Wild in the Streets (1968) is the sort of odd cultural artifact that could only have come from, and doesn't really work, outside of its time. Barry Shear's bizarre youthsploitation musical is more fantasy than social critique, showing youngsters getting their own back against an oppressive Great Society.Max Frost (Christopher Jones) abandons his materialistic parents (Shelley Winters and Bert Freed) to become a rock star. Senatorial candidate Johnny Fergus (Hal Holbrook) asks Max to campaign for him on a pledge for teen suffrage. But Max turns the tables, running for Congress and later president himself, instituting a Dictatorship of the Groovy that condemns adults to reeducation and compulsory LSD.
Many well-meaning films fretted over The Generation Gap; Wild in the Streets, being an AIP joint, is more pandering than concerned. Shear (Across 110th Street) and writer Robert Thom envision Max as alternately spoiled and neglected by materialist parents. Fergus advocates the then-controversial position of lowering the voting age to 18; Max forces him to lower it to 14, harnessing youth power to further his own ends. While plotting "the most hedonistic society known to man," he ultimately perpetuates his own cycle of oppression.
Wild does try showing the circular nature of Revolution, with Max's concentration camps leading to delusional, suicidal adults and Max himself branded old by a preteen follower. But the movie's overall tone is approving, depicting the adults as squares or (in Max's mother's case) depraved, materialist monsters. Max's swinging lifestyle, surrounding himself with goonish band members and half-naked acolytes, is hip rather than debauched. Aside from those Young Americans for Freedom squares, what twentysomething Boomer didn't want to stick it to their parents?
Shear's direction offers a riot of Mod effects that further date the movie: gel-colored lenses, frantically-edited LSD trips, concerts that play like elaborate music videos. Paul Frees' droll narration is its most effective attribute, alternately scornful and appraising. Sadly the movie's satire never gets more pointed than the Republicans nominating Max to coopt the youth movement. Yet the movie's high-energy style keeps things fast-paced and engaging, capturing its protagonist's frantic approach.
Christopher Jones gives a performance bristling with manic, unrepressed sensuality. It's a perfectly realized characterization, equal parts James Dean and Jerry Rubin, that gives Wild its vibrant center. Sadly, the rest of Jones' filmography largely misused his talents (Ryan's Daughter). There's an interesting, if oddly used supporting cast: Larry Bishop as a hook-handed guitar player, Richard Pryor as the drummer, Diane Varsi's scantily-clad girlfriend. Hal Holbrook and Millie Perkins give sincere performances, but Shelley Winters opts for grotesque overacting.
At best, Wild in the Streets is A Face in the Crowd for the teen set, showing an entertainer shrewdly morphing into a populist demagogue. At worst, it's a bundle of hyper-stylized junk unable to transcend its era.
