In the plethora of adaptations and reimaginations of Charles Dickens' famous tale of a hapless orphan in the dingy underbelly of 19th century London, one version stands out as the most outrageous, absurd, and strangely delightful interpretation to ever disgrace the screen - Hal Sutherland's 1974 animated masterpiece, "Oliver Twist." It is the sparkling diamond in the rough, much like the eponymous young protagonist, whose bizarre, musical misadventures with singing pickpockets make for a rollicking journey into the wild world of 70's American cinema. What would Dickens think of his novel being subjected to the musical stylings of a former Monkee (not the animal, but the manufactured 1960s pop group)? Well, we may never know, but those of us who have had the pleasure (or perhaps, mild discomfort) of viewing this animated cornucopia of nonsense can assert, with no small degree of confidence, that they have borne witness to a unique cultural artifact that the universe of high art may never see the likes of again. As young Oliver Twist navigates his way through the treacherous maze of thieves and manipulators, he finds himself under the tutelage of the legendary Artful Dodger, played with such panache and enthusiasm by Davy Jones, that one might question who was the real star of the "Oliver!" Broadway show. With his arsenal of groovy song-and-dance numbers and a cockney accent that rivals the vocal stylings of the Queen's own corgis, Jones inhabits the Dodger with an audacity that single-handedly saves this film from simply being a boorish, uninspired rehash of a tale retold ad nauseum. Fear not, dear reader, for this gem of absurdity goes beyond the tepid waters of traditional animation with its palette of moldy greens and browns, reflecting the pungent aroma of 19th century London slums and seeping into the viewer's senses until they are transported to that very era. One cannot help but be reminded of the psychedelic stylings of the Woodstock crowd, as Oliver Twist trips through the streets, contemplating his newly found world of crime, mischief, and strangely rhythmic dancing. Alas, the true pièce de résistance comes in the form of a malodorous and grotesque Fagin, who presides over his gang of juvenile delinquents like an aging, be-wigged rock-and-roll star past his prime. Bearing all the charm of a slimy, algae-coated rock at the bottom of the Thames, this portrayal of Fagin is what may propel viewers to exclaim in disbelief, "Is it possible to love and hate something so passionately at the same time?" This 1974 animated adaptation goes above and beyond its duty to leave no voiceless animal un-anthropomorphized and unsung. The stalwart canine sidekick whimpers melodically, while a gaggle of streetwise pigeons observes the unfolding events with sassy commentary. Together, they push this adaptation over the precipice of quirky and into the abyss of the surreal. To call "Oliver Twist" a film merely borders on insult - nay, it is a treasure chest of flamboyant anomalies and uproarious musical blunders, a product of a bygone era when beloved literary gems could not escape the clutches of radical reimagining. It is a time capsule into the mind of those who sought to create something bold and brazen, and succeeded in creating - well, something. If only Dickens could see in what image his mournful tale of poverty was wrought - would he laugh, weep, or both?