Even in the world of hopeless, puerile nostalgia for all things ’80s (in which I’m about to take part), nowhere is this piece of crudely-drawn Hanna Barbera magic ever mentioned. I remember my dad grudgingly taking me to see it when I was about five or six at the now-hollowed-out Route 3 cinemas in Chelmsford, MA. From the size of the audience and the look of distress on my dad’s face, I had assumed at the time that it wasn’t the most regaled of the bumper crop of animated (hand-drawn, so antiquated!) films of the era. I remember the Jule Styne score (its songs sounded like warmed-over HELLO DOLLY rejects), the truly bizarre Night on Bald Mountain-inspired nightmare sequence (which to this day I wouldn’t believe actually happened if not for the Chernobog-esque mountain man at the top of this dazzling poster), the adorable non-talking goat sidekick. and of course, the evil, slimy Sammy Davis Jr. voiced rat (get it?) Heidi encounters when locked in the grubby basement of her wicked aunt’s mansion. Regardless of the shitty reviews it received, Heidi’s Song was a nearly seminal film for me for some reasons: it was one of the few non-Disney animated films I was taken to (along with TRANSFORMERS THE MOVIE some years later, whose Orson Welles voice-over work even outdid Lorne Greene’s stellar effort here), and because it was a film that only my father accompanied me to, my mom probably too busy with grocery shopping or a League of Women Voters meeting. Never have I met anyone else who has seen it andnever have I seen a video copy of this, nor a DVD version, so the film simply exists in vague outline in my memory, almost as if it never quite happened at all. In this sense, the film does indeed stand alone.