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A masterpiece of cult cinematography, Rubin and Ed is the story of two Republicans, a frozen cat, platform shoes, the desert, love, hatred, jealousy, and Andy Warhol. Under ordinary circumstances, the rest of this review would be completely unnecessary after having mentioned such elements as I have, for no reasonable person could deny the genius of any movie involving two republicans, bellbottoms, a water-skiing cat, a pyramid scheme, Rachmaninoff and a squeak-mouse. Unfortunately for you, however, the movie is well nigh impossible to find, and unfortunately for me, that means that I have to write more in order to inspire you to achieve the near impossible and obtain (by love or by money) a copy of the movie.

The premise of the story is rather simple: Rubin, clad in bell bottoms and platform shoes, spends all his time in his room in his mother’s apartment complex listening to Rachmaninoff and squeaking his deceased cat’s mouse-shaped toy, presumably in some sort of mourning ceremony. Ed regularly attends real-estate-selling-personality-cult-pyramid-scheme meetings. Rubin’s mother insists that he make a friend, and bring that friend to dinner. Ed’s Organization insists that he bring a new recruit to his meeting. I can’t elaborate further, lest I reveal crucial details and spoil the suspense, but suffice to say that they end up neither at dinner with Rubin’s mother, nor the Organization meeting, but in the cave of the Echo People in the middle of the Mojave Desert.

Anyhow, it’s an excellent movie, with great depth and subtlety in its superficial physical comedy. Though I haven’t had the opportunity to see any of the few other movies by Trent Harris, the man who wrote and directed Rubin and Ed (and was apparently ejected from Hollywood as a result), I will be sure to write about them as well if I get the opportunity. They have such promising titles as Plan 10 from Outer Space and Beaver Trilogy, so if you find them, I heartily recommend them as well, if only by merit of name.