One of those so clean, pressed and white adventures, outfitted with footage from sea world, and so rated G that you’ll believe you fell into a Saturday morning circa 1972, hell Ken Berry and Tony Randall headline. Do you need further proof of this thing’s abject innocuousness? How about the spicy rock quartet writing songs about swimming with goldfish and going “glub glub”. This stuff makes the Monkees look like an acid trip. It makes Help! seem like a Jean Luc Godard film.

Here’s the idea, Randall is a kind of oceanographer who’s sunk a rich magnate’s corporate funds into a model undersea home. The magnate is incensed in the way only the guy who used to be the millionaire on Gilligan’s Island could be, because that’s who it is. Randall agrees to move his family into the thing for a month to prove its value. Meanwhile the kiddos combo has a chance to be on Merv Griffin according to a massive wall computer run by Roddy McDowell and gorgeous Dr. Wells played by Lee Meredith. It spits out paper and says the song by the combo is 95% groovy.

And so, they travel on a tiny submersible to the little plastic saucer that looks like something straight from the Thunderbirds, towing the drum kit. The colors in this film are extra pastel. And while Richard Dreyfuss on bass is wholly unbelievable he’s so cute as a baby you forgive him.

We get dolphins tail-walking (long before Michael Jackson made it popular!) and a frisky sea lion who takes a shower. We get a scary shark attack, kinda, and a front-loaded fiasco from Ken Berry as he tries to mine the sea floor for gold and sadly fails. There’s a bit more, but you get the idea. It’s a kid-friendly wack-a-doodle hijinks ridden fantasy about living underwater. Living underwater being a beloved idea at the end of the sixties.

This will cost you four bucks on Prime. I have no solid idea why, though I don’t think there is a happier film anywhere.