Thanks to his legendary TV portrayals of Andy Taylor and Ben Matlock, everyone associates Andy Griffith with the small screen, but movie buffs would be wise to make the effort to seek out the films he made before he became everyone’s favorite single dad/small-town sheriff. Chances are, you’re at least familiar with his dramatic debut in Elia Kazan’s A Face in the Crowd (where his dark performance as TV host Larry “Lonesome” Rhodes is more frightening now than it was in 1957), but you’d do just as well to begin with the following year’s service comedy No Time for Sergeants.

A film adaptation of a play based on a book, No Time for Sergeants casts Griffith as Will Stockdale, a poor Georgia farm boy drafted into the Air Force. Like Forrest Gump after him, Stockdale has a knack for transcending his ignorance and the cynicism of those surrounding him, jumping serenely from situation to situation with a goofy smile on his face, while everyone else in his vicinity suffers for their sins. No one suffers more than his sergeant, Orville King (Myron McCormick in an Oscar-worthy comedic performance), whose longing for a nice, quiet life is constantly shattered by Stockdale’s innocent shenanigans.

If this sounds familiar, it’s because Griffith used the concept as the basis for his Mayberry spin-off Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C., in which Jim Nabors’ mechanic character assumed the Stockdale role. Watching No Time for Sergeants, however, it’s clear that Griffith was better-suited to play the part.

The movie’s stage roots remain evident throughout, but this does little to lessen its enormous entertainment value. The talented cast (which includes Don Knotts in one scene that pairs him for the first time with his future TV partner) easily rises above some of the film’s more predictable set pieces, earning genuine laughs. —Allan Mott

Buy it at Amazon.

The first and last directorial effort of legendary TV producer Norman Lear (All in the Family), 1971’s Cold Turkey lacks the bite of Robert Altman’s Nashville or the verisimilitude of Michael Ritchie’s Smile, but it suggests Lear could have become as gifted a cinematic satirist as either, if he had wanted. Like the best comedies of the era, the movie mixes genuine laughs with incisive social commentary, much of which feels even more relevant now than it must have 40 years ago.

Dick Van Dyke stars as an ambitious reverend stuck in the dying town of Eagle Rock, Iowa. His only hope for escape is that the government might open a munitions plant in the area, but that’s dependent on the town significantly improving itself to deal with the influx of people such a project would bring. Desperate, he and the town’s mayor (Vincent Gardenia) jump at the offer dreamed up by Big Tobacco lobby ad man Bob Newhart to pay $25 million to any town that can convince its entire population to quit smoking for a whole month.

The locals are wary. The smokers are upset they’re the only ones asked to make a sacrifice, while the town’s right-wing coalition worries such a collective effort reeks of old-fashioned communism. Both groups eventually are persuaded by the reverend’s eloquence and — in the right-wingers’ case — the chance to form an authoritarian militia dedicated to keeping fellow citizens from lighting up. The town soon earns national media attention (as represented by the classic comedy duo Bob and Ray) and profits from the exposure, but at what cost?

Lear mines comedy gold out of his characters’ greed and uniquely American political views. As darkly absurdist as the climax may be, it seems like a mild stretch away from what actually would happen if this scenario played out in real life — his only real misstep being the inclusion of an actor in a truly terrible Richard Nixon mask in place of a fictionalized president. Beyond this, Cold Turkey is significant for featuring the first musical score composed by Randy Newman, whose beautifully cynical theme song, “He Gives Us All His Love,” sets the tone perfectly. —Allan Mott

Buy it at Amazon.