This rant is courtesy of Philly EDGE movie correspondent Mike Sullivan. Enjoy.
-ED

One of my new favorite things to watch and re-watch (like some sort of chromosome damaged chimp) is the 1974 television special “Free to Be You and Me.” I simply can't get enough of this goofy little excursion into hippie era kitsch.
Based upon the Marlo Thomas record of the same name, “Free to Be You and Me” was an overly earnest attempt to teach kids that it's okay to cry or, if you're a boy, it's more than fine to carry a doll around.
That’s great in theory, but not every kid is going to care what Marlo Thomas has to say about hugging a Rainbow Bright doll in the schoolyard while receiving a flurry of punches from fellow classmates.
For the most part “Free to Be You and Me” does handle its subjects in a careful and even-handed manner, but every now and again it does slip up in a lovably awful way.
For example, during the "Parents are People" musical number there's a moment when Thomas and Harry Belafonte sing about the career choices a person can make when they're grown up. Unfortunately, at the end of this sequence Thomas and Belafonte are shown as Depression era hobos happily sleeping off a quart of Night Train on a park bench.
The Hell!?!
Was bum actually considered a valid career opportunity in the '70s?
In fact, I wonder if this wasn't part of a longer sequence intended to keep kids in school - starting with them as bums and end with footage of Thomas and Belafonte passed out on the floor of a Port Authority men’s room with syringes hanging out of their arms.
Of course there's more to “Free to Be You and Me” than disturbing speculation, there are loads of unintentional laughs courtesy of Rosie Grier.
Looking as if he swallowed a pound of ecstasy, this football legend graces us with an off-key rendition of "It's Alright to Cry.” As Grier croaks out sappy lyrics about feelings, he's seen holding a guitar, but makes no attempt to hide the fact that he has no idea how to play it. His right hand is so far away from the guitar it might as well be in the green room eating a sandwich.
Even though “Free to Be You and Me” is occasionally preachy and overbearing, you can't fault something that wants to view childhood as an exciting world where sweater-wearing tigers eat bratty children and potato-headed baby puppets spew tired Borscht Belt material as if it were yesterday's strained peas.