The producers of NYPD and the ABC network evidently decided to pull no punches when it came to introducing the series to the public. When this episode first aired in 1967, a lot of people were outraged by its content, including the TV columnist for one of the major daily tabloids. But what made the episode so "shocking" in 1967 allows it to hold up remarkably well 55 years later. The detectives go after a blackmail ring specializing in gay men, whose activities have already resulted in one suicide. But before they can break the case, they have to get past the prejudices of some of the would-be witnesses, and the fear of exposure haunting the one man most likely to help them. The dialogue and mindset is amazingly frank for its time, and the result is an episode even more engrossing today, as a snapshot of edgy, honest programming, than it was five decades ago.
Reviews
49 Reviews
The Clampetts Discover 1960s Garage Rock
30 July 2022
The plot is kind of incidental here -- Jed and Granny decide to throw a "wing-ding" for the young-uns, and the band they recruit is none other than the Enemies, led by future Three Dog Night co-founder Cory Wells. They're doing a garage band take on a Muddy Waters standard which, if you know what CBS's standards-and-practices policies were like in 1965, was downright subversive. But boy does it make for great viewing six decades later.
Bigger Than Life
(1956)
Startling Story, Mostly Executed Superbly
15 June 2022
Warning: Spoilers
This odd, offbeat fact-based melodrama kicked around on television (where its widescreen image -- which was totally unnecessary -- was inevitably shown panned-and-scanned) for decades before writers and audiences picked up on its unsettling nature. Along with pictures such as Richard Fleischer's VIOLENT SATURDAY, this movie scrapes the surface veneer off of 1950s middle-class complacency, and shows just how fragile that surface stability is. James Mason, who also had a role in producing the picture, recognized a juicy role when he saw one and he runs with it for all it's worth. Barbara Rush is a little too passive as his tormented wife, even for the 1950s suburban setting, but you can't ask for perfection in something as provocative as this.
Not surprisingly, the movie lost money on its original release but is now regarded as a classic. Strangely enough, it was also kind of/sort of remade in a wholly unexpected context, in an episode of the TV series VOYAGE TO THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA entitled "Mutiny," authored by William Read Woodfield, in which, in the second half (spoiler alert for the episode) Richard Basehart's Admiral Harriman Nelson almost succumbs to the same addiction side-effects from essentially the same drug.
Not surprisingly, the movie lost money on its original release but is now regarded as a classic. Strangely enough, it was also kind of/sort of remade in a wholly unexpected context, in an episode of the TV series VOYAGE TO THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA entitled "Mutiny," authored by William Read Woodfield, in which, in the second half (spoiler alert for the episode) Richard Basehart's Admiral Harriman Nelson almost succumbs to the same addiction side-effects from essentially the same drug.
The Leatherneck
(1929)
Not a Landmark of Silent Cinema, But a Great Action Drama
11 June 2022
I saw this picture in 2005 (in an edition from, I think, Grapevine Video) and was immediately taken with its performances, pacing and story. No, it isn't going to be studied in college courses on silent cinema, but it is a first-rate drama with lots of action and a lot of heart in the performances. William Boyd, Robert Armstrong, and Alan Hale, Sr. Make a memorable trio of Marines -- Boyd and Armstrong start out in the Corps and persuade good-natured German soldier Hale that his future lay in the United States and as a member of the Marine Corps, and the three of them move into a happy existence of service and adventure in the decade following the end of the First World War. Then an ill-fated romance gets in the way, and jeopardizes the career of one of them and maybe the lives of all three. Director Howard Higgin moves Elliott Clawson's story -- basically an adventure tale shoehorned into a court martial setting -- along quickly, and the performances of all of the characters are convincing, emotionally and theatrically.
A Clever Take on a 1920's Russian Novel (and a 1930's Russian film)
7 March 2022
I love this episode, and it is nicely played and executed, and probably close to a high point for the first season of the series. But let's give credit where it's due.
The story is derived from a 1928 novella by Yuri Tynyanov, based on a tale that was passed along from various sources across the 19th century -- the novella was filmed in 1932 under the title LIEUTENANT KIJE (also released as "The Tsar Wants to Sleep"), which included a very famous original score by Prokofiev, that has long outlived the recognition of the original movie (and was, in fact, re-purposed into the scoring of Alec Guinness film THE HORSE'S MOUTH and also Woody Allen's LOVE AND DEATH).
In the Tynyanov story, set during the short reign of Tsar Paul I, the monarch is awakened by noise from the cavorting of one of his officers with a lady-in-waiting to the court, and demands to know who is responsible. In order to shield the offender from the wrath of the tsar, the disturbance is blamed by the lady-in-waiting (whose shouts awakened the tsar) on a "Lieutenant Kije," who doesn't actually exist. But this being the 19th century military (Russian or anywhere else), no one wants to look foolish by admitting (especially to a subordinate) that they don't know this "Lieutenant Kije," and so the explanation is accepted -- "Kije" is ordered flogged and exiled, but there is no "Kije," of course. But the tsar changes his mind, and order "Kije" reinstated -- so now he has been created in the thinking of the tsar and takes on an existence administratively, and the officers have to keep coming up with diversions and other explanations for why "Kije" isn't present at this or that moment -- and neither their superiors nor their subordinates want to look foolish, and they go along with it. Meanwhile the "lieutenant's" reputation grows, along with his exploits. Finally, the tsar insists on having "Kije" serve him as part of his personal guard, and there seems to be no way around admitting the ruse.
And so it is announced -- that Kije died in battle, an honorable soldier to the end. And is buried with full military honors, mourned by the tsar and the entire court.
As Father Mulcahy once observed to Colonel Potter, when you've got good material, you can't miss. LOL.
The story is derived from a 1928 novella by Yuri Tynyanov, based on a tale that was passed along from various sources across the 19th century -- the novella was filmed in 1932 under the title LIEUTENANT KIJE (also released as "The Tsar Wants to Sleep"), which included a very famous original score by Prokofiev, that has long outlived the recognition of the original movie (and was, in fact, re-purposed into the scoring of Alec Guinness film THE HORSE'S MOUTH and also Woody Allen's LOVE AND DEATH).
In the Tynyanov story, set during the short reign of Tsar Paul I, the monarch is awakened by noise from the cavorting of one of his officers with a lady-in-waiting to the court, and demands to know who is responsible. In order to shield the offender from the wrath of the tsar, the disturbance is blamed by the lady-in-waiting (whose shouts awakened the tsar) on a "Lieutenant Kije," who doesn't actually exist. But this being the 19th century military (Russian or anywhere else), no one wants to look foolish by admitting (especially to a subordinate) that they don't know this "Lieutenant Kije," and so the explanation is accepted -- "Kije" is ordered flogged and exiled, but there is no "Kije," of course. But the tsar changes his mind, and order "Kije" reinstated -- so now he has been created in the thinking of the tsar and takes on an existence administratively, and the officers have to keep coming up with diversions and other explanations for why "Kije" isn't present at this or that moment -- and neither their superiors nor their subordinates want to look foolish, and they go along with it. Meanwhile the "lieutenant's" reputation grows, along with his exploits. Finally, the tsar insists on having "Kije" serve him as part of his personal guard, and there seems to be no way around admitting the ruse.
And so it is announced -- that Kije died in battle, an honorable soldier to the end. And is buried with full military honors, mourned by the tsar and the entire court.
As Father Mulcahy once observed to Colonel Potter, when you've got good material, you can't miss. LOL.
The Giant Gila Monster
(1959)
A Fun Little Movie, Even With the Laughable Monster
31 January 2022
I've always had a weakness for this movie, ever since I first saw it at the age of 9, on TV. True, the monster isn't much, and a bunch of clever kids could probably have matched the level of special effects represented here. But the acting is above par for a picture done on a budget this low, and the lead, Don Sullivan, put a lot of heart into his performance while Fred Graham is surprisingly good as the sheriff, in one of his rare co-starring roles (he was mostly a bit-player and stuntman).
That's more than you usually get out of this kind of picture, and makes it worthwhile. The Giant Gila Monster doesn't really over-promise what it delivers, even if the title creature is pretty ridiculous, and also doesn't demand much from the viewer -- it's the kind of movie that the younger siblings of the teenagers in THE LAST PICTURE SHOW would have eaten up on a Saturday afternoon or evening, if that theater had stayed open into the end of the 1950s, an enjoyable diversion, capturing a much more innocent time. And the music is pretty good, too.
That's more than you usually get out of this kind of picture, and makes it worthwhile. The Giant Gila Monster doesn't really over-promise what it delivers, even if the title creature is pretty ridiculous, and also doesn't demand much from the viewer -- it's the kind of movie that the younger siblings of the teenagers in THE LAST PICTURE SHOW would have eaten up on a Saturday afternoon or evening, if that theater had stayed open into the end of the 1950s, an enjoyable diversion, capturing a much more innocent time. And the music is pretty good, too.
A Great Idea Spoiled by a Poor Script
12 September 2021
Warning: Spoilers
This story of revenge and escalating violence has a lot of promise in its opening minutes, but it quickly falls apart amid some absurdities in the behavior of the regular principal characters and a weirdly unbalanced last act. Stefanie Powers is scary as the vengeance-driven mastermind, out to kill the judges that she blames for her father being denied parole and dying in prison. And almost as good is Elliott Street as her somewhat less competent sibling, who is just as dangerous in his unfocused way of living. And Eduard Franz is superb as their intended victim, the only surviving member of the parole panel that denied their father his freedom. But midway through the episode, things go haywire -- an officer, a partner to the other officer (who is a witness to the first attempt), is shot in the line of duty, and no one is in attendance at the hospital except the partner and their lieutenant (my, how cavalier they are -- who the hell was the technical advisor on this series?). And no one among these law-enforcement professionals ever stops to think that maybe the shooting of the officer is more than just a coincidence, coming just a day or two after his partner witnessed an attempt on the life of a sitting judge? And the writers fail to ever even include any kind of verbal confrontation between Powers' avenging, murderous felon and the police. It all winds up with a hastily occurring (and just as quickly resolved, and also ridiculously resolved) hostage situation in the final minutes of the episode -- the irony is that this scene is so beautifully played, that it shows what the script could have been, if the writers had gotten it right.
Pretty Good Cautionary Thriller For Its Time
31 July 2021
Warning: Spoilers
I'm no HAZMAT or munitions specialist, but I know good vintage TV drama when I see it, and this episode has stayed with me for over 60 years, since I first saw it. The show opens with a young boy working furiously to get some reaction out of an object -- then we see that it's a blasting cap, and a few moments later an explosion ends the scene. Following the credits, we're introduced to Assistant Sheriff George Barrett (Richard Travis), who narrates the true story.
It seems a few boys playing in the area around a dam construction site stumbled onto a storage area for explosives -- they broke in and, not knowing precisely what they were dealing with, ran off with blasting caps and other explosives, which promptly fell into the hands of some of their friends, including the boy in the pre-credit sequence (who, we are told, has lost his left arm and may yet die from his injuries).
A lone explosives expert from the L. A. County Sheriff's office, played by Douglas Kennedy, is handling the field investigation, which centers on the junior high that the injured boy attended. While he does his best to retrieve the the stolen explosives, a parallel story unfolds, as two other boys prowling around the restricted government land where the dam is situated find a plastic squeeze bottle with a brown liquid inside. The boy finding that won't give it up, and manages to force it open, remarking on its pungent smell. He holds onto it even after his mother orders him to dispose of it.
This is where the story get more intense by implication. The bottle contains a "classified" experimental explosive being developed for the US Navy, and no details about it can be revealed -- but given its manner of setting a low-level Geiger counter clicking, and the boy's later physical reaction to having hung onto the bottle, it is, by implication, radioactive.
There is some silliness in here, as I'm not sure a bomb-squad member would be quite so cavalier about gathering and handling newly re-acquired explosives. But overall, this is a pretty intense show for its era, and nicely written and done.
It seems a few boys playing in the area around a dam construction site stumbled onto a storage area for explosives -- they broke in and, not knowing precisely what they were dealing with, ran off with blasting caps and other explosives, which promptly fell into the hands of some of their friends, including the boy in the pre-credit sequence (who, we are told, has lost his left arm and may yet die from his injuries).
A lone explosives expert from the L. A. County Sheriff's office, played by Douglas Kennedy, is handling the field investigation, which centers on the junior high that the injured boy attended. While he does his best to retrieve the the stolen explosives, a parallel story unfolds, as two other boys prowling around the restricted government land where the dam is situated find a plastic squeeze bottle with a brown liquid inside. The boy finding that won't give it up, and manages to force it open, remarking on its pungent smell. He holds onto it even after his mother orders him to dispose of it.
This is where the story get more intense by implication. The bottle contains a "classified" experimental explosive being developed for the US Navy, and no details about it can be revealed -- but given its manner of setting a low-level Geiger counter clicking, and the boy's later physical reaction to having hung onto the bottle, it is, by implication, radioactive.
There is some silliness in here, as I'm not sure a bomb-squad member would be quite so cavalier about gathering and handling newly re-acquired explosives. But overall, this is a pretty intense show for its era, and nicely written and done.
Clever Comedy About Numbers and Human Nature, With Some Colorful Casting
18 April 2021
At the outset of his television career, 33-year-old Tony Randall acquits himself well as a put-upon young math professor who -- because of some transposed numbers in a hotel room reservation -- finds his life turned upside-down for 24 hours. Suddenly, he is removed from the world of academia and, like a fish out-of-water, thrust into the company of gangsters and professional gamblers from right out of Damon Runyon's playbook (and portrayed by the likes of Iggie Wolfington -- later immortalized as Marcellus Washburn in the Broadway run of The Music Man -- and Vincent Barbi, an actor who -- after entering the United States without documentation -- started out in his adult life as a leg-breaker for Lucky Luciano, among other colorful players).
The script is reasonably clever and Randall -- who had not yet developed a lot of the distinctive mannerisms that would characterize his film and television work -- rises to the occasion with an understated but comically flustered performance. The rest of the cast, which includes Mercer McLeod and Joe Maross, gives him able support, but it's Iggie Wolfington who steals almost every scene and shot that he's in.
The script is reasonably clever and Randall -- who had not yet developed a lot of the distinctive mannerisms that would characterize his film and television work -- rises to the occasion with an understated but comically flustered performance. The rest of the cast, which includes Mercer McLeod and Joe Maross, gives him able support, but it's Iggie Wolfington who steals almost every scene and shot that he's in.
Heavenly Music
(1943)
Fascinating Look At Pop Culture's View of High Culture, Circa 1943
5 April 2021
I'll leave others to speculate on how this short won the Oscar in its category -- though I suspect it stood out from the more physical comedies and the war-oriented short subjects that were likely all too common at the time, and was an entertaining and slightly wistful reminder of what Hollywood aimed at when it aimed high in the years before Hitler came to power.
I do wonder, watching it anew, however, if it was from this short that Steve Allen got the idea for his series "Meeting Of Minds," in which actors playing historical figures would meet in a "Firing Line"-type setting and argue their differences, because there is some of that going on in the fanciful plot of this film, and it almost looks like it could have been the pilot for the Allen series. (Oh, and as to another reviewer's contention that the authors of this script cribbed their plot from "Carousel," that reviewer ought to check his dates).
All of the music is good listening, and the portrayals are entertaining, and it is interesting that, in the middle of World War II, the producers allowed the portrayal of Richard Wagner (whose music was embraced by Hitler personally, and his regime) to have as much prominence as it does here. (Of course, in a later time, someone might have insisted that there be a representation of Gustav Mahler, and perhaps that Mendelssohn be portrayed, as well -- then the sparks could have flown between the three).
But this is fun viewing, and worth 12 minutes of your time.
I do wonder, watching it anew, however, if it was from this short that Steve Allen got the idea for his series "Meeting Of Minds," in which actors playing historical figures would meet in a "Firing Line"-type setting and argue their differences, because there is some of that going on in the fanciful plot of this film, and it almost looks like it could have been the pilot for the Allen series. (Oh, and as to another reviewer's contention that the authors of this script cribbed their plot from "Carousel," that reviewer ought to check his dates).
All of the music is good listening, and the portrayals are entertaining, and it is interesting that, in the middle of World War II, the producers allowed the portrayal of Richard Wagner (whose music was embraced by Hitler personally, and his regime) to have as much prominence as it does here. (Of course, in a later time, someone might have insisted that there be a representation of Gustav Mahler, and perhaps that Mendelssohn be portrayed, as well -- then the sparks could have flown between the three).
But this is fun viewing, and worth 12 minutes of your time.
What Kept Tony Randall Busy Between Movies With Rock Hudson and The Odd Couple
27 March 2021
COOGAN'S REWARD was a busted pilot for a proposed series. Conceived and produced at the height of the networks' love affair with World War II subject matter, this offbeat comedy/drama cast Tony Randall as Willie Coogan, a war correspondent who finds his job -- and little matters like the Second World War -- getting in the way of his hedonistic pursuits. He's a philanderer and a conniver stuck in a bad situation (think of Catch 22's Milo Minderbinder-lite). The mood is an uncertain one, trying to make comedy/drama hay out of what was a dark and serious situation, and the pilot never seemed to find the kind of balance that series such as McHale's Navy (or its predecessor, Seven Against The Sea) and Mister Roberts managed to achieve, or what M*A*S*H parlayed into a decade of television. Watching it today, it's difficult to make out whether Willie Coogan is supposed to be a hero or an anti-hero, and while it might have made an interesting series, COOGAN'S REWARD was trying to thread one needle too many for its own good.
20th Century-Fox's Last Bite of the "How To Marry A Millionaire" Apple
24 February 2021
Having already done a syndicated series based directly on the movie How To Marry A Millionaire, Fox's television division decided to give it another go with this slightly updated iteration of the same concept. Pamela Tiffin, Julie Newmar, and Monica Moran (the daughter of Thelma Ritter) portray Taffy Warren, Kris Meeker, and Andrea Franks, respectively -- three young, aspiring career women who are trying to get ahead professionally while leaving room for romance in their lives, as well. The idea wasn't bad, and the series is a little more attuned to the early/middle 1960s than its source material would lead one to expect -- and the trio, especially Miss Newmar, are a delight to the eye, and the humor is reasonably sophisticated for its time.
But the times and the timing were somehow against it (talk about bad luck -- Newmar recalled decades later that the show was in the process of being filmed on November 22, 1963, and when word of Kennedy's assassination got to the set, they shut everything down till the following week). And somehow, despite the presence of Tiffin and Newmar, the series never clicked with sponsors or the network, and the pilot -- a story about one of the women trying to help out an aspiring prize-fighter -- was relegated to a summer anthology show, and forgotten.
But the times and the timing were somehow against it (talk about bad luck -- Newmar recalled decades later that the show was in the process of being filmed on November 22, 1963, and when word of Kennedy's assassination got to the set, they shut everything down till the following week). And somehow, despite the presence of Tiffin and Newmar, the series never clicked with sponsors or the network, and the pilot -- a story about one of the women trying to help out an aspiring prize-fighter -- was relegated to a summer anthology show, and forgotten.
Lots of Stock Footage, But Done Well Enough
10 January 2021
Irwin Allen was a producer who, like most in his profession, never let a frame of film go to waste -- his motto was, if something already in the can could be used to help put together key elements of a decent new story, pull it out and use it (even if it meant tailoring all kinds of details of the new story to fit the stock footage)! In this case, there were two stories mashed together in one episode, sort of like what Universal was known for doing in combining episodes of series like Tales of Fargo or The Virginian into feature-length films.
The better of the two stories is one of grief and revenge. Seaman Benson (Paul Carr. who had previously played a crew member named Clark in episodes of the series) is driven to plan the murder of Cmdr. Lee Crane (David Hedison), as he blames the latter for giving the order that killed Benson's best friend, Grady who, as a favor to Benson, had taken over the latter's assigned shift in a section of the ship that ends up flooded). The opportunity for revenge arises as Crane and the Seaview are trying to find and rescue Admiral Nelson (Richard Basehart) and Chief Sharkey (Terry Becker), who have become stranded on an island where large prehistoric creatures are roaming around. As a result, not for the first time, Irwin Allen called up footage from his 1960 feature THE LOST WORLD; and he also utilized tinted black-and-white footage from the Season One Voyage episode "Submarine Sunk Here" (one of the series' high points, incidentally) to depict Grady's death.
The LOST WORLD footage seems hokey today but in the mid-1960s it looked great on TV, and the psychological side of the story -- especially the interactions between Benson and Kowalski (Del Monroe) -- holds the viewer's interest. Additionally, this was the episode in which the writers began exploring the notion of a friendship and bond between Nelson and Sharkey that would become an ongoing feature in subsequence scripts. And to top it off, for once, stuntman/extra Ron Stein actually gets a line of dialogue, though he is still uncredited.
Later entries in the series would turn to similar recycling of material, but at this point the writing and acting were still pretty fresh, and it works.
The better of the two stories is one of grief and revenge. Seaman Benson (Paul Carr. who had previously played a crew member named Clark in episodes of the series) is driven to plan the murder of Cmdr. Lee Crane (David Hedison), as he blames the latter for giving the order that killed Benson's best friend, Grady who, as a favor to Benson, had taken over the latter's assigned shift in a section of the ship that ends up flooded). The opportunity for revenge arises as Crane and the Seaview are trying to find and rescue Admiral Nelson (Richard Basehart) and Chief Sharkey (Terry Becker), who have become stranded on an island where large prehistoric creatures are roaming around. As a result, not for the first time, Irwin Allen called up footage from his 1960 feature THE LOST WORLD; and he also utilized tinted black-and-white footage from the Season One Voyage episode "Submarine Sunk Here" (one of the series' high points, incidentally) to depict Grady's death.
The LOST WORLD footage seems hokey today but in the mid-1960s it looked great on TV, and the psychological side of the story -- especially the interactions between Benson and Kowalski (Del Monroe) -- holds the viewer's interest. Additionally, this was the episode in which the writers began exploring the notion of a friendship and bond between Nelson and Sharkey that would become an ongoing feature in subsequence scripts. And to top it off, for once, stuntman/extra Ron Stein actually gets a line of dialogue, though he is still uncredited.
Later entries in the series would turn to similar recycling of material, but at this point the writing and acting were still pretty fresh, and it works.
49th Parallel
(1941)
Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger Score Big
12 November 2020
I should start by saying that I'm a bit prejudiced where this movie is concerned, as I oversaw the original laserdisc release of it in the US, and also did the audio commentary for its laserdisc and DVD releases.
The movie has always been a little special to me on the basis of the fact that it was among the first films about the Second World War that I ever remember seeing, when I must've been about 7 years old -- Casablanca was another -- in the early 1960s. At that time, the movie was available in the United States in its shorter, re-titled American edit "The Invaders." The latter was still a fairly powerful film, but it deleted some of the worst violence committed by the escaping Germans, along with dialogue delineating the worst racial aspects of Nazi ideology, and also some wonderful footage of Canada circa 1940-41. Michael Powell, whom I knew and worked with on a couple of projects, never quite understood why Columbia Pictures would have censored some of the violence and that particular dialogue from the US version of the movie, especially as it was released in America in the spring of 1942, by which time we were at war with Germany.
As with several of Powell and Pressburger's early releases (and this predates the formation of their partnership as The Archers), the American edit of the movie is more a curio than anything else, but it was good enough to get me looking at the complete movie -- which was a revelation at the time -- and also begin for me a lifelong love-affair with the music of Ralph Vaughan Williams.
The movie has always been a little special to me on the basis of the fact that it was among the first films about the Second World War that I ever remember seeing, when I must've been about 7 years old -- Casablanca was another -- in the early 1960s. At that time, the movie was available in the United States in its shorter, re-titled American edit "The Invaders." The latter was still a fairly powerful film, but it deleted some of the worst violence committed by the escaping Germans, along with dialogue delineating the worst racial aspects of Nazi ideology, and also some wonderful footage of Canada circa 1940-41. Michael Powell, whom I knew and worked with on a couple of projects, never quite understood why Columbia Pictures would have censored some of the violence and that particular dialogue from the US version of the movie, especially as it was released in America in the spring of 1942, by which time we were at war with Germany.
As with several of Powell and Pressburger's early releases (and this predates the formation of their partnership as The Archers), the American edit of the movie is more a curio than anything else, but it was good enough to get me looking at the complete movie -- which was a revelation at the time -- and also begin for me a lifelong love-affair with the music of Ralph Vaughan Williams.
Excellent Drama, Despite a Few Flaws
24 October 2020
Warning: Spoilers
Voyage To the Bottom of the Sea's first season was the one that hewed the most closely to reality -- the monsters, when they appeared, were reasonably credible and there was a dour seriousness to the tone of the entire series, which lightened slightly when it went to color. "Mutiny," along with "Doomsday" and "Submarine Sunk Here," might have been the high-point for the run of the series. The plot is actually fairly complex -- while overseeing the shakedown cruise of the submarine Neptune, Admiral Nelson (Richard Basehart) leaves the ship on a dive to check out a possible deposit of a rare radioactive mineral. He and his diving partner, Fowler (Steve Harris), are shocked to see the sub they have just left attacked and destroyed by a gigantic "coelenterate" (that's the term they use, meaning essentially a jellyfish, but the gargantuan creature in question is really more of a physalia, or Portuguese man 'o war, which is a composite organism made up of numerous component organisms, than a jellyfish).
Making their way to the surface, Nelson and Fowler improvise a raft using their diving suits and equipment, but Fowler starts to succumb to the stings of the small "coelenterates" that follow the larger creature, eventually falling into the sea and drowning during a violent storm. Nelson is left to survive alone -- meanwhile, the US Navy, under the command of four-star Admiral Jiggs Starke (Harold J. Stone) is conducting a full-out search for survivors of the Neptune, while the Seaview's captain, Commander Lee Crane (David Hedison), awaits word along with the sub's crew.
Nelson is found and hospitalized at Pearl Harbor, and the Seaview is temporarily commissioned into the US Navy and sent to pick him up and deal with whatever destroyed the Neptune, with Admiral Starke aboard. A tough-talking, no-nonsense "old navy" disciplinarian, Starke reacts harshly to the Seaview's relatively loose, non-traditional level of order and discipline, and especially to Crane's comparatively informal manner of dealing with subordinates.
Nelson, mostly recovered from his ordeal at sea, joins the Seaview at Pearl Harbor and the submarine begins its hunt. Crane becomes concerned, however, over Nelson's unpredictable mood-swings from moment to moment, which seem to be affecting his ability to oversee the search -- Nelson also appears distracted some of the time, his mind seemingly wandering during critical discussions. Additionally, a new problem arises as the ship's doctor (Richard Bull) discloses that both the large coelenterate and the small ones moving in its wake are dangerously radioactive, and that the stings of the small ones can progressively destroy human brain cells, bringing about irrational behavior and delirium, followed by death.
Matters come to a head when the Seaview loses depth control and speed during the hunt and starts gradually descending toward its crush depth. Crane and Nelson have a confrontation over how to proceed, the admiral ignoring the recommendation of the ship's computer that the sub be taken into a full dive (in order to increase forward speed and regain both rudder and diving plane control), Nelson insisting on an "up" angle (which will, in fact, do no good without more speed, and may cause the diving planes to buckle and snap off). The admiral appears to lose all emotional control -- having previously defended Crane and his command style to Starke, he now spouts paranoid criticism of both Crane and the entire crew, screaming as Crane is relieved of command and escorted out of the control room about the Seaview being a "loose ship." The ship is out of immediate danger, but Crane's real concern is for the admiral, who, he fears, may be succumbing to delayed radiation damage to his nervous system from his first encounter with the creature -- a symptom that precedes death.
The writing of this episode is generally excellent, although author William Read Woodfield pushes a little too hard and too fast for drama, instead of letting it develop naturally, and causing a few leaps of logic that ought to have been better explained and dealt with. I won't spoil the denouement of the episode by revealing more, but the actual cause of Nelson's condition and its resolution is taken right from the movie BIGGER THAN LIFE, starring James Mason and Barbara Rush.
In terms of realism, within the limits of a sci-fi adventure show, the script keeps things together despite the uncertain nature of the monster the Seaview is facing -- I suppose a jellyfish is an easier explanation to put over than a Portuguese man 'o war, in terms of verbal shorthand, though they are very different creatures and the account of the monster's nature is certainly closer to the latter than the former. My one big argument about this episode and its script, though, is that in real-life, no matter how high-ranking the admiral in question is, no flag officer would ever question the manner in which a ship's commander handled matters on his own vessel, whether that admiral was using it as his flag-ship or was merely traveling aboard her.
Making their way to the surface, Nelson and Fowler improvise a raft using their diving suits and equipment, but Fowler starts to succumb to the stings of the small "coelenterates" that follow the larger creature, eventually falling into the sea and drowning during a violent storm. Nelson is left to survive alone -- meanwhile, the US Navy, under the command of four-star Admiral Jiggs Starke (Harold J. Stone) is conducting a full-out search for survivors of the Neptune, while the Seaview's captain, Commander Lee Crane (David Hedison), awaits word along with the sub's crew.
Nelson is found and hospitalized at Pearl Harbor, and the Seaview is temporarily commissioned into the US Navy and sent to pick him up and deal with whatever destroyed the Neptune, with Admiral Starke aboard. A tough-talking, no-nonsense "old navy" disciplinarian, Starke reacts harshly to the Seaview's relatively loose, non-traditional level of order and discipline, and especially to Crane's comparatively informal manner of dealing with subordinates.
Nelson, mostly recovered from his ordeal at sea, joins the Seaview at Pearl Harbor and the submarine begins its hunt. Crane becomes concerned, however, over Nelson's unpredictable mood-swings from moment to moment, which seem to be affecting his ability to oversee the search -- Nelson also appears distracted some of the time, his mind seemingly wandering during critical discussions. Additionally, a new problem arises as the ship's doctor (Richard Bull) discloses that both the large coelenterate and the small ones moving in its wake are dangerously radioactive, and that the stings of the small ones can progressively destroy human brain cells, bringing about irrational behavior and delirium, followed by death.
Matters come to a head when the Seaview loses depth control and speed during the hunt and starts gradually descending toward its crush depth. Crane and Nelson have a confrontation over how to proceed, the admiral ignoring the recommendation of the ship's computer that the sub be taken into a full dive (in order to increase forward speed and regain both rudder and diving plane control), Nelson insisting on an "up" angle (which will, in fact, do no good without more speed, and may cause the diving planes to buckle and snap off). The admiral appears to lose all emotional control -- having previously defended Crane and his command style to Starke, he now spouts paranoid criticism of both Crane and the entire crew, screaming as Crane is relieved of command and escorted out of the control room about the Seaview being a "loose ship." The ship is out of immediate danger, but Crane's real concern is for the admiral, who, he fears, may be succumbing to delayed radiation damage to his nervous system from his first encounter with the creature -- a symptom that precedes death.
The writing of this episode is generally excellent, although author William Read Woodfield pushes a little too hard and too fast for drama, instead of letting it develop naturally, and causing a few leaps of logic that ought to have been better explained and dealt with. I won't spoil the denouement of the episode by revealing more, but the actual cause of Nelson's condition and its resolution is taken right from the movie BIGGER THAN LIFE, starring James Mason and Barbara Rush.
In terms of realism, within the limits of a sci-fi adventure show, the script keeps things together despite the uncertain nature of the monster the Seaview is facing -- I suppose a jellyfish is an easier explanation to put over than a Portuguese man 'o war, in terms of verbal shorthand, though they are very different creatures and the account of the monster's nature is certainly closer to the latter than the former. My one big argument about this episode and its script, though, is that in real-life, no matter how high-ranking the admiral in question is, no flag officer would ever question the manner in which a ship's commander handled matters on his own vessel, whether that admiral was using it as his flag-ship or was merely traveling aboard her.
The Story Is a Good One -- But the Plot Owes Too Much to Leone and Kurosawa
6 October 2020
Warning: Spoilers
This episode, which I first saw in 2020, is a pretty good one, and a fine showcase for the talents of the late James Stacy, as Johnny Madrid Lancer (and watching it, you could only feel for what actor Wayne Maunder, playing Johnny's half-brother, must have gone through on the series -- it looks like Stacy's character got all of the good scripts). And Billy Mumy, now being billed as Bill Mumy in what may have been his first post-Lost In Space role, is good as the vengeance-seeking boy. Richard X. Slattery as one of the contending ranchers is not quite right -- he was always better playing cops (which he had been in real-life and uniformed or urban bullies), but Bert Freed is spot-on, as is everyone else.
The only issue is the plot, which owes so much to Akira Kurosawa's YOJIMBO and, more directly, to Sergio Leone's A FISTFUL OF DOLLARS that I could almost imagine hearing the Morricone music somewhere distantly across the plains. Surely screenwriter Carey Wilber could have added another twist or two to separate it from such obvious source material. And, of course, as a late 1960s TV western, any action and violence is considerably toned down from the way it would have been handled a couple of years earlier. Still, there's as much good here as there is predictable action, and it's worth an hour of your time for what is worthwhile.
The only issue is the plot, which owes so much to Akira Kurosawa's YOJIMBO and, more directly, to Sergio Leone's A FISTFUL OF DOLLARS that I could almost imagine hearing the Morricone music somewhere distantly across the plains. Surely screenwriter Carey Wilber could have added another twist or two to separate it from such obvious source material. And, of course, as a late 1960s TV western, any action and violence is considerably toned down from the way it would have been handled a couple of years earlier. Still, there's as much good here as there is predictable action, and it's worth an hour of your time for what is worthwhile.
Well-written and Suspenseful
8 September 2020
The second half of the game of cat-and-mouse between General Savage and his captors plays out extremely well, with new levels of complexity and suspense added at each turn. The only real flaw is what the two-part episode's plot does to the series, which did try for a certain degree of verisimilitude. The fact is that Allied personnel who successfully escaped from German P.O.W. camps were not normally permitted to go on missions over or within enemy territory again -- the risk being that, if they were captured again, they might be forced under torture to reveal their previous means of escape and what assistance they received, thus endangering members of the underground and other P.O.W.s. Thus, this two-part episode should have ended General Savage's opportunity to command missions over Axis territory.
Just About A Jump-The-Shark Moment for Hawkeye and B.J.
4 September 2020
Warning: Spoilers
I was perturbed by this episode from the first time I saw it, as it seemed to me, in the writing, that Hawkeye and B.J. were acting not only incredibly obtuse -- especially Hawkeye, for someone who had been over in Korea for a good long while -- and downright recklessly. The whole plot set-up, in which the pair, with help from Major Winchester, try to sandbag and finally obstruct the work of an allied (i.e. South Korean) soldier, in time of war, in the lawful performance of his duty, however vile and unpleasant that duty might seem to them (and even to him), basically has Hawkeye and B.J. committing a court martial offense. The latter was something that career army officer Colonel Potter would have been telling them in no uncertain terms. And the fact that it comes down to South Korean enlisted men pointing loaded weapons at the two American doctors just rips the envelope as far as convincing, realistic drama -- in real life, the two surgeons would have likely faced trial and potential imprisonment in Fort Leavenworth. Where were the technical advisors when this script was being vetted?
A Suspenseful Beginning to the Final Episode -- And Then It Goes Haywire
23 August 2020
Warning: Spoilers
The final episode of The Rat Patrol, "The Kill At Koorlea Raid" starts off promisingly enough. German General Koenig (known as "The Butcher") has been targeted for capture by the Allies -- or, barring that, assassination. Having discovered and killed two North African infiltrators to his headquarters and captured and tortured a third for information on the mission, he decides to proceed with his plans for a rest at a known retreat spot. The Allied CO, backed into a corner, decides that it's best to cut his losses and go for the kill, instead --he assigns Troy and his unit to conduct Corporal Freebairn (William Watson), an expert sharpshooter and hunter, to a location that will give him a perfect long-range shot at Koenig. All goes well, and a perfect kill-shot is lined up, until the men realize that the general is in the company of his wife and young children. Freebairn doesn't care one whit, and is certain he can make a clean shot, and is eager in his cold, professional way to make it. But in a fit of conscience, Troy decides to make the mission -- with just the four men he has at hand -- a lot more dangerous by trying to take the general alive.
Love, Honor and Behave
(1938)
Heavy-handed, Unconvincing Drama -- with a "Message" That Gets Muddled
25 July 2020
Each of the performers in LOVE, HONOR & BEHAVE did better work -- some very decidedly so -- than what we see here, which is good, because otherwise there would be little reason for us to even know who any of them were. The script must have read better than it plays, otherwise I can't imagine why -- other than owing someone at Warner Bros. a BIG favor -- Thomas Mitchell (who knew his way around scripts as well as the stage) would have agreed to do this disastrous little romantic "dramedy." Others have described the plot, which concerns a young man (Wayne Morris) raised almost from the cradle to believe and act on fair-play and self-sacrifice by his well-meaning mother (Barbara O'Neil), to the point where he becomes a damaged adult, unable to assert himself in even the most basic manner on the essentials of life, including finishing college, competing in sports (tennis), and managing his love-life. He's taken advantage of, intentionally or otherwise, by a coterie of friends and acquaintances, and seems on his way to a life of unrealized potential and virtual penury by his exasperating mix of self-sacrifice and self-centeredness.
The conflict is resolved in an almost slapstick manner by the young marrieds (Morris, Priscilla Lane) that is steeped in just enough physical injury to make it unfunny and unromantic in the extreme. Given that none of the players from Mitchell on down seem to believe any of the lines they're spouting, and that the flat direction gives us nothing to appreciate in the acting or staging up to that point, it's almost a relief when this picture's final credits ("blame" might be more appropriate) unspool. (Even Dick Foran, who was accustomed to playing unsubtle lunkheads -- a role he later aspired to in real life -- looks uncomfortable here). And of course, the fact that it took four credited screenwriters to deliver the script for this 71-minute time-filler should be a warning to the unwary.
If you're looking for a good movie about marital conflict and resolution from this decade, see William Wyler's DODSWORTH. LOVE, HONOR AND BEHAVE is closer to Jiggs and Maggie, and painful to watch, especially given our awareness that everyone involved (including underlying author Stephen Vincent Benet, whose output included "The Devil And Daniel Webster") was capable of so much more than what we see here.
The conflict is resolved in an almost slapstick manner by the young marrieds (Morris, Priscilla Lane) that is steeped in just enough physical injury to make it unfunny and unromantic in the extreme. Given that none of the players from Mitchell on down seem to believe any of the lines they're spouting, and that the flat direction gives us nothing to appreciate in the acting or staging up to that point, it's almost a relief when this picture's final credits ("blame" might be more appropriate) unspool. (Even Dick Foran, who was accustomed to playing unsubtle lunkheads -- a role he later aspired to in real life -- looks uncomfortable here). And of course, the fact that it took four credited screenwriters to deliver the script for this 71-minute time-filler should be a warning to the unwary.
If you're looking for a good movie about marital conflict and resolution from this decade, see William Wyler's DODSWORTH. LOVE, HONOR AND BEHAVE is closer to Jiggs and Maggie, and painful to watch, especially given our awareness that everyone involved (including underlying author Stephen Vincent Benet, whose output included "The Devil And Daniel Webster") was capable of so much more than what we see here.
A Flawed But Good Episode -- with a central plot apparently based on a well-known Cold War novel
20 January 2020
Warning: Spoilers
This second episode of the second season of 12 O'Clock High -- a somewhat retooled version of the series, with Paul Burke succeeding the flintier, older-looking Robert Lansing as the series lead -- has a good enough central plot, though that plot is plainly derived from a literary (and also an early television) source. It also showed off the weakness of the second season, as the producers and the network (ABC), eager to attract female viewers, felt compelled to inject the script with some romantic by-play between Burke's Colonel Gallagher and Gia Scala's Allied Polish espionage operative. Scala is good enough in her role, but one can see the series starting to come off the rails a bit with her scenes with Burke; yes, there had been female co-stars and quasi-romantic subplots involving Lansing's Brigadier General Frank Savage, but they were fewer and further between than they would be in the series' second season.
The rest of the episode is a good, suspenseful story of sabotage and murder taking place at the Archbury airfield where 918th is based, and it's well done. The problem there is that several aspects of this story seem to have been lifted from Pat Frank's 1956 Cold War espionage novel FORBIDDEN AREA, and possibly also from the 1956 Playhouse 90 adaptation (under the same title, authored by Rod Serling) of that story, about Soviet infiltrators conducting sabotage and murder at Strategic Air Command bases. Here the infiltrators are German agents, but even the method of operation in the episode's climactic finale is lifted right out of the television adaptation of Frank's story. Watching this episode for the first time, I first thought my memory was playing tricks on me, but a fresh viewing the Playhouse 90 installment (the series' debut) showed that it wasn't. The episode is still worth watching, but let's give some credit where credit is due, shall we?
The rest of the episode is a good, suspenseful story of sabotage and murder taking place at the Archbury airfield where 918th is based, and it's well done. The problem there is that several aspects of this story seem to have been lifted from Pat Frank's 1956 Cold War espionage novel FORBIDDEN AREA, and possibly also from the 1956 Playhouse 90 adaptation (under the same title, authored by Rod Serling) of that story, about Soviet infiltrators conducting sabotage and murder at Strategic Air Command bases. Here the infiltrators are German agents, but even the method of operation in the episode's climactic finale is lifted right out of the television adaptation of Frank's story. Watching this episode for the first time, I first thought my memory was playing tricks on me, but a fresh viewing the Playhouse 90 installment (the series' debut) showed that it wasn't. The episode is still worth watching, but let's give some credit where credit is due, shall we?
The Girl Who Couldn't Quite
(1950)
A Strange Comedy/Drama That Couldn't Quite . . . .
9 December 2019
Warning: Spoilers
Think of Chaplin's City Lights (1931), or Lewis Milestone's Hallelujah, I'm A Bum (1933) -- the latter a vehicle for Al Jolson and, in effect, his "answer" film to City Lights -- recast in the era of psychological awareness and you'll be able to wrap your mind around The Girl Who Couldn't Quite. Whether you'll think the latter activity worth doing is another issue.
The whole film is neither quite . . . comedy nor drama, but skittering between the two, and especially from drama to physical and slapstick comedy, from shot-to-shot and scene-to-scene as it works its way through a story of psychological trauma that might well have played much better as a shorter, somewhat more purely dramatic piece for television. Elizabeth Henson (whose screen career seems to have been confined almost entirely to television, apart from this starring role) plays the title character, a "teenager" (she was 23 when she did the part) who has not smiled since the age of five, and has been given to sudden fits of temper and aggression that have made her a blight on her family's existence and a terror for their long-suffering servants. In the opening 20 minutes of the movie, she's seemingly suffering from something akin to autism or PTSD, and is singularly sad and less than sympathetic. Only her chance spotting and hearing of a cheerfully self-reliant tramp (Bill Owen, in the best performance in the film) seems to bring her out of her perpetual miserable take on life and living, and her family engages the unwilling interloper to keep up his intervention. They overcome a lot of mistrust on his side and chaotic emotions on her side, and she eventually reaches a point where the source of her trauma is revealed, to the benefit of all except for Owen's tramp.
The author behind the work is Leo Marks, a former wartime cryptographer who was heavily involved with the defense of England during the Second World War, and who knew his way around psychological terms and subjects. His major work as a screenwriter was the script for Michael Powell's career-destroying thriller Peeping Tom, but he had numerous other strings to his bow. Here he seems to have wanted to tell a serious story (I haven't read his original play), but director co-screenwriter Norman Lee, who was better known for coarser, more comedic subjects going back to the 1930s, appears to have had other ideas. The resulting film is a strange mix, indeed, of amply-telegraphed slapstick and somber familial tensions, in which only Bill Owen as the carefree wanderer Tim rises above the limitations of the script and the direction.
There is also a bit more humor in here than may be obvious for some audiences in the twenty-first century, but wouldn't have been lost on viewers in 1950. The most telling of those moments is when the title-character's mother tries to draw Tim's attention to a particular book -- he nonchalantly and with a wicked gleam in his eye replies, "Miss Blandish -- I've read it!" referring to James Hadley Chase's notoriously salacious novel No Orchids For Miss Blandish (itself a rewrite of Faulkner's Sanctuary), which the same production company, Renown Films, had released in a film adaptation a couple of years prior to this. It's an inspired flash in the script -- I'm just not sure that it belonged in this particular script.
The whole film is neither quite . . . comedy nor drama, but skittering between the two, and especially from drama to physical and slapstick comedy, from shot-to-shot and scene-to-scene as it works its way through a story of psychological trauma that might well have played much better as a shorter, somewhat more purely dramatic piece for television. Elizabeth Henson (whose screen career seems to have been confined almost entirely to television, apart from this starring role) plays the title character, a "teenager" (she was 23 when she did the part) who has not smiled since the age of five, and has been given to sudden fits of temper and aggression that have made her a blight on her family's existence and a terror for their long-suffering servants. In the opening 20 minutes of the movie, she's seemingly suffering from something akin to autism or PTSD, and is singularly sad and less than sympathetic. Only her chance spotting and hearing of a cheerfully self-reliant tramp (Bill Owen, in the best performance in the film) seems to bring her out of her perpetual miserable take on life and living, and her family engages the unwilling interloper to keep up his intervention. They overcome a lot of mistrust on his side and chaotic emotions on her side, and she eventually reaches a point where the source of her trauma is revealed, to the benefit of all except for Owen's tramp.
The author behind the work is Leo Marks, a former wartime cryptographer who was heavily involved with the defense of England during the Second World War, and who knew his way around psychological terms and subjects. His major work as a screenwriter was the script for Michael Powell's career-destroying thriller Peeping Tom, but he had numerous other strings to his bow. Here he seems to have wanted to tell a serious story (I haven't read his original play), but director co-screenwriter Norman Lee, who was better known for coarser, more comedic subjects going back to the 1930s, appears to have had other ideas. The resulting film is a strange mix, indeed, of amply-telegraphed slapstick and somber familial tensions, in which only Bill Owen as the carefree wanderer Tim rises above the limitations of the script and the direction.
There is also a bit more humor in here than may be obvious for some audiences in the twenty-first century, but wouldn't have been lost on viewers in 1950. The most telling of those moments is when the title-character's mother tries to draw Tim's attention to a particular book -- he nonchalantly and with a wicked gleam in his eye replies, "Miss Blandish -- I've read it!" referring to James Hadley Chase's notoriously salacious novel No Orchids For Miss Blandish (itself a rewrite of Faulkner's Sanctuary), which the same production company, Renown Films, had released in a film adaptation a couple of years prior to this. It's an inspired flash in the script -- I'm just not sure that it belonged in this particular script.
A Lost Opportunity, Mostly Owing to Bad Timing
10 November 2019
The final episode of Star Trek had loads of possibilities as a drama and a social and societal statement (both endeavors that the series embraced in various scripts across its history, but, seemingly, especially in the third season, albeit a little hamfistedly), and a challenge for the lead actors. But as what turned out to be the final episode in what was a generally less-than-satisfying third season for all concerned, as well as for the series as a whole, it suffered from threadbare, haphazard production all the way through, from the scripting stage to post-production. The producers and Paramount, as the successor organization to Desilu, were required to deliver an episode, but the series' ratings had started to collapse at the start of the third season, and by the time this show was in production at the end of 1968, it was plain to all concerned that Star Trek's chances of survival for one more season were non-existent.
Knowing that there was no future worth investing in -- according to some actors' accounts, the sets for the Enterprise were being broken down and junked as soon as the last take of the last shot needed was in the can -- corners were cut everywhere, and this episode reeks of threadbare production. Only memory tells us that there are over 400 crewmembers aboard the Enterprise, as the corridors look quite empty throughout. Worse still, watching the show even 50 years on, some of the scenes look like they're made up of first takes by very hurried (albeit thoroughly professional) actors.
According to some accounts, Shatner still found time to clown around on the set during the shoot, but it's plain looking at the episode -- the staging of scenes, the delivery of dialogue, the pacing -- that everyone's professionalism is being sorely tested by the shoot. And it all could have been so much better -- with a little more time and care, this could have been one of the most challenging and rewarding episodes of the season, if not the series.
The Outer Limits had utilized a similar concept to this story, in a script entitled "The Human Factor," but it had better actors (Gary Merrill, Harry Guardino) playing the two individuals whose psyches are switched, and did more visually with that notion than was possible here. Sandra Smith did her best with a near-impossible part that there clearly wasn't sufficient time to work with or rehearse, and William Shatner finally turned his tendency to over-act to good use -- maybe too good, as his campy performance as a man whose body is inhabited by a mentally unbalanced female personality goes over the top a little too easily. Director Herb Wallerstein did what he could with a difficult script on a dying television production, but "Turnabout Intruder" was doomed by its timing and circumstances.
Knowing that there was no future worth investing in -- according to some actors' accounts, the sets for the Enterprise were being broken down and junked as soon as the last take of the last shot needed was in the can -- corners were cut everywhere, and this episode reeks of threadbare production. Only memory tells us that there are over 400 crewmembers aboard the Enterprise, as the corridors look quite empty throughout. Worse still, watching the show even 50 years on, some of the scenes look like they're made up of first takes by very hurried (albeit thoroughly professional) actors.
According to some accounts, Shatner still found time to clown around on the set during the shoot, but it's plain looking at the episode -- the staging of scenes, the delivery of dialogue, the pacing -- that everyone's professionalism is being sorely tested by the shoot. And it all could have been so much better -- with a little more time and care, this could have been one of the most challenging and rewarding episodes of the season, if not the series.
The Outer Limits had utilized a similar concept to this story, in a script entitled "The Human Factor," but it had better actors (Gary Merrill, Harry Guardino) playing the two individuals whose psyches are switched, and did more visually with that notion than was possible here. Sandra Smith did her best with a near-impossible part that there clearly wasn't sufficient time to work with or rehearse, and William Shatner finally turned his tendency to over-act to good use -- maybe too good, as his campy performance as a man whose body is inhabited by a mentally unbalanced female personality goes over the top a little too easily. Director Herb Wallerstein did what he could with a difficult script on a dying television production, but "Turnabout Intruder" was doomed by its timing and circumstances.
A Fair-to-Good Episode for Season 5, With a Tried and True Opening Premise
28 September 2019
The main body of this episode is a somewhat above average crime story for the Adventures of Superman at this stage of the series, balancing serious criminal types with funny henchmen and goofy antics from Lois and Jimmy. What is interesting about the show is the way in which Lois throws Clark Kent off her trail, luring him to her new apartment and then disappearing from that apartment, where the occupant that he finds there denies knowing anything about her.
This is an old device from fiction, often referred to generically as "the vanishing lady," based on an apocryphal story from a 19th century Paris exposition, in which an elderly lady visiting the city checks into a hotel and promptly vanishes, her presence there denied by all of the employees and the other guests -- in that instance, the resolution is that the lady died of plague, and rather than risk shuttering the exposition, her presence there was covered up. It was used, to other purposes, by Alfred Hitchcock as the central premise of The Lady Vanishes, and turns up in countless television shows, ranging from The Big Valley ("The Disappearance") to The Rockford Files ("Sleight of Hand," one of the grimmest shows in the series), and in the movie Dangerous Crossing (1953), among many others.
This is an old device from fiction, often referred to generically as "the vanishing lady," based on an apocryphal story from a 19th century Paris exposition, in which an elderly lady visiting the city checks into a hotel and promptly vanishes, her presence there denied by all of the employees and the other guests -- in that instance, the resolution is that the lady died of plague, and rather than risk shuttering the exposition, her presence there was covered up. It was used, to other purposes, by Alfred Hitchcock as the central premise of The Lady Vanishes, and turns up in countless television shows, ranging from The Big Valley ("The Disappearance") to The Rockford Files ("Sleight of Hand," one of the grimmest shows in the series), and in the movie Dangerous Crossing (1953), among many others.
Souvenirs of Death
(1948)
Still Relevant Cautionary Tale About Gun Safety
4 July 2019
I first saw this short film in the mid-1960s on WPIX-Channel 11 in New York, and it had a profound effect on me. I was always respectful of guns, to the degree that I had any contact with them (which was not at all), but this movie really woke me up as a kid to the dangers of irresponsible gun ownership. Seeing it again in the twenty-first century, it still packs a wallop, although obviously the issues have changed as gun ownership -- far beyond the ranks of nostalgia-laden veterans -- has exploded in most parts of the United States.
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