In this nudie cutie, elderly burlesque comedian Charlie Robinson more or less plays himself: pickled, wrinkled and luckily fully clothed. As a sewer worker, henpecked husband, functioning alcoholic and DJ Qualls prototype, Charlie could use some time away from it all. Opportunity knocks when his trailer-park neighbor converts a Checker cab into a time machine.
With the trip depicted footage of water circling a drain superimposed over a Matchbox car, Charlie and his Abe Lincoln hat are whipped back to the prehistoric era — 50,000 B.C. (Before Clothing), to be exact. The title lies, as men and women don Flintstones-style pelts, although the Knob Hill Nudist Colony is nearby. So is a giant (Eddie Carmel, The Brain That Wouldn’t Die) whom Charlie swiftly defeats by whistling “Dixie,” because why the fuck not.
From the usually mightier pen of Doom Patrol creator Arnold Drake, this hour of udder nonsense comes with a black-and-white courtroom scene, a snake dance (credited to one “Sexcra”), the gorgeous Gigi Darlene from Doris Wishman’s Bad Girls Go to Hell and an alternative title of Nudes on the Rocks. What it doesn’t have is a legitimate joke — lest it counts when a drunken tailor gives Charlie a pair of pants so large, his face is at zipper level. I don’t think that qualifies. —Rod Lott