Category Archives: TV

One Step Beyond – Ordeal on Locust Street (09/22/59)

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Host John Newland shows us a house in Boston.  He says the door is kept locked at all times.   The curtains on the window are always drawn.  If they show a Pizza Guy driving up, I’ll get chills.

Anna Parish and her mother are planning for Anna’s beau Danny to visit the house — the first time anyone has been inside since they moved to Boston.  As they work on the Boston Baked Beans and Boston Cream Pie, they are surprised to hear someone shriek outside.  Mrs. Parish assures her daughter that no one can see in the windows.

Outside, Mr. Parish catches Danny still looking toward the window.  “What is it?” Danny cries.  He is shocked and tells Mr. & Mrs. Parish he had heard stories, but now “I saw for myself!  A red velvet chair!”  Well, that is an affront to good taste, but hardly worth screaming like a girl.  He continues, “That’s what was so horrible!  A red velvet chair with a high back!”  OK, lazy-boy, we get it.  Oh wait, he goes on to describe the occupant of the chair which he says would have seemed more at home in the sea than in a house. 

Over Anna’s objections, Mrs. Parish tells him that is her son, i.e. Anna’s brother.  Mrs. Parish assures him the problem is not hereditary or contagious but that they all got two shots and multiple boosters because Twitter experts unanimously told them too.  Danny contemplates missing out on Anna’s Pie and a hoped-for Southie, then flees like he just met Marilyn Munster’s family.

Anna screams that she hates her brother.  Mrs. Parish gives her two really good slaps. [2] Anna runs out of the room.  Her father tells his wife that either they put Jason “some place” or he will leave her.  So that’s the end of Mr. Parish.

Mrs. Parish brings in a defrocked doctor who has had success using a “mind force.”

Dr. Brown hypnotizes Anna as an example.  He does the usual tricks.  He has her raise her hand, act as if she had been burned, ignore the pain of a pin-prick, and check her 401(k) without digging her MAGA hat out of the closet.  He suggests to her that she will forget the pain of Danny running away and, hey, are those beans for anybody?

After reviving Anna, Doc Brown gets the key to Jason’s room.  The scene is from Jason’s POV.  He explains to Jason how he lost his medical license because he doubted the efficacy of masks, but might make an exception in this case.  He also warns that this might take a while.  We see the doctor take his scaley hands.  

Three months later, on Christmas Eve, Mr. Parish comes back home.  He has brought someone with him who will take Jason to a hospital.  Ma Parish is distraught; she will hear nothing of Jason being taken from his home.  She even gets a pistol out of the desk.  

As she is about to ventilate Mr. Parish, Anna enters the room, all smiles.  With her is Jason, now a handsome, unblemished young man.  Doc Brown’s crazy hypno-therapy got him out of that room!  Although the two of them living in there eating beans everyday for 3 months was probably also a factor.

John Newland tells us Doc Brown did not live to see hypnosis become accepted in the medical community.  No shit — I probably won’t either.  

Well, I guess OSB realized what I’ve said from the start.  Sticking to their slim slice of the genre pie was not sustainable.  There was just too much “sameness” to the ghost stories regardless of what time period and majority-white country they took place in.[1]  I appreciate their attempt to branch out, but this was a titular Step in the wrong direction.

Hypnosis might have its place in certain stories, or in helping people quit smoking, but this does not seem a likely application.  Just using the mind caused genetic deformities to disappear, caused scales to fall from his body, and left no scarring.  That’s a leap, even on the Christmas episode of a show about the supernatural. [3]

Other Stuff:

  • [1]  I’ve lost count (and interest) how many OSB episodes are set outside the USA, but they did seem to shoot for about 50%.  As I’ve mentioned before, they never got to Africa or Asia.  Well, they did have an episode in India, but I guess you can’t say “the Orient” any more.
  • [2]  Note to self:  Learn to make GIFs.  Also: running low on peanut butter.
  • [3]  Rules broken:  1) I’ve skipped other episodes about kids with “issues”, but Jason seemed to be older; even though I guess he had been a guppy at one time.  2) I usually skip Christmas episodes because they are so predictable and mawkish.  OSB tricked me by making the episode last 3 months.  And it felt that way, too.

Suspense – The Doors on the Thirteenth Floor (05/31/49)

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We open on two dead women having lunch.  Well they’re dead now, not in the scene below.  Although the one on the left is iffy. [1]

Agatha asks Sally [5] (pop quiz, hotshot: which is which?) how work is going.  Sally says the hours are long, but it keeps her in New York.  She also mentions seeing a lot of George who lives in her building.

Well, hey, George drops by the table and greets his Aunt Agatha.  He says he is surprised Sally isn’t working.  She says, “The typewriter’s under the table” although I’ve never heard it called that.  George has brought a taxi to pick up his elderly aunt.  She has not finished her tea so tells him to have the taxi wait.  Sadly, he does not have enough cash.  Agatha gives Sally that knowing look.  They hear thunder, so Agatha decides to leave after all.  She gives Sally cash to pay the bill and asks her to drop by her apartment that night.

This is some swell apartment building with a doorman, a mailman, a bellhop, and an elevator operator.  Unfortunately, they are all one creepy guy named Andy.  He takes George, Agatha, and her neighbor Harry Crane [2] up to the 13th floor.  On the way, Harry complains that Agatha is playing her radio next door too loudly at night.  Although, because the show is Edgar Bergen & Charlie McCarthy, it is actually coming from across the alley. [6]   They get out on 13, but George asks Andy to wait because the elevator doesn’t have a meter like the taxi.  Agatha asks him to stay, but he says he has things to do.

After he leaves, she notices that a jade Buddha and some other items (a pyrite Joseph Smith and a rare Reese’s Jesus made out of chocolate and peanut butter) are missing.  The window is open.  She calls the cops, but a beefy hand covers her mouth.

Sally comes home.  She knocks on Agatha’s door, but gets no answer.  Harry comes out into the hall and tells her 1) it is too late to be knocking on doors, 2) her smelly cat sneaks into his window at night and wakes him up, and 3) he believes FDR is still alive and we never landed on Guam.

After she puts away the groceries, she decides to try Agatha’s door again.  She discovers her own door will not open.  She does not see what we see — an eye staring in through her peephole!  She tries to make a call, but the phone is dead.  Yikes!

She writes a note for the milkman that I-am-trapped-by-a-killer-please-for-the-love-of-God-let-me-out!, and also no more cheese because it makes the cat fart.  She slides it halfway under the door, but seconds later notices the paper has already been taken.  Through the peephole, she sees Andy leaving Agatha’s apartment.  Well wait, was he doing wind-sprints from Agatha’s door, to Sally’s door to grab the note, back to Agatha’s door, then fleeing Agatha’s door again?  She tries to get the attention of the Peeping Tom across the alley, but his wife busts him before she can get her blouse off.

Next, she ties a note to her cat’s collar and sends it out on the ledge to Harry’s window. [3]  A little later Harry knocks on her door, and she opens it right up. Hunh?  OK, maybe someone unlocked it from the outside, but she did not know that and she did not hesitate for a second to open it.  Anyhoo, he chews her out for letting the cat go in his window again.  She tries to explain about her door and seeing Andy, but he doesn’t care.

She tries the fire door to go drag George into this, but it won’t open.  She sees a paper on the floor.  But wait, this note is folded up like the one she attached to her cat, not flat like the one she shoved under the door.  How the heck would that have gotten there?  I guess Crane could have dropped it when he returned the cat, but why should this be worth dwelling on?  Even if it was the milkman note, so what?  She goes to Agatha’s apartment, but does not see her.  There is a single shoe beside the refrigerator. She opens the refrigerator door and screams in revulsion at some old cottage cheese, and the old woman’s body.  Oh, wait, that’s not cottage cheese.  Sally staggers to the phone and calls the police.

At the same time, Andy and George are dragging a large wicker basket from the elevator to Agatha’s door.  Andy says he killed Agatha because she came home early and caught him in her apartment, and that he fortuitously just got a great deal  on the basket at at Pier 1.  They open the door and drag the basket in — wait, if  Andy has a master key, why did he come in through the window for the heist?  And, hey, where is Sally?

Andy and George argue over how Agatha’s leg came to be sticking out of the door, and whether she might still be alive.  As they argue, there is a shockingly well-composed shot of Sally hiding in the living room.

The men begin pulling Agatha out of the refrigerator and the credits begin.  Well that didn’t resolve much.  The abrupt conclusion on Tubi is noted by reviewers at IMDb.  It just seemed egregious even for this series, so I searched for another copy of the episode at YouTube after finding nothing at Pornhub.  Sure enough, the last 2 minutes had the climax.  At YouTube, I mean, not Pornhub.

Sally tries to flee the apartment, but George catches her.  She distracts him, runs out into the hallway and locks Agatha’s door.  What kind of crazy apartment building is this where tenants can be locked in?  Where does this take place, Wuhan?  No wonder the cat is always trying to escape.  Naturally Harry comes out to complain about the noise and fluoride in the water.  He threatens to call the police, and Sally begs him to.

Of course, the episode is dreadful by today’s standards.  But is that really an excuse?  They had made some pretty good movies by this time.  Hitchcock had several suspense classics under his belt, but who could ever see them there? [4] All the pieces were there, but the low budget, live TV, poor picture quality, and intrusive organ music undermine the whole production.

Maybe it is better to judge these episodes on what they were attempting.  There were a couple of set pieces designed for the titular suspense here, so they did make an effort.  I guess what I’m trying to say is, what the hell happened to this country where we can’t count all the votes in 2 freakin’ weeks?

Other Stuff:

  • [1]  Nell Harrison (Agatha) was born in 1880.  She might be the earliest-born actor I’ve encountered here yet.  18 years after this episode, in a stretch, she played “Old Woman” in The Producers.  Paging Oscar!
  • [2]  Harry is played by Russell Collins who I previously anointed as the greatest actor in history.  To be honest, he isn’t very good here, but it is one of his first roles.
  • [3]  In a quaint sign of live TV, she can’t make the note stay attached.  Luckily she releases the cat just outside her window so we can’t see her hands as she drops it.  Bravo!  However, she also releases it in the opposite direction of Harry’s apartment.
  • And how crazy do you have to be to use a cat for anything on live TV?
  • [4]  Blatant fat-shaming.  And isn’t the phrase fat-shaming just more fat-shaming?
  • [5]  Where are all the Sallys today?  Seems like a fine name, with attractive connotations.  Sally Ride was cool, Sally Field is still cute at 95.
  • [6]  If this doesn’t make sense, have a séance and ask your grandparents; or a dead nerd.

Tales of the Unexpected – Poison (03/29/80)

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Roald Dahl’s intros don’t usually do much for me or the story.  However, this time it casts a spell over the whole episode.  He tells of the time as a young man that he looked out the window and saw a 6-foot black mamba snake behind the gardener — or as we call them today, the Mexican. er, landscaper.  He shouted to the man to turn around, but the hombre is bitten and DIES!  Hitchcock can deliver his droll intros about murder 1,000 times, but this short first-person anecdote stays with you throughout the episode.  Kudos!

And if that intro did not sufficiently make your skin crawl, the sitar music should do the trick.  I think that’s why George Harrison was perpetually haggard [1] — nausea at all that sitar music.

Harry Pope is a little haggard himself as he has been on the wagon for three weeks.  He is also feeling pressure from his boss.  Harry works in India training citizens there to speak English.  His boss in London orders him to hand over the training classes to Bengali teachers because of reports that some Indian immigrant’s kid in Podunk, KY came in 2nd in the Spelling Bee.

Harry sees this as an opportunity to get back to England so he can enjoy that delicious English cuisine.  And if you’re living in a place where the cuisine makes English food seem tasty by comparison, by God, I doff my chapeau to you sir.

He climbs into his bed which is enclosed in mosquito netting.  Sadly, it does nothing to keep out snakes.  As he is reading [3], we see a krait [2] slither into his bedroom.  He feels a warmth down below and sees the sheets begin to rise, and it’s not because his bedtime reading material is like mine.  He lifts the sheet and sees the snake sitting on his chest.  He is immobile and sweating profusely.  Harry, not the snake.

Hours later, for some reason, his British pal Timber brings a blonde dame back to Harry’s house.  In a low voice, Harry calls him into the bedroom.  He tells Timber and the girl that there is a krait on his stomach, under the sheet.  He implores his friend to call for help, and maybe another girl.  Timber calls Doctor Kunzru — hey there’s an actual Indian in India — that the woman knows.

The doctor has an antidote that might work, but they want a fallback position.  They decide to sprinkle some chloroform on the sheets to put the snake to sleep which sounds ridiculous, but I’m no Indian.  All the while, Harry is motionless and glistening.

The woman is afraid the doctor will recognize her even without her feet in stirrups and blab that she is cheating on her husband.  She sneaks out and takes the doctor’s car, which I guess was her only purpose in the episode.  BTW, what better way to not draw attention to yourself than to steal a dude’s car.

Timber and the doctor slowly pull back the sheets and they all see the snake is gone.  Timber somehow knows where the woman is going so he drives the doctor to get his car.

Harry goes to the kitchen, rather than Europe, which would have been my move.  He takes a bottle of Stoly out of the well-stocked liquor cabinet which all recovering alkies keep close by.  He reaches for a glass and the snake strikes, biting him and coiling around his arm.  He dies on the spot — the spot made by his own pool of urine, I imagine.

So we have a great synergistic intro and a great premise, but no real value is added beyond the suspense that is fundamentally baked into the premise.  There is no revenge, no come-uppance, no karma, no irony . . . he just gets bit in the kitchen instead of the bedroom.  Harry was not a bad guy, so what is the point?  The woman was cheating on her husband, maybe something could have been done with that.  Of course, it would be sexist not to point out that Timber was also guilty of adultery.  The doctor says to Timber in the car that he is not a “failed MD”.  What is that about?

Still, the premise was so great that I have to give it a thumbs-up!

Other Stuff:

  • [1]  As observed by Norm McDonald.
  • [2]  Pronounced CRITE.  Who knew?
  • [3]  Late Call by Angus Wilson is displayed so prominently that it must be meaningful, but dang if I can figure out why.
  • I see that this is not the first adaptation.  Like Post Mortem few weeks ago, I somehow skipped the AHP version.  Cripes, it’s starting to look like I put no thought at all into this thing.  So that will be the next AHP entry.
  • Proximity Alert:  Anthony Steel appeared in Galloping Foxley just 2 episodes ago.  Give someone else a chance!
  • Kudos to Andrew Ray (Harry) who appeared to do some real snake-handling at the end.  Again, not like me with my bedtime reading material.

Science Fiction Theatre – The Magic Suitcase (01/25/57)

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Ahh, Science Fiction Theater.  I haven’t heard that overwrought theme in months.  And with only 2 episodes left after tonight, soon it will just be a distant memory, like the time I had Shingles. [1]

Terry and his grandfather are heading up to the family cabin in the mountains.  13 year old Terry wants to take his electric train, but his mother reminds him there is no electricity at the cabin and that he’s not six.  Terry obnoxiously — and this kid is awful — insists that he take the train.  He counters that Grandpa is taking his fishing gear, but there are no fish in the creek.  That’s valid — why is Grandpa taking his fishing gear and rowing to the middle of the creek alone? [2]

They pass a man wearing a jacket & tie walking along the road carrying a suitcase.  Back in 1959, this guy looks demonic with his beard.  In fact, he looks like a young me heading to the local motel, except he’s carrying a suitcase.  Turns out, the man is on the wrong road.  Grandpa offers him a ride and offers to let him stay overnight at the cabin.  Then he will drive him to his destination in the morning.  

Terry sets up the train and plugs it in, knowing there is no juice. He just wants to pretend.  Wait, if there is no electricity, why are there electrical outlets?  Oh, grandpa explains that he built the cabin and wired it in anticipation of getting on the grid for a couple of years before electric car mandates account for every kilowatt.

The next morning, the man is gone, but his suitcase is still there.  Grandpa goes to fetch some water from the creek.  Terry, rather than getting the water for the elderly man, snoops around the case and sees it has an electrical outlet.  He plugs in his train, and it takes off.  Like a European train, I mean, not an American one.

Grandpa is amazed that the train is running.  He looks in the suitcase hoping to find the mysterious source of this power, and maybe some Fig Newtons.  Inside, he finds that miracle of 1950’s computing:  a board with lights on it.  

Grandpa puts the suitcase in the car and drives back home.  To be fair, he leaves a note in case the man comes back, telling him to just hang out until they get back and that there are some nudie magazines in the rowboat. 

He shows the device to his son-in-law John who is an electrical engineer.  He says it looks like a board with lights on it.  Grandpa rigs up a test to show the suitcase can power several appliances and, for some reason, a band saw.  John’s wife screams like this is the devil’s work.  A better reaction would be rapture because this suitcase is worth more than all the $1,000,000 bills that could fit in it (at the beginning of the Biden administration).

John takes it to the lab to show his boss and soon the Feds are sniffing around too.  Scientists attempt to see what is inside, but the board is as impenetrable as the mustard packets I got at Culver’s today. [3]  The old man, though born before electricity, has the great idea to use the awesome power of the board to penetrate the board.  They are successful and determine that the board is made of metallic hydrogen (which is a real thing).

They conjecture that the man is an alien.  He left the enigmatic rectangular object to inspire humanity like we were the apes in 2001, which seems about right.  

Not much story here.  The take-away from the episode is the performances. Charles Winninger as Grandpa is dreadful.  His hamminess might be due to being born 45 years before talkies.  Freddy Ridgeway as Terry has no such excuse, being born 15 years after talkies began.  His shouting of lines, whining voice, and misplaced inflections are excruciating. 

I  would like to see this series take an unexpected turn to quality in its last gasp like Halloween Ends, but confidence is not high.

Other Stuff:

  • [1]  Yikes, I need a new series.  At the rate I’m going, I’ll be done with SFT in 2026.
  • [2]  I just got into Virtual Realty Porn Gaming.  I was shocked to see VR Fishing is a real thing.  Or did it say Fisting?  Either way, I can’t imagine.
  • [3]  Seriously, WTF?  My guess is that some dicks from McKinsey told them if only 20% can be opened, people will grab five times as many as they need.

Alfred Hitchcock Presents – Gratitude (04/25/61)

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My casino has a manager, it’s M-E-Y-E-R.  Peter Falk plays Meyer Fine, manager of a high-class speakeasy / casino during prohibition. [1]  Enjoy his performance, because it’s about all you’re going to get out of this episode.

He enters the main room of his apartment above the casino, wearing a tuxedo shirt, a bow tie, and a fabulous robe.  He sits down, and his servant John kneels and removes his shoes.  What the heck?  I’ve watched twenty-eight seasons and two boring, boring movies of Downton Abbey, but I’ve never seen Mr. Barrow tying anyone’s shoes; although he did seem do a lot of kneeling in front of dudes.

Even more baffling, John is just swapping them out for another pair of shoes.  Not slippers, shoes — they clunk when tossed aside.  What’s going on anyway?  John just told another minion that Mr. Fine was “having his bauth” (the accent is a very funny reference to John’s gangsta past).  Did he put on a pair of shoes (all by himself, like a big boy) to walk one room?

Fine then tours the floor of his casino.  Sadly the rule of no cameras in casinos does not apply to this AHP episode.  He is shown to be a sensitive, caring man.  We see him worry about an injured dealer, caution a man who is betting over his head not with it, and confess that he is terrified of death.

Turns out the high-roller — Hunter Combs — comes from big money as his father is president . . . of a railroad, I mean.  Meyer’s concern is not all humanitarian.  He worries that if the father knew his son was wasting his life gambling, whoring, banging his sister-in-law, and smoking crack that these establishments might get the wrong kind of attention.  You know, unless the kid was also funneling $10 millions of graft from the Communist Chinese into the family coffers.

Later that evening, Fine is told that Combs “blew his brains” out in the subway.  A police Lieutenant tells Fine and his fellow managers that he plans to close down “the private clubs you fellas have been running . . . for restricted membership.”  He says Combs went through $250,000 in 11 months, which was worth something back then. [2] He warns that Hunter’s father will destroy the three men, and that all news of it will be suppressed in the corrupt media.

The next night, Fine sees a man at the bar he does not recognize.  He learns the bouncer let the man in when he produced a “courtesy card” from another establishment even though it needed 2 more punches for a free sub.  Strangely, the bouncer had no curiosity about the box he carried which was big enough for a human head.  Seconds later, the man pulls out a camera the size of a human head, and takes a picture of the casino and its clientele.  He runs off running from the casino. [3] Fine tells his goons to “take care of him.”  Seconds later, the man is shot dead in the doorway of his detective agency.

Fine is distressed to hear that the man was killed when he only wanted him roughed up a little.  He meets with the other club managers and talks about this business they are in.  He says the death was not what he intended. They are interrupted with news that the hothead who shot Combs was just killed in a drive-by.

He worries that “The Dutchman” has called a meeting of all the club managers except him, and there will be pizza and girls.  For the rest of the episode, his forehead is glistening.  He decides he needs to tell The Dutchman his side of the story in person.

The next morning, as he is walking down his steps, he is shot in a drive-by.  He is able to stagger back inside  where John tends to his wound.  John suggests he hide out in Jersey.  Fine says he couldn’t stand to let The Dutchman see how scared he is.

Fine takes a pistol from his desk drawer and puts it to his head.  He breaks down that he doesn’t have the courage to use it.  He begs John to help him.  Which he does.

The lieutenant is baffled that John killed Fine after he had been so generous to him. The lieutenant says, “Didn’t ya ever hear of a thing called gratitude?”  I’m baffled that this is considered such a pivotal point that it is the title of the episode.  The themes up to this point had been Fine as a competent, sensitive man in a rough trade.  Next, he opened up about having such a fear of death that he couldn’t even attend a funeral.  Nothing foreshadowing the gratitude angle.  Sure, maybe John was so grateful that Meyer saved him from a life of crime that he . . . er, committed a heinous crime for him.  But it feels tacked on.

However, I have to apply a lesson that I learned after bitching about Ray Bradbury Theatre for 6 seasons; or maybe I just got 6 years older.  OK, nothing much happens here.  Peter Falk has a nice showcase.  Gangster-turned-valet John is a character I’ve never seen before.  But in service of what?  There is no suspense, no scares, no twist. [4]  It is just a day — granted, a big one — in Meyer Fine’s life.  Meh, maybe that’s enough.

Other Stuff:

  • [1] Upon further review, I see Alfred says the episode takes place in 1916, which places it well before Prohibition.  I guess the illicit activity here is the gambling and scantily-clad college girls dancing in the back [scenes cut for time].
  • [2]  Holy crap — about $6.7 million today !
  • [3]  That was a typo, but I kinda dig it.
  • [4]  If you still crave something dark and creepy, check out the magazine cover this story was originally published under in 1922.  Yikes!  You were warned.
  • The AHP gang must have known there wasn’t much here.  Alfred’s intro and outro both feature a complete non-sequitur — a violent western saloon brawl!
  • I always feel validated when I see that Jack at bare*bones shared my opinion of an episode.  It’s like beating everyone at Final Jeopardy.  Tonight (06/25/22 — it took me  while to get motivated) I nailed Gertrude Stein, which not many guys can say.