Willy Gardener is the manager of the run-down Winchester Hotel. When he opens the front desk this morning, there is already a bum flopped on the lobby sofa. The seediness factor just increases when 1980’s gangsta Danny comes in with Candy, Rocco and Cap. Candy asks if he would like to take a walk with her. Yada yada, she humiliates him by screeching, “Sure if ya got $50!” and the gang howls with laughter. Wait, Candy hangs out with losers, reveals herself to be a whore, and Willy is supposed to be humiliated? I guess I just don’t get bullies.
Willy is hurt by this, but goes about his job which is more than those parasites ever do. He goes room-to-room announcing check-out time is 12 o’clock. Seems late, but check-in time might have been 11:00 at this joint. The door of one room swings open to reveal an unoccupied room with a large trunk in the middle of the floor. He opens it, but it is empty. He says, “I wish I had a nickel for every old piece of luggage left in this hotel.” When he tries to move it, it won’t budge. He opens the lid again and the huge chest is filled with nickels. Apparently, based on his wish, millions of pieces of luggage have been left in that hotel.
Like all fictional characters, he wastes his second wish. He wishes for an “ice cold root beer, just like when I was a kid.” He opens the lid and hoists out a mug of root beer. Oddly, the prop department not only screwed up by not giving him a frosty mug; but the root beer is completely flat. It looks like a mug of coffee. He looks at the nickels he had been diligently rolling and says, “What do I need you guys for?”
We cut to some time later when Willy is dressed like a 1970s dandy and his shabby room has been transformed into a swinging bachelor pad. Unfortunately, the only people he knows to invite over are the bums from the hotel and the idiots who bullied him earlier. It would just be churlish of me to ask how he got this fancy stuff. He said he didn’t need the money, but some of his new things would not have fit in the trunk.
At the party, a Winchester wino praises Willy’s free liquor and Candy the hooker still offers to be his girl if he buys her things. I’m not sure the trunk was necessary for those two things to happen.
One of the gang asks if he can borrow Willy’s new TV to watch the game. Willy tells him to just take it. Seeing that, another jerk asks for the stereo. Willy tells him to take it. He tells the rest of his guests to take whatever they want. So they loot every nice item from his apartment, down to the lamps and statues.
This isn’t enough for one of the gang; not sure which, let’s call him Rocco. He’s the one who lacks the ambition to even be a skinhead. He has short blonde hair and looks like a soccer hooligan. Plus no sleeves — a pretty good indicator of douchebaggery. He demands that Willy show him where all these swell new housewares came from. What kind of gang is this?
He chases Willy through the hotel. Willy ducks into the trunk room. Rocco follows. The trunk is the only place Willy could be hiding, so Rocco throws up the lid. It is empty, so he leaves. An interior shot in the closed trunk show Willy is in there, the trunk just hid him from Rocco. Cool.
Unfortunately, when Willy tries to get out, the lid won’t open.
We cut to the apartment of a nice young woman. She tells her mother that she just got dumped. All she wants is to meet a nice guy. The trunk is sitting in her living room. How it got there, we have no idea, but she doesn’t seem surprised to see it. She uses a butter knife to pry open the lock. So she bought it not knowing what was inside? Did it also hide his weight?
In response to her wish for a nice guy, Willy stands up in the trunk when she lifts the lid. He is looking dapper, in a nice suit. His hair is neatly groomed. In fact this is actually the best I’ve ever seen Bud Cort look. So I guess both their wishes came true.
Once again, a perfectly serviceable high concept is somewhat urinated away. I’m cool with not knowing who was staying in the room where it was found (although Willy could have at least checked the register). I assume the original owner found his own destiny the way Willy will. But what really is the story? Does Willy become greedy and conjure up big money? No, he just creates some furniture, gives it away, and that’s about it. Does Rocco lock Willy in the wish box to face some crazy shit? Does Willy somehow trick Rocco into the box, trapping Rocco in the titular twilight zone? No, Rocco just kind of gives up and walks away. What a waste.
Another freakin’ TZ happy ending. From the writers of Aqua Vita which I quite enjoyed.
Classic Bud Cort:
Major Dara Talif belongs to a rival faction. It seems to be some sort of exchange program that has put her on this base. This is A-OK with Major Bowen who flirts relentlessly with her. Their witty banter is interrupted by a message from earth. Peace talks have broken down between the Free Alliance and the Coalition. Both sides accuse the other of making a tri-radium bomb. Bowen’s and Colonel Samantha Elliot’s mission, if they decide to accept it, is to see if any tri-radium is missing from Mars. They find the missing tri-radium very quickly when they see the freakin’ Earth suddenly and completely engulfed in flames.
The last half is just ploddingly going through the motions. And if that is the best you can do with 1) the earth being destroyed, 2) the only survivors stuck on Mars, 3) paranoid rival factions that could destroy the remaining humans, 4) rogue drones, 5) a military coup, and 6) a rival maybe-spy embedded in your camp . . . just give up.
Burton says the real find is the pictures Keller took through his prototype telescope. He has found pictures of an asteroid heading toward earth. Of more concern to me is that giant spear zooming our way. Burton shows Cole the postcard. He recognizes PQ – QP = 1H4 as Keller’s Sub-Quantum Theory of the Universe. [1] The postcard is suspiciously dated 1 year before Keller announced his KSQ breakthrough to the world.
I guess Nina accepts their Ludcris offer because they are working for the next 3 days on the electronic telescope to learn more about the asteroid. They finally locate it, but discover it is not an asteroid. Cole says it is a “man-made” object; although I think he just means it was fabricated, rather than occurring naturally. “Man-made” includes aliens; just not alien women. Suddenly, they lose sight of the object and get a message on the radio: Say nothing until you hear from Barcelona.
Not much here, but at least it did have a story and a mystery. Sadly, the cast did not help. Walter Kingsford was fine and credible as Dr. Cole. Christine Larson was angrier than seemed necessary, but that might have been due to weakness in the screenplay. The killer was Burton. His line deliveries were maybe the dullest, flattest, most wooden acting I have seen in years (and I just saw Gabriel Byrne in Hereditary!). His performance truly must be seen to be appreciated.
The next night, Lottie and John are in the hotel dining room. It has closed, but she is asking him to dance with her. He uses the old I-had-polio excuse which that buttinski Jonas Salk ruined for all guys. She convinces him to try, and it is a pretty nice moment. He quickly but effortlessly becomes more agile, and they smoothly move closer together as they dance. Then they even kiss.
The three of them arrive at the waterfall. Lottie and Mom go to the edge to look at it. Seeing the two women leaning over the edge, John limps over and gives one of them a push (really more of a hammy punch in the back). The shot that follows is so brutally comic that it is surprising it made it onto TV. We see a lengthy shot of a body falling down the cliff, hitting every rock on the way down like