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Toomorrow (1970) (part 4 of 10)
While Olivia is waking up Karl, we get the blonde coming out of the cupboard, now wearing great big Smart Girl glasses. The credits call her Suzanne, but Benny calls her Susan, so I’m going to go with Smart Girl. Ambiguity should be no problem, because there’s bound to be a maximum of one of those in this movie. Smart Girl, by the way, is played by Tracey Crisp, who also played Heather, one of the SMERSH agents who helps disrobe Sir James Bond in Casino Royale—making her the third Repeat Offender from this movie. This wasn’t even Crisp’s first bad sci-fi movie: she was also in The Projected Man (1966), which set the gold standard for totally wacked-out ‘60s British sci-fi.
Smart Girl chides Benny for always hiding his women in the closet, which just has so many possible meanings. But chiefly we’re establishing that Benny is a slut here. Every character in a movie this dumb is only allowed one personality characteristic, so let’s take stock: (a) Observer: contemptuous of humans; (b) Olivia: wakes up slowly (wheee!! what a radical character she is!); (c) Benny: slut; (d) Smart Girl: smart girl. I can’t wait to see what Karl’s thing is, can you?
Karl is just coming in from an all-night student protest (the placard over his shoulder says, “PARTICIPATION IN ADMINISTRATION!”) and he’s so exhausted that he thinks it’s still Thursday, but really it’s Friday. There’s a big drum kit in his room, to clue us in he’s the drummer. We didn’t need to see the guitar in Benny’s room. Lead guitarists are always sluts.
So: (e) Karl: thinks it’s Thursday? Hmm, I guess we should wait.
Sorry, Karl, playing dead will not get you out of your contract.
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Mark "Scooter" Wilson
Mark is a history guy, a graphics guy, a guy for whom wryly cynical assessments of popular culture are the scallion cream cheese on the toasted everything bagel of life. He spends his time teaching modern history at Brooklyn College, pondering the ancient Romans at the CUNY Graduate Center, and conjuring maps and illustrations for ungrateful bankers at various Manhattan monoliths. Readers are welcome to guess at reasons why he's nicknamed Scooter, with the proviso that all such submissions are guaranteed to be rather more interesting than the truth. Mark lives in the Midwood section of Brooklyn with a happy-go-lucky, flop-eared dog named Chiyo who is probably, at this very moment, waiting patiently for her walkies.
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