ANNETTE, FRANKIE HANG 20 IN ‘BEACH’

“Back to the Beach” (citywide) imagines that the Annette Funicello and Frankie Avalon of all those “Beach Party” movies of the early ‘60s got married and settled down in Ohio, where Frankie has become a workaholic-champion car salesman and Annette a model housewife and mother.

What gets them back to Malibu after more than 20 years is a visit to their daughter, Sandi (Lori Loughlin); what’s surprising is that “Back to the Beach” is a deft, funny movie. It’s nostalgic without being embarrassing, and knowing without being either cruel or cynical.

You do have to wonder who will go to see this film, as smartly made as it is, but it may just be that there will be a place for Annette and Frankie in the AIDS era of sexual conservatism.

As in the American International Pictures originals, the story is so slight that it could have been scribbled in the sand, in danger of being washed away with the next wave.

Frankie and Annette’s unexpected arrival provokes two predictably momentary crises: First, it puts a damper on the live-in relationship Sandi has with her surfer boyfriend (Tommy Hinkley); second, the durably sexy presence of Annette’s old rival, Connie (Connie Stevens), now the proprietor of a landmark beach hangout, threatens Frankie and Annette’s 22 years of marital bliss.

There are plenty of vintage beach-party shenanigans, a number of songs (there really could have been more) and lots of cameo appearances--for example, Bob Denver and Alan Hale from “Gilligan’s Island.”

“Back to the Beach” sounds like a breeze and it is, but it reflects considerable care and imagination on the part of debuting director Lyndall Hobbs, a young Australian, and writers Peter Krikes, Steve Meerson and Christopher Thompson, working from a story by old pros James Komack and B. W. L. Norton.

Certain popular entertainers pay the price of defining their eras by never really transcending them, and this surely would seem the case with Annette and Frankie, who in a real sense represent a final pre-Vietnam era of innocence. Obviously, it would be easy to make fun of them, but they show they can make fun of themselves yet avoid self-parody and the loss of dignity.

“Didn’t I teach you anything?” Annette asks of her daughter, whom she’s trying to help get back her boyfriend. “Well, you did teach me how to make my hair real stiff,” Sandi says.

Stevens provides plenty of wit, and the younger members of the cast make good impressions, especially newcomer Hinkley, a big, amiable fellow. Demian Slade is Loughlin’s smart-alecky kid brother, and John Calvin is the beach narcissist, who makes a play for Annette.

Brightly photographed by Bruce Surtees, “Back to the Beach” (rated PG but definitely family entertainment) is the kind of film in which costume and production design are absolutely crucial, and Marlene Stewart and Michael Helmy, respectively, have come through triumphantly: Their contributions are in themselves a commentary on early-’60s styles and values, as amusing and lighthearted as the film itself.