A fascinating insight into the life and career of an unlikely star, Tiny Tim: King for a Day portrays an era of show business in which the biggest of stars can crash and burn without making a sound.
There was no one quite like Tiny Tim. Tall, with long curly hair, cheap suit, and looks that can only be described as Jeffrey Tambor meets Patti Smith, Tiny Tim nevertheless beat the odds to become one of the biggest pop sensations of the Swinging Sixties, with his ukulele strumming, falsetto singing renditions of “Tiptoe Through Tulips” and “Livin’ in the Sunlight, Lovin’ in the Moonlight” (to name a few). To say he was a genius is of some question, but a pioneer of sexual identity and freak-show laurels he most certainly was. The likes of Alice Cooper, David Bowie, and many others wouldn’t have got their breaks without Tiny Tim cracking through that conservative ceiling that was the ‘60s entertainment industry.
Tiny Tim: King for a Day, the latest documentary from Swedish director Johan von Sydow, successfully delves into the life of this most curious of oddities.
Like other music documentaries, Tiny Tim… has that mix of archive footage and interview heads that shed light on Tiny Tim, real name Herbert Butros Khaury. Yet von Sydow’s ace up his sleeve is Tiny Tim’s personal diaries, in which the musings, confessions, joys, and fears of a man deemed so out of step with society that he would join a freak show in which he was presented as “The Human Canary”, brings a humanity to this pop-culture curiosity. These diary entries are brought to life through striking black and white animation and the narration of beloved pop-star jokester Weird Al Yankovich.
That Tiny Tim would go on to become the megastar he became is indeed a miracle, a by-product of right place, right time, in which a nation at war in Vietnam and at home through an era of Civil Rights unrest, needed a distraction to latch onto. Tim’s frequent appearances on the Johnny Carson show resulted in 40-50 million people tuning in to watch his marriage to Tiny Maria, an event that led Tiny Tim to the top of the mountain, only to fall from it until his tragic death on stage in 1986.
Von Sydow places a spotlight on a now by-gone-era of show business, pre-internet and in the grip of nefarious figures linked to the mob, in which Tiny Tim was worked to the ground for little money and even less gain, save for the slightest of hopes to “make it” to the top again.
Tiny Tim was indeed addicted to applause, even from the smallest of audience, such the result of a man abandoned by his family, discarded by this supposed showbiz friends, and left with the realisation that he blew not only his chance at success, but of acceptance.
Heavy indeed lies the crown when you are king for a day.
