Two elderly couples have taken RVs out into the woods for a little vacation.  Jack and Cynthia are miserable.  Or rather, Cynthia is miserable and Jack is miserable because of Cynthia.  She is not happy at all to be outdoors, eating natural foods like rutabagas and bok choy.

On the other hand, Harry and Lucille, in their own RV are having a civil discussion.  Lucille, who has something planned at midnight (she’s black — gee, I wonder whether TFTC will make her a witch doctor or voodoo queen) wonders why they had to bring this unlikable, constantly bickering couple.  Turns out Jack saved Harry’s life at Guadalcanal — you’d think this might have come up in the past 40 years — this weekend is his chance to pay Jack back.

Jack and Harry go off by themselves with shovels and Cynthia thinks they are digging a grave to get rid of her.  In fact,they dig up Harry’s ex-wife Emma whom he murdered. Bulbs he buried in Emma’s mouth quickly sprout into large white flowers (thanks to some magic bones provided by Lucille, natch).  That night, Lucille sees that Cynthia has become young again.  Harry has become younger also, but frankly I don’t see much of a change in him — apparently even witch-doctors have not conquered male pattern baldness.

Cynthia is thrilled at the prospect of being young and happy again.  Jack says he is too, but he is not going to waste another 25 years watching Cynthia turn again into a hateful, bitter old crone.  Stupidly, they allow her to beat them back to the campsite where she spikes the magic juice.  They are all having a grand old time as they drink the potion, but within seconds they become emaciated and fall over dead, cracking open as dried out husks.

Cynthia has wisely saved some of the unspiked potion for herself.  She drinks part of it, spilling the rest on the ground where Harry’s dog laps it up.  For a few seconds, Cynthia is happy as she sees her young face in the mirror, and begins dancing.  Unfortunately, Harry’s dog is feeling younger and friskier too and off-screen either rips her throat out, or humps her leg to death.

This was in between times when Margot Kidder (Cynthia) was having some personal problems.  She had an auto accident that was so bad that she didn’t work for two years.  Four years later, her bi-polar issues surfaced.  So I didn’t really know how much of the old crotchety Margot Kidder I was seeing was real, and how much was make-up and acting.

Based on a few seconds we see her in her natural state, it seems she did an unbelievable job of acting in this role and was supported by some excellent make-up work.  Of course her character was over-the-top, but that’s what TFTC is supposed to be.  Her every body movement, hand gesture and vocal inflection were perfect for this role.  If there were any integrity in Hollywood, this would have won her an award.

Her performance made her constant bitching a pleasure to watch.  I think another actress playing the part could easily have made the episode unbearable.

It is also a fine story, and the other actors were fine in their lesser roles. There is a nice twist and a coda of questionable necessity, but it worked for me.

Great episode.

Post-Post:

• Title Analysis:  Hunh?  Curiosity killed the cat, but there are no cats in the story.  I wouldn’t describe any of the characters as being particularly curious.  I give it a zero on the title.
• Lucille was played by Madge Sinclair who did a rare two-peat on Star Trek.
• 

Rarely like werewolf joints.  Rarely like Concertos.  This does not bode well.

A weight challenged man is running through the forest.  Periodically, the camera cuts to another POV.  It is distorted and has a bluish tint, but I assume it is the POV of his pursuer, the titular werewolf.  Although since chubby isn’t visible in the shots, it is not 100% clear.  That is just poor directing.

Finally, tubby is caught and in what seems to be a POV shot without the established blue tint, a hairy clawed hand slashes his throat — slashes it so deeply that in the next shot, the werewolf is holding his head up like a trophy.  Merely a “Participation Trophy ^[1]” on big boy’s part.

Alas, poor fat guy. I slew him well.

A nearly all-star cast (or, at least people you’ve heard of) are guests at a hotel.  This is clearly modeled after an Agatha Christie joint — kind of a Murder at the Holiday Inn Express.

The guests opt for early-checkout when they hear of the decapitation. The Manager — played swishingly gay by Dennis Farina — tells them that is not possible due to a conveniently timed mudslide.

Charles Fleischer further unnerves the group by insisting that it is a werewolf; and by being Charles Fleischer.  Actually, checking IMDb, he had a much more impressive career that I remembered.  I was going to say that when you are best known for being the voice of a cartoon rabbit, your name better be Mel Blanc; I regret my snark (but not enough to actually backspace over it).

Farina says that there is an experienced werewolf hunter in their midst, but who has promised to kill the beast, but only in exchange for anonymity.  So why doesn’t he just go ahead and do it?

Lokai (Timothy Dalton), remaining coolly detached, seems to know more than the others, but is keeping it to himself.  Beverly D’Angelo invites Dalton up to her room after some strange seductive talk about back hair and submarines.

D’angelo is not there when he drops by, but as in every post on this blog, he lets himself right into a stranger’s abode.  From D’Angelo’s window, Dalton sees Fleischer head out into the woods followed at a distance by Gotell.  He begins following them.

Before Dalton finds Fleischer, Walter Gotell shoves a gun in his face.  Pretty sloppy work by 007 since Gotell was in six James Bond movies including one of Dalton’s.  The old instincts kick in, however.  Dalton kicks the gun out of Gotell’s hands and shoots him in the head.  Gotell is carrying Fleischer’s bagful of cash which Dalton takes.  Turns out Gotell was a former Nazi, not a werewolf.  Didn’t Dalton watch any of the Bond movies? Although I think he played a Russian in those movies.  But a commie’s a commie whether Russkies, Nazis, Chinese, or MSNBCs.

Bellboy Pieter (Jason Rainwater –where they finally ran out of money for the cast) tells Dalton that D’Angelo usually crawls into bed around noon — they think she has a drinking problem.  He goes to her room that night, gun drawn.

Suddenly, however, Dalton begins turning into the titular werewolf (with the name Lokai, this shouldn’t have been a complete surprise).  Although really, he looks more like he belongs in a GEICO commercial than like a werewolf.  Or possibly a late-stage Michael Jackson.

After killing a chambermaid by bashing her head against a piano that oddly makes no sound, werewolf Dalton opens the piano lid and discovers it is actually a coffin.  It is refreshingy old-school, filled with dirt instead of satin.  Then he is run through several times with a silver candelabra by D’Angelo who is revealed to be a vampire. One who apparently checks into hotels with her own grand piano.

There must have been a lot of problems with the production on this one.  It is fairly short — about 20 minutes without that idiot Cryptkeeper — yet there is so much left unsaid, undone, unexplained.  Reginald VelJohnson gets to say a few lines in a strangely British or The Hamptons accent, but contributes nothing and doesn’t even get a name.  How did this group happen to come together?  Why does Fleischer have all that cash?  This feels like it could have been fleshed out into something much more interesting, but was just cut to pieces.

Nothing really bad about it, just huge missed potential.

Post-Post:

• ^[1] It’s always a hoot when the sequestered interbred elite NPRNYTPBSMSNBCCNN crowd are surprised, SHOCKED at what most of America thinks.  It’s the great unwashed versus the great unwatched.
• Title Analysis:  Saw the werewolf. Didn’t see the concerto or even hear it in the score.

Puppetmaster Joseph Renfield (Donald O’Connor) is watching some of his old B&W TV marionette shows presumably on VHS tapes.  Feeling old and nostalgic, he looks out his back window where he see a more interesting set of strings — those holding together the bikini of his much younger wife.  The puppet market must have been very lucrative; you know, back around the time his wife was born.

In the mail that day, Renfield gets a letter offering him a spot on a TV show to revive his old act with Coco the Clown; because there’s nothing modern TV audiences, even in 1982, like better than puppets and clowns.

His wife Ellen seems genuinely to care for Renfield despite their 34 year difference. She recruits one of her friends from acting class who just happens to be a good looking young man to help him prepare for the show.  While Coco the Clown looks on menacingly.

All seems to be going well.  The new kid David is working out well.  Ellen is furious when David updates some of Renfield’s material and storms out.  David then casually mentions that acting classes are on Tuesday, not Wednesday as Ellen has been telling Renfield when she goes out each week.  While Coco the Clown looks on menacingly.

As David is leaving, Ellen tells him maybe he shouldn’t come back.  It isn’t really clear why she want to get rid of David.  He accuses her of cheating on Renfield.  She says they’ve been married for 8 years — so they were 25 and 59 when they got married.  If she’s in it for the money, she certainly is making a good show of it.  He goes through Ellen’s underwear, probably the first time in a while, and finds a stack of love letters.

In a drunken conversation with Coco, the clown convinces him to take matters into his own hands.  When he awakens in the morning, Coco’s strings are hanging loose and Renfield hears Ellen screaming upstairs.  He rushes up to see Coco repeatedly stabbing Ellen in then chest.

After Renfield keels over dead in horror, David comes out and it is revealed to be a robotic Coco puppet that David was working by remote.

As Renfield takes his last gasps — actually he already looks stone cold dead — David and Ellen explain their evil plot.

Unfortunately for them, the original Coco is a little more animated than they thought and avenges Renfield’s death.

Nothing special, but solid.

Post-Post:

• Title Analysis:  They’re finally starting to understand how it works.
• Why name the guy Renfield?  There is only one famous Renfield in all literature, and he has nothing in common with this character.

Burt Young, playing a role even dumber than Paulie in the Rocky movies, somehow thinks that 1) his stack of $50 chips are $5 chips, and 2) that he is in big trouble showing 10 in Blackjack.  After unsuccessfully pleading with the dealer (an uncredited Joe Pantoliano) to let him off the hook, he gets a 9 so is sitting fairly pretty (a first for Burt Young) at 19.

Joey Pants reminds him that the dealer could have 20.  Joe Pesci strolls over and encourages him the that next card is will be a 2, paying 5 to 1 for 5-card Charlie, a prospect as smelly as a One Wipe Charlie.  So the poor sap loses everything and — no, wait, he actually gets a 2 and wins a fistful of dollars!

He goes to give Pesci a tip for his asinine, almost sure-to-bankrupt-him advice.  Joe tells him he can’t accept a small gratuity.  On the other hand, Pesci has the inside line on a no-risk, tax free limited partnership guaranteed to to double all the money almost overnight.

At the bar, Young and Pesci discuss this fail-proof scheme.  Pesci says he has always had a thing about the number 2 — Young drawing the 2, this deal to double the cash.  So Young ends up penniless after all. Oddy Pesci is celebrating with only one hooker.

The next day, a black cat crosses the road causing him to run off the road and blow a tire on his BMW.  He ignores the warning signs and walks to a nearby house featuring identical classic convertibles in the driveway.  When he gets to the strangely designed pink house, in inimitable Joe Pesci style, he says, “What the fuck is this shit?” ^[1]

As in every TV episode on this blog, he lets himself into the house to use the phone.  He is surprised when a beautiful brunette pulls a gun on him as he is looking at a picture of the house’s architect — her father — on a magazine cover.  And further surprised when her twin sister appears.

It is quite reasonable that Pesci would would try a scam to pass himself off as an admirer of her father’s work based on a glimpse of the magazine cover,  But then he spouts off about the architect’s other buildings, German Expressionistic influence, 1950’s Futurism, Bauhaus — HTF does he know all that by looking at one picture?

The girls — April and June — are charmed by Pesci’s miraculous knowledge of their father’s work and invite him to have a drink, probably a double.  Unfortunately, just as he learns the twins are worth $2 billion, the tow truck driver shows up.  Which is really strange because 1) it didn’t take 2 hours, and 2) Pesci was holding down the phone cradle buttons (i.e.was faking the call, for those unfamiliar with 20th century tabletop rotary phones).

But the girls invite him back, and they go out multiple time.  He is amazingly 1) able to get them out of the hermit-like existence of their house, and 2) able to get them to be seen in public with him.  As he continues the story to his solitary hooker.

He starts charming each of them individually and they agree that they wish there were two of him.  In order to marry both of them, ensuring that he can scam them out off all their money, he pretends to suddenly remember he is a twin.  One always has to stay in South Africa to oversee their business interests.  Soon, the twins marry the “twins.”

Eventually, a tell-tale clue (which sadly requires only Pesci to be topless) enables them to figure out the scam.

There are a couple of twists and, more importantly, a couple of bustiers.  The twins might not be great actresses, but there were beautiful enough to deserve longer careers.  Joe Pesci was a force of nature as always.  Kudos to him for restraining his career and not wearing out his welcome by appearing in 3 movies a year.

No split decision on this one – good episode.

Post-Post:

• ^[1] I wouldn’t have done that for anyone but Pesci.

You can’t get a title more promising than that, but sadly the episode does not meet expectations; and I would argue only the word “at” is accurate.

Some gangstas are hanging out at the library, as gangstas are wont to do, terrorizing an old man and stealing his newspaper after jabbing a knife through it.  To be fair, there was a Nike coupon on the back.

Librarian Pritchard bravely confronts them and has security man Grady escort them out. After all, everyone knows public libraries are for smelly homeless people to hang out in, not gangstas.

This is witnessed by the meek new librarian Margaret who is given the task of cleaning up the gangsta’s vandalism.  Beneath the newspaper, she finds that one of the little angels left a switchblade which she slips into her pocket.  No one sees her except 1980’s singing star Adam Ant, who is no goody two shoes.

Despite there being a Maniac at Large as both the newspaper headline and episode title informs us, Pritchard has scheduled a late night inventory count.  Actually, Pritchard is treated about as if she were an ogre of a boss, but she seems pretty reasonable to me, so maybe I’m the ogre.

Adam Ant give Margaret a scare as he is hanging around past closing time.  He wants to checkout a reference book, but Margaret tells him it must stay.  He ominously says that if the police read this book, they might be able to catch the killer. Plus he’s British!  Just like a certain “the Ripper” I recall, hmmmmm?  He predicts the next victim will be a woman.  And speculates that the killer is set off by fear of living in the city.

Pritchard give Margaret some items to take to the basement where she sees the shadow of a knife repeatedly stabbing someone or something.  She runs upstairs to have Grady take a look.  He goes down but finds nothing.

She tells Pritchard who just happens to be talking to a police detective.  In the basement, they find an art book of nekkid ladies that has been slashed up.  The detective says he could pick up the ganagstas but “probably couldn’t make the charge stick”; unlike the pages in the book of nekkid ladies. Still no idea who it was as the gangstas were long gone, and Grady and Pritchard were upstairs.

Serial killer buff Adam Ant is trotted out again with some scary talk.  After he leaves, Margaret sees the newspaper headline again and starts to freak out.  A man with a deformed face bangs on the door menacingly, but Pritchard later explains he is a regular, just trying to return a book. And this guy was trying to return the hell out of it, banging on the door, waving the book, pressing his face to the window.  Perhaps he as unaware of the Book Drop earlier observed behind Grady’s desk.

Pritchard invites Margaret upstairs for a chat.  In Pritchard’s office, Margaret accuses her of killing Grady, and accuses her of “wanting to kill me.”  Pritchard tries to calm her down, but Margaret grabs the switchblade left behind by both the gangstas and the detective and plunges it repeatedly into her boss.  Echoing Adam Ant’s prediction, she rants “I knew you were after me, just like all the others!  But I’m not afraid anymore!  I showed you!”

Grady picks that moment to show up again and sees Pritchard stabbed to death.  Margaret is staring out the window, and says “I guess I’ll have to resign, but I liked it here.”  On the bright side, there is a higher position available for her promotion; stabbed to death being the only way to vacate a civil service position.

She wistfully continues that “the city makes me nervous.  So much crime.  I don’t like being afraid all the time.”  While she is giving the monologue, there is no indication what Grady is doing.

A guy with John Frankenheimer’s resume knows what he’s doing, but there were problems here.  Grady’s disappearance in the final scene, for example.  Blythe Danner did a fine job, but wasn’t really used well.  I’m an old fashioned guy — she was really hot back then, but we barely got a clear well-lit shot of her smiling and looking pretty.

Pritchard was regarded as a bitch, but really was just trying to run the library efficiently, and was pretty conscientious for a civil servant; I never considered her a suspect.  And who was doing that stabbing in the basement?  I suspect it was just a paranoid delusion by Margaret, but being the only such hallucination gave it too much credibility.

However, the set was great.  Maybe not a great library, but a great set — I really liked all the stairs, and levels, and railings.  And the performances were all good.  Adam Ant was over the top, but that is de rigueur in a good TFTC episode.  Blythe Danner just seemed beautiful and classy as always. Even while murdering her boss, she seemed classier and more relatable than her daughter Gwyneth Paltrow.

Post-Post:

• Title Analysis: I didn’t consider Margaret to be a “maniac” in the classic raging asylum dweller sense.  And she wasn’t “at large” — she was at work in the library for the whole episode.  Technically, I guess it was true, but not as brutal as I had expected.
• Almost 20 years earlier, Grady (Clarence Williams III) was in a show whose concept still amuses me.  It was a serious police show where 3 hippies worked under cover (or am I thinking of 21 Jump Street?).  The best part is the cool name the 50 year old suits with long sideburns at the network gave it to really reel in the teens:  The Mod Squad.  Of course, the Porno-Industrial-Complex did the obvious and released The Bod Squad.
• Or maybe not.  I could swear I remember seeing it on a drive-in marquee, but I can find no evidence of it,  I don’t think I’m confusing with this one.
• The third of Mae Wood’s lifetime screenwriting credits, all on this show.
• The classy beautiful Blythe Danner:  I’d like to book her . . . no, that doesn’t work. I’d like to make her decimal system dewy. . . no, too disrespectful.  I got nothing, but then I’m writing this in a craft brewhouse within walking distance of my front door, so I’m lucky to be forming complete. Sentences.