Like acid flashbacks, "New Zoo Revue" pops up frequently in velvet mornings after a long night on the town. Just this weekend I turned on the TV at 7 a.m. to find an oversize hippo, frog and owl cheerily sharing the screen alongside a human host with a disco lizard mustache, which led me to wonder: Do today's children actually watch this program?
I myself had never heard of this show until recently, but I cannot stop watching it when I come across it. Is it camp? Not quite, since the last time I watched the hostess was painfully struggling off-key to find the melody in the insipid ditty she was warbling. However, her horrendous rendition of an innocuous kiddie tune was offset by the eye-popping wardrobe both hosts were sporting. Oh my, the mile-wide collars, ugly plaids and oddly tapered trousers were mesmerizing in a fashion-wreck sort of way, but they weren't the worst sights to see in the wee hours. So maybe it is camp; after all, the similarly clad cast of CAN'T STOP THE MUSIC were the campiest camp of them all.
Other small pleasures could come from the random guest stars that sometimes join the cast. I swear that was Richard Dawson I saw in a chocolate brown suit alongside the above-mentioned proto-Barney creatures, and if that sight doesn't stir the drug-socked mind, I don't know what does.
Still, this program must seem as odd an entertainment choice to today's kids as "Pokémon" does to me. "New Zoo Revue" is endlessly watchable as a documentary of '70's conservative fashions, television production, and children's programming. And it's strangely fascinating how a television show can seem wholesome to a generation of kids that grew up to appreciate it ironically as adults who can now hone in on tenuous drug allusions throughout it (see also "Scooby-Doo").