THE ATOMIC KID (1954)

A crowd mentality suggests a person will typically do things in a crowd—no matter how small—that they would not do alone. I probably should have watched this science fiction film with a friend or two due to my lack of laughter. I mustered a couple of chuckles, however, due to comedic visuals. The film has not aged well. It is an absurd twist on actual early Fifties atomic bomb testing in the Nevada desert with two lame brain uranium prospectors stumbling into ground zero—may be the only science fiction film of the era that is meant to be a comedy. The thirty-four-year-old “kid,” Mickey Rooney, and his seven-year older partner, Robert Strauss, have gotten lost in the desert searching for uranium. Rooney confesses to Strauss that he threw away the compass. It was broken. The needle only pointed in one direction—north. They cannot agree on the purpose of a 500-foot tower with a “cabin” on top. The duo comes off as a decade-long comedy team in their final film insult before calling it quits.

Seeking rest and food, they are encouraged by a lone house in the distance. The abandoned house with a mannequin family is there to give the researchers a vague idea of what an atomic explosion can do. Parked beside the abandoned model home is a current model Mercury with keys and a full tank of gas. Perhaps a military official's personal car he forgot about. Strauss, the questionable brains of the two, takes the car to get help, heading straight for a trench filled with military men. Having no clue why they are wildly waving their arms at him, he waves back. Under protest, he is dragged to the safety of the trench. Staying behind in his search for a peanut butter sandwich, Rooney miraculously survives the atomic blast in an enclosed pantry but emerges from the obliterated house seriously singed and with a (now) toasted sandwich. His voice is sped up electronically, giving him a cartoon delivery. The officials that arrive wonder if he is an alien. It may be the most funny scene in the film.

During Rooney's recovery, his real-life mid-point wife of eight, Elaine (Davis) Devry plays his attending nurse. He becomes a national phenomenon for the atom bomb survival. Mannequins should be so lucky. Absurdly, because of radioactivity exposure,  he can obliterate an entire room with one sneeze. Funny. While in Las Vegas, he simply walks by the slot machines and the coins pour out. His partner, in classic bug-eyed Strauss form, sets his sights on money-making deals and unwittingly teams up with a Communist spy. The kid's newfound fame could make him a fortune with a book and corporate endorsements. Naive Rooney is tracked by the FBI and unconsciously helps them crack the spy ring by accidentally falling from an upper-story window onto a spy. Oh, and Rooney periodically glows in the dark when his romantic impulses increase.

Devry develops a thing for the little guy and they get hitched. Tired of all the attention, the newlyweds take back roads across the Nevada desert and stop at an isolated house along the way for help and maybe a cold drink. But the mannequins inside are of no help. Panicked, they speed away from another atomic test site.

Note: This eighty-six-minute film was distributed by Republic Pictures and produced by Mickey Rooney Productions from a Blake Edwards story. The music score by Van Alexander puts the odd in periodic as it flits from a symphonic string quartet during a lighthearted moment to a driving march theme during Rooney's physical tests. The film includes many familiar faces in comedy films or television: Joey Forman, Peter Leeds, Hal March, Paul Dubov, and Stanley Adams. Not missing out on a single casting call is Whit Bissell.