Well, one of the cast played Luke’s Uncle Owen in Star Wars.  I guess that’s something. 

And I do like watching cats.  Like the car in Vanishing Point or the choppers in Easy Rider, you can have a good time just watching them travel across the screen.  But that’s about all you’re going to get out of this episode.  It’s a shame, too, because with some of the dry wit that TOTU is capable of, this could have been fun.  Couldn’t anyone on the set . . . the caterer? . . . anyone? . . . have said, “Maybe we could liven this up a bit.”

The horror of this house’s architecture would have made for a better story, BTW.

Edward, the inexplicably titular conqueror, is burning brush behind his house.   His wife Louisa notices a cat watching the fire.  Edward shoos it away, but somehow it mysteriously turns up later inside the house.  

Louisa finds it on their sofa and tries to make it comfortable by a) putting out a saucer of milk, b) bringing out that leftover tuna, or c) playing a little Schuman on the piano.  Of course it is C, although why there is a Schumann song in a book that says LISZT on the cover is not explained.

She also tries playing some Liszt and Bach to see what the cat prefers.  He makes his preference known by knocking over her collection of great composer bobble-heads, except for Liszt.

Louisa excitedly calls Edward into the house.  She says she believes the cat is the reincarnation of Franz Liszt.  Edward face-palms and thinks, “How did I end up here?  I was in freakin’ Citizen Kane!” ^[1]  She plays a few bars of Liszt and the cat suddenly becomes frisky, jumping off the couch.  Hey, maybe I need me some Liszt!  Feeling vindicated, she takes off her glasses and gives Edward a smile that probably worked when Ike was President.

Edward wants to again test the cat’s ability to identify its own music, but Louisa says,  “I refuse to treat him like a circus animal”.  Well, it sure is nice to see she is such an activist for animals’ welfare.  To get proof, Louisa goes to visit a local crackpot that specializes in reincarnation — and leaves the cat in the car with the windows rolled up. 

The scene with the reincarnation expert is intended to be the comedy portion of the show.  Really, it is mostly a series of non-sequiturs spouted by the expert such as “Epictetus came back as Ralph Waldo Emerson, Cicero returned as Gladstone” and so on.  There seems to be no effort to connect the pairs and, of course, there is not a peon or a serf in the bunch.  However, he also mentions that Lord Byron was reincarnated as a tiger and the proof was a physical deformity: The tiger was “lame” and Byron had a “club foot”.  I suspect there are more woke ways to say that, but I shant waste a second looking for them. OK, this was actually a pretty good scene, but it did feel like a squandered opportunity. ^[3]

Luckily it was a typical pre-Global Warming English afternoon, so the cat survived being locked in the car.  Louise discovers that Liszt had 5 large warts on his face.  She then finds 5 bumps on the cat’s face.  QED!

Edward is still unpersuaded, so Louise plays a Chopin piece that Liszt was known to hate.  As she begins playing, the cat meows and runs off to another room.  When she changes to a Liszt piece, the cat comes back.  Edward actually begins to believe this is the reincarnation of Liszt, but is horrified that Louise wants to go public.  

She is sick of him oppressing her throughout their whole marriage, and he seems to hate that she has found something that might get her a little attention.  He orders her into the kitchen to make dinner.  Given the nature of English food, he must really be pissed.  She says, “You poor dear, you must be famished.”  It is a nice switcheroo when it is revealed she was talking to the cat.

Louise prepares a cat-meal fit for a maestro while Edward goes out to build up the fire.  He smiles for the first time maybe ever as he pitches something into the fire.  When she calls the cat to eat, he does not come.  However, Edward comes in and his hands are covered in bloody claw-marks.  Louise grabs a knife and advances on a terrified Edward.  A different cat enters their house through an open window. 

I find that I like these episodes more on the second viewing.  As I’ve said before, maybe I need that first pass to lower my expectations.  If I’m ever trapped in the house for extended period of time with nothing to do, maybe I’ll rewatch Ray Bradbury Theatre.  No, it will take more than COVID.  

But this episode did grow on me more than my notes would indicate.  It still had rough patches, especially the ending.  The editing could have been done by the architect who designed that house.  I guess Edward killed the cat first, then pitched him into the fire because we don’t hear any caterwauling or just plain wauling.  Then the other cat enters.

First, we are shown him entering through an open window which kinda wrecks the effect of the mysterious appearance of the first cat in the house.  Second, why is it a different cat?  Does that mean Liszt’s soul was in both cats?  Or did Liszt just seize this new cat’s body and kick out its existing soul when his old body got burned up, like Steve Trevor did to that rando in Wonder Woman 1984? I kinda thought reincarnation was baked in at birth. ^[4]

So again, I am left with a slightly positive feeling about an episode that I would never in a million cat-years recommend to anyone. 

Other Stuff:

• [1]  Joseph Cotton was indeed in Citizen Kane. He played Jed Leland, who ratted out the Governor of New York for having an inappropriate sexual relationship.  Hey, what is this, Science Fiction Theatre?  That could never happen today. ^[2]
• [2]  To be fair, Andrew Cuomo’s circumstances are different.  Kane was only a candidate for NY Governor.  Also, Kane did not use the story as a distraction to enable the corrupt media to largely ignore the worse crime of how he doomed hundreds of old people by sending them to nursing homes to catch COVID and then lied about it.
• [3]  For example, he says Julius Caesar was reincarnated as Abe Lincoln.  Why not reincarnate Caesar as Ty Cobb for a salad theme?  Or Lincoln as Henry Ford then Freddie Mercury for a car theme?  So, something like that except a lot more clever.
• [4]  And, yes, it is Liszt again because it goes straight to the still-standing Liszt bobble-head.  Shouldn’t this be called Liszt the Conqueror?  How is Edward a conqueror?
• We learn Liszt was Wagner’s father-in-law.  Or, at least, I did.

I’m starting to get a Ray Bradbury Theater vibe from this series, and that ain’t good.  Every episode of both serieseses was based on a short story by their respective author.  However, I think I was unfairly harsh on RBT because I expected every episode to have a fantastic premise or Twilight Zonish twist.  I should have considered that some of Ray’s stories were published in straight magazines like the Saturday Evening Post.  The only time he actually slipped a script onto The Twilight Zone, Rod Serling was out sick with an impacted Chesterfield. ^[1]  The good news is that it has changed my expectations for this series.

This is the day of Natalia Turton’s big party.  Her husband Basil has brought home a big hunk of wood which I guess is some sort of Modern Art.  Although the “Modern Art” movement has been around so long now, maybe it should be called by its simpler, non-temporal name, “Shit.”

Basil has invited John Bannister, an art historian from Sotheby’s for the weekend.  Bannister stops his car some distance away to observe the objet d’art being placed in the estate’s garden.^[2]  Oddly, he opts to hop a fence and run the rest of the way to the house rather than take his car.

The gang assembles in the house where we meet Jelks the Butler, Major Haddock and Carmen La Rosa.  Natalia takes an immediate liking to Bannister.  She flirts with him and berates her older husband, so it is clear she is going to pay a visit to Bannister that night.  Carmen is not interested in sexing him because tonight she has a Haddock — heyyyooo!!!

Natalia orders Jelks to take Bannister upstairs to his room to dress for dinner.  It is nice seeing Tales of the Unexpected inject some humor into another episode.  Jelks advises Bannister to “Beware the flush, sir.  It’s quite powerful.”  He has several other droll lines before he finally advises Bannister, “At dinner, Her Ladyship’s right foot doesn’t always seem to know what her left foot is doing.”  Great stuff.

Sure enough, at dinner, Natalia begins playing footsie with Bannister.  During dinner and a game of Bridge, she continues to mock her husband, saying he is not the man his father was, and such.  Jelks continues his wry bon mots.

That night, Natalia visits Bannister’s room.  She turns off the light and really puts the moves on the surprised young man.  Within seconds, Jelks enters without knocking and says he heard noises.  Natalia leaves and he says to Bannister, “If I might suggest, a chair lodged firmly beneath the doorknob is the best deterrent.”

The next morning, Basil and Harrington tour the gardens.  They pass a giant Olmec Head except it is more like an Easter Island moai wearing a pair of Gargoyles, so not really an Olmec Head at all.  Actually it looks just like Mark Zuckerberg, but with more humanity. ^[1]

This is not at all how a Glory Hole is supposed to work.

Anyhoo, Basil says that his life changed at the age of 40 when his father died and left him a fortune.  “I suddenly became enormously eligible!  Young ladies appeared from nowhere!”  That is not a titular Tale of the Unexpected.  That is a Tale of the Expected.

He married 27 year old Natalia and she took over the family’s publishing business; quite successfully, too.  As Basil and Bannister chat in the gazebo, they see Natalia and Haddock frolicking playfully in the garden.  Minutes earlier, we saw them have a literal roll in the hay in the barn.  Basil mentions how loyal Jelks is to him, so Bannister knows Basil must know Natalia came to his room last night, and that she is a big ho.

They watch from the gazebo as Natalia sticks her head through a hole in the wood sculpture.  Haddock kisses her and they laugh until she realizes she is stuck.  The two men join Natalia and Haddock.  They all try pulling her head out by force and smearing her head with Vaseline, K-Y Jelly, then Vagisil.  Finally they put peanut butter on her head and let the dog lick it.

Jelks brings a saw and an axe — on a serving tray yet.  The group is aghast as Basil rears back with the axe and it is clear the target is not the wood sculpture.  TOTU then effectively employs its secret weapon — its jaunty, carnivalesque theme song.  Not since Curb Your Enthusiasm 20 years in the future has a theme been so well-used as a counter-point to the carnage on-screen.

Is it any good?  I’m at a loss.  It could be seen as another episode like The Landlady, where the good stuff was skewed into the last minute.  On the other hand, it did have some nice dry humor throughout thanks largely to John Gielgud.  But even he seems strangely restrained, not quite achieving the masterful bitchiness seen in Arthur two years later.  A little more energy or hamminess would have been a great help here.

Would I ever recommend it?  No.  Was I not entertained?  Yes.  I mean no.  No wait, yes.  Who talks like that?

Other Stuff:

• [1]  Records from this era are sketchy at best.  Maybe this happened.
• [2]  Technically the piece is not an objet d’art nor an example of Modern Art.
• It feels like I’ve seen both John Gielgud and Joan Collins much more than in the few items I’ve seen on their IMDb pages.  Arthur and that episode of Star Trek must have made quite an impression. ^[3]
• [3]  Note how excited Spock is in that Star Trek clip — very out of character.  In the 2nd shot, his excitement is reduced to a vigorous handshake.

Previously on genresnaps:

• After a promising series premiere, Tales of the Unexpected massacred the classic Lamb to the Slaughter by Roald Dahl.
• Alfred Hitchcock Presents had a very lackluster adaptation of The Landlady, also by Roald Dahl.
• 2020 got in a, hopefully, last cruel shot and made the next TOTU in rotation be its own adaption of The Landlady.
• Little Joe was bitten by a rattlesnake while Ben and Hoss whored it up in Virginia City.

In an odd directorial choice, we open with an 8-second exterior shot of some decaying English public housing.  An unseen person closes the curtains in a 3rd floor window.  That’s it.

We cut to Billy Weaver who is “traveling down from London on the slow afternoon train” to the Guinness World Records office to apply for biggest necktie knot.  He jealously eyes the simple white band of the priest across from him — economical, ecumenical, bio-degradable. They chat until reaching Bath.  Before going their separate ways, the priest recommends a local B&B whose amenities include a landlady, kippers, and a nearby playground.

The titular Landlady is just hanging the Bed & Breakfast sign in her window.  Billy walks to the B&B, and rings the bell.  He is startled by her immediately opening the door.  He tells her he is actually on his way to the Bell and Dragon Hotel.  Well, wait — he did hesitate on the street in front of the B&B, but he then went to the door and rang the bell.  So how is he on the way to . . . nevermind.

The Landlady takes him to a room on the 3rd floor.  Somehow, not knowing anyone was coming, she has put a hot water bottle in his bed. ^[1]    She says, “It is such a comfort, don’t you think, to find a hot water bottle in a strange bed?”  Well, yes, if you happened to have felt a wet spot.  She reminds him to come back down and sign the register.

After she leaves, he writes a letter to his parents.  It is just very poor direction that as we see a close up of his hand signing the letter, there is a cut to a close up of his hand signing the register.  The voiceover of him signing the letter (” . . . Love, Billy”) even extends over the close up of his hand signing the register.  It is just jarring and accomplishes nothing.

Just as in the AHP version yesterday, he recognizes the previous names in the register — Gregory Temple and Christopher Mulholland — and they are a year or two old.  The Landlady comments how handsome they were, invites Billy to “sit right by me” for tea, and puts a hand on his knee.  As they drink, she recalls how Temple was a handsome 17 year old prodigy at Cambridge, and Mulholland “had not a blemish on his body”.  Billy notices the Landlady’s parrot and dog are both stuffed.  He gets drowsy and realizes she Bill Cosby’d him. ^[3]

I had hoped for the best after the previous TOTU, and The Landlady as presented by AHP, but expected the worst.  TOTU did let me down initially.  Again, that droll first TOTU episode seems to be an aberration.  There was nothing clever here, and a couple of technical glitches.  However, at this point, things got better.  In the AHP version, after drinking the tea, Dean Stockwell just went dizzy and glassy eyed — frankly not that different from his earlier performance, minus the over-enunciation of every word — and that was the end.  But here . . .

The Landlady manages to help Billy back up to the third floor and strip him.  She goes into the room next door and we see the stuffed Temple reading and the stuffed Mulholland asleep in bed.  The Landlady says goodnight, gives them a kiss and turns out the lights.  Back in Billy’s room, she dons a butcher’s apron over her white surgical smock and pulls on some rubber gloves.  There is a tray of shiny surgical instruments ready to work on Billy.

It is a beautiful ending.  Maybe the censors in 1961 wouldn’t allow AHP to air this last scene, but it makes the whole episode.  That is why AHP’s version fell so flat.  The build-up is a little dull in both episodes, but at least there is a pay-off here.  That would also explain that non-sequitur of a scene AHP set in the bar — they needed the padding.  TOTU also gave the Landlady a little more creepy reason to keep these — dare I say — stiffs around.

It even closes nicely, as the camera draws back and we again see the exterior of the apartment.  This is enhanced as TOTU’s carnival-like theme begins playing — just wonderfully nasty.

If I were the type to nitpick, I would point out that the lights in the windows make no sense in the exterior shot.  There are 3 windows with #2 and #3 lit.  But, the Landlady turned off the lights in the room to the right of Billy, which would have been #3. ^[2]

No matter.  It was a great ending and redeemed some of the perfunctory work before it.  I just wish the nastiness had not all skewed to the last 2 minutes.

Other Stuff:

• [1]  The only other hot water bottle I’ve seen in 20 years happened to also appear this week — in the very entertaining Hunt for the Wilderpeople.
• [2]  Upon further examination, I’ll bet my subscription to Architectural Digest that the interior does not match the exterior.
• [3] Or, as Jill Biden would say, Dr. William H. Cosby’d him.
• Also airing this night in 1979: Fantasy Island which would be made into a terrible movie, CHiPS which would be made into a terrible movie, and Apple Pie — a sitcom so terrible that it was cancelled after 2 episodes.  And these people want to tell me how to run the country.
• Congratulations to the usually fine actor Michael Peña for surviving 2 of the 3.
• Actually, by April, the Apple Pie slot was occupied by Welcome Back Kotter.  We never got a terrible WBK movie, but it did foist John Travolta on us for the next 40 years.
• BTW, Gotti: Not as awful as you would think.

I was really looking forward to this. It is the second episode of a new series for me. The first episode was très disturbing with an incredibly dry wit. The original short story by Roald Dahl is a classic.  The Alfred Hitchcock Presents episode based on it was not online at the time I would have watched it, so this was a great opportunity. Plus, it stars the beautiful British actress Susan George. What could go wrong?

In 2020 on a Halloween with a full moon, everything, of course.

Sadly, a few years later and now on Peacock, Episode 28 of Season 3 of AHP is still conspicuously missing. ^[1] The Cheney Vase shows up more places than the FBI Anti-Piracy Warning, but still no Lamb to the Slaughter.  Susan George is playing a pregnant woman and, apparently, went all method for the role because she is about 25 pounds heavier than expected.  Pictures of her in this post are not from this episode.

But the real disappointment is the episode itself.  It tends to sink an episode when the weakness is the episode.  The previous TOTU episode took a story that did not at all suggest any humor, and gave it a droll veneer.  This episode does the opposite.  It takes a clever, funny concept and deliberately drains it of all humor and suspense.  A major let down.  The series ran 9 seasons so, hopefully, this is just a glitch.

The opening scene is illustrative of what follows.  Pointlessly, the first scene now takes place after the murder.  This is a major change from the short story and AHP adaptation. ^[1] Unfortunately, they compounded this error in judgment.  When Susan George goes through the charade of coming home from the market and calling for her husband, there is not a hint of chicanery.  It is a full-on cheat to the audience.  There is not even a sly wink that might intrigue the audience or just be appreciated only later.  I understand she is trying to get in character, but this is a yuge wasted opportunity.

OK, this one is actually Melissa George, the American Susan George.

[1]  Bare*bones posted a link to the original, so I finally got to watch the AHP version.  It is so superior in every way to TOTU that I don’t want to besmirch it.  

Barbara Bel Geddes is excellent.  The AHP structure really allows us to empathize with her just like audiences did with Norman Bates (but for different reasons). ^[2]  Alfred Hitchcock and Roald Dahl were nominated for Best Direction and Best Screenplay Emmys respectively.  They were respectively disrespected with a loss and a loss. ^[3]

Let’s just hope this was an off-night for Tales of the Unexpected.  I rate it 100 lambs:  z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z.

Other Stuff:

• [2]  The final shots of the main characters are even remarkably similar.  Both are sitting placidly upright in a chair.  Only Anthony Perkins gives us a smirk, and Barbara Bel Geddes breaks out in laughter like she just struck oil.
• [3]  Both losses were to an Alcoa Theater episode starring Mickey Rooney.  The Alcoa episode won several Emmys, but Rooney lost Best Actor to Fred Astaire.  Rooney was seen in the restroom pounding the mirror yelling, “F*** ’em.  F*** ’em all!  How dare they!”  That is a great demonstration of the short-man / celebrity intersection of self-importance.  At least he can take comfort that he is 3 inches taller than the similarly mouthy Greta Thunberg.  You know, if he were standing up.
• In the TOTU version, the husband is played by a future Nazi in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (RIP to Sean Connery today!) ^[4] — the “No ticket” guy.
• [4]  I happened to hear the news while listening to MSNBC for laughs this morning on XM.  What a sad excuse for a news channel — they said he was the first James Bond.  Bullshit. 
• They did uncharacteristically miss a Trump-bashing opportunity to say his favorite Bond flick must be From Russia with Love.  Although anyone who has seen his NY digs knows it would be Goldfinger.
• NPR got it wrong, too — I want a refund!
• In poking around the Emmy history, I learned that Alice from The Brady Bunch was nominated for 4 Emmys and won 2 (although, shockingly, not for The Brady Bunch).  And here I thought Robert Reed was that show’s star at pretending to be something he wasn’t.
• I feel like Lynda Day George ought to get a mention here.
• Whatever dumb son-of-a-bitch came up with the Block concept in the WordPress update should be in jail. Lock him up! Lock him up!

At the burial of her husband, Professor William Pearl, do I detect Mary Pearl exhibiting the slightest smile?  I believe I do.  And, if the first episode is any indication, it is the perfect kick-off to the series.

After an edit worthy of OJ Simpson, Mr. Pearl’s executor Arthur Baxter goes to see Mary.  They meet in a room with more books than a quarantined “journalist” on cable news.  Funny how all these idiots just happen to have their laptop facing a bookshelf.  Sorry, dummies, that does not make you look smart. ^[2]  And the 80% of you that have a guitar in the background — it does not make you cool.  It makes you look like you bought a guitar, didn’t even buy a case, carefully positioned it in the 15% of the room (i.e. 2% of the house) that is visible on the screen, and are stealing cool from Bob Dylan. ^[1]  I have yet to see anyone with a piano in the background of their breaking Orange Man Bad scoop.

Mary says she knows William did not leave her much — just the house and £3,000.  She says, “I guess I will just have to go on living in the style to which I am accustomed.”  There is a sealed letter that is to be read by Arthur to Mary.  It says for Mary to make an appointment with Dr. John Landy.  William’s letter also issues a few rules to Mary: 

• Do not drink alcohol.
• Avoid television at all costs. 
• Do not use make-up.
• Do not smoke cigarettes.
• Keep my rose-beds well-weeded.
• Disconnect the phone now that I have no use for it. 

Mary’s stoic response is, “He really did genuinely care about me didn’t he, Arthur?”

That might not read like much.  You might not even find it humorous on the screen.  But the absolutely droll British delivery made me laugh out loud.  It is easy to imagine Frasier Crane delivering that line, but much more tarted-up for American ears

Mary goes to see Dr. Landy.  He knew William through their work on criminal psychopathology.  Landy invented a prefrontal lobotomy technique to remove abnormal parts of the brain that was “not unsuccessful”.  Six weeks ago, he visited William and found him to be a perfect candidate because of his “first class brain”, which was believable in a professor 40 years ago.  Bottom line:  he tells Mary that her husband is alive and just in the other room.  He feels justified, using the “from a certain point of view” theory of English Common Law.

To explain the situation, Dr. Landy shows Mary a picture of a dog’s head on a plate.  The severed head is still alive, with a functioning brain.  He says tubes carry nutrients into the dog’s head and other tubes carry waste to a bucket, or the carpet if he is nervous.  The legitimacy of the scientific feat is called into question, however, when a Korean chef briefly appears in the background.

Landy explains to a stunned Mary that he removed a portion of William’s brain just before he died.  He was also able to retain one optic nerve, but unable to save an ear.  The whole disgusting sentient blob is in a metal box.

Before he takes Mary in to see her husband, he explains that the eye never shuts, and can only look directly up at the ceiling.  To be honest, not a lot happens after that.  Mary insists on taking the box home with her.  She revels in the opportunity to pay back some of William’s years of passive-aggressive abuse.  She breaks all of his rules, wearing make-up, drinking booze, smoking, and I’ll bet those rose-beds are as unmanicured as her . . . er, let’s just say, he probably liked things neatly trimmed.  She even has a little angled mirror set up over the box so she can cruelly force him to watch John Oliver on the telly.

We know of William’s agitation because of the beeps coming from the oscilloscope hooked up up to him.  As she callously laughs, blows smoke into his eye lens, and flaunts his rules, the beeps become more rapid than the telegraph on the Titanic.

Dry as it was, I really enjoyed the episode.  You first sympathize with the widow Mary.  As she begins to have her revenge on William, however, can you really enjoy that?  I dig a good lady’s revenge flick, but the dude’s an eye in a freakin’ box!  The thought of that hellish existence would have given me nightmares if I saw this as a kid.  Not only is he trapped silently in the box, now his wife is going to torture him for years.  At least Stephen Hawking got some fresh air and had depth perception.  Well, he did have to listen to his wife.

In the intro, author Roald Dahl oversells the episode a little by calling it a “very nasty tale.”  Disturbing might be a better word.  Nasty is fleeting, but disturbing stays with you.  I will think about this episode for a long time. 

Other Stuff:

• [1]  Would also have accepted Johnny Cash, Eric Clapton, or Jimi Hendrix.
• This was actually the 3rd episode.  The first was The Man from the South.  I saw that on Alfred Hitchcock Presents, and I can’t believe they could do better here.  The second was Mrs. Bixby and the Colonel’s Coat, also seen on AHP.  In that case, I don’t think I could do any better.
• Kudos to the British ethic of ignoring looks in casting.  They cast based on talent, not on age, a nice smile, or a hot body.  That freedom from preconceived cultural norms of beauty enables their shows to be much more grounded and emotionally accessible.
• No, seriously, get some babes in the next episode.

[2]  OK, Megan Kelly gets a pass.