The tuxedoed Miles Farnham walks in carrying two snifters of brandy. He hands one to similarly tuxedoed Bill Pryor. Only one of them will be getting his deposit back.
Pryor mentions he has heard that hypnotism is now being used in some dental practices. Farnham assures him that “we’ve come a long way since the days when hypnotism was regarded as a form of magic or witchcraft.” True — it is now regarded as buffoonery or hucksterism.
He assures the crowd that a person cannot be hypnotized against his will. Pryor’s wife Lucy bravely agrees to be a test subject. Farnham easily puts her under so that she can hear and feel no one but him. He takes her back in time. When he asks her name, she surprises him by saying her name is not Lucy, but Dora Evans of the Philadelphia Evanses, circa 1853. She goes on about seeing president Benjamin Pierce and about tending her gardens (although, I suspect “the help” did most of the tending). She further recalls stabbing her husband in the back with a pair of pruning shears and actually commits that same act at the party, impaling [1] her husband!
She tells her story to Assistant DA William Burke. He later tells Farnham that the Philadelphia Historical Society has confirmed that there actually was a Dora Evans. In 1853, she stabbed her husband with a pair of pruning shears.
Farnham later goes to see Lucy Pryor. He tells Lucy that he believes she dug up the story about Dora Evans and used it as an excuse to murder her husband. He sees himself as the only one whose testimony can keep her out of jail. Before he can even state his terms, Lucy throws him out of her house.
At the coroner’s inquest, Farnham is asked if it is really a possibility that Lucy was possessed by Dora Evans — he proclaims it as fact. The coroner reads into the record Farnham’s previous charges of fraud and malpractice. Farnham is outraged that his professionalism and accreditation are being challenged. After all, he has a degree in metaphysics. As proof, her offers to put Lucy Pryor under hypnosis in front of the court.
Harrumph, harrumph!
He pulls his Popeil Pocket Hypnotizer from his jacket and once again puts her under. She is again possessed by Dora Evans and son-of-a-bitch if she doesn’t ram the shears into Farnham’s back! BRAVO — I did not expect that!
The DA catches Lucy in the hall. He assures her they are alone, so she can speak freely. He asks if she planned the whole thing. She replies with a smile, “Would’st not thee like to know?” What the hell is that — did they speak that way in 1853?
Another thoroughly enjoyable outing. Tom Helmore (Farnham) played a perfectly mannered snake-oil salesman, and Phyllis Thaxter (Lucy) sailed through the episode perfectly. Her performance, along with the direction kept the story and visuals interesting. Being AHP, ya know it is all a scam, but she really sells the ambiguity. This is especially striking after the second stabbing. As everyone surrounding her is panicking, she remains blank-faced. She is still, and fading into the background as the others thrash like waves around her.
Great stuff.
There is a lot of interesting framing of Lucy after the 2nd murder. She seems to be placid in a sea of confusion — out-of-it in every sense of the word.
Post-Post:
- [1] I had first used “skewered” but then saw that it doesn’t mean what I always thought it meant.
- AHP Deathwatch: No survivors.
- AHP Proximity Alert: Herbert Anderson (Dennis the Menace’s dad) was just in an episode a month earlier — give someone else a chance!
- Title Analysis: Doesn’t make much sense. Mr. Pryor was murdered once, Mr. Farnham was murdered once, and poor Mr. Evans was murdered three times.
- Phyllis Thaxter (Lucy) played Clark Kent’s mother in Superman. No, the good one. Why do I always think she was in the 1950s Superman? Thinking of Phyllis Coates, I guess. But then Lois Lane was played by Noel Coward, right?
- Tom Helmore (Farnham) was in a memorable episode of Night Gallery.
- George Shearing, Billy Shears, Harry Shearer, Norma Shearer, Rhonda Shear. Mostly Rhonda Shear.
- The Popeil Pocket Fisherman is advertised as available at Woolworth, Woolco, and Korvette’s — all defunct. Coincidence?
Industrialist — and has anyone outside of a Hollywood production ever been called that? And have they ever once been the economy-driving, job-creating, philanthropic good guy? — Deidrich walks down a long hallway filled with secretaries who will soon be replaced by computers, Mr. Coffees and younger, hotter secretaries. He is going to see his former protege William Feathersmith.
Having ruthlessly achieved every-thing he ever wanted, he tells the janitor he is thinking about his youth in Cliffordville. By coincidence, the janitor also grew up in Cliffordville. They apparently had a pretty good school system because he tells Feathersmith he is like Alexander the Great who wept because he had no more worlds to conquer. Though a janitor, like 
Of course, being TZ, things don’t work out the way he planned. He blows the $1,400 immediately on land that turns out to be worthless at the time. He woos the banker’s daughter and finds that she is er, not the beauty that he remembered. Everywhere he turns he just misses opportunities, misremembers details, and realizes that he doesn’t know how anything works so he can’t preemptively invent anything. He tells people repeatedly that he is “not a crummy draftsman, or a two-bit 
Feathersmith begs Ms. Devlin to send him back to the future. His last act before leaving 1910 starts the wheels in motion for another well-played twist. The execution is slightly bungled, but it is still very satisfying. Unfortunately, Serling is not finished typing. He has to insert one last jab at capitalism. In his world, it is impossible to have money without being an asshole (although, I suspect, he excepted himself).
Dennis Mahoney (played by the unfortunately-named 
Mahoney does regain consciousness, but that’s all he regains — he awakens in Brautigan’s body. Of course, he tries to tell this to his court-appointed attorney and comes off looking crazy; even for a serial killer. Holy crap, the attorney says Brautigan is wanted for 26 murders and 19 kidnappings. Mahoney protests that he is just a banker, probably expecting a bailout or a bonus for his body’s reign of terror.
Visitor’s Day: Brautigan tells Mahoney he is sorry the way things worked out, but that it is God’s will. Brautigan considers this his chance at redemption; and at boning Kathy. His attorney returns and tells him that tapes have been found showing him “raping and murdering entire families, one by one.” I hope that sentence is grammatically incorrect. It might be possible to avoid the death penalty by disclosing where the bodies are buried.
Tragically, Kathy and Sean have been killed by Brautigan in Mahoney’s body, but Courtney is still alive. When the police ask who killed her family, she points at Mahoney, now back in his own body. It is a nice ending unless you think about it. A man who has killed 26 people breaks into the house of this nice church-going family. Not only that, Mahoney has been stabbed in the chest, beaten with a frying pan, thrown through a glass table and strangled. Are the police really going to take the word of a traumatized 9 year-old girl against the likelihood that Brautigan was the killer?
Intro: “What would you do if you thought someone from another world was watching you?” What do you mean thought?
Vanneck agrees to meet Cave much to the chagrin of his 28 years-younger girlfriend. Cave arrives with the egg and Vanneck quickly dismisses it as an ordinary crystal. After Cave leaves, however, Vanneck takes the egg into his lab where it begins glowing. Vanneck sees a vision in the crystal and says he is certain that “this landscape is not of this earth.”
When Cave comes to retrieve the egg, Vanneck shows him the landscape. He clearly does not want to give up the egg so when Vanneck’s back is turned, Cave grabs the egg and runs off. Vanneck does not pursue the 80 year old running with a heavy crystal egg.
Kate Morris’s alarm goes off at the crack of seven. Her husband David shuts it off, opting to awaken her by lightly squeezing her nostrils shut. This is the creepiest affectionate gesture since John Travolta — no, the one in 
Her husband suggests that going to a doctor might not be a bad idea. Kate disagrees and begins chopping bell peppers with a ferocity that I think is supposed to have some meaning other than that they’re having stir-fry tonight. If there is some significance to this, please let me know.
When they refuse, she jabs herself with a syringe, going back to coma-world and her happy family.