Probably not something I should brag about, or even admit, but this movie -- more accurately, the album, by Harry Nilsson, my parents' copy of which was illustrated in needlepoint -- was crucial in defining my worldview as a tiny kid (along with Flat Stanley and a Daniel Pinkwater book called The Big Orange Splot, plus suicidal lambs and rabbit mothers who chronically ate their young -- but that's getting into the dark side). Ringo Starr narrates. The animation looks like it was all done in crayon, and it's clear that everyone involved was stoned to the bone, but the songs are pretty great, and you can't argue with the moral of the story, man. Dig those wacky flying stars and big ol' bouncing ladies!
Anyway. The Clinton Street Theater is showing the whole movie next week (March 24). I'll be going.