One Step Beyond — Doomsday (10/13/59)

Well, yes.  Yes, John Newland, I have.  While One Step Beyond has proven to be a very good series, its repeated trips to the same tiny tract of genre real estate is a weakness.  Yes, I finally gave up on the slice of pizza metaphor.  

In 17th century Scotland — because OSB disdains the US more than a 21st century Ivy League student — the Earl of Culdane barges in demanding to see “Mr. Physician”.  Hey, he didn’t go to barber school for a fortnight and change his name to Physician to be called Mister! [1]

The doctor says, “Your son is dying, my Lord do-lang-do-lang-do-lang”. [2] The Earl is outraged, but Mr. Dr. proudly says in his defense, “I have bled the boy seven times with leach and lancet”.  Shockingly, the Earl is not convinced.  He is a man of science, so suggests it is more likely his son was bewitched by a girl in the village.

The woman, Catherine, was found dancing gleefully in a field.  Then it began to rain — a rarity that happens only about 300 times a year in the Highlands!  The prosecutor also claims to have seen her turn milk sour, and saw “imps flying in the air above her head!”  The judge has heard enough.  Despite no evidence of a crime, an accusor deranged by the death of his son, and a prosecutor on a literal witch hunt, the corrupt judge finds her guilty so that she can cast no more spells or run for President.

This was not her being sentenced to death — The Earl just told her she’d be pretty if she smiled.

As she is dragged from the courtroom, she screams that just as the Earl outlived his son, all of his decendents will also outlive their first born-sons!  Ya know, I was kind of on her side, but since this curse comes true for the next 200 years, I guess she really was a witch!  Although, like all witches, she did not make it rain when she was being burned alive.  To be fair, I guess she couldn’t dance what with being tied to the stake.

In the present day, first-born William has come to be with his father who is on his death-bed after having “an accident” on his death-futon.  The doctor says he has only an hour to live.  These cheap-ass Scots really wait until the last minute to get doctors involved.  Given the family history over the last eight generations, this obviously sends William into a panic.  He wonders how this can be possible since he is in great health and only 28 years old. [3]  He does everything right:  Sugary Dr. Peppers at 10, 2, and 4, only the best scotch kept in his office at work, driving unencumbered in the front seat of his new Corvair, and smoking 3 packs a day of doctor-recommended Lucky Strikes — they’re toasted, for God’s sake!

He refuses to take a sedative from the doctor, although does risk being swallowed whole by this enormous emasculating chair.

While he is simpering alone, his wife comes in and tells him that his father has died, breaking the curse.  Then she and the doctor roofie his drink.  Before he can drink it, however, he goes into his father’s room and sees that it was a ruse!  His father is still alive!  

This so startles William that he staggers backwards right over the balcony.  John Newland states the odds of all the son-first deaths being coincidence is a billion to one.  The odds of two dudes accidentally falling backwards to their death from an open window or balcony in back-to-back episodes on this blog is also unlikely.  However, if Alfred Hitchcock Presents pulls this crap next week (i.e. or maybe in seven months), now that will be a billion to one!

So, another well-done episode.

Other Stuff:

[1]  WikiMonasteries had to train or hire a barber. They would perform bloodletting and minor surgeries, pull teeth and prepare ointments.  The Middle Ages saw a proliferation of barbers, among other medical “paraprofessionals”, including cataract couchers, herniotomists, lithotomists, midwives, and pig gelders.  Cool.

[2]  I would have gone for shoo-lang, but the internet is always right.  

[3]  The actor is actually 39.  Freak’n actors, man.

We have a new contender for oldest actor covered here.  Lumsden Hare (The Judge) was born in 1875.

Hollywood Royalty:  Donald Harron (Jamie and William) played Charlie, the KORN radio announcer, on Hee Haw.  His daughter directed American Psycho.

Suspense — Help Wanted (06/14/49)

One good thing about Suspense is that there is no time excruciatingly wasted by the odious Cryptkeeper or odious crypt-occupier Henry Rollins. [1] Alfred Hitchcock was great in that capacity, but there isn’t enough of him to go around. Well, not without making a big mess, anyway.

Mrs. Griffen comes to Mr. Crabtree’s apartment to collect his past due rent. He assures her that he will pay the 18 months due once he gets a job. Since he is 64, it better be soon. She gives him 2 weeks notice.

Sadly, he is supporting his daughter’s residency at a fancy private, er . . .  spa that has 500 thread-count walls. He has done everything he can to conserve money — did a reverse mortgage, sold his life insurance policy, claimed he would move to Camp LeJeune 1953 – 1987, and bought gold from that 10 year old Devane kid downstairs.

A young woman [2] listed on IMDb as Mrs. X (née Mrs. Twitter) knocks on his door and offers to pay him for his services, which is opposite the transaction that I’m used to. But, to be fair, she is responding to a job application he sent in, not a card shoved at me on Las Vegas Boulevard. I mean him. I said me, but I meant him.

The job specifically calls for an old dude with an accounting background so that he is used to the tedium.  The hours are the same as his odds of living to see Ike elected:  9 to 5.  It pays $100/week which, sure, sounds princely — but that is for 6 days.  He is really being paid to not do a goddam thing — like George Costanza with the Pinsky File, Sherlock Holmes’ Red-Headed League, or a University Presidentette. [3]

After leaving Crabtree, she calls Mr. X whose name she unwisely took at marriage. Mostly, she just compliments herself on her Marlingesque [4]  performance.

Crabtree goes to his new job and admires his name on the door. Inside, he finds a small office with a large window, no visitor chairs, a desk nailed to the floor, a calendar, and a cat. And get this — all of these are important to the story!  I’d say Suspense was ahead of its time, but I’m not sure most shows today are that well-crafted. Kudos!

Hey, for an office with no chairs, something looks pretty sit-able there!

Six months later, Mr. X finally visits the office. Crabtree says he is happy to meet him at long last. X reveals that the reports Crabtree submits are routinely burned without reading, like Kristi Noem’s unsold books in her publisher’s warehouse. Crabtree was actually hired to assist Mr. X in, as he puts it, “a very ingenious murder.” Boy, that X family really thinks a lot of themselves!

X marks the spot by saying the target is Mrs. X’s first husband — X’s Ex, who is blackmailing them. He is threatening to accuse Mrs. X of being a bigamist. Mr. X is a public figure and such an accusation back then would ruin them.

Later that day, as X told him, a man arrives asking for a “contribution”.

Spoiler!

What follows is one of those situations where writing it out would take forever, and be even more tedious than usual. Shockingly, this is because it is a good, twisty episode.

Of course it is primitive, and the organ is still overwrought and intrusive.  However, there was a creativity in this series that was missing from, oh say, Science Fiction Theatre.   As frequently happens, I’ll never watch it again, I can’t recommend it, but this was a great episode . . . grading on a curve of Sweeneyesque magnitude, of course.  Well done, Suspense!

Other Stuff:

[1]  Honestly, I thought I read he had died recently.  Also, WordPress Blocks is garbage.  It took me forever to figure out how to make the icon appear to create the [1] super-script.  At least Adobe gave me the option to roll back their update which is a massive, chaotic piece of shit.

[2]  Well, relatively young. Otto Kruger (Crabtree) is in contention for oldest actor I’ve covered yet — born in 1885.

BTW, the landlady is played by 70’s mainstay Ruth McDevitt. I say 70’s mainstay not because of the numerous 1970’s TV series she appeared in, but because her age stayed in the 70’s throughout her entire decades-long career. Like Burt Mustin, she seems to have been born at age 75.

[3]  Certainly there is no reason a woman can’t do this job, but why is every moron university president that makes the news a woman?

[4]  Referring, of course, to my favorite actress Brit Marling.  I stand by that despite her last effort, which was literally years in the making, being a collosal bore.

I see the short story Help Wanted was later adapted as an episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents (five episodes before I started this nonsense).

Tales of the Unexpected — Taste (04/12/80)

Blindfolded Richard Pratt swirls the salty liquid around in his mouth and spits it out.  “Oh, this is a very good-humored fellow!” he exclaims.  “A benevolent cheerful little chap!  A bit naughty!”  Well, I’m glad he got to know the guy before blowing — oh wait, he is one of those pretentious wine snobs assigning human characteristics to a cocktail of decaying vegetation.

He further identifies the wine as a 1959 German [1].  The TV host says he has gone four for four.  The show is watched by Sybil Schofield and teenage daughter Louise, who are expecting him to join them for dinner.  Louise complains that Pratt is boring, and always stares at her without looking like George Clooney. [5]

Louise goes to the study to ask her father what sort of glasses they should use because Pratt is just the kind of humorless dilettante [3] that would not see the whimsy in my vintage Flintstone jelly glasses.  Schofield is preparing for Pratt’s challenge by masking the bottles like [insert COVID reference here]. [4]  

While the Schofields wait for Pratt to join them and American writer Peter Bligh for dinner, Pa Schofield explains that at every gathering he challenges Pratt to identify the vintage of a mystery wine.  So far Pratt has beaten him every time.

Louise answers the door.  While Pratt has her alone, he gives her a gift, his new book about — surprise! — wine . . . to a girl too young to drink (well, in our backward country that looks down on giving alcohol to minors and windowless vans, anyway).  The repulsive old man has inscribed it “from an admirer.”

Before dinner, they prepare for the wine-tasting.  Schofield knows to give Pratt a bottle of soda water so that he may “sponge out the palate and scour out unwanted tastes” . . . such as famously decaying British choppers, presumably.  Being a refined English gentleman, Pratt takes the bottle to another room to gargle and spit in the shitter. [2]    

Inexplicably, however, he then has some appetizers and a Mosel Riesling before the big event.  Schofield retrieves the wine from the study where it has been assuming room temperature.  To be fair, they did explain why it had to be that room. 

Schofield is confident he will stump Pratt this time.  He does not even think it would be sporting to have their usual wager.  However, Pratt is so cocky that he insists on raising the stakes.  Rather than the usual ante of one case of wine, he proposes fifty cases and a box of Slim Jims!  Then Pratt proposes £10,000!  However, his real proposal is that the stakes be “the hand of your daughter in marriage” as he is tired of his own hand.

Schofield protests that Pratt has no hot underage daughter of his own to wager against Louise . . . no, seriously, he does.  Pratt counters that he will put up his house to match the bet.  Obviously Louise is not on board.  Her father explains to her why this is a sure thing.  

The claret is poured for each person.  Pratt does his usual tasting, savoring, swirling.  He pronounces it a “very interesting little wine, gentle, gracious, almost feminine in its aftertaste”.  He deduces it is from Bordeaux, then slowly and methodically deduces the exact year, location, rue, and the pronouns of the vintner.  He nails it!

Louise quite reasonably bolts out at the prospect of marrying this disgusting old fool.  The housekeeper then enters and hands Pratt his reading glasses . . . which she found in the study!

Schofield picks up the other bottle and raises it over Pratt’s head.  He perfectly sells that he is going to bash Pratt’s head in, but at the last moment, merely dumps the contents on him.  Again, the jaunty closing theme is the perfect punctuation.  Strangely, this amusing cop-out makes me more appreciate the ending of a different TOTU episode.  Surely, the cut-away in Neck is confirmation that a head is about to roll.  Cut-away indeed!

Another perfectly fine episode that I will never watch again or recommend to others.  This is what Ray Bradbury Theatre could have been with a bit more edge.

Of course, the final word in human trafficking comes from the Odd Couple, linked below.  Well, you know, except for slavery and stuff.

Other Stuff:

  • [1]  If there was a famous German born in 1959, I couldn’t find ihm / ihr / sie.  [UPDATE:  Found one — that’s what took seven months.] 
  • This episode is labeled as “TOP RATED” in the always-suspect IMDb episode list.
  • [2]  OK. the loo.  The fact that, in 10 seconds of research, I could not find a clip of Ted Baxter saying Looouuuu makes me question this whole internet thing.
  • [3]  Mea Culpa:  Dilettante does not mean precisely what I thought.
  • [4]  That’s not a Bidenesque literalism, I just couldn’t think of anything I liked in seven months.
  • [5]  George Clooney was my instinctive reference.  That seemed ridiculous, so I changed it to David Cassidy (1970’s teen idol).  Then I saw that Clooney is now actually a little older than Pratt, so it makes perfect sense (but a far finer specimen).  So I changed it back.
  • Ron Moody (Pratt) starred in Mel Brooks early forgotten film, The Twelve Chairs.