Category Archives: TV

Outer Limits – Nightmare (08/14/98)

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Battle cruiser Tango Bravo 1 — wait, that’s really the name? — has just reached orbit around planet N184.  Did they just run out of names for stuff in the future?  They are there to drop off an undisclosed payload.  As the crew speculates about what it is, they are blasted by laser fire which causes a couple of crew-members to drop their own payloads.  When they return fire, the planet zaps them with a ray which knocks them out.  They awaken in space jail sponging off alien taxpayers, with crystals embedded in their hands.

A voice demands to know who they are.  Captain Kimbro identifies himself and says they are from the Starship Archipelago, so I guess it does have a name.  The others introduce themselves per the Captain’s orders.  Deadeye Dumar — played by the always arrogant and obnoxious Steven Bauer [1] — feels compelled to represent humanity by adding, “Bite me.”  His witty ripost earns him a sizzling shock to the hand which could render him celibate for weeks.

The aliens tell them to take an hour to pick a spokesman, which seems pretty generous “or else you will meet the same fate as the last unfortunate creatures to trespass in this sector.”  The warning picture they show is too confusing to be effective.  There is a stereotypical alien, but what is that other thing?  Is it his entrails being pulled out?  Is it a chestburster?  Is it a baby?  An alien bagpipe?  Is it significant that one tendril is touching the alien’s noggin?  This is an alien, after all — how do we now this isn’t just what they look like?  One crew-member objects and his mouth is fused shut; sadly it is not Steven Bauer.

The aliens are at least punctual and a voice asks the prisoners if they have selected a spokesman.  Sadly, they are too dimwitted to say, “Yeah, we chose Lt. Valentine, but you sealed his mouth shut!”  Maybe they would have unsealed his mouth.  Worth a try.  To Bauer’s credit, he offers to talk to the aliens in case they get rough.  Captain Kimbro pulls rank, though, and exits to the conference/torture room.

The aliens torture Kimbro, accusing him of bringing a bomb to their planet.  He claims it is “a tool of scientific research.”  They say he better “tell us the truth by the time our second sun rises or you will watch your crew die.”  This would be more effective if he knew the local time, when sunset was, and how long a day was here.

He stumbles back into the cell.  He tells them the aliens want to know what the device is.  He says he told them “the truth.  I don’t even know what the damn thing is.”  Well, that’s not exactly true — he told them it was a research tool, not a bomb.  Anyhoo.

The aliens send water bottles to the cell.  Bauer asks what they will do about Valentine who still has no mouth.  Dr. Chomsky says, “We’ll just have to hydrate him through his skin.”  She then begins rubbing water on his cheeks.  What?  A medical doctor thinks you can hydrate through the skin?  Is she confusing it with moisturizing?

They next summon Valentine for questioning.  Being smarter than the crew, the aliens re-open his Tang-hole.  They then make Valentine see his smarter, braver, deader, and more handsome heroic brother who died saving his platoon.  His brother tells him he can save the lives of the crew by talking.

Back in the cell, Major Neguchi finds the alien’s surveillance equipment.  When he touches it, the aliens fuse his eyes shut.  The aliens then send down some food and just to taunt Neguchi, some porn.  Kimbro finally admits the aliens made him see an old friend who might have died from his negligence.

It comes out that Neguchi also guilt-ridden about the deaths of some pilots under his command at an air show.  His cockiness led them to try a dangerous loop that killed two of his pilots . . . and four people were injured on the ground . . . including a six year old girl . . . who was blinded.  We all love a good story about kids being blinded, but the lack of a similar irony for Valentine’s sealed mouth makes this a little clunky.

Out of nowhere, Bauer decides the only civilian in the crew, Kristin O’Keefe is not telling all she knows.  Turns out he is correct, though.  She says the device is indeed a bomb that could blow a hold 5 miles wide through the planet.

The aliens take Dr. Chomski and accuse her of experimenting on children.  She screams, “They were terminally ill!”  They make her see some of the dead kids who say, “Why did you hurt us?” and “We didn’t want to die.”  The voice tells the crew-members in the cell that Dr. Chomski will not be returning because “her body expired.”

Again, this is a little clunky.  It is not clear that Kimbro and Valentine are bad guys.  Neguchi was just misguided (he mis-guided his pilots right into the ground).  But Chomsky really is evil.  I thought maybe she was offering new medicine and procedures that had not been FDA approved to kids with no other hope.  But those kids did not seem grateful at all.  And her reaction to them was horror, not pain at not being able to help them.  Even her death is ambiguous.  The aliens say they tried to revive her.  Did she have a heart attack?  Did they torture her extree-hard because she really was evil?

They next summon Neguchi to the torture chamber.  They restore his eyes just so he can see Dr. Chomski’s dead body floating in some kind of solution.  She seems to have the same damage as the alien in the warning.  Although, the shot is so quick, it is still impossible to see just what that damage is.  And, BTW, the alien in the warning was naked.  Just sayin’, Showtime.

Finally Bauer is called into the chamber.  After being tortured, Mr. tough-guy rats out O’Keefe as having the codes to disarm the device.

I’ll stop there.  In spite of a couple of of good performances, and because of a few terrible ones, this was a bit of a chore to watch.  However, the ending took this episode from a 2.5 to a 4.5, and at such speed I literally got a chill.

Other Stuff:

  • [1] At least based on the episode of Breaking Bad I coincidentally saw him in today.
  • I don’t want to get spoilery with the ending, but does no one care that Chomski was Dr. Mengele?  All is forgiven?
  • The summary on IMDb manages to be both incorrect and a complete spoiler.
  • The aliens were Ebonites.  Not very woke.

Science Fiction Theatre – Target: Hurricane (10/22/55)

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The phone rings at the US Weather Bureau Hurricane Warning Center.  Jim Tyler picks it up and a few seconds later says, “US Weather Bureau . . . yes, mam.  Fair today and Thursday.  No change in temperature.  Moderate southwest winds.”  Really, people are calling the US Weather Bureau to get the weather report?

Dr. Bronson is heading out to have dinner with Dr. Fredericks.  Tyler tells him to say hello from his old student “Hurricane” Tyler.  He says Dr. Fredericks gave him the nickname “because I used to be fascinated by hurricanes.”  Used to be?  Working in the Miami branch of the US Weather Bureau, I hope he still has a passing interest.

Tyler’s wife Julie and son Bobby come by the office.  Bobby is in a scout uniform and excited about his camping trip that night.  Tyler says it is a good night for it and gives Bobby a compass and a dollar.  Just after they leave, a crazy report comes across the teletype.  A freak hurricane has appeared out of nowhere with winds of 200 MPH.  Colonel Stewart calls in from the Air Force Base to confirm this.  Tyler is astounded.  “200 MPH!  Are you sure, Colonel?  There must be some kind of mistake.  I’ve never heard of a rotary speed that high.  The record is only close to 90!”  Wait, what?  It has to be 74 MPH to even be classified as a hurricane.  Did hurricanes only get up to 90 MPH in the 1950s?  Have they gotten that much worse?  Was Al Gore right?

Tyler calls home to tell Julie to keep Bobby at home.  He is in a danger that could traumatize him for life, and that’s just from the Scoutmaster.  Bobby has already left, though, so Julie tries to call some of the kids not yet picked up.  Meanwhile, Dr. Bronson and Dr. Fredericks come back to the office.  A new teletype message from a navy ship reports that there was a huge explosion just before the hurricane formed.  Fredericks suggests that a submarine be dispatched to the hurricane to take some water samples.

After being stationary, the hurricane finally starts to move toward Miami with speeds now up to 250 MPH.  Fredericks says, “Being out in a hurricane like this can be certain death.”  Kudos for the unintentional laugh as they whip-pan over to Julie who gasps, “Certain death?”  She pleads with Jim, “We’ve got to find those boys!”

There is not a lot of story in the rest of the episode, but there is a lot of fabulous stock footage.  We get to see Air Force planes fly into the hurricane, waves crashing, warning flags going up, rainy gusts blowing down deserted streets, switchboard operators trying to keep up.  Soon it is uneventfully over.

Julie and Tyler are still worried about Bobby, but he comes bounding in and they are happily reunited.  Drs. Bronson & Fredericks smile and clink their coffee mugs together in congratulations like they had something to do with his safety.  Kind of like when the FBI was high-fiving each other and saying “We’re #1!” when they caught the Unabomber . . . after 20 years . . . when his brother turned him in.  Good job, fellas.

Bobby says, being a scout, he was prepared.  The scoutmaster took the boys into a cave to safely ride out the storm.  In a good series, he would have credited the compass for saving them; but I probably would have complained about that too.  To their credit, they did surprise me by explaining the explosion that created the hurricane.  It was a meteorite.  Does that sense?  I don’t know.

For what it was, I can imagine this being pretty entertaining to a kid 60 years ago.

Other Stuff:

  • Margaret Field as Julie . . . ha-cha-cha!

Alfred Hitchcock Presents – Across the Threshold (02/28/60)

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Poor Hubert. Even his chair emasculates him.

For the second night in row, we have a lonely man living with his parakeet.  At least Hubert tonight also has his mother At least Norman yesterday got a little peace and quiet.  Hubert Winters’ mother still treats him like a child.  She brings the 32 year old man his robe, covers his expenses, refuses to allow him to have a checking account, and kept him on her insurance until he was 26.

She says she knows he is unhappy because he has no job, but she is happy to have him there.  Without her son, she would have no reason not to cross the titular threshold to be with her dead husband Arthur; so Arthur is probably happy with the arrangement also.  She lets it slip that she still has her husband’s medicine which, taken in large doses, is fatal.

She worries that Arthur is not happy on the other side without her.  Hubert says he knows a young woman, and that she might be able to help her contact Le Morte d’Arthur.  Incredibly, the first part of that sentence is the less believable.

I don’t even want to think about what he brought to Irma.

Turns out, he does know a girl.  She is kind of a floozy.  She is happy to see Hubert, but disgusted when he says he must get back to his mother soon.  She is an actress and he reminds her of the time she played a medium in a play.  Hubert wants her to pretend to contact his father.

Later that week, Irma goes to Mrs. Winter’s house dressed in either a hijab or a Moe Howard wig.  Irma says she will go unconscious and Princess Artiti (Egypt, circa 1375 BC) will speak through her.  Oh, and the princess married her brother, which explains why this is the only AHP episode available on Pornhub.

Irma tells Mrs. Winters to concentrate on her husband.  Then she begins channeling the princess in a falsetto voice.  Mrs. Winters laps this up through her false set o’ teeth. [1]  Irma miraculously pierces the veil of this earthly plane and speaks with Arthur.  He responds with 1) a detailed description of the afterlife, 2) proof that there is a heaven, 3) Saturday’s lottery numbers?  No, he says he misses his old sofa.  Mrs. Winters gasps as that is sooo Arthur. [2]  Unfortunately, Arthur fades away.

OK, I’m a little curious.

The next night, Irma returns,  She fraudulently summons the princess, and the princess fraudulently summons Arthur.  Sofie has a question for him.  She just wants to know if he is happy.  Arthur tells her he misses her and that he is “lonely on this shore.  I wait for you.  I need you.”  Sofie tells Arthur she will come to him immediately.  After Irma leaves, she tells Hubert she will go to Arthur tomorrow night.

Sofie spends the next day doing things no sane person would do if they were going to do something no sane person would do that night.  She is paying bills, canceling magazine subscriptions, dusting.  She sends Hubert to the store to buy shelf paper for the birdcage since can’t wait for the Times to be delivered tomorrow morning.

There is a twist, but the real twist is how mediocre the twist is for an AHP episode.  Of course, Sofie ends up poisoning Hubert so the family can be together.  Yes, he was a momma’s boy, but there was really no suggestion that this might happen.  His mother was just nutty and ready to die, not a psychopath.  Plus, how did she know he would be drinking the poisoned booze at just the right moment?

There was a nice bit of business with her continually finding tiny chores that delayed her drinking her own poison.  Sadly, the suspense that should have flowed from this scene is torpedoed by the two leads.  Sofie is more annoying than overbearing.  Her son is so whipped that it is impossible to feel anything for him.

A rare misfire from AHP.

Other Stuff:

  • AHP Deathwatch:  All have crossed the threshold.
  • [1]  Shamelessly stolen.  I mean, it’s an homage.
  • [2]  I must admit I misunderstood Irma.  She relayed that Arthur missed his “comfortable old Sofie”, not sofa.  Although it was probably a little of both.

Twilight Zone – The Call (11/19/88)

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Lonely Norman Blaine worries that no one loves him and that when he dies, no one will mourn.  He returns home to wallow in his isolation and seclusion.

He dumps out some food for his only companion, a parakeet . . . which he keeps in a cage . . . away from any other parakeet . . . which will someday be flushed down the porcelain graveyard unmourned.  Not much room for self-awareness in this studio apartment.

He cooks up a Swanson Lonely-Man TV Dinner in an oven that is suspiciously clean for a single dude.  He falls asleep watching TV and wakes up at midnight to a loud infomercial, though, sadly not for Girls Gone Wild.  The announcer is hawking classical records [1], which interests Norman.  He grabs a pencil to jot down the phone number 555-4221 (this must be a local infomercial) [2].  He is so addle that not only can’t he remember this easy number, he even writes it down wrong.

He calls the number and an American woman answers which should have been his first sign that something was amiss.  He immediately realizes he has dialed the wrong number and apologizes for waking her.  She says she was just sitting around and heard the phone ring.  The two lonely people decide to have a little chat.  Her name is Mary-Ann like the cute girl on Gilligan’s Island; his is Norman like the psycho killer.

The next day at work he is telling his obnoxious office-mate Richard about the 90 minute conversation he had last night with a girl,  It was unusual for him because 1) it was so comfortable, 2) it was like they were old friends, and 3) it wasn’t $6.00 for the first 5 minutes.  Richard misses Norman’s more customary silence, but advises him to ask Mary-Ann out.

The next night, Norman calls Mary-Ann again.  This time they talk for 3 1/2 hours.  Mercifully, we hear only the last few seconds.  Mary-Ann says how much she enjoys their talks.  He asks to meet her somewhere, but she refuses.  She wants to keep the NATO strategy of No Action Talk Only.  That would be swell, he lies.  He agrees to call her again the next night.

This goes on for five nights.  He complains to Richard about her refusal to meet him.  Richard helpfully explains how to determine the address of her phone number without waiting 20 years for Google to be invented.  Apparently Norman takes his advice because we next see him walking into the Civic Art Gallery and asking for Mary-Ann.  The receptionist doesn’t know a Mary-Ann but suggests Norman stick around to ask the Director.

Norman wanders around.  He picks up a white courtesy phone and dials Mary-Ann’s number.  To his surprise, he hears a phone ringing nearby.  He doesn’t hang up the receiver, but goes to the other phone and picks it up.  He seems surprised no one is on the line, but what did he expect?  He hangs up and looks at a sculpture nearby of a girl on a bench.  Another art-lover tells him it is a self-portrait, the last work the artist ever completed before killing herself.  And her name was Mary-Ann Lindeby.

That night, Norman calls her again.  Mary-Ann says, “I saw you come by today.  You were standing right in front of me talking to that woman.”  Before she can say, “Did you think she was pretty?” Norman says “That’s impossible” and hangs up on her.

Facing the prospect of moving on to the Swanson Horny-Man TV Dinner, he quickly calls her back.  She apologizes to him, saying she never should have answered the phone.  She was just so lonely, and it was so dark.  She says goodbye and hangs up.

Norman thinks about her all the next day.  That night he stares at the phone.  He finally calls her, but gets no answer.  The next day, he goes back to the gallery.  He tells her he felt like he was nothing and that he had nothing until they met on the phone.  For the first time he feels like he is in love.  He moves to kiss the sculpture, but a security guard busts him.  Oh the humiliation!

That night, Mary-Ann calls him — this script really could have used some tightening up.  Rod Serling loved his long-winded speeches, but I’ll say this for him — it padded out an episode without so much repitition.  She says she heard what he said and it reminded her of herself just before she committed suicide.  “Come to me now,” she says.  “Tonight.”

He goes to the closed gallery and finds her sculpture.  He hears her voice, “It’s been so long since anyone said they loved me.”  He sits on the bench.  She says, “I don’t want to be alone anymore.  Stay with me.”  He says, “Forever.”

The security guard comes around again and now there are two bronze figures sitting in the exhibit about to kiss.  His flashlight stops briefly on them, but continues on.  Whaddya want for $12 an hour?

Seem like they could have done more with this.  Why is she trapped in the sculpture?  Is it punishment for the “sin” of suicide?  Is she really better off dragging Norman to the same fate?  Is he happier?  Sure, they are together, but they are both trapped in this hellish “locked-in” existence.  Even worse, they are in a permanent, not-quite embrace which must be frustrating.  Now that they are together, will they begin making Jerky Boys type calls?  What will happen to Norman’s parakeet?

Still, I liked the premise and it has left me thinking.

Other Stuff:

  • [1] Sadly the great commercial with Basil Rathbone hawking classical records does not seem to be on You Tube.  Found it.
  • [2] At first it seems like an error to have this be a local number, but it is actually necessary.  They couldn’t have him mis-dialing a long-distance number, then making repeated trips to The Louvre.  First, there was no budget to go to France, and second, that Mona Lisa . . . not a looker.
  • Classic TZ Connection: Long Distance Call, Night Call, really any episode with “call” in the title.  Miniature has been mentioned elsewhere.
  • I didn’t know how to work it in above, but nice rack on that sculpture!  And some fine detail work on the nipples.
  • If the phone were in the Picasso Gallery . . .
  • If the phone were in the Rubens Gallery . . .

Tales of Tomorrow – Read to Me, Herr Doktor (03/20/53)

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Professor Kimsworth is looking snappy in his smoking jacket.  He goes to his bookshelf and carefully makes a selection.  He holds it very close to his face like a man with presbyopia or a Hustler subscription.  Confirming it is the desired volume, he hands it to someone just out of frame.  The person begins reading A Scandal in Bohemia and the game is afoot.

Not as sophisticated as the robot on the new Netflix Lost in Space, but less robotic than the new John Robinson.

A former student, Sidney Strong, rings the bell at the remote house and Kimsworth’s daughter Patricia lets him in.  She takes Sidney into the reading room.  He relieves himself after the long trip, then they go to the room where the actual reading is happening.  Sidney doesn’t want to interrupt, but Professor Kimsworth tells Herr Doktor to stick a bookmark in it.  Sidney is stunned when he sees Herr Doktor is a robot.

Some time later, Patricia calls Sidney.  She is worried because her father has started having literary conversations with Herr Doktor.  After first the reading, then the discussion, she wants to put a stop to this before her father asks for any other oral pleasures from Herr Doktor.  Of course, the primitive robot was not actually conversing; Kimsworth just seemed to be getting a little demented.  Sidney is more interested in making money.

She goes to the reading room, but finds her father has dozed off.  Herr Doktor says, “Wake him up, wake him up so that both of you can hear what I’ve got to say.”  Patricia is terrified as Herr Doktor has never appeared sentient before.  She tries unsuccessfully to shut him off.  It says, “What good are switches?  Switches are for machines.  Switches have no effect on men.”  The professor says to him, “That will be all for now.”  Herr Doktor replies, “On the contrary, that will not be all for now.  In fact, we have only just begun.”  That’s about as good an act break as you’re going to get out of this series.

When we return, Kimsworth is still proclaiming that this is impossible.  Herr Doktor condemns Kimsworth, “You made a man.  A man but not a man; a half-man.  And then you fed it romance and adventure.  You filled its coils with love for living.”  This is shockingly good stuff from this series.  Herr Doktor tells Kimsworth he must finish the job.

Oh, the irony:  Herr Doktor forces the professor to read to him.  He drives the old man to exhaustion.  It really makes no sense as the robot could have absorbed this info much faster than a human could read it to him.  But the symmetry of the master becoming the slave is just too delicious to worry about that.

While Herr Doktor is taking his final exams — no, really — Sidney comes back.  He rings the bell, which alerts Herr Doktor.  He strangles the professor and demands that Patricia send Sidney away.  She sends him away, and Herr Doktor releases the professor so he can grade his exam — no, really.

When Herr Doktor and Patricia are alone, he apparently decides it is time for post-exam Spring Break.  He begins quoting a Shakespeare sonnet to Patricia.  OK, not exactly Beach Blanket Bacchanalia, but he is clearly looking for love, using the ideas he has learned while reading the classics.  He laments how the professor built him as a machine to read, but exposed him to ideas of love and romance.  “He gave me beauty to read and beauty to look at.  Don Quixote, D’Artagnan, Romeo — men who loved, and a machine can love too.  And to the machine, you were always the woman.”

Mind blown.  Did this inane little series actually just circle back around to A Scandal in Bohemia?  The famous first line of that story, read aloud by the professor earlier, is “To Sherlock Holmes, she is always the woman.”  And who better for Herr Doktor to identify with than the emotionless Sherlock Holmes?  If this wasn’t a coincidence — and it might well have been — then bravo!

Unfortunately, Herr Doktor must have also read de Sade as he starts getting rough with Patricia.  He then clubs the professor when he tries to help.  He insists that Patricia must love him because he fought for her.  He must be referring to the brief clubbing of the 90 year old professor.  There isn’t much honor in that, but credit again to the writer.  The classics he read taught him a woman must be fought for, or won in a duel.  How many people have to die before we put warning labels on these books!

She yells at him, “The books are wrong!” and this rocks his world.  Herr Doktor stumbles back to the reading room und ist kaput.  The professor opens him up and removes the defective part.  “The heart of the machine is broken . . . like Don Quixote, he was a man in love.”

Of course, by any objective standard, the episode is dreadful.  Judging it within the series, though, it is a winner.  Yes, the robot is Ludacris, but whaddya gonna do?  They had no money.  However, I appreciated the signs of life in the writing.  It was more ambitious than almost any other episode.  Even this was uneven, though.  What was the point of Sidney even being in the episode?  He comes, he goes, he comes back, he leaves, he returns, Patricia gets rid of him.  I really expected him to peek in a window, see there was trouble and break in for a proper duel.  But no.

Other Stuff:

  • Mercedes McCambridge (Patricia) went on to be the voice of the demon in The Exorcist.  Could this proper 37 year old low-budget TV actress have ever imagined that in 20 years she would be on the big screen telling a priest his mother sucks c****s in hell?