The most ridiculed film of all time. A camp classic. A message movie that misses its mark by miles. An anti-marijuana fable with a cult following almost entirely composed of potheads. It’s not the first alarmist anti-marijuana movie, but it’s the most famous by far, partly due its great title and partly due to classic moments like the piano scene, the attempted rape scene, and the amazingly heavy-handed courtroom scenes. It’s the tale of a nice boy (he’s so soft, he doesn’t even drink soda) who smokes a joint and then spirals into a world of mad addiction, hit-and-run killings, accidental shootings, suicide, and fast piano-playing. Like all of these old micro-budget message movies, it’s intended to be a big fat downer. No happy endings. No ray of light. Just sadness and death. And it’s all because of the reefer.
The film is straight-up bad. It’s impossible to enjoy without irony. It’s not even very entertaining. It’s slow and has the same boring, slapdash direction as all the 1930s and 40s exploitation/”educational” films. Its saving grace—as goofy entertainment, at least—is actor Dave O’Brien as the craziest pot addict in the film. He’s wild-eyed and rage-filled, a real hair-trigger. He smokes so fast, he barely inhales. He’s the one who yells at the girl to play the piano faster, faster, faster and he’s the guy on most of the posters and in most of the stills. If only the whole movie had been about him…
This was financed by a Los Angeles church and originally (and boringly) titled Tell Your Children. Of course, churches in the 1930s had no clue about the movie industry and the film fell into the clutches of exploitation-meister Dwain Esper, who gave it a zingier title and poster art that emphasized the outrageous content. The film languished in obscurity for decades after its release until the early 1970s when it was re-discovered by the drug culture and became popular as a midnight movie.