to be anything other than what they are (Nabors even introduces himself as being from the Southern side of his planet) and they destroy the realm of whimsy the brothers are trying to create. The duo was always sort of stunt casting their shows anyway - bringing Jack Wild and the cast of The Bugaloos from England, getting Charles Nelson Reilly, Mary Wickes and Martha Raye to play down to kids. But this DVD illustrates how the wrong performer can literally poison a series.

The final facet in the Krofft cavalcade that can be discerned from this presentation is that the huge success of Land of the Lost (running three seasons) and Sigmund and the Sea Monsters (running two) obviously went to the boys' head. They seemed to stop caring and attached their name to any product, no matter how substandard. Look at Pufnstuf or Lidsville, and compare it to The Lost Saucer. The differences are profound. The former floats along on fantasy and fun. The later is an excuse in excruciating dullness. Still, it's good to have this handy compilation as a primer for the iconoclastic insanity of the Brothers Krofft. Here's hoping it signifies the longed for release of the complete Bugaloos on DVD, as well as stimulating interest in titles already available as part of the digital format.

The Video:
First, the good news. As stated before, Rhino has been re-releasing many of these series, so they have excellent 1.33:1 full frame transfers to give us. While Pufnstuf looks the oldest, Lidsville, Sigmund, Land of the Lost, The Lost Saucer and Far Out Space Nuts all appear virtually brand new. There is a down side to this, however. The old-fashioned videotape technology flares horribly, with lots of green glaring ghosts appearing throughout the episodes. Also, the Kroffts utilized the most basic of bluescreen processes. This means there are a lot of visual "eccentricities" in each show. At one moment, the visuals can look bright and vibrant. The next, the show goes strangely off-balance, with antique optical antics drowning out the delight.

And what's the bad news, you ask - beyond the ancient science involved? Well, The Bugaloos looks atrocious. The image is fuzzy and flickering, almost as if this was a kinescope or a poorly created video dub. When compared to the clarity of Lidsville or Sigmund, it's flabbergasting. Also, a couple of the shows here appear to be edited. While most run for 23+ minutes, H.R. Pufnstuf is only 22, and the poor Bugaloos is a little over 20. While it's impossible to know what's missing, the length of these episodes tells a seemingly sad story. The missing material is barely noticable (though Benita Bizarre makes a statement to The Bugaloos about hearing her sing when they obviously have not) but it shows some small contempt for those who've longed to collect this original series since they were first shown on TV to offer up anything other than complete episodes.

The Audio:
This is TV pre-mp3, remember? For the most part, the Dolby Digital Mono is crisp, clean and very clear. The voices are all easily understandable and the dialogue is usually discernable (that is, when it's not being wiped out by the laugh track). The musical numbers have very little vibrancy, since the treble-heavy concepts of 60s/70s broadcasting limited their sonic scope, but they still sound pretty good - that is, until Johnny Whitaker opens his pie-hole to sing.

The Extras:
The biggest mistake Rhino makes with a set like this is not including a career-spanning documentary on the Kroffts to get casual fans interested in their complete canon. DVD producers need to know that individuals unfamiliar with their product will not pony up the cash for something sans substance. They want context and complimentary information. What's offered here is nice - an interview with Si Rose covering his time with the brothers, a K-SAT (Krofft Saturday Aptitude Test) which unfairly asks questions about shows not in this set (and how much do you know about Bigfoot and Wildboy, hmmm?) and a full-on fanboy commentary for Lidsville by comedian George Lopez (more reverential than irreverent - or funny). But none of it really explains the Krofft mystique. Get some scholars, critics or people connected with modern children's television to sit down for a discussion. Add some perspective. Give the guys their due. It may be hard when creating a series sampler like this, but it's necessary to spur added interested in a limited entertainment ideal.

Final Thoughts:
While it may be hard to fathom artistically, there is no doubting that Sid and Marty Krofft left an indelible mark on children's programming. Some may call it a stain, and others may measure the influence in inches, not yards, yet it is still hard to deny how adept these men were at making imagination appear real. The first five shows they created are all classics of a sort, and some have managed to remain timeless while attracting new fanatics to their fold. Certainly they're dated, and occasionally dopey, but they still represent a benchmark in live action kid vid that wouldn't be matched until a certain Mr. Herman came along (who took the Krofft concept and copped it for his own, with stellar results). Children of the 60s and 70s were bombarded with so many sugarcoated crapfests, empty TV calories enriched with the first fleeting glimpses of Madison Avenue manipulation (Hot Wheels, the cartoon!) that the blatant originality of the Kroffts is something to be celebrated, not shelved away. True, the brothers started bottoming out around 1974, but they sure had a special run while it lasted. Get up to speed with the shows that corrupted an entire generation. Spending a Saturday Morning with Sid and Marty Krofft will do more than stimulate memories. It will make you teary-eyed for those far more innocent days.

Other Reviews for Your Perusal:
John Sinnot's review of H.R. Pufnstuf: The Complete Series
Ian Jane's review of Lidsville: The Complete Series
Shannon Nutt's review of Land of the Lost, The Complete Season 1
Scott Weinberg's review ofLand of the Lost, The Complete Season 3

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