darryl-tahirali Reviews

Becker: Tell Me Lies (1998) Season 1, Episode 4

Another Encouraging Step Down a Promising Path

[8/10 · 16 April 2024]

When Becker and Jake attempt to learn more about Reggie, the new proprietor of the greasy-spoon diner that houses Jake's newsstand and Becker's cigarettes, they discover that the lithe brunette proves hard to read in this entertaining, sometimes incisive installment of "Becker," the gritty, witty medical comedy set in the Bronx.

After inveterate curmudgeon Becker takes a jab at the price-gouging incompetence of hospitals to open "Tell Me Lies," he and Jake turn their attention to an irritable Reggie, upset about a letter she just received. When pressed to elaborate, she relates the Dear Jane letter she got from a long-time lover, a baseball player on the (then-)Florida Marlins she began living with in 1991 who had been nevertheless skittish of commitment, writing to tell her he was marrying someone else. Ouch. Becker and Jake feel sheepish for needling her to share more about herself.

Meanwhile, back at John's office, Margaret is on the phone pleading with their medical-supply vendor to release their latest order on credit, a knowing nod in Russ Woody's sly, often pointed script to the state of Becker's practice in a rather impoverished neighborhood where, as we learn shortly, patients sometimes barter for their medical services, which sets up an elaborate deal Margaret works out with the vendor. But when Becker asks a patient (Eugene Lee) who is heading down to Florida for baseball's spring training if he can help him identify a Marlins player from 1991, the patient tells him it's "a waste of time" because the Marlins didn't even exist until 1993. Reggie lied to Jake and John. But why?

No prizes for guessing that Reggie's next tale is also a fabrication, but what turns out to be a mundane explanation about the letter is itself a setup for establishing the ground rules between her and Becker as their burgeoning relationship, in whatever form it takes, is sure to be a prickly one. Elsewhere, Becker's compassion emerges in quiet fashion during his sporadic chess game with elderly Mr. Schmalen, with Becker remarking that "until Medicare covers loneliness," he'll continue to indulge him.

Schmalen is played by industry veteran Noam Pitlik, best-known as the principal director of the highly acclaimed "Barney Miller," in his final role; Pitlik died in February 1999, just a few months after "Tell Me Lies" first aired, and subsequent airings have dedicated the episode to his memory. Pitlik's parting shot is a literal one as Schmalen, who might also have an alternative to Margaret's medical-supply woes, delivers a zinger to Linda, who manages not to be too annoying this time around.

The most riotous moment in "Tell Me Lies" comes when Becker examines single mother Teresa (Annie Wood) struggling to raise her four children who, when he asks if she has any help with them, replies that her new boyfriend, not enthusiastic about the kids, might feel differently if he had one of his own. Becker, through Woody's biting social commentary, delivers a blistering lesson that includes a hilarious game-show analogy---and you'll never look at Velcro the same way again.

Furthering the character development of the "Becker" ensemble while providing laughs and points to ponder, "Tell Me Lies" takes another encouraging step down a promising path.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Becker: Take These Pills and Shove 'Em (1998) Season 1, Episode 2

The Right Medicine at the Proper Dosage

[8/10 · 16 April 2024]

Just one episode removed from the pilot and already "Becker" was snapping into place. Yes, John Becker bursts into Reggie's diner with his gripe about having to ride with weirdos on the bus because his car broke down, recalling his extended haranguing from the pilot, but Reggie and Jake soon corral his ranting and go about their own conversation as Ted Danson, Alex Desert, and Terry Farrell fall into seamless bantering as if they've been needling each other for at least half a season already.

Also bolstering "Take These Pills and Shove 'Em" is Marsha Myers's first script for the medical-based sitcom set in the Bronx that quickly developed an earthy flavor to go with the gritty setting and offbeat characters. Myers spreads her zesty ripostes around the cast---even a customer (James Lorinz) gets into the act before getting dinged by Jake and Reggie---while cooking up a varied batch of patients at Becker's practice.

First up is hypochondriac Mrs. Cooper (Lin Shaye), so familiar to Becker and Margaret that they pick the TV programs from which she chose her latest ailments, while Linda scares the willies out of a young man scheduled for an MRI with lurid tales about being buried alive as Shawnee Smith begins to hone Linda's dopey-devious persona that can become exasperating in extended portions.

At the center of Myers's narrative is Mr. Marino (Peter Siragusa), a diabetic plumber non-adherent with his therapy who, unbeknownst to him, suffered a minor heart attack, thus inciting Becker's wrath. Incensed himself, Marino storms out of the examination room, eventually compelling Becker to visit him at home, where he meets Marino's wife played by Carol Ann Susi years before her voice became notorious as Wolowitz's mother in "The Big Bang Theory," the culmination of her supporting career that began in 1974 with the horror/sci-fi cult favorite "Kolchak: The Night Stalker."

At the office, Danson is falling into a smooth cadence with Hattie Winston, whose Margaret is developing into the ensemble's reliable backbone still capable of mustering righteous smackdown when necessary, particularly with Becker, who is respectful, and perhaps even grateful, for her implicit command of his practice. In only its second episode, "Becker" shows that it has the right medicine at the proper dosage.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Becker: Pilot (1998) Season 1, Episode 1

Punchy Gripe-fest Worth Following to See Where It's Headed

[7/10 · 16 April 2024]

Having become a television icon in the 1980s as Sam "Mayday" Malone on "Cheers," Ted Danson returned to situation comedy in 1996 with "Ink," a not-so-well-received effort co-starring Mary Steenburgen that centered on a pair of divorced newspaper journalists (think: "His Girl Friday") that lasted one season.

By 1998, Danson tried again with greater success in "Becker," which again positioned his character, John Becker, in a respectable profession as a Harvard-trained doctor who moves from research to general practice in New York City---but this doctor has neither the time nor the money for the golf course or any other trappings of success as "Becker" sits well outside the glitter of Manhattan and in a rather seedy neighborhood in the Bronx.

Series creator Dave Hackel cut his teeth as a producer and writer for a number of television series, most notably "Wings," but his script for the "Becker" pilot episode signals a departure from that lighter fare and toward a grittier, more sardonic humor leavened by the realities of being an inner-city doctor whose patients are hardly seeking elective surgery to enhance their lifestyles.

Becker's first patient Mr. Capelli (Bill Capizzi) is obese and non-compliant with doctor's orders to do more than just read Becker's suggested diet plan; after lecturing him, Becker tells him to remember just one word: "salad." Before he had even got to his office, Becker was already teeing off during his stop at the local diner run by Reggie Kostas, who inherited the greasy spoon from her just-deceased father, who in turn had been nicer to Becker only because he had been hard of hearing.

Becker's rant about lurid, exploitative "talk shows" hosted by the likes of Jerry Springer sets him up as a more educated Archie Bunker, an angry curmudgeon goading the audience to, if not like him, at least accept him as the catalyst for the ensemble cast to react to. Jake Malinak, the blind news vendor (a trope dating back decades) whose stall is located inside Reggie's diner, is wise to Becker's misanthropy, which doesn't pull any punches with Jake just because he's handicapped.

Of course, Becker must have some redeeming qualities, and his interaction with M. J. (Robert Bailey, Jr.), a young boy who contracted AIDS during a blood transfusion, forms the backbone of Hackel's solid if not exceptional script that doesn't go for the "aww" moment during what is still a quietly touching and substantial thread.

True to most pilot episodes, this one serves to introduce the premise and the players, which means that Becker's staff, nurse Margaret Wyborn and nurse's aide Linda, get a brief introduction showing Margaret as the efficient boss in the office and Linda as the ditzy sexpot comic relief, potential stereotypes needing fuller characterization. Similarly, the antagonism between Becker and Reggie is time-worn sparring that signals sexual tension if not romance somewhere along the story arc.

Still, Hackel's introduction to "Becker," which at first glance suggests a throwback to Norman Lear's socially-conscious 1970s sitcoms updated with 1990s jaded snark, holds enough promise to keep following where this punchy gripe-fest might be headed.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

18½ (2021)

Nothing but a Hoax of a Movie

[1/10 · 14 April 2024]

Writer-director Dan Mirvish perpetrated a 2008 internet hoax by masquerading as Republican strategist "Martin Eisenstadt" during the US presidential elections, hoodwinking actual news agencies before they got wise. Mirvish's latest hoax is "18 1/2," although he and co-writer Daniel Moya do establish a plausible, well-crafted, even clever premise to kick off this cockeyed take on the Watergate scandal that eventually forced the 1974 resignation of Republican President Richard Nixon.

Background briefing: During the 1972 US elections, Nixon political operatives, known as the "plumbers" and funded in part by contributions to his re-election campaign, were caught burgling Democratic National Committee headquarters in the Watergate Hotel and Office Complex in Washington, DC, in June 1972.

Investigations led by Democratic Senator Sam Ervin revealed Nixon's voice-activated tape-recording system in the White House. Ervin's attempts to subpoena those tape recordings met with resistance, with some of the tapes received having noticeable gaps in the conversations---including one tape, recorded three days after the Watergate burglary, whose gap lasted for eighteen-and-a-half minutes.

The proffered explanation was that Rose Mary Woods, Nixon's personal White House secretary fiercely loyal to him, "accidentally" erased the tape while answering the telephone, an act that required her to perform such implausible physical contortions that the media quickly and derisively dubbed them the "Rose Mary Stretch."

Once former FBI assistant director Mark Felt revealed himself in 2005 to be "Deep Throat," the anonymous Washington insider who advised reporter Bob Woodward during Watergate, the only real mystery left in the Watergate scandal was what could possibly have been erased from that tape with the 18 1/2-minute gap.

Don't count on Mirvish's movie to shed any light on that mystery, but at least he launches it with a feint toward juiciness that dries up all too quickly.

Connie Lashley (Willa Fitzgerald) works as a transcriber at the Office of Management and Budget, typing up recordings of OMB meetings held at the Old Executive Office Building adjacent to the White House. The conversations are so bland and mundane that she and co-worker Cheryl (Marija Abney) dub them "the only boring tapes in Washington." But as she begins to transcribe a tape of a very short meeting, she soon hears the voices of none other than Nixon (voiced by Bruce Campbell) and Chief of Staff Alexander Haig (voiced by Ted Raimi) on the OMB tape.

The OMB uses voice-activated recording machines just like Nixon does, and what Connie hears is Nixon and Haig entering the OMB conference room to listen to the tape containing the conversation Nixon had had with his previous chief of staff, H. R. Haldeman (voiced by Jon Cryer), three days after the Watergate burglary, with Nixon and Haig unaware that their recording was itself being recorded. What Connie now has is a recording of those eighteen-and-a-half minutes before they had been erased. Explosive stuff, right?

Connie arranges to meet with New York Times reporter Paul Marrow (John Magaro) to share this scoop with him. Paul wants her to give him the tape, but she refuses, telling him that all OMB tapes are logged, and she must log the tape back in when she returns to work. Her plan is for them both to listen to the tape while he makes his notes. Reluctant to be identified as the source of the leak, Connie tells Paul that while he could win a Pulitzer Prize for this bombshell, she could wind up being indicted.

Unfortunately, after this tidy construction of the setup, buttressed by Fitzgerald's and Magano's quiet urgency captured in Mirvish's tight shots, "18 1/2" careens into mushrooming, haphazard non sequitur similar to a confusing, frustrating dream in which you can never complete your task or reach your destination.

Actually, Mirvish previews that from the start. Traveling to meet Paul in a small town on Chesapeake Bay, Connie's drive begins to seem surreal until you realize that she is arriving in her car that is parked on a ferry. Inside the restaurant, the waitress (Gina Kreiezmar) congratulates her for making him wait for her before she pre-empts his order by telling him she will bring him what Connie has ordered. Already the mood reeks of current indie-prod attitude, with Fitzgerald's clipped, acerbic assertiveness clearly a contemporary affectation, as is Magaro's shlubby passivity.

Needing somewhere to plug in the reel-to-reel tape player he brought with him, Paul suggests a nearby motel run by eyepatch-wearing Jack (Richard Kind). Is one-eyed Jack the wildcard in this budding game of three-card monte about to be played before your eyes? Who can tell? When Connie and Paul discover that his tape player is broken, they try to find another one. This brings them in contact with a group of wannabe revolutionaries hanging out at the shoreline as well as a middle-aged couple, Lena (Catherine Curtin) and Samuel (Vondie Curtis-Hall), who had previously invited Connie and Paul to dinner. Yes, they do have a reel-to-reel, which plays bossa nova constantly, but they'll lend it out only if Connie and Paul have dinner with them first.

This is where "18 1/2" becomes interminable, the part in the dream where you are mired and cannot escape---only now you cannot even wake yourself up because the dinner goes on and on. And on. And on. Yes, there is intrigue because Connie and Paul, having just met, are posing as newlyweds, leading to tense moments as the older couple's questioning begins to probe too uncomfortably.

However, the less said about what transpires after Connie and Paul return to their room to listen to the tape, the better because Mirvish, drained of all inspiration and desperate, resorts to snippets of sex and oodles of violence as the hoary, cliché trope that no one is really who they seem to be gets beaten to death in an eye-rolling finish you would expect from a straight-to-video horror flick.

Suffice to say that whatever secrets Nixon and his cohorts held that required erasure have gone safely to the grave with them because you're never going to find them out from Mirvish's story.

Actually, half-garbled shards of dialog and clearly legible intertitle cards before the closing credits suggest some chicanery involving Howard Hughes, the Nixon campaign and Nixon's close confidante and "fixer" Charles "Bebe" Rebozo, ITT, and Wonder Bread.

Yes, there are foundations for credibility lurking here, such as Hughes's 1957 loan to then-Vice President Nixon's brother Donald in exchange for favorable treatment for Trans World Airlines, in which Hughes owned the controlling interest. Or ITT's 1971 donation to the Republican National Committee in exchange for favorable treatment from Nixon's Justice Department in an antitrust case as well as ITT's involvement in the 1973 right-wing coup d'etat in Chile that the Nixon Administration had orchestrated. And ITT did acquire Continental Baking Company, maker of Wonder Bread, in 1968.

Thus, Mirvish closes with the suggestion of a conspiracy theory that, like so many conspiracy theories, has a ring of truth to it based on circumstantial evidence. But until a conspiracy theory is corroborated, it remains a hoax. Mirvish's "18 1/2" is a hoax, and it could have been a good one, a political-thriller black comedy. The problem is that Mirvish takes far too long to tell his joke, uses too much hand-waving, whisks around his one-eyed Jack wildcard too many times in his endless game of three-card monte designed only to fool you, before he gets to the punchline, which falls flat after all the protracted distractions that preceded it.

Even worse, Dan Mirvish gets the last laugh---at your expense. He has wasted your time making you watch his contrived, convoluted, indulgent narrative that amounts to nothing and tells you even less than that. All he has done is erase 88 minutes from your life. That's a gap you'll never fill again. Stick with 1999's "Dick," starring Kirsten Dunst and Michelle Williams, which at least has a hilarious explanation for why there needed to be an 18 1/2-minute gap.

The slyest part of "18 1/2" comes if you read the ending cast credits closely when, glimpsed briefly as the two non-speaking revolutionaries, cinematographer Elle Schneider and assistant second director Joshua A. Friedman get into the act. Friedman is billed as "Fred," and Schneider is billed as "Velma." Had the rest of the "Scooby Gang"---Daphne, Scooby-Doo, and Shaggy---been listed, it would have made this "stunt casting" too obvious (though this "Velma" also wears glasses). That's right. Nixon might have gotten away with it if it hadn't been for those meddling kids.

Now do you believe that "18 1/2" is nothing but a hoax?

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Just Shoot Me!: Twice Burned (1997) Season 2, Episode 7

Dat Hellfire Done Fried My Blues Away

[6/10 · 7 March 2024]

Father-daughter tensions flare up in "Twice Burned" as Maya revisits her schoolgirl resentment toward Jack when he becomes determined to get new daughter Hannah onto the waiting list for New York's prestigious Woodbridge School---conveniently forgetting that Maya had gone to Woodbridge because he never attended any of her important events such as recitals. Executive story editor Pam Brady scripts a sharp, amusing, generally effective primary thread highlighting assured performances by Laura San Giacomo and George Segal along with guest star Harry Groener playing the droll straight man as the school's Headmaster Reilly.

Jack is incensed to learn that Woodbridge has denied his application for Hannah, particularly as he had donated funds to build a new wing for the school. However, Maya admits that while she was there, she had burned down that wing in frustration and anger toward eternally negligent Jack, and Jack had only replaced that wing per what Maya describes as the school's "you burnt it, you bought it" policy. When Jack, along with Finch, visits Reilly on a charm offensive, with David Spade providing a series of slick sight gags, he nevertheless leaves empty-handed, forcing him to sweet-talk Maya into helping him convince Reilly to reconsider as Brady's narrative ratchets up the heat for the climax.

However, Brady's secondary thread goes up in smoke with a dubious, unconvincing premise involving Elliot and Nina. While reading the newspaper, Nina complains that the US Post Office, issuing commemorative stamps honoring various blues artists, has overlooked "Cholera Joe" Hopper, which immediately catches Elliot's attention.

Turns out both are huge fans of the (fictitious) country-blues singer; they ridicule Finch for never having heard of him and for his yuppie, Top Forty tastes in music (apparently, Finch's favorite song is Jim Croce's "Time in a Bottle") as the pair bond over Cholera Joe's unheralded oeuvre before becoming obsessed by a mondegreen (a misheard or misinterpreted lyric that alters the meaning) that inspires Finch to concoct his revenge.

Ostensibly, Brady is lampooning the lengths to which fans can go regarding their reverence for their favorite musical artists, especially when said artists are cult favorites or are otherwise suitably obscure, a valid target with potentially humorous returns. But Brady's problem is in the setup, particularly in choosing an African-American country-blues musician presumably from the pre-World War Two period.

While Elliot's affinity for Cholera Joe stretches credulity, Nina's affinity is downright implausible lacking any substantive reason why either modern, hip, ultimately shallow urbanite would be drawn to his music. A more accessible blues figure along the lines of a B. B. King, possibly, but an earthy Delta blues type? That dog won't hunt. Perhaps Brady should have done more research.

Compounding the problem is having David Spade singing as Cholera Joe on the parodic snippets heard by the audience. Seriously, could you get anyone whiter to do it? No. Perhaps that's the joke, but in that case, why not just have Enrico Colantoni and Wendie Malick appear in blackface for their listening party? Even Brady's choice of affliction for Hopper, spoofing actual disabled artists such as Blind Willie Johnson, smacks of maladroit heavy-handedness.

Degrees of disdain or even indignation notwithstanding, the blues thread does more fire damage to "Twice Burned" than does the school thread. Now I gwine down de levee an' wring my hainds an' moan. Ain't no stoppin' me, yesirram.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Just Shoot Me!: My Dinner with Woody (1997) Season 2, Episode 6

Waggish Mash Note to Woody Allen

[8/10 · 5 March 2024]

Offering up a Woody Allen homage when the actor-writer-director was still relevant and scandals had not entirely trashed his reputation, "Just Shoot Me!" creator Steven Levitan pens a witty satire on fame and hero worship spotlighting Laura San Giacomo and guest star Ed Crasnick that is thoroughly conversant in the Allen universe and that even takes a couple of sly swipes at him.

When Maya publishes an imaginary account of her dinner with her idol, she is surprised and naturally flattered when "Woody Allen" calls to praise her article. Of course, the "Woody" who then appears at the "Blush" offices is an imposter named Preston Beckman (Crasnick), but he looks and sounds sufficiently neurotic to charm Maya into some innocent dating even if he did appear unannounced outside her apartment window, although he at least brought Chinese takeout with him.

Suspicious Elliot digs up the dirt on Beckman, who had previously impersonated Little Richard and has obvious mental health issues (despite having become a millionaire selling office supplies online, enabling him to fund countless therapy sessions that would send the real Woody Allen into psychiatric ecstasy), finally convincing Maya that any relationship would be even more improbable than her article.

Levitan uses "Annie Hall," Maya's favorite movie, as the template for his amusing, sometimes hilarious "My Dinner with Woody," even framing the episode with Maya telling Allen's opening and closing fourth-wall jokes from the movie---in reverse order---to the audience (or at least one unimpressed bystander), as Crasnick indeed has Allen's shtick down pat, perhaps a little too pat, but is believable as the sincere if deluded schlub seeking a connection with Maya.

Montage sequences reinforce the "Annie Hall" connection although allusions to other Allen movies crop up along with a pointed rip at Allen's follow-up to "Annie Hall," "Interiors," his too-deadly serious Ingmar Bergman exercise that might be its own black humor. Even the episode's opening and closing credits replicate Allen's style, unassuming white typeface on a black background although the opening credits could have used a puckish Swing Era jazz tune to accent them ("Me and My Shadow," perhaps?).

"My Dinner with Woody" belongs mostly to San Giacomo, who runs through a gamut of feelings with professional appeal, with only a thin second thread sparked by Nina's having accidentally given Jack breath-freshener drops instead of eyedrops that leaves him temporarily blind and that is played mostly for predictable laughs. Otherwise, Levitan uses Maya as the stalking horse for his waggish mash note to Woody Allen, and it works to generally good effect, la-de-da, la-de-da.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Legends of the Canyon: The Origins of West Coast Rock (2010)

The Real "Legend of the Canyon" Is Henry Diltz

[5/10 · 18 January 2024]

If you blink during the opening credits of "Legends of the Canyon," you'll miss the name "Crosby, Stills and Nash" above the title, fair, albeit fleeting, warning that filmmaker Jon Brewer's documentary is not so much about the informal yet closely-knit musical community that resided in Laurel Canyon, located in the Hollywood Hills above Sunset Boulevard with its host of musical venues, during the 1960s.

Rather, this oblique, uneven, somewhat deceptive portrait narrows its focus to one "legend" in particular, the classic-rock trio comprising David Crosby, Stephen Stills, and Graham Nash, although its first half does feint toward a more expansive pop-cultural history before it becomes an attenuated, overlong drag about an overrated folk-rock/singer-songwriter group with at best intermittent success and popularity whose trials and tribulations provide variable interest depending on your enthusiasm for CSN.

Indeed, despite the first half's seeming comprehensiveness in recounting the birth of the 1960s folk-rock and the nascent singer-songwriter movement that blossomed by the early 1970s, at least as represented by the Laurel Canyon contingent, viewers may soon glean that that recounting is done exclusively through the lens of Crosby, Stills and Nash and the array of interviewees associated with them.

CSN was among the first "supergroups" with David Crosby previously with the Byrds, Stephen Stills with Buffalo Springfield, and Graham Nash with the Hollies. The Byrds and Buffalo Springfield had been formed in Los Angeles, so Brewer devotes substantial time to their careers. Both Nurit Wilde, a lighting technician at the Troubadour and Whisky A Go Go, and especially Springfield's manager Dickie Davis provide insights into the dynamics and personalities of both bands---particularly the power struggle within Springfield between Stills and Neil Young---that are among the variable highlights of "Canyon." Other interviewees include musicians Michelle Phillips of the Mamas and the Papas and CSN's drummer Dallas Taylor; industry insiders including agent John Hartmann and producer-songwriter Van Dyke Parks; and biographer and Hollywood screenwriter ("Jaws") Carl Gottlieb.

Also spotlighted are singer Cass Elliot of the Mamas and the Papas and singer-songwriter Joni Mitchell, with Elliot depicted as Laurel Canyon's Earth Mother hostess and Mitchell as the Canyon's resident genius regarded with almost quaking awe and reverence. And while Elliot, who died in 1974, obviously could not be interviewed, the question of why Mitchell (or Young, or others) could not or would not be interviewed becomes more salient as "Canyon" goes on. The only apparent answer is their connections to the primary interviewees: Elliot was close friends with Crosby, who clearly comes across as the networker among the three, while Nash was Mitchell's lover in the late 1960s; his song "Our House" was inspired by their cohabitation in the Canyon.

By 1968, Crosby, Stills, and Nash formed their trio that in 1969 released its eponymous debut album, which was at the forefront of the burgeoning singer-songwriter movement, spearheaded by Mitchell and Young, that turned the page on then-contemporary blues-rock and psychedelia toward a folk-acoustic approach highlighted by their harmony singing, particularly between Crosby and Nash, on "Marrakesh Express," "Wooden Ships," and "Suite: Judy Blue Eyes," Stills's impression of his affair with folk-rock singer Judy Collins that seems to play endlessly in the background of the interview segments.

And thus Brewer's intent is revealed: a paean to Crosby, Stills and Nash as a significant force in the development of pop music as recalled by the subjective views of the principals---who are not always in harmony with each other; curiously, the three are never pictured together except in archival material---while drummer Taylor adds his observations including disgruntled commentary on his eventual ouster from the inner circle.

Moreover, although Neil Young had joined CSN intermittently, his involvement is reflected only in the principals' observations. Instead, "Legends of the Canyon" delivers an off-kilter oral history of the folk-rock contingent living in Laurel Canyon before descending into gossipy, occasionally intriguing fanservice for the overhyped Crosby, Stills and Nash, with the much more talented and interesting Neil Young a tossed-off footnote.

In fact, "Legends of the Canyon" would have been much more effective had its focus been on the documentary's most enlightening interviewee: Henry Diltz. Diltz, a folk musician with the Modern Folk Quartet who turned to rock-oriented photography, had taken the cover photo for CSN's first album. (His photography also adorns the cover of the Doors' 1970 album "Morrison Hotel.")

A denizen of Laurel Canyon, Diltz, also heard supplying occasional voiceovers, provides the narrative cohesion and musical and social perspectives that solidify Brewer's scattershot, tangential approach. Animated, articulate, perceptive, and puckishly charming, Henry Diltz is the real legend of the canyon here. Viewing the history of the Laurel Canyon set through his lens would have made for a much more balanced, comprehensive, and unified overview of this occasionally fascinating aspect of Baby Boomer cultural history.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Doctor Who: The Stones of Blood: Part Four (1978) Season 16, Episode 12

A Rock-Bottom, Dragged-Out Disaster

[4/10 · 4 January 2024]

In Part One of "The Stones of Blood," Romana was pushed off a cliff; in Part Three, one of the Ogri stone monsters tumbled off a cliff; and in Part Four, the entire serial plunges off a cliff, dragging this third installment in Season 16's "Key to Time" saga straight down to the rock bottom.

David Fisher's often lively tale of dagger-wielding Druids plotting blood sacrifices for the Cailleach in the Cornwall countryside as the Doctor and Romana search for the third segment to the Key to Time leaps into hyperspace and promptly collapses into dragged-out desperation before cobbling together a rushed, unsatisfactory summation that is surprisingly callous toward the fate of one of the characters, with that pesky third segment hardly an afterthought.

Having inadvertently freed the Megara justice machines (voiced by Gerald Cross and David McAlister) trapped in a cell aboard the prison ship hovering in hyperspace above the Nine Travelers stone circle (and is thus invisible to Earthbound observers), the Doctor quickly learns that doing so without the proper authorization is punishable by death. The Megara, depicted as balls of light that dance about when they squeak-speak to each other, intend to execute the Doctor posthaste once they have tried him for the crime.

Why the Megara, who had been en route to the planet Diplos to administer similar frontier-style justice to a miscreant named Cessair, whose crimes include stealing the Great Seal of Diplos, when the prison ship "ran aground" on Earth, had been locked in a cell in the first place remains a puzzle. Aren't they supposed to be on the good side of the law they fetishize so much?

In any event, the Doctor, Romana, and Vivien Fay (Susan Engel), who in her transition to hyperspace somehow turned silver, experience Megaran justice up close and personal as the Doctor is quickly tried and found guilty but soon wangles his way out of being executed, at least temporarily, by demanding an appeal. Or something. And after Romana testifies at this new proceeding, she escapes back to Earth to join forces with archaeologist Emilia Rumford (Beatrix Lehmann) to dig up exposition to explain to viewers just what the---

---Do you get the feeling that David Fisher woke up late on the day of filming and had to throw together a script at the last minute? Too much of Part Four is given over to the Megara's interminable courtroom procedural, with so many actions punishable by death that it becomes an eye-rolling running joke. In the end, the Doctor is still found guilty, a flash renders both him and Vivien unconscious, and then comes labored contrivance revealing that Cessair is actually---let's just say there is no silver lining here.

Back on Earth, more hasty pudding is cooked to serve up the remaining missing story elements before the Doctor and Romana say goodbye to a somewhat befuddled Emilia and beat a hasty retreat from this narrative disaster to search for the next segment. Emilia is somewhat delighted that another stone monolith has been added to the Nine Travelers, seemingly unperturbed by the knowledge that that stone monolith contains someone imprisoned inside it in perpetuity, a "cat among the pigeons" to confound those who had surveyed the circle and counted nine figures. (But for those keeping score at home, subtract two confirmed kills and one missing in action.)

Delivering a full-blooded adventure with its first two parts, "The Stones of Blood" ultimately turns anemic before it is fully drained of globulin in this impressively disappointing conclusion.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Doctor Who: The Stones of Blood: Part Three (1978) Season 16, Episode 11

From Cornwall to Cornball

[7/10 · 3 January 2024]

Where did Romana go? Weren't she and the Doctor supposed to be looking for the third segment to the Key to Time? And how did Vivien Fay (Susan Engel) become a giant Cornish game hen demanding blood sacrifices, anyway?

To answer these pressing questions, David Fisher's script for Part Three of "The Stones of Blood" pivots from antiquity to hyperspace in an abrupt about-face triggering narrative entropy that begins to drag the story out after having worked in flashes of both flippancy and Gothic horror.

As Vivien makes Romana disappear at the Nine Travelers stone circle on a Cornwall moor, the Doctor and archaeologist Emilia Rumford (Beatrix Lehmann) discover portraits at the nearby manor that paint Vivien as the ancient Cailleach before they are chased from the manor by Vivien's two murderous Ogri, stone monsters that live on blood---although Emilia, truncheon in hand, seems determined to track the Ogri to their lair.

Inverting Karl Marx's famous dictum about history, the Doctor dispatches one of the Ogri in a farcical flourish, waving his overcoat like a toreador's cape to the strains of musical composer Dudley Simpson's bullfighting rondo, that incites the Ogri to tumble over the edge of a cliff, visually less than impressive even in director Darrol Blake's brief shot. Then the pair confront Vivien at the stone circle, with Vivien hinting at where she has sent Romana before making herself disappear.

Repairing to Vivien's now-vacant cottage, the Doctor and Emilia, with K9's help, construct a gun-like device designed to help the Doctor traverse into hyperspace while the trio engage in a lively, sometimes arch discussion about physics and the Doctor's origin; when Emilia asks if he is from outer space, the Doctor replies drolly that he is actually from "inner time." Returning to the stone circle, Emilia uses the gun-like device to send the Doctor after Romana in hyperspace as K9 manages to fight off the two remaining Ogri attacking them, with the stone monoliths retreating to recharge themselves.

Now comes the tragedy portion of Marx's dictum. As reviewer Sleepin_Dragon astutely notes, the Ogri's encounter with a camping couple (James Murray, Shirin Taylor) yields the most frightening moment in "The Stones of Blood," a "Hammer Horror" moment sure to have raised the hackles of media critic Mary Whitehouse and her ilk. But there was even more to incense Whitehouse. As the shirtless young man emerges from the pup tent, he is buttoning up his pants, sexually suggestive even if the young woman is reasonably clothed when she emerges moments later, with their cries of agony evincing an ambiguous flavor---and despite the "something for the dads" attractiveness of the Doctor's female companions from Anneke Wills to then-current Mary Tamm, any suggestion of sexual activity, or even innocent romantic attraction, was to be studiously avoided until the 2005 reboot. (Although there are moments during Seventh Doctor Sylvester McCoy's run that can raise eyebrows.)

Meanwhile, the Doctor has emerged inside a spaceship hovering in hyperspace just above the stone circle (and is thus is invisible to Earthbound observers) and discovers Romana. As they explore what the Doctor deduces is a prison ship, they inadvertently free the imprisoned Megara, a pair of disembodied entities (voiced by Gerald Cross and David McAlister), justice machines that tersely inform the Doctor that the penalty for freeing them without authorization is death. Thus, Part Three is already starting to deflate, with silver-coated Vivien's ominous threat delivering a limp cliffhanger that seems to linger awkwardly before the closing credits roll.

Lehmann gets the spotlight here while Engel, her narrative function revealed, seems poised for a spotlight in the upcoming concluding episode. The model work for the spaceship in hyperspace and the soundstage interiors of same are not only redolent of classic "Doctor Who" (and also include a brief cameo of a Wirrn from Season 12's "The Ark in Space") but also shatter the fresh rural and countryside atmosphere with overly familiar images. And while depictions of the Megara might not be the notorious men in rubber suits, the little bulbs of light dancing in air that pulse when they speak is cheesy sci-fi that is a decidedly unengaging anticlimax, marking the transition from Cornwall to cornball.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Doctor Who: The Stones of Blood: Part Two (1978) Season 16, Episode 10

Keeps Its Blood Flowing to Sustain the Momentum

[8/10 · 2 January 2024]

Blood is spilled for real in Part Two of "The Stones of Blood" as the identity of the Cailleach, the ancient hag still worshipped by modern-day Druids, is revealed, but for disciples De Vries (Nicholas McArdle) and Martha (Elaine Ives-Cameron), the price of devotion proves too high while Romana, clinging precariously from a towering cliff, nevertheless proves wary of the Doctor who rescues her from a fatal plunge.

David Fisher's efficient script advances the narrative, launched as the two Time Lords land on Earth in contemporary Cornwall in their quest for the third segment to the Key to Time, and ups the ante in terms of intrigue and peril. Following his own near-miss on the sacrificial altar, saved only by the timely arrival of archaeologist Emilia Rumford (Beatrix Lehmann), the Doctor, with K9 in tow (at one point literally as the mechanical dog gets a camouflaged turbo-boost), pays a call on De Vries only to find mineral mayhem has torn through his baronial hall.

Meanwhile, Romana, helping Professor Rumford do research at the cottage of Emilia's assistant Vivien Fay (Susan Engel), discovers that ownership of the lands containing both De Vries's hall and the Nine Travelers, the stone circle Emilia and Vivien have been surveying, has always been in the hands of women, at least until recently. She and Emilia head over to the hall---only to find that the mayhem visited upon De Vries and Martha has taken its toll on the Doctor and especially K9, who is left clinging to electronic life after battling an Ogri, an ambulant stone monolith serving the Cailleach.

While Romana returns K9 to the TARDIS to effect repairs on him, the Doctor and Emilia discover a secret passage in the hall before making an even more shocking find in the hidden chamber that proves Vivien is much more than an assistant---which Romana also discovers when she returns to the hall and is waylaid at the stone circle by Vivien, decked out in much different plumage than previously, who casts Romana into another cliffhanger to close Part Two.

In this transitional episode, Lehmann develops Emilia into a full-fledged character---a colorful one, to tell from the police truncheon she takes with her to De Vries's hall that got her arrested during a visit to New York---while Engel's Vivien is by necessity circumspect as Engel plays coy, even when Romana encounters Vivien in her rather obvious avian attire. As is typical for classic-era "Doctor Who," the Ogri, despite being animated by the consumption of human blood, is another dubious monster sure to look even more dubious before "The Stones of Blood" (that cat now fully out of the bag) runs its course.

Sure pacing and shot-framing by director Darrol Blake keep Fisher's expository narrative flowing as Tom Baker and Mary Tamm, despite being kept apart for much of the episode, demonstrate that they've fallen into a lively rhythm that displays the subtleties of a strengthening relationship, even when Romana still maintains her suspicions during her rescue from the previous cliffhanger. Laying the pipe needed to bring "The Stones of Blood" to its conclusion, Part Two keeps its blood flowing to sustain the momentum.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Doctor Who: The Stones of Blood: Part One (1978) Season 16, Episode 9

Promising Start Seems Poised for a Memorable Adventure

[8/10 · 1 January 2024]

After two crackling, high-flying four-part serials to open Season 16 of "Doctor Who," first the sly intrigue and double-dealing of the brilliant "The Ribos Operation" and the manic world-crushing of the ambitious "The Pirate Planet," the season-long story arc concerning the quest for the Key to Time comes down to Earth, literally and figuratively, with the four-part "The Stones of Blood," the first of David Fisher's two efforts for this engaging story arc that finds the Doctor and his fellow Time Lord (or Lady) companion Romana on a mission for the White Guardian of the Universe, traipsing across the universe intent on recovering the six components to the all-powerful Key to Time before agents of the Black Guardian (you knew there had to be such an entity in a universe of opposites, right?) recover them first and plunge the universe into eternal chaos (or some such horrific fate).

Thus, the Doctor and Romana arrive on Earth to locate the third component, with Fisher's script working in a wry in-joke: When the Doctor tells Romana what their destination is, she replies, "Earth? I might've guessed. Your favorite planet." And when the Doctor asks her how she knew that, Romana quips, "Oh, everybody knows that." Indeed, many "Doctor Who" stories manage to wind up on Earth; Tom Baker's predecessor, Jon Pertwee, even languished on the third rock from the sun for several serials when the Time Lords disabled his TARDIS space-time machine (or "capsule," as Romana had already haughtily termed it), stranding him there until he redeemed himself.

This visit to Earth places them in Cornwall at the Druidic site the Rollright Stones, which isn't a rejected name for a legendary British rock group but rather an actual stone circle in Oxfordshire, where location filming was done, renamed for "Stones" as the Nine Travelers being surveyed by Professor Emilia Rumford (Beatrix Lehmann) and her assistant Vivien Fay (Susan Engel). The Nine Travelers are also of interest to modern-day Druidic practitioners De Vries (Nicholas McArdle, only slightly over the top) and Martha (Elaine Ives-Cameron, ditto, although not until later) whose sanguinary thirst pegs them as being rather atavistic, particularly when De Vries, entertaining the inquisitive Doctor, bonks him on the head so he and Martha and their associates of BIDS (British Institute of Druidic Studies) can sacrifice him to the Cailleach, more on whom later in the serial. Meanwhile, Romana winds up in a literal cliffhanger to end Part One.

As detailed previously in JamesHitchcock's outstanding, incisive review, Fisher's sturdy script provides a promising start to this four-part serial, even working in a scene in which the Doctor lets Romana, who believed that she had been sent on this mission by the president of their home planet Gallifrey, in on the truth about with whom she had been conversing, which also keeps the audience apprised of producer Graham Williams's Key to Time concept. Director Darrol Blake insisted on using outside broadcast video instead of film for the impressive location shots, thus blending them with the studio visuals for a unified, seamless appearance. Lehmann lights up the screen with her seemingly dotty yet forthright and self-possessed expert already clicking with Tom Baker while twigging fashion-plate Mary Tamm and her Romana for her choice of stylish yet impractical footwear. (The Doctor had already warned her about that in the TARDIS, and if don't blink, you'll catch another sly visual joke: The alternate pair Romana brandishes is even more outlandish and fetishistic.) At this point, "The Stones of Blood" seems poised for a memorable adventure.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Doctor Who: The Seeds of Doom: Part Two (1976) Season 13, Episode 22

Ratcheting the Thrills to An Explosive Cliffhanger

[9/10 · 1 January 2024]

At the Antarctic base camp, the Time Lord the Doctor, his Earthling companion Sarah Jane Smith, and the sole remaining scientist, botanist John Stevenson (Hubert Rees), face lethality from both animal and vegetable in Part Two of "The Seeds of Doom" as they discover that not only has geologist Charles Winlett (John Gleeson), infected by the shoot that sprang from the pod from outer space that had been dug out of the permafrost, changed from a human whose blood has turned to "vegetable soup" into what the Doctor terms a Krynoid, an ambulant, flesh-eating plant, but that the Krynoid has killed zoologist Derek Moberley (Michael McStay) and is roaming within and without the base camp.

Compounding this growing problem is the presence of a pair of strangers who arrived in their private plane claiming to have got lost during a snowstorm. Antarctica is hardly a typical tourist destination, so it is no surprise that the pair, botanist Arnold Keeler (Mark Jones) and thug Scorby (John Challis), has been dispatched by millionaire plant fanatic Harrison Chase (Tony Beckley), having been tipped to the pod by World Ecology Bureau (WEB) functionary Richard Dunbar (Kenneth Gilbert), whom Chase pays handsomely for the tip, to retrieve the pod by any means necessary---and you can bet Scorby for one believes that gives him a license to kill.

That's the juicy setup Robert Banks Stewart scripts for the second installment of this terrific six-part serial that exemplifies the excellence driven by de facto "Doctor Who" showrunners producer Philip Hinchcliffe and script editor Robert Holmes and executed with military precision by director Douglas Camfield, who blends quality model work, production designer Jeremy Bear's interior sets (modeled after the 1951 sci-fi classic "The Thing from Another World"), and the inevitable BBC rock quarry, this one in Surrey, standing in for the icy continent at the bottom of the world into a spine-tingler that ratchets the thrills right up until the explosive cliffhanger.

After attempting to masquerade as one of the scientists during a radio call by another base, Scorby quickly takes charge of the scene, capturing the Doctor and Sarah Jane first before snagging Stevenson and making him divulge the location of the second pod the Doctor discovered since Krynoid pods, like Catholic nuns and Mormon missionaries, apparently always travel in pairs. Then Scorby and Keeler depart, no longer empty-handed, effecting the transition of the narrative back to England while leaving a nasty goodbye present for the survivors.

Challis and Jones establish their characters, Challis as the cool, lethal one and Jones as the timid expert thrust into criminal circumstance against his will; note how he says "excuse me" quietly and apologetically to Rees as Keeler, acting on Scorby's order, begins to tie up Stevenson. Meanwhile, Beckley, whose Chase in Part One harangued Dunbar for not protecting plants as endangered species like WEB is doing for animals---even describing the Japanese practice of bonsai like a form of mutilation and torture---continues to establish Chase as a cold, manipulating creep, always wearing leather gloves, and, this time, referring to Dunbar, a government civil servant, as one of his "employees."

Tom Baker gets to display his puckishness---check the scene in which Scorby first captures the Doctor and Sarah Jane---as well as his resourcefulness although Elisabeth Sladen functions mostly as the damsel in distress, albeit a convincing one who displays a range of emotions. How will the Doctor and Sarah Jane get out of this one?

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Secret Agent: Fish on the Hook (1964) Season 1, Episode 6

Richly Woven Tale Keeps Viewers on the Hook

[8/10 · 16 December 2023]

M9 agent John Drake returns to the Middle East to exfiltrate a mysterious intelligence source in "Fish on the Hook," a richly woven tale that keeps viewers on the hook to the end. John Roddick and Michael Pertwee's robust script weaves several complex elements---perhaps too many---into a narrative that layers intrigue and suspense amidst an exotic atmosphere that simmers to a perilous boil, fired by strong performances from the guest stars and Patrick McGoohan's intricate interaction with them.

A frantic communiqué from an M9 agent (Terence Longdon) in an unnamed Arab country sends Drake to catch the "Fish," the unknown source of strong intelligence in the country. Posing as Max Ryder, the playboy son of the owner of a public relations company, Drake meets Gerdi (Dawn Addams), head of the company's local office, before also meeting Gamal (Peter Bowles), the security agent immediately suspicious of Drake---and who is also closing in on the Fish. Along the way, Drake encounters jittery camera-shop proprietor Tewfik (Vladek Sheybal), cagey Doctor Zoren (Martin Miller), and charming, urbane Nadia (Zena Marshall), the wife of a highly placed minister, all, Drake discovers, key way stations on the path to the Fish---or is one of them the target? More complications ensue when the real Max Ryder (Harvey Hall) arrives in-country.

That last might be an unnecessary distraction, and not much comes of it, yet director Robert Day marshals it within the narrative to keep the story focused. Juggling a set of varying personas, McGoohan displays sufficient range while Bowles, making his presence immediately felt, smartly underplays the heavy, Sheybal delivers the local color, Miller exhibits requisite ambiguity, and Marshall furnishes a surprise at the finale although once Addams's narrative function early on is accomplished, she recedes into the background.

Despite moments of contrivance, such as Marshall's closing reveal (which, to be fair, does suggest intrigue worthy of a separate episode), "Fish on the Hook" is an intelligently crafted story ripe with wit and intrigue, demonstrating that the one-hour format granted "Danger Man" room for effective plot development and character interplay.

(Fans of Patrick McGoohan's subsequent series "The Prisoner" might get a jolt of recognition from McGoohan's parting line to Terence Longdon and thus fuel debate that "The Prisoner" was merely a continuation of "Danger Man." (This reviewer does not believe that.) And although both Peter Bowles and Martin Miller later guest-starred in "The Prisoner," so did many other "Danger Man" guest stars as the talent pool in Britain at that time was relatively small.)

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Secret Agent: Fair Exchange (1964) Season 1, Episode 5

Fresh Twist on Familiar Cold War Hallmarks

[8/10 · 16 December 2023]

Personal relationships---and personal vendettas---underscore "Fair Exchange" as M9 agent John Drake helps a tormented colleague with a deadly axe to grind. Pursued through London by a mysterious man, former M9 agent Lisa Lanzing (Lelia Goldoni) shows up at Drake's door also wary of him; she displays signs of paranoia and indeed had been institutionalized until recently, but her trauma is legitimate: She had been captured behind the Iron Curtain and tortured by a notorious security chief---and now she wants to return to East Germany to kill him.

John le Carré again figures into "Danger Man" as the sturdy script by Wilfred Greatorex (who had co-written the previous episode "The Professionals," also set behind the Iron Curtain) and Marc Brandel sends Drake through Berlin's infamous Checkpoint Charlie to follow Lanzing behind the Iron Curtain. Posing as her estranged husband, Drake tips her intentions to East German spymaster Otto Berg (Andre Van Gyseghem), but of course he and his son Wilhelm (George Mikell) sense an advantage in Lanzing's plot, although when Drake realizes what they've engineered, he must find a way to turn it to his own advantage---while saving Lanzing in the process.

Charles Crichton directs with a keen sense of suspense, underplaying the potential for outsized heroics during the action sequences, which include the climactic closing scenes that recall le Carré's 1963 novel "The Spy Who Came in from the Cold" (and soon to be echoed in director Martin Ritt's 1965 movie adaptation), although the extended pursuit of Lanzing in the opening does become overwrought.

Goldoni doesn't mitigate that with an uneven, creaky performance---she is outclassed by Patrick McGoohan in their scenes together as their characters attempt to convey an abiding friendship. McGoohan's Drake has a prickly relationship with his London handler, Gorton (Raymond Adamson), himself a shade irritable as tensions within the organization heighten over the disposition of erstwhile operative Lanzing. Subtly deflecting cliché, "Fair Exchange" takes familiar hallmarks of the Cold War and gives them a fresh twist while giving viewers a glimpse of the man behind John Drake, if only briefly.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Secret Agent: The Galloping Major (1964) Season 1, Episode 4

Lacking Engagement, a Professional if Undistinguished Effort

[7/10 · 14 December 2023]

Political intrigue in the tropics spurs secret agent John Drake as he poses as "The Galloping Major" while trying to ensure the integrity of the upcoming election in an African country modeled after Rhodesia or South Africa---newly independent but with a fresh British legacy. David Stone's workmanlike script can't avoid stereotype as it slugs earnestly down a familiar narrative although the climax turns on a neat double-cross that lends this modest episode an adequate payoff.

Flying in on the eve of the election, Drake finds that a number of sources are aware of his cover as Major Sullivan, brought in to help ensure order following an assassination attempt against current Prime Minister Kamunga (William Marshall), with suspicion falling on his rival, Dr. Manudu (Edric Connor). Indeed, as Drake explores the political landscape, he finds himself confronting the martial Colonel Nyboto (Errol John) and unctuous Belgian business mogul Lasalle (Arnold Diamond), who appear to be spearheading a coup to put Manudu into power. But just as Drake is set to return to Britain, he discovers that all is not what it seems to be.

Stone's thin story, which doesn't flesh out Kamunga's rationale for summoning Drake in the first place, is instead padded to fill the running time while he populates the background with near-caricatures including Mrs. Manningham (Nora Nicholson), the tippling British widow with the imperial attitude nostalgic for the colonial days, and Suzanne, Lasalle's itchy wife who takes a fancy to Drake, with sultry Jill Melford making the most of a decorative part while providing Stone's final plot contrivance. Marshall, too, with his booming voice, plays to the back of the theater during his florid, mannered performance. Patrick McGoohan seems only intermittently engaged but maintains his cool professionalism throughout.

With an opening recognition gambit that recalls a previous episode, "The Galloping Major," a sobriquet Lasalle pins on Drake, does trot from one plot point to another, although director Peter Maxwell tries to preserve the momentum even if the engagement is lacking. A professional if undistinguished effort.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Northern Exposure: Goodbye to All That (1991) Season 2, Episode 1

Starting Season Two with Bombshell. Or Two.

[8/10 · 11 December 2023]

The second season of the endearing comedy-drama "Northern Exposure" starts with a bombshell as "Goodbye to All That" immediately crystallizes the rich, resonant rapport that gestated during the previous season among the inhabitants of the remote Alaskan town of Cicely, where New York doctor Joel Fleischman must serve as physician to pay off his medical education funded by the state of Alaska. Just before he is slated to take a two-week vacation back to the Big Apple, he receives a Dear John letter from his fiancée Elaine. Shelly also receives a surprise in the form of a satellite dish courtesy of her squeeze Holling, which will have as momentous an emotional impact on Shelly as Elaine's letter will have on Joel as she is quickly engulfed by the array of programming from across the globe now accessible to her around the clock.

Robin Green's sparkling script blends keen psychological insight, deft interpersonal byplay, and clever expository devices to illustrate Joel's state of mind, particularly his thoughts literally projected onto a darkened cinema screen---first comes admonishment from one of Joel's adolescent girlfriends, now-grown-up Tori Gould (Beverly Leetch), then, in a brilliant moment of character exploration, comes Joel's younger self (a fairly impressive Grant Gelt) chastising his lack of emotional resilience. Meanwhile, Shelly too is staring at a screen---the television screen, incessantly, and she is also spending their almost-honeymoon money on a plethora of products hawked by home shopping channels.

Lending additional perception to Green's story lines are director Stuart Margolin's assured choices for framing a shot, which create a sense of intimacy, particularly when Ed devises a scenario to give Joel closure for his long-distance rejection by Elaine. Rob Morrow glides effortlessly from manic denial to maudlin pleading to morose grief, but Cynthia Geary is only occasionally effective, although John Corbett reinforces her scene with him as Chris hears Shelly's (or not-Shelly's) confession. Clearing Joel's obstacle to romance with Maggie, "Goodbye to All That" also delivers a wry commentary on television's insidious power even as "Northern Exposure" itself was fast becoming addictive.

This debut to Season Two also underscores a substantial flaw with DVDs of the series (affecting Region 1 releases in North America). Music was integral to "Northern Exposure," with eclectic selections that not only accented the narratives but became tantamount to another character. The eight first-season episodes contain most, if not all, of the soundtrack music heard in broadcast versions, but "Goodbye to All That" provides the first salient instance of the generic, anonymous music that replaces original selections whose licensing fees proved to be prohibitive. ("WKRP in Cincinnati" is another music-heavy series that also faced this issue.)

Viewers not familiar with the original broadcast episodes (or syndicated reruns at least to the turn of the century) nevertheless might still notice the drop in the quality and distinction of the music playing as Joel is reading Elaine's letter, tries to schmooze an Ivy League co-ed (Therese Xavier Tinling) at the Brick, and has a dream sequence, modeled on the church scene in "The Graduate," about Elaine's wedding to the man she left him for.

In that last scene, for instance, the missing track is Benny Goodman's "Let's Dance," which had been included in Joel's dream sequence in Season One's "Russian Flu," and since that dream also involved Elaine, gone is any suggestion of thematic continuity. Similarly, Shelly's final scene with Holling originally had Billie Holiday's rendition of "Blue Moon," which had previously been featured in Season One's "Aurora Borealis."

Ultimately, the accompanying music is secondary to the narrative and the interpersonal interplay, but its substitution with inferior music is the aural equivalent of watching "Goodbye to All That" and subsequent episodes in black and white: You can still follow the stories, but they've been drained of all vibrancy and color.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Doc Martin: Equilibrium (2019) Season 9, Episode 6

Scrambling to Find "Equilibrium"

[7/10 · 11 December 2023]

As "Doc Martin" wound down its ninth series since its 2004 debut, this seriocomic vehicle for Martin Clunes as the acerbic Martin Ellingham, general practitioner in fictional Portwenn, Cornwall, ventured ever closer to becoming a thoroughly conventional medical comedy-drama. Is this the "Equilibrium" that Chris Reddy's debut script refers to, adopting sentimental overtures to balance the tone toward more audience-friendly expectations? It might denature the show's essence, but that one-note essence was already stretched past its breaking point, so why not?

For one thing, Reddy supplies the same bland veneer as the previous episode, mainstreaming "Doc Martin" into generic facelessness along with the cast. For another, Reddy, tasked with streamlining various strands, blithely touches on them in standard soap-opera fashion. Martin and Louisa begin seeing fertility specialist Doctor Emma Ryder (Lucy Russell) as Louisa prepares for her first supervised counseling session with troubled teen Bethany (Milly Toomey) while Louisa's professor Sam Bradman (John Hollingworth) evaluates Louisa's therapy skills.

Keeping the good doctor busy, Sam's sciatica flares up during the session, held in Louisa's new consultation room in Martin's surgery. That room was painted by a young man (Tom Glenister) whose hyperactive sweat glands produce unbearable body odor, which his girlfriend (Sofia Oxenham) seems blissfully oblivious to---until Martin discovers her nasal polyp and removes it.

PC Joe Penhale reunites with school chum Nathan Fowler (James Lance), now a laid-back surfer whose very pregnant wife Mags (Susannah Fielding) provides Morwenna with the chance to impress Martin with her newly-acquired first-responder skills. Lance has a ball spouting surfer attitude and lingo in a West Country accent (which presumably makes it "cowabunger," then) while Fielding, given a largely decorative part, nevertheless works in noteworthy dimension playing a maturing young woman who might just have two children---not just the newborn but also the new father---to raise.

Meanwhile, Martin encounters asinine Doctor Edward Mullen (Conleth Hill), first seen testing Martin's diagnostic skills with mock patients in Series Nine's fourth episode "Paint It, Black," ostensibly visiting on holiday yet who nevertheless hints that the decision to allow Martin to continue practicing might not be favorable.

That last is the setup for the series finale, with the future of "Doc Martin," not for the first time, uncertain, although shoots of growth suggest potential paths for some of the cast, particularly Louisa, whose consultation with Bethany shows promise while Martin's praise for Morwenna's performance similarly indicates her possible direction as Al Large, having to mind new pub owner Caitlin Morgan's (Angela Curran) produce store, might have found another "fresh and frugal" sideline as "Doc Martin" scrambles to find "Equilibrium."

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Doc Martin: Wild West Country (2019) Season 9, Episode 5

Weary Professionalism Spawns Conventional Television Tropes

[4/10 · 11 December 2023]

Portwenn's Keystone Kop Joe Penhale, still exuberant over his fairly competent recent police work, tackles a shooting in "Wild West Country," Alastair Galbraith's first-time script for "Doc Martin" rife with rookie mistakes, which Charles Palmer exacerbates with formula direction, bringing this medical comedy-drama closer to conventional television tropes as it lumbers toward the Series Nine finale. The gunshot wounding of mysterious stranger Robert Brooke (Danny Huston) by ornery farmer Dennis Thorpe (Keith Bartlett), convinced that Brooke was trying to steal his eggs, spurs PC Penhale into zealous police work he hopes will lead to official recognition in this mediocre, disappointing outing.

Apart from shoving Marquez's by-now tired shtick---the borderline incompetent whose cloying attempts to look and sound capable only induce eye-rolling cringes---into the forefront, the shooting is the catalyst for the closing social observation, another of Galbraith's lackluster threads pulled from the handbook of Jack Lothian, the series' master of contrivance-laden train wrecks, now billed as the series' "creative consultant producer." As Doctor Martin Ellingham grapples with excitable teenager Emily Burnett's (Sally Messham) skin condition, wife Louisa, still concerned about their son James's non-social tendencies---seeming to take after his father---thankfully arranges a playdate for him with the son of undertaker Julia Pote (Olivia Poulet), whose allergic reaction to banana bread gets Louisa accidentally jabbed with an adrenaline shot in patented Lothian-esque slapstick.

Meanwhile, Bert and Al Large learn that the pub has been sold, leading to keen speculation about the buyer that telegraphs its misdirection and resolution as "Doc Martin" grasps at thin reeds to stay fresh. Finding none, it spoons out the pathos surrounding enigmatic Brooke, whose straitened circumstances require no guesswork as Huston gruffs and bluffs with little to work with, a wasted special-guest appearance. (As "Doc Martin" has had to resort to corny wordplay while calling for the next patient in the surgery reception room---asking for "Helen Highwater," for instance---to liven the pace, this episode's choice seems to be an obscure in-joke as Martin, after having treated Huston's Brooke, calls for "Daryl Hannah." Hannah and Huston had co-starred in director John Sayles's 2004 movie "Silver City.")

And with national treasure Eileen Atkins now reduced to a cameo role, Jessica Ransom looks exasperated as stale, stagnant "Wild West Country" lurches through dull, uninspired routines with no one except John Marquez, cementing Penhale's utter buffoonery, engaged beyond the weary professionalism now engulfing "Doc Martin."

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Northern Exposure: Aurora Borealis: A Fairy Tale for Big People (1990) Season 1, Episode 8

"Aurora Borealis" Writes Its Brilliance Across the Heavens

[10/10 · 3 December 2023]

Two key recurring guest characters debut in "Northern Exposure" via the luminous Northern Lights as "Aurora Borealis: A Fairy Tale for Big People" ends the first season of the Alaska-based comedy-drama in dazzling style. Setting, music, performances, relaxed but purposeful pacing by director Peter O'Fallon, and especially the effortless script by Charles Rosin combine seamlessly to epitomize the exciting potential this thoughtful, involving, and slyly tongue-in-cheek series could manifest. After several previous tries, "Aurora Borealis" discovers the ideal tone between playful and poignant to nurture the rich, varied cast of characters each engaged in journeys of self-discovery.

Not only is an especially bright moon disrupting sleep patterns in Cicely, but aurora borealis, the Northern Lights, are flickering in everyone's psyche as an African-American accountant-cum-biker, Bernard Stevens (Richard Cummings, Jr.), rides into town from Portland, knowing only that he needed to come north. He and Chris quickly prove to be simpatico as Bernard helps Chris complete his metal sculpture inspired by the Northern Lights, the first example of the artistic explorations Cicely's radio deejay and resident poet-philosopher would undertake throughout the series, while the uncanny synchronicity they display while playing bridge with Holling and Maggie hints at deeper connections between the two.

Meanwhile, Joel must undertake an extreme house call to Ranger Burns's (John Procaccino) lookout tower well out in the wilderness, as the ranger, so obsessed with spotting forest fires before they become conflagrations that he's developed migraines, whose surname is "Burns" furnishes an example of the series' wry humor.

Returning to Cicely in the bright moonlight, Joel's truck breaks down, leading to his encounter with the local boogeyman whom Ed told him about. Living alone in an isolated shack, Adam (Adam Arkin) turns out to be merely a hirsute, unkempt, barefoot, misanthropic pathological liar who also just happens to be a world-class chef along with other qualifications of dubious veracity.

Such are the wildly improbable elements that manage to coalesce with seemingly unerring logic in the world of "Northern Exposure," perhaps because the cast seems completely invested in them. John Corbett and Cummings exhibit pleasing camaraderie as Chris and Bernard's psychic connection, illustrated by a riotous dream sequence featuring psychologist Carl Jung (Lou Hetler), has a startling reason behind it. Arkin, glowering balefully as his Adam threatens Joel regularly, makes an auspicious entrance, his exchanges with Rob Morrow, rising to the challenge, displaying crackling chemistry sure to make their future confrontations memorable.

The final "character" that makes "Aurora Borealis" one of the greatest "Northern Exposure" episodes is the soundtrack music that, because of the running theme of an exceptionally bright moon, leans heavily on lunar references, from Beethoven's "Moonlight" Sonata and Louis Armstrong's rendition of "Moon River" to Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Bad Moon Rising" and Billie Holiday's cover of "Blue Moon," with the Coasters' "Little Egypt" and, underpinning Chris and Bernard's dream sequence, the Chordettes' "Mister Sandman" tossed in for good measure.

With an assured balance of wisdom and whimsy, affinity and antagonism, and sensibility and surrealism now tested and ready for deployment, "Northern Exposure" maps its strategy for Season Two and beyond as "Aurora Borealis" writes its brilliance across the heavens.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Doc Martin: Haemophobia (2004) Season 1, Episode 6

Establishing the Lifeblood of This Charming, Intelligent Series

[10/10 · 3 December 2023]

Continuing to invest the viewer in the relationships of Portwenn's colorful characters, "Haemophobia" brings Doc Martin's "problem" into bold, and comical, relief while advancing his connection with schoolteacher Louisa. Soon after dismissing a cocky former pupil, Adrian Pitts (Rupert Young), who stopped by the village to ask him for a recommendation, Martin finds himself a victim of a pub prank that spotlights the reason why he left his surgical practice in London to become Portwenn's general practitioner: Martin has developed a phobia of blood, a condition he had previously confided only to Roger Fenn (Jeff Rowle).

The subsequent ridicule enrages him, affecting his bedside manner when he examines young Peter Cronk (Kurtis O'Brien), whose playground fall has caused internal injury that is initially undiagnosed. But when Peter's condition worsens, affecting also his mother, Joy (Mary Woodvine), prone to panic attacks, Martin finds himself having to confront his fears in order to save Peter's life. Dominic Minghella's lean, taut script balances pathos and mirth as it frames Martin as eminently fallible, uneasily detached from the mainstream---as is Peter---but absolutely proficient in his ability regardless of obstacle. His adversarial byplay with Louisa smacks directly of Joel and Maggie's sexually-charged tension in "Northern Exposure," while Louisa's confrontation with Adrian cements her romantic interest in Martin, which closes the episode on a simultaneously touching and hilarious note as Martin Clunes and Caroline Catz click for the long haul---no matter how contentious that haul might be.

"Haemophobia" closes the first series (or season) of "Doc Martin" with a firm establishment of character and setting while offering ample promise of future development. It also highlights the expert guidance of Ben Bolt, who directed all six first-series episodes, and whose approach here underscores the tension, humor, and empathy that distinguishes "Doc Martin" and its deliberately difficult, yet compelling, title character, literally the lifeblood of this charming, intelligent comedy-drama.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Doc Martin: Of All the Harbours in All the Towns (2004) Season 1, Episode 5

When "Doc Martin" Becomes a Keeper

[10/10 · 3 December 2023]

Love is in the air in Portwenn, but ultimately it leaves a bittersweet fragrance. There was a moment early in the first season of "Northern Exposure," the American series with a similar premise as "Doc Martin," when the show locked into place and the viewer became invested in the characters for the long haul, and although the show might continue to sport comedic, even absurdist, flourishes, it had become a relationship drama---with the viewer involved in the relationships with the characters.

"Of All the Harbours in All the Towns" was such a moment for "Doc Martin," with a trio of threads (also a "Northern Exposure" specialty) that solidified the characters' presences, all the more notable because the script was co-written by Kirstie Falkous and John Regier, the series' story consultants whose deep knowledge of "Doc Martin" manages to make this episode endearing. Martin's Aunt Joan gets a big surprise when seafaring ex-lover John Slater (John Alderton) sails into Portwenn after 30 years. Turns out he remembers Martin as a boy, and there is no love lost between them, but John is keen to rekindle his affair with Joan---literally, as Joan was married when they were lovers.

Meanwhile, after getting on the outs with her boyfriend, Martin's receptionist Elaine picks up Al Large as her rebound, much to Al's overeager delight. And when Martin relocates Melanie Gibson's (Stephanie Leonidas) shoulder, the doe-eyed 15-year-old develops an increasingly steamy crush on him. But Martin's diagnosis of John, which forces him to contemplate his mortality, is the somber note to this carefree ballad. Both Martin and Joan gain deep dimension in an absorbing episode by turns amusing and moving, solidifying both the aloof, haughty lead and the sometimes-eccentric locals. "Of All the Harbours in All the Towns" is when "Doc Martin" becomes a keeper.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Northern Exposure: A Kodiak Moment (1990) Season 1, Episode 7

Marks Time, but Still Time Well Spent Anyway

[6/10 · 2 December 2023]

Big themes such as birth, death, family, legacy, and revenge get exposed in "A Kodiak Moment," which also reveals Alaskan atmosphere and continuing character development, but its uneven blending of dramatic depth and comedic shallowness produces mixed results as "Northern Exposure" seems unsure how to combine emotional resonance with the need for laughs. Those big themes seem only to be used as set-ups for flippancy, and yet the performances evince enough sincerity to give "A Kodiak Moment" credibility.

As deejay Chris fields a call from a transplanted Cicelian and, apparently, former lover now down in the Lower 48, he watches two Air Force officers enter the KBHR studio. Over the strains of Glen Campbell's "Rhinestone Cowboy," the caller's birthday request to her father, the officers inform Maurice that his brother Malcolm has died. (A deleted scene, available on DVD, imparts details of how Malcolm was killed in a plane crash, which should have made the final cut to provide a much fuller context.)

Barry Corbin's expression upon hearing the news, then conversing with Chris, only confirms that the industry veteran was the series' secret star. He displays that ability again while meditating on his brother alone in his rustic if stately manse before deciding on a course of action to preserve his legacy. Childless, Maurice decides to adopt an heir---and turns his sights on Chris, already orphaned but, as an ex-convict and countercultural loose cannon, seemingly not up to the Minnifield caliber, as the succeeding vignettes, with their alternating degrees of eye-rolling and hilarity, merely magnify a concept that can only turn sour. Still, John Corbett, handsome and personable but limited in range, holds his own with Corbin as the pair would establish a lasting rapport over the course of the series.

Similarly, Ed arrives at the Brick to solemnly inform Holling that Jesse the bear is back in the area. The career outdoorsman turned placid tavern owner becomes grave and glowering as Holling abandons his vow not to hunt again, then sets out to confront his old nemesis---but when Shelly insists on coming with him and Ed, the hunt becomes a secondary concern as Ed is left as a thankless third wheel to tend the campfire and stay alert to Jesse's presence while Holling and Shelly cavort in their pup tent.

Minor in comparison but much more effective is Joel and Maggie's thread. When Joel is required to journey to another remote town to teach a hygiene seminar, he reluctantly hops into Maggie's light plane, only to land and discover that the participants, many clearly pregnant, were expecting a course in prepared childbirth. Alternately clashing and collaborating, Rob Morrow and Janine Turner deliver the episode's highlight as this thread births the biggest laughs.

Indeed, Steve Wasserman and Jessica Klein's lively but glib script produces its share of laughs but at the expense of the situations overall, undercutting their gravity---especially Maurice's---with comedic twists that cheapen the initial emotional hook.

What is encouraging is how Morrow and Turner click, comedically and otherwise, as they develop depth and texture to make Joel and Maggie's mutual antagonism dynamic, unpredictable, and believable. But perhaps the biggest leap is made by Darren Burrows, whose Ed seems destined to be the comedic sidekick, but Burrows also gets the spotlight near the end during the most resonant moment in "A Kodiak Moment," which marks time but it's still time well spent.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Northern Exposure: Sex, Lies and Ed's Tapes (1990) Season 1, Episode 6

Holding Action Smacks of Contrivance

[6/10 · 2 December 2023]

The spotlight falls on Cynthia Geary, Janine Turner, and Darren Burrows as Shelly, Maggie, and Ed, respectively, all get significant character dimension in "Sex, Lies and Ed's Tapes" to help build the ensemble cast of "Northern Exposure," but despite some nice framing by director Sandy Smolan, this episode, scripted by series creators Joshua Brand and John Falsey, feels like a holding action although it does illustrate their method of using three distinct storylines that would become a series trademark.

Guess what? Turns out Shelly isn't pregnant after all---she's had a hysterical pregnancy brought on by her love for Holling. Shelly also experienced the same phenomenon with Wayne Jones (Brandon Douglas) back in her native Saskatchewan; (not-so) coincidentally, Wayne arrives in Cicely---looking to get a divorce from Shelly, which gives Holling, unaware that she was even married, a literal pain in the neck when it seizes up on him.

Meanwhile, Joel discovers a cyst on Maggie's boyfriend Rick Pederson (Grant Goodeve), who becomes alarmed and asks Joel to remove it to be biopsied. Rick is well-aware of Maggie's history of boyfriends who have all died during their relationship with her, and Goodeve gets an amusing turn fleshing out his minor character in his scenes with Rob Morrow and Turner, the latter particularly as Maggie and Rick await his biopsy results.

Finally, Maurice, having let Ed use his Macintosh to write his screenplay, becomes exasperated at his conspicuous lack of production: Gripped with writer's block, Ed can only visualize variations of existing movies, including "Raiders of the Lost Ark" and "Midnight Cowboy"---and check Morrow's impressive impersonation of Dustin Hoffman's Ratso Rizzo along with his throwaway reference to the now-notorious Donald Trump---until he has a talk with Joel. That last displays the series' leitmotif of using fantasy sequences to illustrate the characters' inner lives, which helped to imbue "Northern Exposure" with such remarkable character development, while series composer David Schwartz's native flute-driven "Woody the Indian" underscoring Ed here would become a recurring musical cue.

Douglas manages the sullen truculence appropriate for his still-a-boy hockey player Wayne; accordingly, Douglas's scenes with Geary have the requisite vapidity, underscored by the canny use of Motley Crue's overwrought power ballad "Without You" on the soundtrack, as Geary reveals her performance limitations. Much better are her scenes with veteran John Cullum, who is quietly developing his Holling well past the initial caricature of a backwoods bumpkin. "Sex, Lies and Ed's Tapes" also highlights the Native American angle in typically wry fashion, particularly Jeffrey Carpentier's gloriously hammy cameo as an emcee at a tribal talent show that features Elaine Miles's Marilyn, although much of this episode smacks of contrivance. Still, the show's underlying intelligence, empathy, and charm cannot be disguised.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Northern Exposure: Russian Flu (1990) Season 1, Episode 5

Just What the Doctor Ordered

[10/10 · 2 December 2023]

Not counting John Corbett's many voiceovers done in character as KBHR's deejay Chris Stevens, Rob Morrow delivers the only expository voiceover during the entire run of "Northern Exposure" near the start of "Russian Flu," and if that suggests that the series is still searching for style and format, this landmark episode yields enduring elements: dream sequences, gentle surreality, and the ingrained, pervasive tension at the heart of Joel and Maggie's complex relationship.

"Russian Flu" also polished the droll humor that laces David Assael's crackling script, giving the series its seriocomic template, while the use of music, both on the soundtrack and with David Schwartz's incidental music, provides both the background commentary and discreet narrative propulsion that became a series trademark.

Joel is elated that his fiancée Elaine (Jessica Lundy) is visiting Cicely, but diagnosing the flu gripping bush pilot Red Murphy (John Aylward in a different role than he had in the "Pilot" episode), whom he hired to fetch her from Anchorage, forces him to solicit Maggie instead. Given their antagonistic relationship, Joel is apprehensive about Maggie's projecting that hostility onto Elaine, but is equally perplexed at---and suspicious of---Maggie's embrace of her.

In the meantime, that flu quickly engulfs the entire town, whose residents, wracked with fever, pounce on Joel's suggestion that its origin might be Russia---and then they begin to blame Joel, whose medical duties keep him from Elaine, for their misery. However, when Joel finally gets Elaine alone, she has already contracted the bug herself while their conversations that inevitably focus on Maggie further drive a wedge between the couple.

Eventually succumbing to the flu himself, Joel dreams of being back in New York, only he's married to Maggie in a gloriously wry sequence that winks at Woody Allen (check Benny Goodman's Swing Era number "Let's Dance" on the soundtrack) while Elaine turns out to be his sister. In fact, even in Joel's waking life others mistake Elaine for his sister, and the series maintains the premise that Joel is an only child---although in what appears to be a prominent continuity error in Season Five's "Birds of a Feather," Joel and his visiting father Herb (David Margulies) discuss Joel's sister in a matter-of-fact manner (it's not a dream or fantasy sequence, in other words) that implies that she did exist.

That dream sequence, the series' first, joins Holling's excursion to show Joel and Elaine some picturesque sights that takes a surreal nod toward "Twin Peaks," in production at the same time as "Northern Exposure" and filmed in the same area of Washington state, that also marks the series' penchant for surreality and magical realism. Finally, Joel's enigmatic assistant Marilyn, whose tribal remedy "hiyo-hiyo ipsanio" seems to offer a miracle cure for the flu, inciting Joel's medical ambition to patent a lucrative wonder drug, makes her first inroad into becoming one of Joel's subtle teachers during his sojourn in the "Brigadoon"-like Cicely as Elaine Miles and Morrow begin to develop an equally subtle interplay.

Similarly, Lundy sparkles in what is ultimately a decorative role, but when she and Morrow are together alone, she supplies dimension that suggests the complexity and contradictions of a long-term relationship that may or may not turn out to be a happy or successful one. Furthermore, Darren Burrows's Ed continues to prove himself to be the connective tissue between Joel and the rest of Cicely.

With its hilarious, intriguing storyline, sharp performances, and eclectic music accenting both (the songs range from Goodman to Barry Mann's "Who Put the Bomp?" to Grandmaster Flash's "New York, New York"), "Russian Flu" is just what the doctor ordered.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?

Northern Exposure: Dreams, Schemes and Putting Greens (1990) Season 1, Episode 4

Colorful but Uneven Slice of Life in Cicely

[6/10 · 27 November 2023]

When Maurice squires two Japanese investors, Chiba (Lenny Imamura) and Masuto (Michael Paul Chan), around Cicely, hoping to entice them into building a resort, Joel senses an opportunity to benefit in "Dreams, Schemes and Putting Greens" but gets more than he bargained for in this colorful but uneven slice of Cicelian life. Sean Clark's workmanlike script also has Maurice revert to broad bigotry while introducing overly pronounced high school-styled antagonism between Joel and Maggie, but it also gives fuller detail to the relationship between Holling and Shelly Tambo while illuminating the torch Maurice still carries for Shelly.

Shelly's visit to Joel confirms that she's pregnant with Holling's child, and her breaking the news to him causes Holling, after the initial shock, to propose marriage. As maid of honor, Maggie informs Joel that he is to be Holling's best man. Meanwhile, Ed oversees construction of an Astroturf golf course Joel and Maurice use to curry favor with the somewhat shady Japanese. However, on the wedding day, Holling disappears, humiliating Shelly and fueling Maurice's hopes that she will return to him. But when Shelly does arrive at Maurice's doorstep, the favor she asks of him is not what he expected.

With a breezy mix of humor and exposition, including a visit by Shelly's father Gorman (Anthony Curry) for the wedding, "Dreams, Schemes and Putting Greens," paced smoothly by director Dan Lerner, paints more of the background of Cicely and its colorful residents, particularly the backstories of Shelly and Holling and how they relate to Maurice. Also gaining traction is David Schwartz's distinctive incidental music and equally singular songs on the soundtrack ranging from Ryu Sakamoto's 1961 pop hit "Sukiyaki" to Kitty Wells's groundbreaking 1952 country lament "It Wasn't God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels," whose ubiquity suggests already that it's a favorite on the jukebox at Holling's bar The Brick. (And although it isn't featured on the soundtrack, the episode's title is adapted from a lyric in the Joni Mitchell song "Both Sides, Now": "Dreams and schemes and circus crowds.")

Despite their too-adolescent feuding, Rob Morrow and Janine Turner are forging a convincing rhythm, with Turner gaining confidence opposite an increasingly assured Morrow. Veteran Barry Corbin bears up under some onerous dialogue that exaggerates Maurice's redneck origins and some deliberately labored singing ("Hello Young Lovers") best understood as a sly joke while John Cullum and Cynthia Geary begin to develop their characters' offbeat March-November chemistry: Shelly is barely legal while Holling will soon be Medicare-eligible. Meanwhile, Chan, whose Masuto gives the impression that he doesn't speak English, gets the lion's share of the reaction shots before delivering his hilarious parting zinger.

REVIEWER'S NOTE: What makes a review "helpful"? Every reader of course decides that for themselves. For me, a review is helpful if it explains why the reviewer liked or disliked the work or why they thought it was good or not good. Whether I agree with the reviewer's conclusion is irrelevant. "Helpful" reviews tell me how and why the reviewer came to their conclusion, not what that conclusion may be. Differences of opinion are inevitable. I don't need "confirmation bias" for my own conclusions. Do you?