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Alfred Hitchcock Presents – The Little Man Who Was There (04/03/60)

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Leave it to the consistently great AHP to provide a better TZ episode than Twilight Zone served up this week.  Yes, it is another AHP period piece, but has two huge mitigating factors:  1) it is set in America, and 2) it stars Norman Lloyd.

Two guys back in an old west saloon circa 1899 are arguing about who will pay for this round of drinks.  The twist is, these guys are like the Goofy Gophers,[1] arguing over who will get the privilege of paying.

The two town strong-men break up the argument just as it was about to come to blows — and this town is so friendly I don’t even want to think about what that might have entailed.  The strong-men even settle the argument by paying for their drinks.  This is the nicest bar in history.  Anthony Fremont’s family wasn’t this agreeable.

Somehow, this positive attitude and generosity even extends to the slot machine.  Strongman Jamie optimistically gives it spin, and the wheels come back with a royal straight flush.  This is the happiest, smiliest, good-natured, backslapping bunch of guys . . . wait a minute, where are the women?

Into this saloon walks a slim, elegant drink-of-water with evening wear, white gloves, a stylish hat and a mellifluous voice.  Oh wait, that’s Norman Lloyd.  He orders a rum, and the bartender blows dust off the bottle.  I’m not sure what the gag is there, except maybe all these giggling he-men are whiskey drinkers; at least until Zima is invented.

Their next diversion is the always-fun anvil-lift.  Several of the locals try, but the thing is like Thor’s Hammer.  Strongman Ben is able to lift it.  For a strongman, he should know better than to lift with his back, though.

The bartender tells Norman, “This place is like a church social compared to what it was 2 months ago.”  It was at that time that Jamie and Ben McMahon came to town.  The local copper miners were a tough crew with the fighting, gambling, drinking, shooting each other, and reusing postage stamps.  He says, “They brought the magic of brotherly love.”  They got every professional gambler thrown out of town.  They explained there was more to life than those shenanigans.  They were such happy, peace-loving, God-fearing leaders that the town wanted to be like them.

Norman has heard enough.  With a flash and a plume of smoke, he gets their attention.  Jamie says Norman should just apologize for smoking indoors and be on his way.  Norman says he must be “one of the righteous ones, an ecclesiastical bore, a pompous ass.” [2]  Jamie is steamed, but turns the other cheek.  Norman does everything he can to provoke Jamie, but Jamie stays calm.  Then Norman throws a drink in his face.  That’s it!  Jamie throws several punches, but there seems to be a protective field around Norman.

With a flick of his gloved hand, Norman knocks Jamie to the floor.  Ben, clearly not the smarter brother, takes a swing.  He goes down also.  Now that all the rubes think he is a demon, he instructs them to hand over their cash.  He takes the brothers’ wallets, then hits the register, then a statue with a hidden stash.  No mention of that slot machine loot, though.  Norman goes to the door and tells them not to follow him or “there will be the devil to pay.

Of course there is a twist that you will probably see coming, but that doesn’t matter.  There is the what-does-God-need-with-a-starship issue with the devil stealing cash, but that doesn’t matter either.  It is just a pleasure to watch Norman Lloyd chew up the scenery in every frame. [3]  But the episode does not fully rest on his great performance.  After 4 years, I should no longer be surprised, but the sheer consistency and professionalism of this series is astounding.

PS:  For the commentor who chastised me for mixing actors’ names with character’s names . . . dedicated to you, buddy.

Other Stuff:

  • [1] Wow, for my entire life, I had thought they were Chip and Dale.
  • [2] This has to be one of the first uses of ass on American TV; at least that does not involve a jawbone.
  • AHP Deathwatch: Read Morgan — whose name is an imperative sentence — is also still with us.  Among the deceased, an imperative sentence from yoga class:  Arch, Johnson!  Roscoe Ates came sooo close to being a declarative sentence.
  • Norman Lloyd is still with us at 103.  He is such a classy, amazing talent, I hate to lump him in the Deathwatch category.  When his day comes, I suspect we will not read obituaries about him saying “F*** NIXON” at the Oscars or suggesting Nixon’s daughters should be molested.  Adios, Hollywood!
  • AHP Proximity Alert:  Mike Ragan (Pete) was the enigmatic Alfredo on last week’s episode.  Give someone else a chance!
  • Title Analysis: It is from the poem Antigonish, but I don’t understand the relevance to this episode.  With AHP, I happily concede that is probably my ignorance.

Twilight Zone – 20/20 Vision (12/10/88)

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Well congratulations to Warren Cribbens who was just promoted to Loan Officer at the bank.  No time for a bear claw and looking up his neighbor’s account balances, though.  Vern Slater was waiting for the bank to open so he could talk to the previous Loan Officer, Mr. Simmons.

The meek Cribbens accidentally bumps into his cute new secretary Sandy that he inherited from Simmons.  Amidst the carnage of dropped papers and files are Cribbens’ glasses with a cracked lens.  Luckily, he says they are just for “up-close work.”

There is a scene in his cubicle which doesn’t really fit his character.  He bruskly says to a caller, “I didn’t take out the loan, you did!”  It is unprofessional and makes no sense for someone who was established as being mild-mannered and fastidious about his work.

After getting all worked up, he emerges from his cubicle.  He puts on his cracked glasses.  Across the bank, he clearly sees one of the tellers accidentally knock a $100 bill into the trashcan.  Although, with reading glasses, at that distance she should have just been a blur.  When he confronts her, he sees that there is no bill in the trash.  He apologizes, but as he backs away and takes his glasses off, he sees her knock the bill into the trash again.  This time it is real, and the teller is baffled; also really overweight.

Bank President Cutler calls Cribbens into his office to talk business.  He has a map on the wall with color-coded pins denoting 1) property the bank owns, 2) untouchable land belonging to corporate farmers, 3) property the bank holds the mortgage on, and oddly, 4) the nearest Popeye’s Chicken [1].  He reminds Cribbens that many of the farmers are operating at a loss and “we have to call in all loans as they come due.”  By no coincidence, a new highway is going to be built and Cutler wants the bank to own the property.

Vern Slater is shown into Cribbens’ office.  Wait, this all seems to be the same day.  Slater was there when the doors were unlocked.  Has he been waiting all this time?  Is this Bank of America?  Slater asks for an extension on his mortgage.  Cribbens quotes both Presidents Cutler and Coolidge that, “The business of America is business.”  He puts on the broken glasses and sees Slater as an old man.  Slater counters that the business of America ought to be people, and that his farm is his life.

The next day, Cribbens goes out to the Slater farm to see if they can work something out.  Unfortunately, he is not authorized to extend the loan and their equipment is pretty old, so he recommends selling off some land.  He tells Vern that Cutler wants to foreclose.  When he puts on his broken glasses, he sees the farmhouse as vacant and dilapidated with a flapping front door and broken windows.  Warren, dude, they’re just cheaters; you couldn’t have dropped by CVS for a new pair for $7?

Slater says he isn’t going to sell.  Cribbens gets back in his car.  In a strange continuity error, Cribbens backs up looking like he is going to accidentally run Slater down.  They cut to another angle, and Slater is safely to the side.  It’s just strange.  Seems like the actor would have been genuinely concerned about being accidentally being killed for a dopey 1980s TZ episode.  At least Vic Morrow was in a TZ movie.

The next day at the bank — and this must be the busiest bank in America — he vaguely describes the Slater problem to Sandy and asks her opinion.  He slips on his glasses and has a vision of her falling off a ladder.  He asks her to cut a cashier’s check out of his own account and tells her to be careful.

Cribbens’ solution is to loan Slater the money himself.  Slater accepts and swears he will pay Cribbens back.  When Cutler hears about this, he chews Cribbens out in front of the whole bank, and fires him.  As he is packing up, he sees Sandy on a ladder.  She falls just as in his vision, and he catches her.

Dammit, I was so happy to bust them on another error! But I guess it is the same sweater, but just decolorized in the vision.

This accident further shatters the lens.  Cribbens says he won’t need them anymore and drops them in the trash.  What?  He wasn’t interested if they still saw the future?  Didn’t he want to see if future Sandy had his ring on her finger? Or maybe now they gave the wearer x-ray vision!  At least try the x-ray vision out on her!  [UPDATE:  Read in the light of day, that was a little too #METOO.  Maybe it would work on scratch-off lottery tickets].

Or does he not need the glasses because he will make so much off the new highway on Slater’s land that he won’t have to work again?  Was there profit participation in the Loan Agreement he gave Slater?  And why does Cutler say Cribbens’ bail-out of Slater “cost me a fortune”?  The bank would have repossessed the farm, not Cutler.  Cutler said earlier he did not own the bank, he just worked there.

This episode is the 1980’s Twilight Zone in a nutshell:

  • 1960’s TZ:  Broken glasses result in a cruel, ironic denial of the one thing Henry Bemis loved; and that on top of the crushing loneliness of being the last man on earth, and eking out a miserable survival in the post-apocalyptic ruins.
  • 1980’s TZ:  Broken glasses result in saving the family farm and getting the girl.

Take it to Hallmark [2].  I know it was filmed in Canada, but does it have to be so nice?

Some of the premonitions after the first one are just a mess.  When Cribbens sees Slater as an old man in his office, what is the point?  OK, he is still alive, that’s good.  He got older — welcome to the club.  Still has a nice head of hair — screw him.  He apparently didn’t lose an arm in the thresher — isn’t that a point in favor of him losing the farm?

Cribbens’ vision at the farmhouse is equally nonsensical.  If the bank were to foreclose on the farm, the house would not become run-down and abandoned; it would be torn down and paved over for the new highway. Or maybe a Cracker Barrel.

So, another simple yet promising high-concept is fumbled.

Other Stuff:

  • [1] OK, not really.  They are finally building one near me and my excitement at that news is a sad commentary on how my life is going.
  • [2] Hallmark replaces Lifetime as the sappy go-to channel.  I had actually typed Lifetime, but its website was plugging a movie called Deadly Matrimony.
  • Title Analysis:  Another mess.  Kudos for it being sight-related and having the word vision, but the 20/20 part is like one of those Tales From the Crypt titles with only half a pun.  Why 20/20?  The future in his visions is changeable, so they are not perfect (i.e 20/20).  Even the cinematography of the visions themselves is inconsistent, so that’s not perfect either.  The term 20/20 isn’t even relevant for reading glasses, so the whole thing makes no sense.

Tales of Tomorrow – The Evil Within (05/01/53)

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After enduring two episodes this week of men beating up their wives, finally something to celebrate:  The last episode of Tales of Tomorrow. [1]  

Peter has brought his work home with him.  Sadly, he does not work in a bakery or modeling agency, but in a lab that produces toxic chemicals.  He tells Anne he has created “the perfect serum”.  Wow, does it cure cancer?   Maybe reverse the effects of Alzheimer’s?  Spit it out, man!  He tells her, “I gave a shot of this stuff to the monkeys at the lab to see how they reacted.  Instantly, they lost all their behavior control and their inhibitions.”  Yeah, that behavior-control that inhibited monkeys are so famous for.

Unfortunately, the refrigerator at the lab broke down and the serum must be kept cold, so he brought it home.  Pffft, some “perfect” serum.  After putting it next to last night’s meatloaf, he tells Anne that it works on humans too.  “It goes straight to the glands, then they overpower the mind.  That unleashes the evil within the human being!”  Well thank God science cracked this problem; finally we can get some evil peeps ’round here.  I wouldn’t wait for Jonas Salk to share his Nobel Prize. [2]

Anne wants to go out to a movie, but in addition to bringing his work home with him, Peter has brought his work home with him.  He pulls papers from his briefcase.  He plans to begin work immediately on an antidote which will bring out the good intentions in people.  Well that’s not really an antidote unless the people are only a**holes because they took the first drug.  What about those who are just naturally a**holes like Robert DeNiro and Peter Fonda? [3]

After a solid 15 seconds of working, he packs his bag and announces he is going for a walk, then returning to the lab to check on the monkeys.  Anne consoles herself by having a piece of the pie that was on the rack below the leaky test-tubes.  Just like the monkeys, Anne loses her inhibitions immediately and begins writhing seductively in her chair.  She dances around the apartment.  Then she gleefully pours the test tubes in the sink.  My God, if that gets in the water supply, New Yorkers could turn into angry, loud, obnoxious jerks!  Then she sets fire to Peter’s notes.

The next morning, Peter sees that the test-tubes are empty.  Anne tells him it was an accident and he isn’t too upset.  Unlike every scientist in sci-fi history, he is able to reproduce his discovery.  Well . . . he isn’t so sure when he gets to the lab and realizes he has lost his notes and has no backup.  Now that’s a Hollywood sci-fi scientist!

He returns home and confronts Anne about a call she received from his lab assistant the previous night.  She lies about it.  Then she giddily tells him she poured the serum down the drain and “burned your precious formula!”  She is happily in his face as she proudly confesses, even trilling the R’s in precious — a great choice by the actress.  “She taunts him that she “destroyed everything you care about.”

Peter figures out that Anne ate the infected pie.  Again, he tells her it will be OK because he can analyze the pie and reverse-engineer the formula.  She still says she wants to destroy him.  She pulls out a kitchen knife, and says she wants to “destroy you the way you destroyed me.”  She plans to kill herself so she will be on his conscience.  He promises to give up his career if she will put down the knife.

Peter’s lab assistant calls to tell him the serum has worn off, the monkeys are acting like little angels, although them feces-hurling angels like in the Old Testament.  He asks Anne to not do anything crazy for 15 minutes.  The serum wears off and she starts crying.

Meh, not the worst episode of the series.  In a three-person cast which included Rod Steiger and James Dean, only Margaret Phillips’ name was announced at the top of the show — and she deserved it.  Rod Steiger is the same mumbling, erratic, inexplicably praised lump he would evolve into.  As the lab assistant, James Dean — also inexplicably revered — wasn’t given much to do, but at least he didn’t cry this time.  Mags came off great though!  She was attractive as Before, but as After she was an untamed, grinning seductress / killer pie-eater.

Thus endeth Tales of Tomorrow.

Other Stuff:

  • [1] Last of the three DVD sets released, anyway.
  • [2] I am shocked to learn Salk did not get a Nobel Prize.  Barack Obama got one for reasons that still no one can figure out.  But saving millions of kids world-wide from a devastating disease only gets you into the Polio Hall of Fame (no, really).
  • [3] This doesn’t need to break down by party.  Forget politics — really, not one person in that auditorium thought DeNiro was just coarse and trashy?  And Jesus Christ, WTF did Henry Fonda do to his kids?

Outer Limits – Balance of Nature (09/04/98)

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This seems like a cop-out to get to bed early.

The week started out with a Twilight Zone episode about an abused wife.  Despite, or maybe because of, two great performances, the episode was just too unpleasant to further think about.

So here we are winding down the week with the same kind of episode.  This one feels even worse since the victim is not only a woman, but 71 years old.

It’s just not something I want to dwell on.

Next . . .

Other Stuff:

  • The elderly couple was named Matheson.  Were they named after the writer Richard Matheson?  No genre series could possibly use that name without knowing the connection would be made.  Was this supposed to be a tribute?

Science Fiction Theatre – The Unexplored (11/05/55)

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“Middleton College in New York State is a respected institution of learning.  Professor Alex Bondar, teacher and authority in parapsychology, is about to give a demonstration . . .”

Well, which is it?  Are they respected, or do they have a department of para-psychology?  It can’t be both.  Dr. Bondar is about to give a demonstration of hypnosis.  He has determined that elderly Mrs. Canby can be put under by shooting sound waves through her head at 14,000 cycles per second.

In a few seconds the old woman’s face relaxes and her eyes shut.  The overly-optimistic Bondar does not check her pulse, but rather asks, “Mrs. Canby, do you know me?”  He tells his students that not only is she not asleep, but some are her senses are more acute than when she is awake.  He drapes a handkerchief in front of her face, and has a student hold an open book behind it.  She astounds the class by being able to read the text, although she mistakes a booger for a comma.

Bondar explains this feat by saying that under hypnosis, her mind might be more sensitive to infra-red rays.  Hunh?  He says he has also seen Mrs. Canby describe things that were far out of sight where infra-red rays wouldn’t explain it.  He awakens her by counting slowly from 10 down to 1.  And I mean he takes his bloody time and doesn’t miss a digit.

It is also a countdown of a different sort as Bondar has a bombshell announcement.  A college administrator has actually pulled his head out of his ass for once and canceled the parapsychology program, judgmentally calling it “nonsense.”  Bondar is leaving the College, and not by no astral projection, either.

He gets a call from the police that his colleague Dr. Bernhardt Mannheim, driving in from Montreal for a parapsychology lecture, has been missing for 2 days.  Bondar describes him as about 70, small, frail, with white hair, and having a goatee; so indistinguishable from every other German scientist on TV.

Back at home, Julie Bondar is saddened by the loss of her husband’s cushy job.  She suggests that maybe if he had concentrated less on the para- and more on the -psychology, he might still have the gig.  He says she was never supportive and considers his work “the foolish fumblings of the family idiot!”  Sing it, sister!

That night, the Bondars go to Dean Henry Stark’s house for tea and begging.  He implores Bondar to admit that his work is just a lot of hooey.  The Dean says, “Science explains what actually happens.  You’re trying to explain what has never happened.”  Right on, brother!

While there, the police call with an update on Mannheim.  Stark mentions that he had tried to hire Mannheim for the faculty.  But wait, why would he make an offer to a parapsychologist when he was shutting down the department and considered it nonsense?  Anyhoo, Mannheim used his credit card to buy gas about 200 miles from them, but then just vanished.  Stark has a brilliant idea — are we sure this guy is the Dean? — why doesn’t Bondar use telepathy or clairvoyance to find Mannheim?

Bondar is uncomfortable having his crazy beliefs put to the test like, you know, science.  He argues that such skills can’t be turned on and off like a water tap.  The Dean, quite appropriately, accuses him of not really believing in this stuff himself.  Bondar says that psychics usually have a possession of the victim to work with, like an article of clothing.  Whew, guess we can’t test my beliefs, nosiree!  His wife helpfully reminds him that he has a letter from Mannheim, and Bondar almost does a homina homina.

Bondar agrees to haul Mrs. Canby in at 10 am the next morning to try to locate Mannheim.  Julie is suddenly on team Bondar again and doesn’t want him to go through with it.  She fears the Dean will make a fool of him, and reminds him that Mannheim warned him he was throwing his life away.  Again, wait — this is the same Mannheim who was driving down for the parapsychology lecture, right?

In the classroom, Bondar fires up the parabolic dish pointed at Mrs. Canby’s grey noggin again.  To Stark’s delight, this time the sound waves just hurt her ears; especially the good one.  Heyyyoooo!  They fall back on a method that had also worked with her — a metronome.  Honestly, this is a great piece of business because the silence broken only by the perfectly regular clacks is indeed hypnotic; so much so, I wonder why I can’t recall ever seeing it used again on TV or in movies.  The camera slowly pushes in alternately on the metronome, then Mrs. Canby’s face in a series of shots that is — dare I say — worthy of Hitchcock.  Was SFT fooling around with the antibiotic fungus from two weeks ago?

That does not work either, so Bondar tries using light as a stimulus.  Maybe they were still using the fungus, because he shines a spot in Mrs. Canby’s eye, then shines it in Julie’s for no reason I can figure.  Trying to put Mrs. Canby under, Bondar counts slowly from 1 to 29.  Think of that — on network TV, they had a scene where absolutely nothing happened except a dude counted slowly for 30 seconds.  Maybe that earlier 10 second countdown tested well.  Mrs. Canby freaks out at the pressure they put on her and is taken away.

The camera pans over to Julie who has not moved an inch.  She seems to be in a trance as she walks to her husband. [1]  She is not feeling well and asks him to drive her home; and to use the Stone Mountain route so she can get some fresh air, and maybe a Pecan Log Roll.  Julie tells her husband to stop at a certain point, then tells him to go down the hill and look around.  At the bottom of a steep hill, he sees Mannheim’s car where it crashed 3 days ago.  Bondar’s paranormal beliefs are vindicated because Julie’s clairvoyant vision made her stop them at this specific place; or it might have been all the flies.

Like Tales of Tomorrow, you really have to grade this series on a curve.  Objectively, the episode is awful.  However, considering the budget, the times, and compared to the rest of the series, parts of the episode are just a masterpiece.  The metronome, the editing, the counting, the shot compositions . . . there was just a lot to like here.

Other Stuff:

  • [1] OK, it is a great idea that Julie was caught in stray light that was intended for Mrs. Canby.  But it’s not like she was right behind Canby.  Bondar really had to swing that light around to get it in Julie’s eye, and do it more than once.  It would have been so easy to just line them up so Canby caught the light on the left side of her face and Julie behind her caught it on her right side.
  • Major kudos to the director Eddie Davis.  He has a ton of credits, but nothing that indicates an auteur.  Maybe I should rewatch his earlier SFT effort, The Strange People at Pecos.
  • BTW, IMDb has his age at 115.  Maybe they need a — dare I say — Dead Man’s Switch.  At some point, ya just know you missed an email.