I used to sneer at light entertainment, thinking “harmless” was an adjective one should only use in the pejorative.  Live long enough, and the harsh realities of the world tend to make one have a greater appreciation of fare one might describe in that way.

1966’s The Ghost and Mr. Chicken is the textbook example of such a film.  This was the first time Don Knotts would headline a feature film.  I’ve never been a fan of his, nor have I not been a fan—I just simply never thought about it, and didn’t think to seek out his films.  Really, the most I know about him is his popularity from The Andy Griffith Show, and how he is the biggest screen crush of John Waters.

Knotts plays a newspaper typesetter and aspiring reporter for the town rag of Rachel, Kansas.  It appears to be a thriving enterprise, with at least two other, fully-fledged reporters.  That may stretch credulity with those born after a certain time, yet I can confirm even completely unremarkable towns like this one almost always had a newspaper as a going concern in mid-century America.  Today, some might think a newspaper doing this well is a sly joke.

Typical of many small towns such as this, there is also a local “murder house”, a creepy location that generations of kids dare each other to go up to.  Usually, the mayhem reputed to happen in such a place is a myth.  This time, however, it is real, and the 20 year anniversary of that murder is fast approaching.  And so, the opportunity for Knott’s big break as a writer arises from a dare he spend the night in that house on that anniversary.

By doing so, he may finally get some respect from reporter Skip Homeier and editor Dick Sargent.  Even better, might this get him some positive attention from Joan Staley, Homeier’s squeeze whom he has a crush on?

At the very least, he could stop being a running gag in the community.  The film opens with him running to the police to report a man had just been murdered, when the allegedly deceased walks right in.  This appears to be one in a long series of mishaps.

What most surprised me about this film is I expected the majority of the runtime to be devoted to that night in the allegedly haunted mansion.  Instead, we get only the reveal of a hidden passageway, an organ that plays itself and a portrait of the murdered woman which bleeds from a cut in the canvas at her neck.  Then Knotts passes out, which seems to me the ideal way to complete the challenge. And why does “an organ that plays itself” sound like a euphemism to me?

Even more bizarre is the turn the third act takes, where Philip Ober, as the owner of the house, sues Knotts and the paper for libel.  That court case takes up most of the remainder of the film, which seems baffling to me, as I don’t understand how there is a case to begin with.  You see, Ober has publicly expressed for a long time his desire to have the house torn down, so I fail to see how anything Knotts says about the house changes that plan.

But the court case, and every other plot development, takes place in a sitcom universe, as this is basically the big-screen version of one.  Just look at how many of the cast are primarily known for their TV work, including Knotts, Sargent, Reta Shaw and Ellen Corby.  You even have a brief appearance by the perpetually nervous James Millhollin, which is like getting two Knotts for the price of one.

The material and the character are perfect for our lead.  I’m guessing he stayed so thin largely because of all the energy he has.  I often felt nervous just watching him.  In one scene, he turns his head in the opposite direction so fast that it actually changed position between frames.  If he wasn’t already drinking coffee, then I’m scared to see what would have happened if he did.

But the most important element of the movie is whether or not it succeeds at being funny.  Naturally, the results will vary for each viewer.  I know I laughed out loud a couple of times, for some reason most memorably when he says of the invitation to spend the night in the murder house: “I’ve just got to…check my bowling schedule.”  There’s a recurring gag I laughed at each time, which is the old woman who is very insistent the bloody fingerprints on the mansion’s organ keys could be removed, “If they’d only use Bon Ami.”  Other than that, I chuckled a few times, and smiled a lot.  It wasn’t as funny as it thinks it is, but it is a likable enough picture.  It is, God forbid, nice.

There’s even a very brief moment that doesn’t call attention to itself, but which I swear was a statement of solidarity for the civil rights movement. In a diner scene, not only are there a couple of Black employees but, more importantly, there is a Black man eating at the counter, right alongside white people. That may not seem important now, but I bet that ruffled the feathers of some people in the South.

I knew I was absorbed in The Ghost and Mr. Chicken the moment I screamed at the television, “For God’s sake, just sleep on top of the sleeping bag!”  It is essentially a sitcom refitted for the big screen, complete with a theme song that recalls that of The Munsters.  But what still nags me long after it ended is a bit were Knotts is startled by a black cat crossing his path (something I take as good luck, incidentally).  This planted a thought in my head I cannot shake, that being: does it mean anything when one crosses the path behind you?

Dir: Alan Rafkin

Starring Don Knotts, Joan Staley, Dick Sargent