Canadian puppeteer siblings Sid and Marty Krofft were, for a generation, moguls of Saturday-morning kiddie TV (for more, refer to Timothy and Kevin Burke's entertaining memoir Saturday Morning Fever). The duo's 1969-1971 semi-psychedelic, live-action fantasy-comedy, half-hour H.R. Pufnstuf was spun off by Universal into this theatrical musical feature. Directed by Hollingsworth Morse, Pufnstuf is now revived on Blu Ray as a resale-shop curio of the Flower Power era.
With a speaking-to-the-theater-audience introduction by villain Witchiepoo (Billie Hayes), it amounts to a super-sized origin episode that rarely expands on the confines of the Paramount-set-bound television program—but does have guest-stars Martha Raye and Cass Elliott. Young UK native Jimmy (Jack Wild), exiled from his American school orchestra, speaks plaintively to his favorite flute and finds the instrument developing a face and a personality (as "Freddie"). Straightaway this sends Jimmy on a magic boat to "Living Island" somewhere in a large lake (actually Big Bear Lake), where anthropomorphized plants, objects, and animals speak, sometimes in character voices burlesquing icons like W.C. Fields, Edgar G. Robinson, and John Wayne.
Witchiepoo strategizes to steal Freddie the Flute throughout, but Jimmy falls under the protection of the island's "mayor," the dragon-like Pufnstuf, and his bizarre retinue—an excuse for high-speed slapstick and garish costumes. One must respect the ability of more-or-less human performers Hayes and Wild in their interactions with these entities (very briefly, Billie Hayes appears out of grotesque makeup as "Betty Bugaloo," a reference to another Krofft creation).
Its IQ points lower than a Jim Henson Muppet show, but the high-decibel exaggeration and frantic pace (not to mention creature designs) approximates the Nippon-American Power Rangers franchise that enthralled later young viewers. There is little to offend unless one is oversensitive to the anti-witch material (though Cass Elliott sings a witch-affirmation anthem prophetic of the Broadway hit Wicked) and the Nazi-style henchman of the Boss Witch (Raye).
Disc extras are just some dubious kiddie-film trailers; alas, no commentary track to inform viewers that inside the creature suits are such famed little-person troupers as Billy Barty, Felix Silla, and Angelo Rossitto. A strong optional addition to J shelves. Aud: P.