This is like Harold and Maude. Except there is no Harold, and Maude is the one with the death obsession. So, really not like it at all. However, it is like Nothing in the Dark from the original Twilight Zone. But reversed; so, also not a good match.
Barbara LeMay loves going to funerals. She has just gone to one and even slid her hand along the coffin as it passed. She complements the preacher, but admits she doesn’t know anyone there, horizontal or vertical. At home, she lovingly describes every detail to her son Jason. He says her obsession “is not good, is not healthy, it is morbid.”
That night, after her son has left, a man breaks into her house. When Barbara sees him, he pulls a gun on her and says, “Don’t move, don’t call the cops! I’ll kill you, I swear!” Then he collapses from pre-existing condition, namely a gunshot wound. Barbara makes him comfortable, but tells him it looks bad for him. She promises to wait with him. They don’t have to wait long, as Mr. Death appears immediately.
Barbara is fairly calm seeing Mr. Death, but she seems surprised that he is not surprised that he can see her. Wouldn’t she expect him to know the rules better than her? In all the funerals she has attended, and with all the people she has seen die in the hospital, she has never seen Mr. Death. She attributes his visibility this night to her frequent proximity to him. Wake up and smell the coffee, baby! Even the dying crook can’t see him because “it isn’t his time.”
When death approaches the dying man, Barbara offers her soul in place of his. Death asks why. She says because, “I can see the beauty in you. I can. I see it in so many ways. The peace, the freedom, the tranquility,the poignant fragile beauty of their one final exhalation, the gathering of the soul, the ceremony.” Correction, this is becoming more like TZ’s One for the Angels where an old guy runs his yap all night so Death misses an appointment.
Death says he can’t take her. But he says he has seen her many times and noticed she “does not run from his touch, but seeks to embrace it.” He says, “I could no more take you than take your end-table because neither one lives” or matches his sofa.
He leans over the crook as he struggles to breathe. Death says, even now, the man is more alive than Barbara. Death takes the man’s soul and becomes invisible to Barbara. She says he “can’t just leave, we’ve been together through so much.” She says she has no one. Her son doesn’t need her, and Death has taken all her other friends and family. “They’re all with you now!”
The next night — after having the dead body taken away that morning — Barbara gets dolled up in a nice evening gown. Death shows up and asks, “Have I hurt you?” There are only two sappy ways the story could end — either Barbara lives or Barbara dies. Amazingly, neither of these options are used.
The story took an unexpected turn and ended up like TZ’s A Game of Pool except the motivations and the response of the main character are different. So forget I mentioned it. It was a little talky and the sappy score was dreadful. I liked the curveball at the end, and Janet Leigh did a nice job. Stephen McHattie was a great Mr. Death, but isn’t he always?
Inexplicably, he decides to go to the property that night. Or maybe he ate room service and watched an Ancient Aliens marathon all day like no one I know, and went the next night. Anyhoo, it is the same or second consecutive dark and stormy night. As he drives, he flashes back to the last time he saw his father. Dangerously, the flashback is shown in a heads-up display on the windshield where visibility is already limited by rain and wipers.
All this is projected on the windshield through the wipers and rain. To be fair, it is a very nice composition, but it goes on for almost 4 freakin’ minutes.
Ray pours
Mary and Joseph, er . . . Marie and Justin have not been able to make a baby, so they go to the shady Tilford Institute for help (shady = TV-speak for anything having a Christian affiliation).
It is stated that this is not Tilford’s first attempt at cloning Jesus, but nothing is made of that. There is an intriguing mention that this is not the Son of God but just a kid with a freak telekinetic mutation; that also goes nowhere. Luckily, this is the kind of cornball, on-the-nose entertainment that I like.
Handsome young stud Ray Marchand pulls up to the Bait and Tackle store in a car the size of the Nimitz. The Bait must be of the Jail variety — out comes blonde Lolita, Nyla Foster. Wait, unfortunately, this Lolita is 30 years old. I mean, it’s fortunate that she isn’t 12 as in the novel, but 30 is simply too old for this role. This might have doomed the episode in any other series because it was on my mind every second she was on the screen. AHP’s usual excellence prevailed, though, and it was a good ride. [this is explained later]
They go down the the lakeshore and start smooching, but Nyla gets the willies — the dry kind — and bolts. A week later, Ray finally tracks her down at one of the only two spots she ever goes to. She is tanning at the same secluded shore. It is disappointing to see that she smokes; and wears a top. Ray asks why she has been avoiding him. She says, “I told you last week, I can’t see you anymore.” She says it with such a deep voice, though, that I again questioned the casting; or it might have been the smoking.
The denouement is so great that I had to use a french word to describe it.