The third film in what might be called the "Dexter Riley" trilogy, The Strongest Man in the World (1975) is Disney comedy-fantasy at its popular peak. After The Shaggy Dog (1959) and The Absent-Minded Professor (1961) proved far more profitable than riskier, more expensive fare like Sleeping Beauty and Darby O'Gill and the Little People (both 1959), the company turned to these relatively cheap formula comedies for quick cash and to keep its production-distribution arm busy, especially during the long stretches between its big animated releases.

By the early 1970s though the seams were beginning to show, and Disney's live-action product, which never much looked like the work of anyone else, became singularly anachronistic. This is especially true of The Strongest Man in the World, which is the third version of the same basic premise. Once again, irascible yet spineless Dean Higgins (Joe Flynn) is beside himself after learning his job is in jeopardy, the demanding board of regents looking to infuse the university with "new blood." And once again the usual gang of wholesome students stumbles upon a fantastic new invention, a vitamin supplement, which is accidentally dribbled into a box of Crumply Crunch cereal.

Soon enough, senior Dexter Riley (Kurt Russell) eats the stuff and is endowed with superhuman strength. An impressed Dean Higgins contacts the president of Crumply Crunch (Eve Arden) and she arranges a weightlifting competition co-sponsored by archrival Krinkle (Phil Silvers), president of Krinkle Krunch Cereal. Along the way, industrial spy Harry (Dick Van Patten) hires small-time crooks A.J. Arno (Cesar Romero) and Cookie (Dick Bakalyan) to steal the secret formula. When that fails they kidnap Dexter's pal Schuyler (series regular Michael McGreevey) hoping to extract the formula from him with the help of the mysterious Ah Fong (Benson Fong).

This third film in the series is extremely episodic, with the first third clearly belonging to Joe Flynn's nebbish dean, the middle section to the slapstick antics of Romero and Bakalyan, and the final third to the predictable effects-laden finale, which is rather low-key this time. Kurt Russell is top-billed, but in truth he's probably in the picture for less than 15 of its 92 minutes.

Produced after the unexpected success of The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes (1969) and Now You See Him, Now You Don't (1972), The Strongest Man in the World is mostly going through the motions and bereft of new ideas. Flynn, Russell, Romero, Bakalyan, and McGreevey appear in all three films, while several more actors appeared in at least two. It's fun to revisit these same characters and their familiar surroundings, but except for the standard assortment of optical and on-set trickery, the picture is scripted and shot like a sitcom. Moreover, by 1975 Russell and McGreevey had outgrown Disney-type roles and ready to move on to bigger and better things. (Everyone knows what happened to Russell; McGreevey is now a successful writer-producer-director.)

But unquestionably, the biggest blow to the series was the mysterious and untimely death of second-billed Joe Flynn, who had become a staple in Disney's features and its long-running TV series. Found at the bottom of his swimming pool (his leg was broken some time earlier and in a heavy cast) immediately after finishing his scenes, Flynn's death cast a pall over the film that, though it mattered little to the audience to whom it was targeted, effectively finished the series.

On the plus side, this sequel especially overflows with terrific actors, from veteran stars like Silvers and Arden (both of whom are always engaging, even in lesser material like this) to veteran character players including William Schallert, Fritz Feld, Burt Mustin, Mary Treen, and Kathleen Freeman. Disney's casting department was actually very clever in keeping costs down on these cheap films. Russell, Silvers, and Arden's scenes are carefully spaced to make it appear that they're in the picture much more than they actually are, while the less-pricey Flynn, Romero, and Bakalyan actually carry the bulk of the running time. Meanwhile, the dozens of familiar character actors are short on individual screen time, with most probably working a day or two in their respective parts.

The wild sight gags -- and that's what kids really came to see -- are imaginative enough though sporadic. Probably the best executed sequence is one that comes early in the film: Schuyler's little white terrier, long menaced by a bully Doberman pinscher, turns the tables after eating some of the enriched cereal.

Video & Audio

Though apparently released with an aspect ratio of about 1.75:1, Disney had opted for an unsatisfying full frame presentation, this in spite of the fact that the previous entry in the series, Now You See Him, Now You Don't was released enhanced. At least this full frame version is open-matte, so zoomed in on widescreen sets the image looks right, composition-wise. The film elements and color are in decent shape; it's a pity they blew it by opting for full-frame. The English mono is standard for the era; English captions for the hard-of-hearing are offered, along with French and Spanish subtitles. There are no Extra Features at all, not even trailers for the other entries in the series, or a cartoon or two (which always accompanied these films when they were new), both of which would seem obvious things to include.

Parting Thoughts

Disney's brand of live-action fantasy-slapstick would soon vanish after such ill-conceived flops as One of Our Dinosaurs Is Missing (1975) The North Avenue Irregulars (1979), and Condorman (1981). And yet several generations keep returning to the best of these pictures, or take their own children to see the myriad remakes the company continues to recklessly churn out. Few of these pictures, even such lionized films as The Love Bug (1968) or the Dexter Riley films, could actually be called good movies, but attached to them is an undeniable, durable nostalgia.

Stuart Galbraith IV is a Los Angeles and Kyoto-based film historian whose work includes The Emperor and the Wolf -- The Lives and Films of Akira Kurosawa and Toshiro Mifune. He is presently writing a new book on Japanese cinema for Taschen.