Some guy named Bill decides to hang out in the Island of Ibiza. There, he meets all sorts of weirdos, including a German girl who, oddly, seems to be speaking with a French accent. And everybody seems to hang out at George Montgomery's house, smoking weed all day. Montgomery claims he is doing some kind of scientific research. What he should have been doing was firing his agent. Bill and the German girl get hitched, and at the wedding party, we are treated to Montgomery wearing some kind of plant in his hair, another guy dressed like Julius Caesar, and Steve Rowland singing a few songs. Trust me, the plant on Montgomery's hair is the most entertaining of the three items. Eventually Bill and his fraulein split up, and Bill ends up at Montgomery's pad with the other losers. Montgomery slips Bill some acid, and says, "This will smooth out all that fear in you ... all that hate ... turn it into something like purple, something like velvet. It'll be like walking down Fifth Avenue ... on your head." Then we get treated to about a 10-minute acid trip, complete with color shots and Montgomery wearing cannibal paint.
Bill and some other clown get suckered into robbing an old guy, who gets killed in the process. Bill's partner tries to pin the blame on Bill. Bill wanders around the streets and collapses. A guy in a suit gives Bill a cigarette and invites him to his house. The guy lets Bill freshen up in his bathroom. Then he offers to "help" Bill, but Bill takes off. Draw your own conclusions. Bill ends up at a church, the cops arrest every American in the film, and the credits roll.
This has to be one of the most boring movies of all time. Danny Stone, as Bill, narrates most of the film as if he were in a trance. The sound was out of sync, and the mix of Spanish and American accents made me think I was watching one of those Mexican wrestling films, like "Samson vs the Vampire Women" (which was a whole lot better than this piece of crap). I have no idea why Montgomery did this film, unless he was vacationing in Spain at the time and needed to kill a few hours. Most of his dialogue is incoherent: "This universe is a jawbreaker ... a sourball ... lemon flavor, round and hard." Maybe after a few acid trips, I'll think the same way. To paraphrase Timothy Leary, "turn off, tune out, drop dead."
