The documentary few knew they were waiting on, "King For a Day" is an intriguing chronicle of a most bizarre novelty act shooting star that flew, sparkled, burned bright and quickly. Tiny Tim remains an odd and utterly unforgettable memory for the majority of baby boomers who were there to witness the trajectory. Everyone else henceforth now gets a chance to catch up.
There's a lot to unpack here, and even at almost two hours, it barely scratches the surface, but for now, it will do. The foggy story of Herbert Butros Khaury is shrouded in mystery, but what we do know is that the falsetto singing, ukulele playing, kiss blowing, clownish hippie with exaggerated facial features and shoulder length mop, came prancing awkwardly out of nowhere to dominate late sixties television airwaves. Riding the inexplicable popularity of Vaudeville staple "Tiptoe Through the Tulips", Tiny Tim competed with Jimi Hendrix and The Rolling Stones on the charts, and became a staple darling on talk shows, culminating in his boffo rated wedding to Miss Vicky on the "Tonight Show".
Like a lousy cake, the fall was as quick as the rise, and the general public moved on. "King for a Day" mixes the super saturated boob tube coverage, fond remembrances of close friends, stark black and white animation of the early years, and grainy video footage of the rough last years. And though the tale answers a lot of questions, it digs up plenty more. The childhood years seem sketchy at best, based solely on Khaury's writings (narrated by Weird Al Yankovic, naturally), and it is never clear what is and isn'
t fiction. The transition from a gig in a run down New York freak show to major network stardom on trend setting "Laugh-In" is never properly addressed. Was Khaury always in character? Was it a character? We may never know. Perhaps it is for the best.
The swift downfall is harsh, and presented in cruel fashion. Makes for good cinema, but the truth is that in latter years, Tiny Tim was being embraced by the alternative music scene, appearing in concert with Camper Van Beethoven, recording with the New Duncan Imperials, and releasing an outlandishly captivating Christmas album. His encyclopedic knowledge and love for old timey music is hinted at: Bob Dylan, an astute musical historian himself, wanted to make a film. There's just so much more to Tiny Tim's story (his skate with the Toronto Maple leafs!) that begs uncovering. Perhaps this is just part one in the series, and thus serves well as a tasty appetizer.
