Leslie Nielsen is hanging out in his apartment wearing a tie, and lets his wife Joan in with groceries, all exactly like he did six weeks ago in Another Chance. Maybe this is the other chance. He reminds her that he left the agency — I’m thinking advertising, not CIA — a year ago, and all he has to show for it is one short story published in a small magazine. For six months, he has been working on a novel. And I mean working! With paper, ribbons, and a manual typewriter.
He receives a letter from Lee Morton, a professional writer offering to be his collaborator. Joan wants him to keep trying on his own, but Leslie thinks this could lead to big money. I guess he heard about James Patterson and Bill Clinton. After she goes back to work another shift, he calls Morton to ask about collaborating and any #METOO moments that might embarrassingly derail TV appearances. [1]
He goes to Morton’s office. Morton says that he’s had a long successful career. “But I’m getting older. “Oh, the stories are still there, the ideas still flow, but they don’t come fast enough.” He tells Leslie, “I’ll pay you $500 for every story you finish for me.” [2] As a test, he reads Leslie a summary of one of his unfinished stories. Leslie improvs a tale of a sordid love triangle which ends with two people dead, leaving just a love point, geometrically-speaking.
Joan is working late at the store where she is a clerk. Her boss leaves just as the morning papers are delivered. Wait, what? How bloody late did they work? It makes no sense, but I think it is just convenient sloppiness in the script. Leslie stops by the shop very excited. He finished off two stories for Morton and was paid $1,000 in cash. Joan is upset because he had promised her he would not use the collaborator. Leslie, however, is ecstatic that “I finally sold something.” So I guess Mr. Big Shot forgot his first sale to that small magazine. Typical.
At the store, Leslie notices one of the newspapers has an article describing a crime just like the one he made up for Morton. Two days later, Leslie is still unable to reach Morton. Joan wants him to return the money because it was “too ea
sy” and has seemed to have had a sinister outcome. Well, not really — this was the first story he pitched to Morton for free, not one of the two he was paid $500 each for. “Will all the stories you write for him end in some tragedy?” she frets.
He says of course not. “The second one I wrote was altogether different. It centers around some hotel out in California.” Joan tells him about that day’s hotel fire in Palm Springs where 40 people could check out any time they want, but they could never leave! OMG! That was in the afternoon paper that arrived at 6 am! [3] She further tells Leslie that she has checked all the usual writer hang-outs — bookstores, bars, the unemployment office — and no one has heard of Lee Morton. Joan says if Leslie collaborates with him again, he can forget about collaborating with her ever again. He grabs the cash and heads out the door to return it to Morton.
He confronts Morton and says he can’t work for him anymore. “Those two stories I finished for you — the fire and the murder — they came true!” Morton claims it is a coincidence. He pleads with Leslie to write just one more story at double the payment. Leslie just can’t turn down that kind of money, so he takes the gig. When he forgets to pick Joan up from work, she calls Morton. She is distraught that Leslie lied to her and is writing another story.
Leslie finishes off the story with a car crash killing a woman. When he turns it in, Morton tells him that his wife called and is tired of his lies. She is driving back to live with her parents. Of course, Joan dies in an auto accident. He instantly regrets killing the character in his story and makes notes for an epilogue where her husband marries a blonde 10 years younger with big boobs. What a cad. Just a real jerk. Who thinks like that?
Meh. Another week, another episode.
Other Stuff:
- [1] Not unusually for this series, this line of dialogue is diametrically opposed to the actual problem being shown — the ideas are flowing too fast.
- [2] I think we can all agree Clinton didn’t write a single word of that book. The farce here is thinking that the head of the Patterson Industrial Complex did either.
- [3] How did he not regard his story as tragic? It obviously included the fire which killed 40 people.
- Similar premise to TZ’s Printer’s Devil.
- Title Analysis: No ghost.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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?
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.
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.
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.
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!