Those making this piece of propaganda should be embarrassed. It looks and sounds like it was produced by the Chamber of Commerce. Catholic Spain = good!!!! England and France = Bad! Simple minded, cartoonish view of history. That PBS aired this is a disgrace.
Reviews
40 Reviews
And Just Where Did They Think Transylvania Was?
9 March 2011
Warning: Spoilers
Well, about "The Devil is Not Mocked." My 15 year-old self (my age when the episode premiered and I first saw it) would probably have given this segment 9 out 10 stars. And it still sends a few chills down my spine. But much of that initial thrill has dampened through the years. Yes, Helmut Dantine is still a pleasure to watch, albeit he is there but briefly. And the collision of evil with evil is a wonderful idea. But two things irritate. First, the premise: that the count and his cohorts were a "patriotic" resistance group. Transylvania was (is?) a region populated overwhelmingly by Magyars. And, of course, the Magyars of Hungary were enthusiastic *allies* of the Nazis. Not the least because one of Hitler's rewards for Hungary's joining him was the return of Transylvania from Romanian control--Romania's control being considered an act of theft by most Transylvanians following the First World War. (Oh, and, by the way, Romania was also a Nazi ally, so however you look at it, the Count was a "traitor," not a "patriot.") Second, is the use of Dracula (another figure of Magyar/Hungarian heroic lore). He comes off pretty close to looking like Count Chocula, here. And aren't silver bullets for werewolves, not vampires? Still an enjoyable 20 minutes or so, even today.
Night Gallery: Room with a View/The Little Black Bag/The Nature of the Enemy
(1970)
Chill Wills at his Best
Season 1, Episode 2
15 May 2009
Warning: Spoilers
I know that Chill Wills usually played lovable old sorts in Westerns. But his role in this segment is something I've remembered for a long time. Wills could be a first rate villain. Yes, Burgess Meredith's Fall was correct! That look in Hepplewhite's eye! It expressed porcine greed, ignorance, and the threat of violence all at once. Quite a performance, I think.
The segment itself was a good one, too. Question: couldn't the little black bag cure alcoholism? I guess it did, sort of, with Fall. But the doctor would have been wise to apply the cure, if he had it, as quickly as possible to Hepplewhite.
There is one moment that was annoying but also necessary. And it is something that appears to recur in these Night Gallery segments. It's Serling's constant need to sermonize. For that's what we got, one more time, with Dr. Fall. I don't know what was more frustrating, losing the black bag and all its miracles or not being to stop Fall from preaching about the bag's benefit for humanity, all while rubbing Hepplewhite's greedy face in the mud, and, therefore, all but begging for Hepplewhite to strike out at him. But as I say, it was necessary. At least it was for me. Otherwise, we wouldn't have been able to see Wills' performance discussed above. All done without moving a muscle or speaking a word.
The segment itself was a good one, too. Question: couldn't the little black bag cure alcoholism? I guess it did, sort of, with Fall. But the doctor would have been wise to apply the cure, if he had it, as quickly as possible to Hepplewhite.
There is one moment that was annoying but also necessary. And it is something that appears to recur in these Night Gallery segments. It's Serling's constant need to sermonize. For that's what we got, one more time, with Dr. Fall. I don't know what was more frustrating, losing the black bag and all its miracles or not being to stop Fall from preaching about the bag's benefit for humanity, all while rubbing Hepplewhite's greedy face in the mud, and, therefore, all but begging for Hepplewhite to strike out at him. But as I say, it was necessary. At least it was for me. Otherwise, we wouldn't have been able to see Wills' performance discussed above. All done without moving a muscle or speaking a word.
Character Sketch
15 May 2009
Warning: Spoilers
A brief character sketch, "The Housekeeper" spotlights Larry Hagman playing against type. Remember, back when this first aired, Hagman was universally identified with the wacky, bumbling Maj. Anthony Nelson on I Dream of Jeannie. Thus I guess you could say Night Gallery was somewhat prescient in presenting Hagman's Cedric as a sort of greedy, lustful, evil wizard, foreshadowing the conniving J.R. of Dallas.
Other notable touches in the segment: 1) presenting Miss Wattle against a tulip patterned stained glass background, at once emphasizing her as a hag and maybe someone more vain than appearances would let on. 2) Cedric's lab, which had all the successful earmarks of a Hammer horror lab suitable even for Frankenstein. 3) Carlotta being cornered by her full length three dimensional mirrors, before being switched into the hag's body, where, presumably she immediately and suddenly would see her new self in the mirror.
Other notable touches in the segment: 1) presenting Miss Wattle against a tulip patterned stained glass background, at once emphasizing her as a hag and maybe someone more vain than appearances would let on. 2) Cedric's lab, which had all the successful earmarks of a Hammer horror lab suitable even for Frankenstein. 3) Carlotta being cornered by her full length three dimensional mirrors, before being switched into the hag's body, where, presumably she immediately and suddenly would see her new self in the mirror.
Decay of the Body and the Soul
15 May 2009
Warning: Spoilers
I was transfixed by this segment. I simply couldn't take my eyes off it. Yes, the ending is obvious (although this might not be so much NG's fault as this story has been reworked and re-envisioned what must be at least a dozen times or more since NG on all those other syndicated horror anthologies). But the construction and portrayal was so tight and effective that it worked.
All the characters were crazed. From Carl Betz' sardonic Max to Louise Sorel's Velia Redford, who eventually looked like a 1960s version of the Bride of Frankenstein, each one was mad as a hatter--and morally empty. Even the supposedly "sane" Miles Talmadge looked the part of a crazed fanatic. His face hidden behind coke bottle sized eyeglass lenses, bushy brows that would create envy in a Neanderthal, and a frizzed out hairdo that probably inspired Dr. J, Miles quickly succumbed to investigating the failure of the experiment, rather than locking up the madman responsible for it.
In a deft little touch that seems to symbolize Miles' descent into the darkside, there is a drastic shift in photography when Talmadge essentially joins in with Max. Whereas the story had been photographed rather straightforwardly, albeit in numerous close-ups, when Miles files out, after the attempt to revive Fearing has failed, and settles on the staircase next to Velia the photography suddenly becomes Expressionistic. Deep shadows fall across characters and their situations. The close-ups are replaced by extreme low and high angle shots--more low than high, however. And the entire set begins to seem like something designed by Dr. Caligari.
This is all very effective. Yet I hesitate to call the segment "good". Why? Maybe it's because there is no catharsis for the viewer with this tale. Instead, I'm left feeling "disturbed" and "uneasy". I can still, long after the actual viewing, "feel" the weight of the segment. The interior of the Queen Anne/Eastlake style house was stifling. Its Edwardian decor, with the heavy curtains and drapes, the massive wooden beams, made for such a close feeling that I thought I would have trouble breathing. And then there was the "research room", where modern medical equipment seemed to be jammed into what was an already impossibly small room better suited for antiques, which just highlighted the ill fitting nature of it all.
In the end, I was drawn to this thing, although I'm not really sure why. Everything about it projected a sense of revulsion, decay, and disorder. I doubt I've ever seen a locale on television that I wanted to avoid more than this one.
All the characters were crazed. From Carl Betz' sardonic Max to Louise Sorel's Velia Redford, who eventually looked like a 1960s version of the Bride of Frankenstein, each one was mad as a hatter--and morally empty. Even the supposedly "sane" Miles Talmadge looked the part of a crazed fanatic. His face hidden behind coke bottle sized eyeglass lenses, bushy brows that would create envy in a Neanderthal, and a frizzed out hairdo that probably inspired Dr. J, Miles quickly succumbed to investigating the failure of the experiment, rather than locking up the madman responsible for it.
In a deft little touch that seems to symbolize Miles' descent into the darkside, there is a drastic shift in photography when Talmadge essentially joins in with Max. Whereas the story had been photographed rather straightforwardly, albeit in numerous close-ups, when Miles files out, after the attempt to revive Fearing has failed, and settles on the staircase next to Velia the photography suddenly becomes Expressionistic. Deep shadows fall across characters and their situations. The close-ups are replaced by extreme low and high angle shots--more low than high, however. And the entire set begins to seem like something designed by Dr. Caligari.
This is all very effective. Yet I hesitate to call the segment "good". Why? Maybe it's because there is no catharsis for the viewer with this tale. Instead, I'm left feeling "disturbed" and "uneasy". I can still, long after the actual viewing, "feel" the weight of the segment. The interior of the Queen Anne/Eastlake style house was stifling. Its Edwardian decor, with the heavy curtains and drapes, the massive wooden beams, made for such a close feeling that I thought I would have trouble breathing. And then there was the "research room", where modern medical equipment seemed to be jammed into what was an already impossibly small room better suited for antiques, which just highlighted the ill fitting nature of it all.
In the end, I was drawn to this thing, although I'm not really sure why. Everything about it projected a sense of revulsion, decay, and disorder. I doubt I've ever seen a locale on television that I wanted to avoid more than this one.
Premise Has Promise But Prematurely Putters Out
3 April 2009
Warning: Spoilers
The first segment is better than the other two.
First, "The Cemetery". Rather than Southern Gothic horror, I find it more likely influenced by Hawthorne's House of Seven Gables. Where? Clearly, in the portrayal of generational guilt, culminating in the execrable Jeremy. For Jeremy seems the logical, if final, result of a family line dedicated to dishonesty and amorality. Uncle William (Hendricks) is himself a death obsessed picture of decay who has infected everyone and everything around him, including--in one of those wonderful Serlingesque Twilight Zone type twists--the seemingly loyal manservant, Portifoy. Poor put upon Portifoy turns out to be corrupt, avaricious, and greedy to the point of driving the foul Jeremy to insanity and death.
The art and set direction contribute mightily to the oppressive sense of doom in this segment. The color scheme in particular drives home the theme of impending demise and finality. Filled with cold bronzes (not gold, not amber but bronze), every shot of the molding, the staircase, the curtains, sheets, wallpaper, and even the cold bronze statues situated throughout more than hint at the vehicle of death, the bronze casket itself. Even the flesh tones of Jeremy and Portifoy melt into these bronzes. Only the ashen Hendricks stands out.
Yet Hendricks also projects the other apparent dominant color scheme, the ashen grey white which fills the space between the bronzes and reflects the outer color of the house per se. It's tomb like. Yes, the cast of characters are living in a virtual casket, surrounded by a gloomy mausoleum.
Thus the end of "The Cemetery" is not really a surprise. And Jeremy and Hendricks never really leave their graves. They've been residing in them all along, as has Portifoy. Woe be it to the next tenant of that house.
The segment, "Eyes", has always been one of my most disfavored ones. I don't know if it's the cast: I dislike Lady Joan, Tom Bosley, AND Barry Sullivan. I don't know if it's the oafish morality tale, typical of Serling sometimes but all coated in a sugary sort of irony that would be so typical of Spielberg as he developed. Or it might have been the static setting.
That said, there is one scene that does have merit. The one in the lawyer's office, where Resnick signs up to donate his eyes. In what would be a throw away moment, otherwise, Heatherton offers Resnick a drink. It's a drink from an ornate tumbler, just the sort of cold, useless bauble that Claudia Menlo would find so appealing. Resnick doesn't even notice it. Instead, he reminisces about what he has seen, a fight, a baseball game, the real things of his life, where image merges with sound, smell, and taste. Whatever Resnick's failings, he is still a whole person, a complete human being.
Not so our Mrs. Menlo. She has compartmentalized every facet of her existence in her quite literally golden gilded cage. She is surrounded by art objects, all just as cold as the frozen blue dress we first see her in as well as in iceberg-like blue eyes.
Other flaws: Of course, the first thing any viewer would want to know is why someone who had never had sight a day in her life would have a surgery whose grant of sight over such a brief time would STILL leave here without seeing a day in her life. For some odd reason, Mrs. Menlo chose to time the operation so she only had the nighttime. Well, probably not such an "odd" reason, as the story wouldn't have worked without the night setting, and the great New York City blackout of 1965 was also fresh in viewers' minds. Oh, and just another thought: a lonely woman, living alone in her own apartment building. Wouldn't she have her own emergency generators, especially as that NYC blackout of 65 was indeed so fresh in the memory?
"The Escape Route", the last segment, contains a couple of desperate performances, alas. Others will disagree, but that is all I could think about as I watched it. And it was especially true when Strobe gave his "confession" to Gretchen through the shared wall of their apartments. What could have, and should have, been played with subtlety, perhaps pensiveness, quiescence, and moral confusion, was instead given over to Gretchen's cackle and the Sermon From a Whore. It just didn't work.
Next, there is the issue of the sympathy we feel for Strobe. Intended or not (No doubt "not") the degree of sympathy for him is enormous, simply because the rest of the cast was filled with such sanctimony, including that self-satisfied smirk on Serling's face as he walked away at the end. Too, what felt sooo out of place, at least today, was all the 1960s psychologizing about guilt and justice, which was the segment's essential theme. It's a misreading of human nature, IMHO. One thing we've had plenty of opportunity to observe since this segment was made is that mass murderers and genocidal maniacs do NOT feel guilt. Quite the opposite, they usually feel that they're doing God's work.
One last remark. Sam Jaffe playing the quintessential Jew was a disaster. Isn't it a wee discordant to have a crucifixion symbolize Jewish suffering? Not to mention making a referral to Jesus the last word uttered by the strangled Blüm. It just seemed wrong. All this in addition to Blüm's character being more creepy than Strobe!
First, "The Cemetery". Rather than Southern Gothic horror, I find it more likely influenced by Hawthorne's House of Seven Gables. Where? Clearly, in the portrayal of generational guilt, culminating in the execrable Jeremy. For Jeremy seems the logical, if final, result of a family line dedicated to dishonesty and amorality. Uncle William (Hendricks) is himself a death obsessed picture of decay who has infected everyone and everything around him, including--in one of those wonderful Serlingesque Twilight Zone type twists--the seemingly loyal manservant, Portifoy. Poor put upon Portifoy turns out to be corrupt, avaricious, and greedy to the point of driving the foul Jeremy to insanity and death.
The art and set direction contribute mightily to the oppressive sense of doom in this segment. The color scheme in particular drives home the theme of impending demise and finality. Filled with cold bronzes (not gold, not amber but bronze), every shot of the molding, the staircase, the curtains, sheets, wallpaper, and even the cold bronze statues situated throughout more than hint at the vehicle of death, the bronze casket itself. Even the flesh tones of Jeremy and Portifoy melt into these bronzes. Only the ashen Hendricks stands out.
Yet Hendricks also projects the other apparent dominant color scheme, the ashen grey white which fills the space between the bronzes and reflects the outer color of the house per se. It's tomb like. Yes, the cast of characters are living in a virtual casket, surrounded by a gloomy mausoleum.
Thus the end of "The Cemetery" is not really a surprise. And Jeremy and Hendricks never really leave their graves. They've been residing in them all along, as has Portifoy. Woe be it to the next tenant of that house.
The segment, "Eyes", has always been one of my most disfavored ones. I don't know if it's the cast: I dislike Lady Joan, Tom Bosley, AND Barry Sullivan. I don't know if it's the oafish morality tale, typical of Serling sometimes but all coated in a sugary sort of irony that would be so typical of Spielberg as he developed. Or it might have been the static setting.
That said, there is one scene that does have merit. The one in the lawyer's office, where Resnick signs up to donate his eyes. In what would be a throw away moment, otherwise, Heatherton offers Resnick a drink. It's a drink from an ornate tumbler, just the sort of cold, useless bauble that Claudia Menlo would find so appealing. Resnick doesn't even notice it. Instead, he reminisces about what he has seen, a fight, a baseball game, the real things of his life, where image merges with sound, smell, and taste. Whatever Resnick's failings, he is still a whole person, a complete human being.
Not so our Mrs. Menlo. She has compartmentalized every facet of her existence in her quite literally golden gilded cage. She is surrounded by art objects, all just as cold as the frozen blue dress we first see her in as well as in iceberg-like blue eyes.
Other flaws: Of course, the first thing any viewer would want to know is why someone who had never had sight a day in her life would have a surgery whose grant of sight over such a brief time would STILL leave here without seeing a day in her life. For some odd reason, Mrs. Menlo chose to time the operation so she only had the nighttime. Well, probably not such an "odd" reason, as the story wouldn't have worked without the night setting, and the great New York City blackout of 1965 was also fresh in viewers' minds. Oh, and just another thought: a lonely woman, living alone in her own apartment building. Wouldn't she have her own emergency generators, especially as that NYC blackout of 65 was indeed so fresh in the memory?
"The Escape Route", the last segment, contains a couple of desperate performances, alas. Others will disagree, but that is all I could think about as I watched it. And it was especially true when Strobe gave his "confession" to Gretchen through the shared wall of their apartments. What could have, and should have, been played with subtlety, perhaps pensiveness, quiescence, and moral confusion, was instead given over to Gretchen's cackle and the Sermon From a Whore. It just didn't work.
Next, there is the issue of the sympathy we feel for Strobe. Intended or not (No doubt "not") the degree of sympathy for him is enormous, simply because the rest of the cast was filled with such sanctimony, including that self-satisfied smirk on Serling's face as he walked away at the end. Too, what felt sooo out of place, at least today, was all the 1960s psychologizing about guilt and justice, which was the segment's essential theme. It's a misreading of human nature, IMHO. One thing we've had plenty of opportunity to observe since this segment was made is that mass murderers and genocidal maniacs do NOT feel guilt. Quite the opposite, they usually feel that they're doing God's work.
One last remark. Sam Jaffe playing the quintessential Jew was a disaster. Isn't it a wee discordant to have a crucifixion symbolize Jewish suffering? Not to mention making a referral to Jesus the last word uttered by the strangled Blüm. It just seemed wrong. All this in addition to Blüm's character being more creepy than Strobe!
Race with the Devil
(1975)
Road Movie in an RV
16 February 2009
Warning: Spoilers
Two-Lane Blacktop. Dirty Mary and Crazy Larry. Vanishing Point. And Race with the Devil??? Yep. Peter Fonda and Warren Oates are back in a road movie, plowing down the highway in an RV. But with a twist, a Satan worshiping twist of infinite proportions.
In fact, watching this movie, you might think that virtually all of rural Texas is inhabited by Satan worshipers performing ritual human sacrifices. All just waiting for the first innocent dirt bike racers they can get their hands on. As outlandish as it sounds, it works. It works real well.
And it's not just the two icons of the road movie, Fonda and Oates, who make the film such a classic. It's also the presence of Lara Parker, fresh off Dark Shadows, whose iconic presence in that other genre, horror, makes for the perfect melding of the two subjects. Oh, yea. There's also Loretta Swit. Nothing is perfect. But Race with the Devil makes up for Swit with the inclusion of the magnificently sinister R.G. Armstrong as the small town Texas sheriff on a mission.
So why does this movie work so well? My thinking is that it carries off two seemingly mutually exclusive settings from the two entirely different genres. First, there is the freedom and anarchy of the road, the wild times, excitement and open-ended adventure promised in every Road Movie, whose conclusion stretches as far as the road will take you. Second, there is the claustrophobia and sense of being trapped common to the horror film--all made possible by the tight confines of the haunted house on wheels, the giant RV. Snakes pop out of cabinets. Witches and warlocks break through windows. Tiny dogs end up on a noose. All while toothless sons of Satan look on, snicker, plot, and scheme the deaths of the two couples.
Finally, there is the concluding scene. How many road movies end in a cataclysm, a fiery crash, complete devastation? (Oh, I forgot. Dirty Mary and Crazy Larry and Vanishing Point both do. Never mind.) And how many horror films lead you to a moment of release, of freedom from terror, only to toss you back into the pit of fear as The Horror reaches out to drag you once more back into the abyss? (Yea, sure, just about all of them since Romero's Night of the Living Dead. Again, never mind.) In Race with the Devil, you get both. Cataclysm and damnation, as flames surround the battered RV, while the couples drink to their escape, and the satanists march up to the isolated RV and its occupants, all of whom are about to be made into a massive sacrifice to Darkness.
Good stuff.
In fact, watching this movie, you might think that virtually all of rural Texas is inhabited by Satan worshipers performing ritual human sacrifices. All just waiting for the first innocent dirt bike racers they can get their hands on. As outlandish as it sounds, it works. It works real well.
And it's not just the two icons of the road movie, Fonda and Oates, who make the film such a classic. It's also the presence of Lara Parker, fresh off Dark Shadows, whose iconic presence in that other genre, horror, makes for the perfect melding of the two subjects. Oh, yea. There's also Loretta Swit. Nothing is perfect. But Race with the Devil makes up for Swit with the inclusion of the magnificently sinister R.G. Armstrong as the small town Texas sheriff on a mission.
So why does this movie work so well? My thinking is that it carries off two seemingly mutually exclusive settings from the two entirely different genres. First, there is the freedom and anarchy of the road, the wild times, excitement and open-ended adventure promised in every Road Movie, whose conclusion stretches as far as the road will take you. Second, there is the claustrophobia and sense of being trapped common to the horror film--all made possible by the tight confines of the haunted house on wheels, the giant RV. Snakes pop out of cabinets. Witches and warlocks break through windows. Tiny dogs end up on a noose. All while toothless sons of Satan look on, snicker, plot, and scheme the deaths of the two couples.
Finally, there is the concluding scene. How many road movies end in a cataclysm, a fiery crash, complete devastation? (Oh, I forgot. Dirty Mary and Crazy Larry and Vanishing Point both do. Never mind.) And how many horror films lead you to a moment of release, of freedom from terror, only to toss you back into the pit of fear as The Horror reaches out to drag you once more back into the abyss? (Yea, sure, just about all of them since Romero's Night of the Living Dead. Again, never mind.) In Race with the Devil, you get both. Cataclysm and damnation, as flames surround the battered RV, while the couples drink to their escape, and the satanists march up to the isolated RV and its occupants, all of whom are about to be made into a massive sacrifice to Darkness.
Good stuff.
Leverage
(2008–2012)
Good Morning Mr. Phelps, er, uh, I mean, Mr. Ford
12 December 2008
(After viewing this series for a couple of seasons, now, I've changed my mind. It's an entertaining hour, with a dynamic ensemble who have developed quite an interesting history of character evolvement. Nevertheless, I'll keep my original review from December 12, 2008 intact below.)
Let's see, an avuncular mission leader who counts among his team, a black techno-geek, a beautiful and glamorous femme fatale, a "muscle man" and a master of disguises/magician? Oops, that's Mission: Impossible. How about an avuncular mission leader who counts among his team a gaffe prone techno-geek, an exotic and deadly beauty, and a wise-cracking tough guy? Nope. That's NCIS. Just one more time, then! How about an avuncular leader who counts among his charges a youngish, sort of awkward geekish professional and two other professionals, a man and woman, unafraid of danger, who are constantly challenging the law, while bickering and making wise cracks towards one another. Oh, heck, no, that's JAG. Well, what if we keep all the above and insert an acrobatic wise-cracking girl thief? Yep. That's it. Leverage.
Actually, the series seems OK enough. Not great fare, and not in the same league as NCIS or JAG, for sure. But it's still worth an hour's time on a Tuesday night. Gina Bellman does a nice job and so does Timothy Hutton. The girl playing the blond Parker, however, really seems to be straining at the effort. The Hardison character, on the other hand, works quite well. And Christian Kane's Spencer looks like he could develop into an interesting enough character.
Production values are lacking. (That scene in the second episode of Bellman and Hutton masquerading as the tourist couple in the dockyards was *painful* to watch.) In the league of cable dramas/adventures, Leverage doesn't look like it will be able to match either Monk or Psych, for example.
Let's see, an avuncular mission leader who counts among his team, a black techno-geek, a beautiful and glamorous femme fatale, a "muscle man" and a master of disguises/magician? Oops, that's Mission: Impossible. How about an avuncular mission leader who counts among his team a gaffe prone techno-geek, an exotic and deadly beauty, and a wise-cracking tough guy? Nope. That's NCIS. Just one more time, then! How about an avuncular leader who counts among his charges a youngish, sort of awkward geekish professional and two other professionals, a man and woman, unafraid of danger, who are constantly challenging the law, while bickering and making wise cracks towards one another. Oh, heck, no, that's JAG. Well, what if we keep all the above and insert an acrobatic wise-cracking girl thief? Yep. That's it. Leverage.
Actually, the series seems OK enough. Not great fare, and not in the same league as NCIS or JAG, for sure. But it's still worth an hour's time on a Tuesday night. Gina Bellman does a nice job and so does Timothy Hutton. The girl playing the blond Parker, however, really seems to be straining at the effort. The Hardison character, on the other hand, works quite well. And Christian Kane's Spencer looks like he could develop into an interesting enough character.
Production values are lacking. (That scene in the second episode of Bellman and Hutton masquerading as the tourist couple in the dockyards was *painful* to watch.) In the league of cable dramas/adventures, Leverage doesn't look like it will be able to match either Monk or Psych, for example.
Bret Maverick
(1981–1982)
What would you get if you imported the cast and scripts of the Rockford Files into Maverick's Old West?
1 November 2008
Warning: Spoilers
What would you get if you imported the cast and scripts from the Rockford Files into Maverick's Old West? Answer: Bret Maverick, a fairly good Western that occasionally misses a beat here and there. The latter circumstance occurs, alas, in an episode such as "Faith, Hope and Clarity," which not only recycles a Rockford script but imports some of the same guest stars as well. But that's alright, because the series has Garner, who always generates enjoyable performances, especially when he brings along his usual co-stars, such as Stuart Margolin. (Aside: What is it about the Western that it brings to the fore actors such as Garner, Tom Selleck, and Sam Elliott, all of whom at least from a distance appear to be steady, decent, stable, well grounded people? This in contrast to . . . well, just about everyone else in Hollywood.) I suspect that NBC made a tremendous error in not giving this series a chance to breathe and find its own feet. (Wasn't this during the Fred Silverman era at NBC, when the inventor of "jiggle TV" was busy trashing anything that appealed to an IQ above 50 and bringing to the schedule such gems as Hello, Larry and Supertrain?) Too bad, really.
Not the Best Episode But Still Enjoyable
30 October 2008
Warning: Spoilers
I like planetariums. For that reason alone, I like this episode. For Kolchak and the police's showdown with the alien in the planetarium is a wonderful scene--if for no other reason than watching the old fashioned stunt work. And for all the abuse Kolchak's crummy camera gets, what a twist it is to find out it's the world's best alien repellent. And something else. Perhaps an influence on the episode. I seem to remember a telekinetic murder scene, which takes place in a planetarium, in a film predating this episode by six years or so called THE POWER. I haven't seen it in decades, but it's one of those films that has always stayed in my memory.
There is another influence, too, from the original OUTER LIMITS. At least, I think there is. In that series' first episode, "The Galaxy Being", Cliff Robertson's supercharged radio transmitter accidentally brings to earth an alien being, with whom Robertson's character is communicating. Confusion, hatred, violence and a lot of "misunderstandings" ensue. Supercharged particles, high winds, and technological disruption appears that is quite similar to that witnessed by Carl.
Otherwise, the episode is notable for furthering the Vincenzo/Kolchak relationship. As will become apparent in subsequent episodes, poor Vincenzo just can't win. Even after collecting on a World Series bet with a competitor's editor, in stumbles Carl to give a detailed autopsy report on zoo animals and sucked out bone marrow, just as Tony is being served a gourmet plate of . . . brains that he has just won on that bet! Best line, however, goes to Carl quoting Updyke's description of a female roller derby player: "A hippo on casters."
There is another influence, too, from the original OUTER LIMITS. At least, I think there is. In that series' first episode, "The Galaxy Being", Cliff Robertson's supercharged radio transmitter accidentally brings to earth an alien being, with whom Robertson's character is communicating. Confusion, hatred, violence and a lot of "misunderstandings" ensue. Supercharged particles, high winds, and technological disruption appears that is quite similar to that witnessed by Carl.
Otherwise, the episode is notable for furthering the Vincenzo/Kolchak relationship. As will become apparent in subsequent episodes, poor Vincenzo just can't win. Even after collecting on a World Series bet with a competitor's editor, in stumbles Carl to give a detailed autopsy report on zoo animals and sucked out bone marrow, just as Tony is being served a gourmet plate of . . . brains that he has just won on that bet! Best line, however, goes to Carl quoting Updyke's description of a female roller derby player: "A hippo on casters."
The series finds its legs and stands alone
24 October 2008
Warning: Spoilers
With "The Zombie", the series finally broke away free and clear from the recurring iconography and story lines that had characterized the Made for TV movies and the first episode. That's not to slam those efforts. Far from it. It's just that with "The Zombie" you get totally new concerns for the first time, although at least one icon does reappear but with a delicious twist.
What is especially new is the zombie himself. Aside from the brief scene at the end, where he suddenly sits up and reveals a rubber body suit, the feeling of horror created is abject and thus doubly effective. The sense of abjection itself is most creatively designed in the juxtaposition of two scenes. In the INS office, Carl describes how to destroy a zombie (pour salt in his mouth and tightly sew his lips together). But Carl ends the scene by demonstrating how he will bite off the thread once finished. And, then, next, when you, the viewer, are put in the junkyard scene, in the old hearse, with the dormant zombie, and after you have seen his rotting face, it becomes impossible to disassociate the idea of what you know is coming up next. Namely, that Carl is going to have to put his lips right on those of the corpse.
Multiple taboos are being threatened: racial, sexual, and social. Because, it's not just the suggestion of necrophilia that erupts. It's that this necrophilia also lies dangerously close to a sort of homo erotic necrophilia. And, to add the icing on the cake, the zombie is Haitian, a black man. All this taking place in the darkened confines of a junked hearse. The tension couldn't be higher. Most viewers literally must look away from the television set. Abject perfection!
All of which leads back to the twist on the recurring icon I mentioned above. In the two Made for TV movies and the first episode, the filmmakers thoroughly master the haunted house and its associated iconography. In "The Zombie", the haunted house has been replaced by a "haunted junkyard" of sorts. Where Carl previously found himself trapped in closets or behind curtains in small rooms, this time the claustrophobia is multiplied with Carl squeezed into that banged up hearse. In true Night Stalker fashion, the zombie awakes, the scene explodes, tension is released, and Carl tumbles out the back of the hearse and miraculously finds an alternative way of destroying his nemesis. Resolution complete. Some might even call it cathartic.
What is especially new is the zombie himself. Aside from the brief scene at the end, where he suddenly sits up and reveals a rubber body suit, the feeling of horror created is abject and thus doubly effective. The sense of abjection itself is most creatively designed in the juxtaposition of two scenes. In the INS office, Carl describes how to destroy a zombie (pour salt in his mouth and tightly sew his lips together). But Carl ends the scene by demonstrating how he will bite off the thread once finished. And, then, next, when you, the viewer, are put in the junkyard scene, in the old hearse, with the dormant zombie, and after you have seen his rotting face, it becomes impossible to disassociate the idea of what you know is coming up next. Namely, that Carl is going to have to put his lips right on those of the corpse.
Multiple taboos are being threatened: racial, sexual, and social. Because, it's not just the suggestion of necrophilia that erupts. It's that this necrophilia also lies dangerously close to a sort of homo erotic necrophilia. And, to add the icing on the cake, the zombie is Haitian, a black man. All this taking place in the darkened confines of a junked hearse. The tension couldn't be higher. Most viewers literally must look away from the television set. Abject perfection!
All of which leads back to the twist on the recurring icon I mentioned above. In the two Made for TV movies and the first episode, the filmmakers thoroughly master the haunted house and its associated iconography. In "The Zombie", the haunted house has been replaced by a "haunted junkyard" of sorts. Where Carl previously found himself trapped in closets or behind curtains in small rooms, this time the claustrophobia is multiplied with Carl squeezed into that banged up hearse. In true Night Stalker fashion, the zombie awakes, the scene explodes, tension is released, and Carl tumbles out the back of the hearse and miraculously finds an alternative way of destroying his nemesis. Resolution complete. Some might even call it cathartic.
Friday the 13th: The Series
(1987–1990)
Becoming Better with Age
17 October 2008
This series has become better with age. I wish I could say the same for Robey's acting career. And that is not meant as a slam at her. Quite the opposite. I've always felt Robey got a bit of a raw deal coming out of Friday the 13th. She did more than an adequate job; she did a *good* job. But she appears to be about the only one whose acting career went nowhere afterward. A pity. She had a touch for comedy in the series and was integral to the creation of a fairly strong Ensemble cast.
The series itself debuted right at the beginning of the Golden Age of syndication, IMO. Coming a few years after Tales from the Darkside and a year or so right before Monsters, Friday the 13th just might be my favorite of the bunch, although the 1980 anthology series, Hammer House of Horror, despite one or two clunkers, is also in the mix.
A nice plot device, too, with a cursed antique or relic providing the genesis for each week's adventure. You remember how nice it was not to need and worry about "story arcs" and serial story strategies. The self contained episode, to me, is always a joy, and, ever since Kolchak: The Night Stalker, a true indication of the talented storyteller. Serial and story arcs are usually a sign of desperate, lower grade TV production, of undisciplined writers and lazy producers.
The series itself debuted right at the beginning of the Golden Age of syndication, IMO. Coming a few years after Tales from the Darkside and a year or so right before Monsters, Friday the 13th just might be my favorite of the bunch, although the 1980 anthology series, Hammer House of Horror, despite one or two clunkers, is also in the mix.
A nice plot device, too, with a cursed antique or relic providing the genesis for each week's adventure. You remember how nice it was not to need and worry about "story arcs" and serial story strategies. The self contained episode, to me, is always a joy, and, ever since Kolchak: The Night Stalker, a true indication of the talented storyteller. Serial and story arcs are usually a sign of desperate, lower grade TV production, of undisciplined writers and lazy producers.
A different sort of Kolchak
16 October 2008
Warning: Spoilers
This episode is perhaps the darkest--and least comedic--of all the Kolchak episodes. Correspondingly, it diverts from the established structural device of allowing the creatures in each episode to feast on the young, attractive, and affluent. In "Horror in the Heights", the victims are aged Jews, retired and impoverished. Whereas the victims in earlier episodes in some way or another contributed to their own deaths--through stupidity, lust, avarice, or hubris--the victims in the "Heights" are totally innocent, their greatest crime being participating in a penny ante poker game.
And all this is what makes Kolchack: The Night Stalker such a special TV series. Can you imagine a storyline in the shows offered over today's major networks focusing on the murder of elderly Jews and whose only hope for the salvation of the community comes from an 80 year-old Hindu? The core group of 19 to 35 year-olds today's TV execs cater to would be changing the channel as fast as possible to a reality show or gossipy "teen drama".
And all this is what makes Kolchack: The Night Stalker such a special TV series. Can you imagine a storyline in the shows offered over today's major networks focusing on the murder of elderly Jews and whose only hope for the salvation of the community comes from an 80 year-old Hindu? The core group of 19 to 35 year-olds today's TV execs cater to would be changing the channel as fast as possible to a reality show or gossipy "teen drama".
Episode with a Message?
16 October 2008
Warning: Spoilers
Woodward and Bernstein never did as good a job at revealing the dark secrets and hypocrisy of the political elite as Carl does in stripping the hypocrisy off the face of Hollywood in this episode. For "The Vampire" actually serves up a "message". The gritty, what you see is what you get Carl Kolchak is the only person in a town of charlatans, whores, and exploiters who can see beyond his own self interest and identify the threat to everyone. And the threat is? Namely, a Hollywood industry that values mere surface appeal, which has underneath it a grotesque appetite for sucking out the very essence of what makes life worth living in the first place. Beneath the "six layers of cosmetic skin cake" thrives something you really don't want to see in your living room at night. That's what Catherine Rawlins really is.
One of the very best episodes in this series.
One of the very best episodes in this series.
Episode for the Ages.
16 October 2008
Warning: Spoilers
I always enjoy this particular episode. It has a great mixture of suspense and comedy. Poor Vincenzo, cheated out of his Christmas time holiday cruise and forced to give up his ticket (and expense money) to Kolchak. And where does Carl find himself? On a singles cruise, with a super wolf. And has there ever been a better werewolf than Eric Braeden's Bernhard Steiglitz, with his broad brimmed fedora and luminous eyes piercing out from the shadows? Otherwise, the real fun is watching Kolachak grow ever more exasperated with the singles set, especially with that icon of singles, Dick Gautier in the role of Mel Tarter!, cracking one lame joke after another. And poor Nita Talbot's Paula Griffin giving her copyrighted performance as the frustrated middle aged single woman, who all too obviously spends most of her life before the TV set, watching old movies.
To use a clichéd phrase: TV just doesn't get any better than this.
To use a clichéd phrase: TV just doesn't get any better than this.
The Night Strangler
(1973 TV Movie)
Somebody Else is Sleepless in Seattle
14 October 2008
Warning: Spoilers
(I haven't looked, but somebody else surely must have done a similar play on my summary title. I apologize in advance for stealing his or her thunder.)
What a tremendous movie! And how different in tone from the first made for TV movie. This is the true pilot for the series, incorporating a comedic undertone and the full blown banter between Kolchak and Vincenzo. Still, it creates chilling scenes, too, especially the finale, with the descent into old underground Seattle. BTW, another motif that will play often in the series is revealed in the scenes with Wilma Krankhamer (what a name!!!). While Carl will laugh at and ridicule people like Wilma throughout, at their moment of being most vulnerable (in this case, where Charisma Beauty is killed), he will often express sympathy and compassion. Thus Carl never appears "mean" or hard hearted. It lifts his character and makes him noble, I think.
Meanwhile, the dialog is quite special, from the staccato delivery of Carl's hardboiled narrative, with its wit and humor, to the constant play on words and phrases. Good stuff. And the casting is simply overwhelming. Kolchak enters the creepy old environs of underground Seattle and the first person to pop out of the shadows is . . . Grandpa Munster! Need advice on ghouls, warlocks, alchemists and the like, what better expert than Oz' Wicked Witch of the West, Margaret Hamilton as the so aptly named Professor Crabwell! And, in a carryover effect from the first movie, John Carradine's Llewellyn Crossbinder operates as the most sinister and unsympathetic figure in the movie, just like Kent Smith's D.A. Tom Paine in The Night Stalker. In comparison, even Richard Anderson's Strangler emerges with a bit of sympathy at the end, a semi-tragic figure of sorts. And, yes, every time I run across Wally Cox, I realize how much I miss his performances.
What a tremendous movie! And how different in tone from the first made for TV movie. This is the true pilot for the series, incorporating a comedic undertone and the full blown banter between Kolchak and Vincenzo. Still, it creates chilling scenes, too, especially the finale, with the descent into old underground Seattle. BTW, another motif that will play often in the series is revealed in the scenes with Wilma Krankhamer (what a name!!!). While Carl will laugh at and ridicule people like Wilma throughout, at their moment of being most vulnerable (in this case, where Charisma Beauty is killed), he will often express sympathy and compassion. Thus Carl never appears "mean" or hard hearted. It lifts his character and makes him noble, I think.
Meanwhile, the dialog is quite special, from the staccato delivery of Carl's hardboiled narrative, with its wit and humor, to the constant play on words and phrases. Good stuff. And the casting is simply overwhelming. Kolchak enters the creepy old environs of underground Seattle and the first person to pop out of the shadows is . . . Grandpa Munster! Need advice on ghouls, warlocks, alchemists and the like, what better expert than Oz' Wicked Witch of the West, Margaret Hamilton as the so aptly named Professor Crabwell! And, in a carryover effect from the first movie, John Carradine's Llewellyn Crossbinder operates as the most sinister and unsympathetic figure in the movie, just like Kent Smith's D.A. Tom Paine in The Night Stalker. In comparison, even Richard Anderson's Strangler emerges with a bit of sympathy at the end, a semi-tragic figure of sorts. And, yes, every time I run across Wally Cox, I realize how much I miss his performances.
Walker, Texas Ranger
(1993–2001)
Cathartic
23 May 2008
Chuck Norris understands the concept of catharsis about as fully as anyone who has ever worked on television. That is what this show is all about, leading the viewer up to Chuck's eventual mauling of the bad guy. Just like David Carradine's Kung Fu did with an earlier generation. For let's be clear, the bad guys in Walker are not just bad and evil, they are BAADDD and EVIILLL. They leer and smirk and laugh with glee while torturing poor innocents or true blue law officers. And while I haven't begun to see even a majority of the episodes, from what I have viewed it appears that the villains are almost all from the one social, ethnic, and racial group everyone just loves to hate: White males. Following its predecessors, such as the Death Wish and Dirty Harry movies, brown, black and Asian crims are mostly safely integrated only into multiracial "gangs"--absurd as that might be in reality--that would make Jesse Jackson's Rainbow Coalition downright giddy. The master criminal, the true evildoer, the enemy of all mankind is, as far as I can tell, always White. (Note: the Dirty Harry movies were even more "racially correct" about this than Walker. Excepting the opening few minutes of the first film, all of the Dirty Harry villains were not only White but blonde-haired and blue eyed.)
None of this distracts from the Walker Catharsis, however. It probably makes a few soccer moms even feel better than they would usually. Oh, and before some viewers go all holier than thou about Walker being low brow, formulaic, and predictable, just let me ask a question. Is Dancing the Stars, American Idol, and waiting every week to see some pathetic fool voted off an island any better intellectually, artistically, or aesthetically? Give old Chuck credit. He knows how to push buttons and he does it in a style that would be familiar to anyone watching classic TV in the 60s or early 70s. Walker's refusal to go "edgy" or "experimental" almost makes it seem revolutionary in a TV landscape where every series is trying to outshock the other.
None of this distracts from the Walker Catharsis, however. It probably makes a few soccer moms even feel better than they would usually. Oh, and before some viewers go all holier than thou about Walker being low brow, formulaic, and predictable, just let me ask a question. Is Dancing the Stars, American Idol, and waiting every week to see some pathetic fool voted off an island any better intellectually, artistically, or aesthetically? Give old Chuck credit. He knows how to push buttons and he does it in a style that would be familiar to anyone watching classic TV in the 60s or early 70s. Walker's refusal to go "edgy" or "experimental" almost makes it seem revolutionary in a TV landscape where every series is trying to outshock the other.
Dresden
(2006 TV Movie)
Tedious Lumbering Bore
28 January 2008
This film took up three hours, including commercials, on the History International Channel last night. But it felt like three weeks. It wasn't the cheap, stagy and unintentionally funny depictions of the bombing of Dresden. It wasn't that the film is stripped of almost all context surrounding World War II. It wasn't even that the bombing itself was often made to appear as nothing more than a major inconvenience for a goofy love story. No, it was the wooden featureless characterizations that sucked the life out of the story. Oh, and the fact that if it is possible for a movie to be obsequious, then Dresden is that movie. Perhaps a better title would have been DRESDEN--AS URIAH HEEP WOULD HAVE EXPERIENCED IT.
It is especially the latter point that so irritates. Was the bombing of Dresden a war crime? The makers of this movie believe so. But in the typically emasculated way that Germans have come to approach World War II, they can't bring themselves to say so without braying about "peace" and "no more wars--anywhere" like they're Mother Teresa. And, also typical of German obsequiousness towards the British in particular, there is an unwieldy effort to grovel before "Britishness", while loading all the "guilt" for Dresden on to one person, Arthur Harris.
Did I say one person? Well, not quite. At the beginning of the movie, there is an exclamation from the leading character, Anna, with whom we are all supposed to sympathize. "Damned Americans!", she screams, while watching as far off bombs fall. And a few minutes later, a radio voice intones warnings about the "American Terror Bombing" being inflicted upon Germans.
Note the word, "terror". Got that? It's really the Americans behind the inhumane targeting of German civilians. No matter that the American strategy for almost all the war in Europe was the "precision" bombing of industrial and war manufacturing sites. No matter that it was the British who enthusiastically adopted "area" bombing of civilian targets in Germany--before the Germans had themselves even targeted English ones. No matter that the Americans bombed during the day, suffering more casualties in the process than the British, in order to hit precision targets, while the British bombed civilians under the cover of night. No matter that the Americans, essentially, were brought into the RAF's true terror bombing campaign kicking and screaming against it. No matter that most American officials, from FDR to Gen. Dolittle, opposed targeting civilians, while Churchill and his generals couldn't wait to do so.
No, in DRESDEN, both the Germans and British, except for "Bomber" Harris, are innocent of a doctrine, it is intimated, created by the evil Americans. And only the might and power of a love story between a German nurse and a downed British bomber pilot can adequately explain the "truth" of the atrocity. Right.
Oh, by the way, for the younger and likely less well read readers of IMDb, the first and still so far only major literary effort to give a thoughtful voice to Dresden's bombing was the pacifist novel penned by Kurt Vonnegut--an American POW in Dresden at the time of the bombing. I guess Germany's ZDF couldn't find a pretty nurse for Billy Pilgrim.
It is especially the latter point that so irritates. Was the bombing of Dresden a war crime? The makers of this movie believe so. But in the typically emasculated way that Germans have come to approach World War II, they can't bring themselves to say so without braying about "peace" and "no more wars--anywhere" like they're Mother Teresa. And, also typical of German obsequiousness towards the British in particular, there is an unwieldy effort to grovel before "Britishness", while loading all the "guilt" for Dresden on to one person, Arthur Harris.
Did I say one person? Well, not quite. At the beginning of the movie, there is an exclamation from the leading character, Anna, with whom we are all supposed to sympathize. "Damned Americans!", she screams, while watching as far off bombs fall. And a few minutes later, a radio voice intones warnings about the "American Terror Bombing" being inflicted upon Germans.
Note the word, "terror". Got that? It's really the Americans behind the inhumane targeting of German civilians. No matter that the American strategy for almost all the war in Europe was the "precision" bombing of industrial and war manufacturing sites. No matter that it was the British who enthusiastically adopted "area" bombing of civilian targets in Germany--before the Germans had themselves even targeted English ones. No matter that the Americans bombed during the day, suffering more casualties in the process than the British, in order to hit precision targets, while the British bombed civilians under the cover of night. No matter that the Americans, essentially, were brought into the RAF's true terror bombing campaign kicking and screaming against it. No matter that most American officials, from FDR to Gen. Dolittle, opposed targeting civilians, while Churchill and his generals couldn't wait to do so.
No, in DRESDEN, both the Germans and British, except for "Bomber" Harris, are innocent of a doctrine, it is intimated, created by the evil Americans. And only the might and power of a love story between a German nurse and a downed British bomber pilot can adequately explain the "truth" of the atrocity. Right.
Oh, by the way, for the younger and likely less well read readers of IMDb, the first and still so far only major literary effort to give a thoughtful voice to Dresden's bombing was the pacifist novel penned by Kurt Vonnegut--an American POW in Dresden at the time of the bombing. I guess Germany's ZDF couldn't find a pretty nurse for Billy Pilgrim.
Mission: Impossible
(1966–1973)
Landmark TV Spy Series
8 August 2007
While not my favorite spy series from the 1960s and early 1970s, Mission Impossible is certainly on the Top Ten list. Ranking a bit below I Spy, The Saint, Danger Man, and The Persuaders, MI nonetheless deserves a place at the table, especially the Bain/Landau episodes. Like all the great spy/thriller dramas from the 1960s, MI excelled with its storyline. The producers, writers, and directors knew the value of constantly advancing the story, a skill in short supply for current TV fare, as anyone who has watched 24 over the past few seasons can testify. Mix in an acting ensemble capable of top level performances, instead of cartoon caricatures, and you had, in MI, a rare and wonderful treat for TV.
Two other things, however, deserve mention. First, I personally found the first year with Steven Hill to be my favorite. While I liked the Peter Graves episodes, somehow, he will always be "the new guy" in my book. Maybe it's because the entire MI experience is impressed on my memory by context. Namely, I remember how during that first season, following the weekly visit my parents took to see my grandparents, my father would then race back across town just in time for us all to tune in. I seem to remember that was on Saturdays--early. We never had that experience with subsequent years, as, I believe, MI moved to late Sundays in 1967.
Second, there is the issue of the set design and costuming. Granted, this is only something I've become sensitive too since the initial run of the series back in the 1960s. But the studio shoots, the sometimes too artificial set designs, and the generic uniforms used for East bloc guards and soldiers cause the series to suffer a bit, especially in comparison to the exotic locations of the other great American spy drama from the Sixties, I Spy.
Finally, about Bain and Landau. There was a tremendous amount of buzz about this couple while the series aired. Barbara Bain, in particular, exemplified an allure that is timeless. What a disappointment, then, when, after leaving MI, they finally re-appeared together on TV in the dreadful Space: 1999. Both had faded as stars. But worse, both let their reputations suffer by placing themselves under the direction of one of the worst schlock profiteers in TV at the time, Gerry Anderson. Thus, what a joy it is to see them both on DVD editions of Mission Impossible, in their prime, when it seemed they would conquer television as thoroughly as any couple in its, then, relatively short history.
Two other things, however, deserve mention. First, I personally found the first year with Steven Hill to be my favorite. While I liked the Peter Graves episodes, somehow, he will always be "the new guy" in my book. Maybe it's because the entire MI experience is impressed on my memory by context. Namely, I remember how during that first season, following the weekly visit my parents took to see my grandparents, my father would then race back across town just in time for us all to tune in. I seem to remember that was on Saturdays--early. We never had that experience with subsequent years, as, I believe, MI moved to late Sundays in 1967.
Second, there is the issue of the set design and costuming. Granted, this is only something I've become sensitive too since the initial run of the series back in the 1960s. But the studio shoots, the sometimes too artificial set designs, and the generic uniforms used for East bloc guards and soldiers cause the series to suffer a bit, especially in comparison to the exotic locations of the other great American spy drama from the Sixties, I Spy.
Finally, about Bain and Landau. There was a tremendous amount of buzz about this couple while the series aired. Barbara Bain, in particular, exemplified an allure that is timeless. What a disappointment, then, when, after leaving MI, they finally re-appeared together on TV in the dreadful Space: 1999. Both had faded as stars. But worse, both let their reputations suffer by placing themselves under the direction of one of the worst schlock profiteers in TV at the time, Gerry Anderson. Thus, what a joy it is to see them both on DVD editions of Mission Impossible, in their prime, when it seemed they would conquer television as thoroughly as any couple in its, then, relatively short history.
Alias Smith and Jones
(1971–1973)
Could Pete Duel Have Saved the TV Western?
9 July 2007
I'll always wonder: had he lived, could Pete Duel have rescued the TV Western from oblivion? Gunsmoke and Bonanza, the hoary old legends of the genre, already were teetering on their ancient last legs, with but a few more seasons to be squeezed out of them, when, out of the blue, as I remember it, came Alias Smith and Jones, whose fresh and jokey episodes became pretty wildly popular, especially with young people (that would be the likes of *me*, as I was 16 at the time). Alas, as others have already noted, Pete Duel committed suicide just as the series was hitting its stride. (The story of Duel's death made headlines across the country in a way contemporary viewers of TV dramas cannot imagine.) Roger Davis came in as a replacement and the series slid right downhill immediately thereafter--although I did like the episodes with Michele Lee. At any rate, about the only TV Western afterward to generate anything similar to Alias Smith and Jones' excitement was Kung Fu. Sidenote: James Garner's marvelous, and utterly forgotten series, Nichols, should have been the next great Western after Alias . . .
What made Alias Smith and Jones tick? I always thought it was a sleek updating of what had already been a semi-comic TV Western success a few years earlier, Maverick. In fact, you can spot touches of the Bret Maverick characterization in both Heyes and Curry, along with some similar story lines and plot developments. Not to mention the lifting of the "five pat hands" trick, which Bret Maverick employed more than once. All of which should not be too much of a surprise, however, as Roy Huggins was instrumental to both series.
Otherwise, watch out for the handful of episodes with Slim Pickens. "Exit from Wickenburg", the one where Slim works as the crooked bartender of a saloon/casino, is a masterpiece. It just wouldn't be a proper 1960s Western without Slim popping up every now and then.
What a pity that Pete Duel succumbed to his demons. What a loss for network TV, the Western, and the many fans of Alias Smith and Jones. Who knows what could have been . . . .
What made Alias Smith and Jones tick? I always thought it was a sleek updating of what had already been a semi-comic TV Western success a few years earlier, Maverick. In fact, you can spot touches of the Bret Maverick characterization in both Heyes and Curry, along with some similar story lines and plot developments. Not to mention the lifting of the "five pat hands" trick, which Bret Maverick employed more than once. All of which should not be too much of a surprise, however, as Roy Huggins was instrumental to both series.
Otherwise, watch out for the handful of episodes with Slim Pickens. "Exit from Wickenburg", the one where Slim works as the crooked bartender of a saloon/casino, is a masterpiece. It just wouldn't be a proper 1960s Western without Slim popping up every now and then.
What a pity that Pete Duel succumbed to his demons. What a loss for network TV, the Western, and the many fans of Alias Smith and Jones. Who knows what could have been . . . .
I Spy
(1965–1968)
Has America Ever Had Two Better Espionage Agents?
9 July 2007
What a tremendously influential series was I Spy. Both for American television in general and the individual viewers who had the opportunity to tune in every week back when it first aired. Me, in particular. Thanks to I Spy, and the debonair Kelly Robinson, I first took up a tennis racket and began a love affair with the tennis court that continues to this day. But even far more influential than Robinson and tennis, there is Alexander Scott.
When it was all said and done, it was Bill Cosby's Alexander Scott who remains most vivid in my memory. Witty. Intelligent. Sophisticated. Lethal. Yet restrained in emotion and reserved in manner, he never forgot his respectable lower middle class big city origins. Nobody has ever encapsulated the qualities of the American hero better than Cosby in this role.
You simply have to watch the entire series to appreciate the greatness of Cosby's performances. While his persona was intense, it was never out of balance, out of control. Cosby never played the fool. Which could not be said of his partner, Kelly, who was always going off the deep end, whether out of anger, depression, or joy. Kelly might go on a month long drunk, lose himself in a quest for revenge, or, just about every week, foolishly fall into some hopeless love affair. No matter. Scott was always there to save him, reel him back in, make everything OK and save the day.
And there's something else about these two guys. They were always loyal patriots. If their government sometimes involved them in shady acts and moral compromises, they never reacted by turning on their country or their own kind. They knew they faced a greater evil. And they knew that only they (and their fellow agents) stood between their friends' and families' way of life and countries, the USSR and Communist China, in particular, that were ready and eager to subjugate them all.
Finally, the runtime of this series is usually about 51 minutes. What a luxury to see a TV series that has the time to spin out a story AND delve into meaningful character development.
When it was all said and done, it was Bill Cosby's Alexander Scott who remains most vivid in my memory. Witty. Intelligent. Sophisticated. Lethal. Yet restrained in emotion and reserved in manner, he never forgot his respectable lower middle class big city origins. Nobody has ever encapsulated the qualities of the American hero better than Cosby in this role.
You simply have to watch the entire series to appreciate the greatness of Cosby's performances. While his persona was intense, it was never out of balance, out of control. Cosby never played the fool. Which could not be said of his partner, Kelly, who was always going off the deep end, whether out of anger, depression, or joy. Kelly might go on a month long drunk, lose himself in a quest for revenge, or, just about every week, foolishly fall into some hopeless love affair. No matter. Scott was always there to save him, reel him back in, make everything OK and save the day.
And there's something else about these two guys. They were always loyal patriots. If their government sometimes involved them in shady acts and moral compromises, they never reacted by turning on their country or their own kind. They knew they faced a greater evil. And they knew that only they (and their fellow agents) stood between their friends' and families' way of life and countries, the USSR and Communist China, in particular, that were ready and eager to subjugate them all.
Finally, the runtime of this series is usually about 51 minutes. What a luxury to see a TV series that has the time to spin out a story AND delve into meaningful character development.
Dealing with Dickinson
(2005– )
Dickinson is no Donald Trump; he's better
11 December 2006
Warning: Spoilers
This series seems to be of the same genre of "reality" that Donald Trump's The Apprentice has spawned. Already, Martha Stewart's copycat series has gone down in flames. And The Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency on Oxygen was a pretty miserable failure. But *David* Dickinson's effort seems to have better prospects. First, the antiques and collectibles world has a much broader audience and much more of the "I can do that, too" type of appeal than the potential audience for would-be corporate CEOs or brain dead supermodels. Second, David Dickinson is much more entertaining, witty and articulate than Trump, Stewart, or just about anybody else in the reality genre.
As for the series itself, I've enjoyed watching Dickinson's candidate selection process. Three fairly knowledgeable collectors and three or four rank amateurs are brought together. (Possible spoiler) And then Dickinson turns around and immediately takes the "experts" down a peg. The first experienced antiquer is the "lady of leisure" who loves "pink, small things" (snicker, snicker) and brings Dickinson her chosen object for auction. And he reveals that she's purchased a bottle with a crack in it. Then, Mr. Knows It All Perry Field literally leads the rest of the contestants around by the nose and all but forces them to buy a chair for resell at auction. And it turns out the chair is a hybridized piece that would be rejected out of hand by the auctioneers. Meanwhile, Dickinson's selection of a completely inexperienced market stall trader of small electronics comes out smelling like a rose for doubting the "experts" from the very beginning. Clearly, Dickinson values someone with street smarts and guile and without an ounce of experience in antiques at least as much as someone with an extensive collection of 18th century landscapes and portraits hanging on his wall and who is likely to get carried away with himself. Which one is more likely to make a success of it in the *business* of antiques? That's what it's all about.
As for the series itself, I've enjoyed watching Dickinson's candidate selection process. Three fairly knowledgeable collectors and three or four rank amateurs are brought together. (Possible spoiler) And then Dickinson turns around and immediately takes the "experts" down a peg. The first experienced antiquer is the "lady of leisure" who loves "pink, small things" (snicker, snicker) and brings Dickinson her chosen object for auction. And he reveals that she's purchased a bottle with a crack in it. Then, Mr. Knows It All Perry Field literally leads the rest of the contestants around by the nose and all but forces them to buy a chair for resell at auction. And it turns out the chair is a hybridized piece that would be rejected out of hand by the auctioneers. Meanwhile, Dickinson's selection of a completely inexperienced market stall trader of small electronics comes out smelling like a rose for doubting the "experts" from the very beginning. Clearly, Dickinson values someone with street smarts and guile and without an ounce of experience in antiques at least as much as someone with an extensive collection of 18th century landscapes and portraits hanging on his wall and who is likely to get carried away with himself. Which one is more likely to make a success of it in the *business* of antiques? That's what it's all about.
They Made it an "Epic" and Ruined it
8 December 2006
Warning: Spoilers
So, I give Sharpe's Challenge a 7 out of 10, primarily because I liked the 14 earlier Sharpe movies so much. 'Challenge', however, is a bit disappointing. And it is so because the makers decided to go for an epic sweep in presenting their story. For me, what made the earlier Sharpe movies so wonderful was that epic story lines were taken and woven into an intimate scale.
'Challenge', on the other hand, fell in love with its own imagery and widescreen panoramas. But, what worked for Lawrence of Arabia (remember Omar Sharif's Ali emerging as pinpoint on the horizon, until he finally rides up to Peter O'Toole's foregrounded Lawrence at the waterhole? Magnificent!) doesn't for Sharpe. Other than the wide shots of the fortress and the line of troops marching across the countryside, there is no need for the camera to linger in 'Challenge'. Alas, it continues to do so, however, and Sharpe and Harper become diminished and at times even lost in the process.
Finally, a word about what else is missing. (Possible spoiler) Namely, the rest of Sharpe's riflemen. Inevitable, of course, after the way things played out in Sharpe's Waterloo. But still it's hard to forget all those memorable characters from the earlier movies, such as Hagman, Harris, and Frederickson, whose story lines were often as or more interesting than even Sharpe's.
Oh, well. Maybe Sean Bean and Daragh O'Malley will be up for yet another installment of Sharpe's adventures. Already, they've contributed to one of the greatest adventure series of its type. And a special debt of thanks is due to Sean Bean for not outgrowing his britches, after a little Hollywood success, and coming back into the role of Sharpe with such energy and commitment.
'Challenge', on the other hand, fell in love with its own imagery and widescreen panoramas. But, what worked for Lawrence of Arabia (remember Omar Sharif's Ali emerging as pinpoint on the horizon, until he finally rides up to Peter O'Toole's foregrounded Lawrence at the waterhole? Magnificent!) doesn't for Sharpe. Other than the wide shots of the fortress and the line of troops marching across the countryside, there is no need for the camera to linger in 'Challenge'. Alas, it continues to do so, however, and Sharpe and Harper become diminished and at times even lost in the process.
Finally, a word about what else is missing. (Possible spoiler) Namely, the rest of Sharpe's riflemen. Inevitable, of course, after the way things played out in Sharpe's Waterloo. But still it's hard to forget all those memorable characters from the earlier movies, such as Hagman, Harris, and Frederickson, whose story lines were often as or more interesting than even Sharpe's.
Oh, well. Maybe Sean Bean and Daragh O'Malley will be up for yet another installment of Sharpe's adventures. Already, they've contributed to one of the greatest adventure series of its type. And a special debt of thanks is due to Sean Bean for not outgrowing his britches, after a little Hollywood success, and coming back into the role of Sharpe with such energy and commitment.
Bargain Hunt
(2000– )
Brutal Clown Will Teach You a Lesson
7 December 2006
When I first started watching Bargain Hunt, I dismissed David Dickinson as a harmless clown. The entire purpose of the show, moreover, seemed to be that the people at flea markets and antique shows always know the worth of their goods and will get the better of the buyer almost every single time. After several seasons, however, I've changed my mind.
First, Dickinson is indeed a bit of a clown, but he also imparts much more realistic and helpful information on antiques and collectibles than almost any of the competing programs. Want to know how to tell cut glass from pressed glass? Interested in spotting fake brass figurines? Has your antique table been hybridized? Is your rare vase a victim of some restorer's attempt to cover up the chips and cracks? You're much more likely to discover the answer to these questions on Bargain Hunt than on Antiques Roadshow or even the otherwise wonderful Cash in the Attic.
So, too, will Dickinson be much more honest with his colleagues in the field, not to mention the poor contestants who blow their wad on some worthless twentieth century imitation fakery. As opposed to the valuers, who almost always over-reach, Dickinson seems to have a much better pulse on the only real value of items up for auction, which is, of course, defined as the money someone is willing to pay--and no more. And especially pity the poor contestant who overpays for some silver plated trifle. How bad it must be to have Dickinson laughing at you on nationwide TV, while revealing that you spent £200 on a POS.
Comparatively speaking, Dickinson is brutal to the people who appear on his program. And what a breath of fresh air it all is. How truly informative and honest in comparison to the pasty faced gnomes who mumble greedy nothings into the ears of the gullible and avaricious lemmings lined up on Antiques Roadshow. Dickinson reveals the real business side of antiques. And when he's through, you'll realize making money in the art and antiques world is not nearly so easy as it seems.
Finally, one other thing to note. If I were a seller OR a buyer, I'd sure hate to have Dickinson on the other side of the transaction.
First, Dickinson is indeed a bit of a clown, but he also imparts much more realistic and helpful information on antiques and collectibles than almost any of the competing programs. Want to know how to tell cut glass from pressed glass? Interested in spotting fake brass figurines? Has your antique table been hybridized? Is your rare vase a victim of some restorer's attempt to cover up the chips and cracks? You're much more likely to discover the answer to these questions on Bargain Hunt than on Antiques Roadshow or even the otherwise wonderful Cash in the Attic.
So, too, will Dickinson be much more honest with his colleagues in the field, not to mention the poor contestants who blow their wad on some worthless twentieth century imitation fakery. As opposed to the valuers, who almost always over-reach, Dickinson seems to have a much better pulse on the only real value of items up for auction, which is, of course, defined as the money someone is willing to pay--and no more. And especially pity the poor contestant who overpays for some silver plated trifle. How bad it must be to have Dickinson laughing at you on nationwide TV, while revealing that you spent £200 on a POS.
Comparatively speaking, Dickinson is brutal to the people who appear on his program. And what a breath of fresh air it all is. How truly informative and honest in comparison to the pasty faced gnomes who mumble greedy nothings into the ears of the gullible and avaricious lemmings lined up on Antiques Roadshow. Dickinson reveals the real business side of antiques. And when he's through, you'll realize making money in the art and antiques world is not nearly so easy as it seems.
Finally, one other thing to note. If I were a seller OR a buyer, I'd sure hate to have Dickinson on the other side of the transaction.
Are You Being Served? Again!
(1992–1993)
Needs a Visit from the Cash in the Attic Team!
1 December 2006
Where is Alistair Appleton, Jonty Hearnden, and Paul Hayes? They and the rest of the Cash in the Attic team should have paid a visit to the set of Are You Being Served Again/Grace and Favour. Because I always find it fun to look in background and among the props for the goldmine of antiques and collectibles the set decorator used in this series. Loads of Cornishware, that large Gibsons teapot around which everyone always gathers, the classic Staffordshire spaniel figurine over Mr. Humphries' bed, the large Jasperware pitcher/vase, and a host of other items outfit the scenes. The manor/hotel is sure an improvement over the polyester nightmare that was Grace Bros.
But if the quality of the setting of this follow up series is better than Grace Bros., the overall quality of the series is not. Alas, Mollie Sugden is just too sweet and nice in this series, except for the bits where she cries like a little girl and then ends up muttering "rotten bitch" at the end. We needed more of THAT Mollie. Otherwise, the petty tyrannies and struggles for hierarchical dominance that fueled much of the original series was simply missing from this "more democratic" version of AYBS. I did like the additions of Fleur Bennett and Billy Burden. Not so much the inclusion of Joanne Heywood's Jessica Lovecock, er, uh, I mean Lovelock.
But if the quality of the setting of this follow up series is better than Grace Bros., the overall quality of the series is not. Alas, Mollie Sugden is just too sweet and nice in this series, except for the bits where she cries like a little girl and then ends up muttering "rotten bitch" at the end. We needed more of THAT Mollie. Otherwise, the petty tyrannies and struggles for hierarchical dominance that fueled much of the original series was simply missing from this "more democratic" version of AYBS. I did like the additions of Fleur Bennett and Billy Burden. Not so much the inclusion of Joanne Heywood's Jessica Lovecock, er, uh, I mean Lovelock.
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