I wonder what it was like to watch this series every week in 1985.  Was there a hopefulness that it might be a worthy successor to the 1960s classic?  Were people satisfied with the first episode featuring Shatterday and A Little Piece and Quiet?  They were both pretty strong, high-concept segments.  Yeah, I’ll tune again next week.

Wordplay was another fun, high-concept outing.  Chameleon didn’t have much of a story, but was enjoyable thanks to the performances and the NASA setting.  The ending was a little underwhelming.  Still, maybe they found a way to make a TZ for the 1980s.  I’ll give it another chance next week, if I’m home.

After that, with a few notable exceptions, the new TZ produced too many maudlin soap opera segments and short one-joke outings with no depth or arc.  Gone was the grit, irony and cosmic comeuppance of the original.  A good twist seemed to have become as passe as plot in a literature or skill in art.

I have a feeling this episode might have been the last stop for a lot of viewers.  After the insufferable James Coco, and then the tedious Bradbury monologues tonight, maybe turning over to catch the last half of Knight Rider seemed like a reasonable move.

Barney Martin (Jerry Seinfeld’s TV father), Garrett Morris (SNL), M. Emmett Walsh (everything), Morgan Freeman (everything else) and world’s greatest actor Dan Hedaya ^[1] are gathered for a poker game.

Hedaya always seems to win with a hand containing three sixes.  They ID him as the devil.  There is a showdown.  The guys try to trick him, but he tricks them.  They bust him but he is a real sport, creating sandwiches and beer for them.  The end.

No, that’s really it.

I assume this was to be the meaty segment of the episode.  It was the longest segment at 22 minutes. It contained a cast that in 1985 were probably all familiar faces. Just, nothing happens.

Walsh is clueless as his characters often are.  Martin seems to be playing a mentally challenged man — wait, are they going to keep the money they win from him?  He should be playing for cigarettes with Martini and Cheswick. Morris has a knack for putting the wrong inflection on just about every word he speaks.  Freeman is mostly the voice — literally — of reason. Tragically, the great Dan Hedaya is very subdued here.

Strangely, I must admit the 22 minutes flew by faster than did the first much two shorter segments.  It must have been the actors, because there was certainly nothing in the script to captivate me.  It is not tense or suspenseful.  Despite the comedic talent, it isn’t really even particularly played for laughs.

As Homer Simpson once said, “It’s just a bunch of stuff that happened.”  Except not much happened.

I rate it a flush, and not in the good way.

Post-Post:

• ^[1] Only a slight exaggeration — he is usually a hoot.  How can there be no decent clips of him in Cheers on YouTube?

TZ Legacy:  I have to move this to the top section because I’m not sure I can last to the bottom section.

Nutshell:  In The Bard, an hour-long 4th season TZ episode, insufferable man-child Julius Moomer summons the ghost of William Shakespeare to be his co-writer.  In this 14-minute-but feels-like-an-hour episode, insufferable man-child Maury Winkler makes an imprecise wish and ends up as William Shakespeare’s co-writer.

Uber-annoying James Coco (Winkler) is pursued down a busy city street by equally annoying but at least amusing Avery Schreiber. ^[1]  Winkler is a writer of failed plays and rent checks.  Schreiber, his fish-monging landlord, not unreasonably, would like his rent paid with a boffo check.  Less NSF, more SRO.

Coco is working on a play with his partner Harry.  They have partnered up on 17 plays in 22 years, but somehow success has eluded them.  Winkler says all he wants is “an office that doesn’t smell like low tide.”  A good line made better by the fact that his landlord actually is a fish-monger.

As Harry is dictating a death scene to Winkler, he begins having chest pains.  For some reason, he continues dictating even as he is clutching his heart (but sometimes, his throat).  This is not played for laughs like Winkler misinterprets his pain; it is just pointless.  They are going for a fun romp here, though, so I can live with it.  Unfortunately, while Bob Dishy as Harry does play it as broad comedy, James Coco plays the scene like an Adderall-abusing chimp in an elementary school play.  No expression is too tortured, no movement is too exaggerated, no line-reading is too hammy, and for some reason, he seems to be typing with one hand like Edmond Valier.^[2]

Harry falls to the ground.  He pulls an amulet out of his ass — thankfully figuratively, not literally — and tells Winkler to make a wish for him to survive.  Seems the amulet is only good for one wish per customer, and Harry squandered his wish to survive a plane crash in the Burmese Jungle.  Instead, Winkler dawdles until Harry croaks and then wishes for “a new partner, the best playwright ever.”

Winkler is shocked to find himself transported to the home of William Shakespeare. ^[3]  Shakespeare is having a little writer’s block, and Winkler suggests a play called Hamlet.  There is some amusing business by Shakespeare hearing this wrong as Hamnet and being baffled.  The gag is not explained, but makes me curious:  Did viewers back then know Shakespeare had a son named Hamnet?  Was the writer giving the audience that much credit?  That might be the most unbelievable thing in this episode.

Winkler tells Shakespeare the story of Hamlet.  Shakespeare then plagiarizes that and other plays.  Not all that far off from what I’ve heard.  As the follow-up to Hamlet was Troilus and Cressida, maybe this was not such a great partnership for Shakespeare. ^[4]

If you can tolerate James Coco, there is a lot to like here.  Avery Schreiber was always a hoot, Bob Dishy plays it perfectly, and there are some genuine laughs in the script. For me, the whole production is torpedoed by Coco, though.  Your mileage may vary.

Post-Post:

• ^[1] Schreiber, German for writer, would have been an appropriate character name for Coco.
• ^[2] The noted masturbater.  I mean, he masturbated a lot.
• ^[3] Dishy also portrays Shakespeare.  I’m not sure the point of that, but he plays both parts much better than Coco.
• ^[4] It appears they wisely set aside T&C to write Twelfth Night.
• Title Analysis:  I don’t think a writing partnership is considered an act, but close enough.
• Episode schreiber Haskell Barkin had no writing credits on IMDb until he was 43 years old.

Danny Kaye is at the cemetery visiting his dead wife.  He is being stalked by a 2-person gang which is sadly not as committed to diversity as the gang in the previous episode.  The youths rough him up and make off with a gold pocket-watch.  As one of the thugs looks at it in his hands, it burns him and begins to float into the air.  Luckily a near-by mourner / martial-arts expert is nearby and opens a crypt of whoop-ass.  The watch floats back into Kaye’s hand like the one ring to Sauron (if not for those meddling kids).

Kaye shows his appreciation by inviting the heroic mourner out for a “cup of Earl Gray,” hot.  Kaye is insistent, ergo insists on dragging the guy out for a drink.  For some reason, I can’t figure, Kaye has talked the man into not only having tea with him, but going back to the man’s apartment and having him make the tea.

The stranger is a pretty smart guy.  He has shelves full of books and knows the meaning of ombudsman.  Turns out the man is the night manager at a 7-11 named Billy.  Kaye even more amazingly talks Billy into allowing him to rest in his apartment for a while while Billy is dodging bullets at work.  When Billy returns at 2 am, Kaye has prepared beef stew and cupcakes for desert.

They decide to be roommates, but Kaye says it won’t be for long.  His doctor has told him the end is near; also that he will die soon.  Billy says that he was in the cemetery visiting the grave of a man he knew in Viet Nam.  They turn on the TV, but are turned off by the war news.  Kaye promises Billy that there will never, never, never be a nuclear war because — he produces his pocket-watch — it is 11:00.  Billy points out that it is 4:00 am; why else would they be eating stew and cupcakes.

The next day, Kaye offers to take Billy to a manatee matinee, “but no films with Karen Black, Sandy Dennis or Meryl Streep.”  Wow, what’s with the misogynist, gratuitous, mean-spirited shot?  Against Karen Black, I mean — the other two, totally get. ^[1]  They see a man toss a cigar out his car window.  Kaye picks it up and tosses it into the man’s backseat, making it the first time I’ve ever liked Danny Kaye.  Kaye claims he is responsible for everything from lima beans to cockroaches to the President of the United States to Billy’ mother.  But is not God.

One day, Kaye takes Billy to the cemetery because he has a feeling he is going to die that day.  He tells Billy how Pope Gregory XIII decreed that October 4, 1582 would be followed by October 15th.  Eleven days vanished in order to synchronize the calendar with the seasons and equinoxes.  Popes were no more infallible then than now, and he got it wrong by one hour.  Kaye is the custodian of that hour.  He is now ready to hand that responsibility off to a younger man.

It is a fine episode, just not what I was looking for.  This kindler, gentler Twilight Zone is a little disappointing.  Taken as discrete plays they are often very good even if they are a little maudlin.  However, compared to Burgess Meredith breaking his glasses or James Whitmore being left completely alone forever on a planet far from Earth, they just lack the grit that I was hoping for.

Post-Post:

• ^[1] He does go on to explain, “They’re always crying and their noses are always red.  I can’t stand that.”
• An article about those 11 days.
• Directed by Alan Smithee.
• Available on YouTube.

ears wings ears wings ears wings

One of those fabulous, inclusive, multi-cultural TV gangs — that is more diverse than actual TV — is walking across campus when they spot a member of the denim-wearing tribe that “has had it 2 good for 2 long.” 2 be 4gotten. Glamorously coiffed Wizard, of the bare-chest-covered-only-by-open-sleeveless-shirt-studded-clothes tribe looks into his handsome adversary’s dreamy eyes and unbuckles his belt. To the surprise of everyone, it is to use it as a weapon.

While my belt has certainly been choking the life out of me lately, a belt is no match for the switchblade held by Colfax.  Wizard, contrary to his name, has stupidly brought a belt to a knife fight.  It works out, though, as he is soon pummeling Colfax with his fists.  80’s babe Adrienne Barbeau jumps into the fray and roughly pushes Wizard off of Colfax.  All the while, the scene is being observed by a gargoyle with glowing red eyes.

The principal chastises her, calling the students “animals”.  She corrects him by pointing out they are “children” . . . 6-foot tall, muscular, violent children.  That night, Adrienne dreams of the gargoyle and claws the stuffing out of her mattress.

In class the next day, she says, “We will start by conjugating the verb to be.”  How remedial is this high-school class?  Wizard and Trojan walk in late and constantly disrupt class with their proud ignorance. Adrienne asks why they bother coming to school and Trojan says, “because I like your legs, baby.” This guy truly is an imbecile.  Adrienne Barbeau may indeed have a fine set of pins.  However, I have never once in my life heard anyone mention any body parts below her chest; or maybe now, her waist.

Adrienne picks Trojan up with one arm and slams him against the wall.  “You are an insect.  I’d like to break your wings, little bug.”  Nothing is scarier than a broken Trojan, but Wizard comes to his friend’s side, and both are saved by the bell.  Adrienne seems genuinely surprised at what she just did.

There is a good scene as she is walking to class with a fellow teacher who is frustrated by the criminals she has to teach.  Adrienne peels off and starts pounding a guy’s head against the lockers.  That’s the good part.

No, that’s her foot.

The next day, she is reading to the class from The Wives of Brixham by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Hehe . . . Longfellow.  Wizard starts cranking some tunes. Adrienne quite reasonably smashes the noise-box, then throws him out of the classroom.

The guys are getting tired of Adrienne pushing them around. Trojan, looking fab in long dangling silver earrings, silver necklaces, a silver braided waist-necklace, white pants with sleeveless back shirt, one fingerless white glove, a three-inch belt, and a huge 10-years-too-late afro, tells his trilby-wearing mulletted gang-mate that they are tired of looking like fools.

Wizard grabs a Louisville Slugger and goes looking for Adrienne.  Unfortunately for him, he finds her looking more gargoyley than usual.  She attacks Wizard, then I start to lose track; and interest.  Clearly, with the sunken red eyes, sharp teeth, and unmanicured claws, she has been possessed by the gargoyle.  After beating Wizard even more senseless, she sees herself in the mirror and backs into an electrical panel which explodes; then the gargoyle on the roof is struck by lightning.  But which was the cause and which the effect?  Or was either either?  After several more lightning strikes, the gargoyle is completely destroyed and Adrienne collapses to the ground.

Wizard:     You could have killed me.

Adrienne: I couldn’t let that happen.

Me:           Hunh?

Wizard says “Thanks” and helps her up.  So maybe it was all worth it.

Closing narration:  We are told damned places exist — buildings where madness permeates the very bricks and mortar.  We are told sometimes dedication and kindness can purge the evil from those walls . . . a lesson to be learned in the study halls of The Twilight Zone.

It is never explained why the gargoyle chose her to enter (other than her being Adrienne Barbeau), or if she understood what was happening to her.  They only had 10 minutes to work with, though, so maybe I should grade on a curve.

On the other hand, the outro is not merely missing exposition, it is completely backwards.  Wizard’s kindness did not exorcise the demon from Adrienne or the school. He only turned from Goofus to Gallant after the gargoyle was destroyed.

Meh, just not much going on here.

Post-Post:

• Written by Steven Barnes who also wrote the excellent Stitch in Time.
• Coincidentally, I assume, director Bill Norton also directed Gargoyles (1972).  Or maybe dude just loved gargoyles.
• Miguel A. Núñez Jr. (Trojan) went on to have an incredibly busy career.
• Available on YouTube.