El Cine Reviews

Baltic Crimes: Nebelwand (2017) Season 1, Episode 4

Couldn't they have given some to the boy?

[7 May 2024]

The end of the episode depicts what happens to the duffel bag full of the bribe money Jurgen Lossow took from Klaas Wanhoff, to cover up Klaas's negligence that killed Jackie's parents. When the heroines decide to give it away, I can understand giving *some* of it to the homeless burn victim. But what about Jackie?

Klaas and Jurgen's actions left him an orphan at age 7 and ruined his life. The villains got away with it completely, Jackie gets no revenge or satisfaction, and while I don't see Jackie remaining in police custody for long (Simone is taking the rap for the arson), the shady foster service he was in is probably getting shut down, so his condition is up in the air. The money would help, and surely he deserves some of it.

And maybe the heroines should've given Simone a little too? She's another hard luck orphan, and facing up to a year in juvie for taking the rap.

Screen Directors Playhouse: Life of Vernon Hathaway (1955) Season 1, Episode 6

Fairly good comedy with a bit of TV history behind it

[2 May 2024]

I'm glad TCM decided to show this. Although it's a little afield for them, being a TV episode, it's not totally unconnected to classic film, and was rewarding in a few ways.

The 1950s were the heyday of TV anthology shows--so many, I won't blame you if you never heard of Screen Directors Playhouse. I hadn't either, despite a strong concept: established Hollywood movie directors, and mostly A-list actors, put on a 30-minute story. Judging by this episode, the directors got to make use of production values that were high for mid-50s TV.

Norman Z. McLeod directed some popular Bob Hope comedies, and other films like The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. That was about a frustrated man who indulges in daydream fantasies, so maybe that's why McLeod directed The Life of Vernon Hathaway, which sounds like it could be accused of being derivative. But it's fairly enjoyable for what it is.

Ernest Stockhoeffer is bored working at his humble clock and watch shop, and he can't make headway with his would-be fiancee Irma. Like Mitty, Ernest escapes by indulging in fantasies. In fact, he creates an alter ego named Vernon Hathaway to engage in the exciting activities of winning swordfights or the World Series. When a wonderful cash windfall comes along for Ernest, will it lead him towards a more Vernon-like life?

You'll have to watch to find out how well this ends for Ernest, but along the way is a comedy of circumstances and mistaken identity. It's rather amusing, and some of the events are extraordinary, but they tend not to be filmed in an extraordinary way. And some of the fantasies consist only of vague stock footage.

But there is one genuinely impressive special effect: out of the coat pocket where Ernest keeps his big cash, periodically an imaginary figure of Vernon crawls out and up onto Ernest's shoulder to encourage him. It looks great for the time; the trick photography is very clean and neat. When mini-Vernon is done, he dives back into the pocket, and the image (usually) cuts off right where the pocket begins. The whole thing is simultaneously a neat metaphor.

Playing the hero is Alan Young. In what I've seen of him (e.g. His hit sitcom "Mister Ed," which is great fun), it seems he was a character actor whose affable persona appeared in light comedies. (I have yet to see Androcles and the Lion, in which technically Young does Shaw!) He was a good choice for Ernest.

I didn't recognize Cloris Leachman ("The Mary Tyler Moore Show") in an early turn as his fiancee (though she'd been doing anthologies like this for years).

The only real off-note is one scene involving a racing locomotive that is so bizarre, unrealistic, and inconsistent with the rest of the episode, that I couldn't tell whether it was supposed to be another fantasy. Apparently not.

Another positive: the train staff includes a couple of black characters who are presented straight and inoffensively. One of the roles is a bit substantial, too, and it's played by Roy Glenn ("Guess Who's Coming to Dinner"). Very good by the standards of 1955 TV.

Agathe Koltès (2016– )

Not believable

[27 April 2024]

You know how these homicide detective shows go. They typically focus on one detective from a squad, with a partner or junior officers from the squad as supporting characters. And there's always a boss, usually called something like captain, superintendent, or commissioner, and played by an older actor, which makes sense for an experienced officer and authority.

In what I watched of "Agathe Koltes", it's odd-the boss looks about 30 years old but somehow she's a senior officer in charge of everyone else. As if Commissioner Pippi Longstocking wasn't enough of a stretch, the main character, played by a 54-year-old, is a lower-ranked detective and none other than the commissioner's mother. The series actually presents her as subordinate to her daughter, taking orders from her and even getting chewed out.

Sorry, I can't take that seriously.

Man from Reno (2014)

A hole-filled structure that finally collapses

[14 June 2023]

Despite a dodgy plot, for most of the running time this was passable enough entertainment. The filmmaking looks professional, and there's a mystery about a car accident, murder, and a charming man who entices a successful novelist, only to vanish the next day.

Where it all winds up, though, is one of the strangest examples of a flat, unsatisfying story that will probably disappoint everyone except the director's family. After spending most of the movie making the novelist heroine look stupid, the movie decides to make the sheriff hero look stupid too.

This leaves us all the more aware of the film's other weaknesses. One odd choice was to have most of the characters speak Japanese, even though the story is set in California.

Now, the heroine Aki is supposed to be a novelist from Tokyo, visiting the US on a book tour, so I get that Japanese is her first language (though this begs the question of how she came to speak English so fluently). But all the friends, acquaintances, and even some strangers she meets in the US are other Japanese-speaking people, including residents of San Francisco. In real life, lots of Japanese-Americans don't speak Japanese, and in this movie it's never really explained why so many characters speak it to each other.

In one scene where Aki visits friends for dinner, for instance, there's a bunch of unrelated people and they all speak Japanese for the whole scene. One of them is even said to be a Yale grad who's a big fan of Stanford University football for some reason!

Nor does the film explain just why Aki spends so long investigating the criminal activities that unfold around her without involving the police, especially after they get dangerous.

There is also a physically impossible bit of business implying that someone's about to put two bodies in what appears to be little more than a duffel bag! And carry it away, to boot!

This is on top of a plot that gets confusing, as film noir plots tend to do.

All in all, a waste of a good performance by Pepe Serna as the sheriff.

Barney Miller: Jack Soo, a Retrospective (1979) Season 5, Episode 24

Classy is right

[28 February 2023]

What a wonderful tribute to Jack Soo, who died of cancer during Barney Miller's run.

Even though this was mostly repeated footage, the episode just flew by, it was so enjoyable, thoughtful, and compelling. In between some of Nick Yemana's greatest hits, the cast breaks character to discuss Soo's presence on the show, speaking from the heart and giving us some unique perspective about who he was.

Jack Soo was a rare talent, and you couldn't ask for a more fitting tribute from the Barney Miller team.

The above isn't long enough for this site's length requirement, so here are fun facts about Jack:

==Discovered by Gene Kelly while working at a nightclub; Gene cast him in Flower Drum Song on Broadway

==Birth name: Goro Suzuki

==Subject of "You Don't Know Jack", a documentary directed by San Francisco's Public Defender, who moonlighted as a filmmaker

==Performed as Joey Bishop's comedy partner

==Was born on a boat halfway to Japan.

The Automat (2021)

Learn where Carl Reiner & Mel Brooks got their brain food

[24 February 2023]

No surprise that people love to reminisce about restaurants. Good food, often in the company of friends, is a pleasure that makes lasting memories. Now pair this with a regional chain that specialized in unique technology for serving food, and you've got this documentary, a (no pun intended) slice of history which proves a tasty one.

The Automat of the title was a chain of informal dining rooms in Philadelphia and New York through most of the 20th century. Also known as Horn & Hardart, they were self-service with a unique twist: customers approached a vast wall of cubbies with glass doors, each holding an individual portion of side dishes, dessert, or main course. Put a nickel or two into the slot, and twist the knob, and the door would open to present your food. Behind these elaborate contraptions were the hidden kitchen staff who would periodically refill the cubbies.

Unless you're a veteran Philadelphian or New Yorker, almost the only people today who remember Automats are probably classic film/TV buffs who saw these on the screen. That wall of cubbies was an iconic sight. So it actually makes sense that I caught this documentary on Turner Classic Movies (I hear it's also appeared elsewhere). Clips of automats appearing in several old films starring Cary Grant, Burt Lancaster, and even Bugs Bunny are shown.

The doc not only evokes nostalgia, but also a sad sense of grandeur lost to modern mass production and chintzy taste. Even though Automats were informal dine-in, with food ready to eat, interestingly by all accounts it wasn't "fast food" as we know it. The Automats' low prices belied their high-quality cooking, as opposed to the thrown-together burgers and reheated slices of egg the same price gets you today. The original eateries were classy, too, even though they hosted throngs of people from all walks of life. Marble, brass, and ornate windows could be found.

The doc provides a solid overview of who started the Automats, how their system worked, and what it was like to work there. Interviews feature key people from the business, or their surviving descendants, including technicians and a laborer who are still proud of the company. Also covered is the Automats' gradual decline due to a few reasons. For example, as more people left the cities for suburbs, eating habits changed and this greatly affected the city-based Automats. The once-grand buildings became shabby, the neighborhoods rough. Ironically this inspired an ad campaign claiming they were not fancy, but good.

Along the way, the doc tries to celebrate Automats for promoting progressive virtues. Working women could get great lunches, people of all races sat together, etc. These are fair points but sometimes seem coincidental. And at the end of the screening on TCM, I was disappointed to hear the director say she cut some people from the doc because of their race or gender. No matter how fashionable this is among 2020s elite liberals, it's still discriminatory and wrong, not to mention a poor historical approach.

Maybe it's also why the doc feels a little lacking--it comes close to being great but doesn't quite reach that level. It's not that long so a couple minutes could've been spared for Ed Rendell and others who got cut. Or the doc could've trimmed the celebrities, whose contributions are mixed.

Judge Ruth Bader Ginsburg and politician/general Colin Powell speak convincingly about how valuable Automats were to children from poor families, but their clowning about neckties, or brief critiques of men's clubs, seem irrelevant, and could've been dropped. Comedy writer/director Mel Brooks is heavily featured--virtually the protagonist, and spirit guide. Like I've seen him do elsewhere, his humor and helpfulness come with a dose of ego. A Starbucks CEO talks about how the Automat inspired him, and he and another guy suggest unconvincingly that the Automat's virtues live on at Starbucks. (I thought the Automat was famous for *affordable* coffee...)

Despite these sour notes, you might find this to be a tasty stew overall, especially if you're a history buff, or just curious about those funny restaurants with all those glass cabinets you saw in old movies and TV.

Scott & Bailey (2011–2016)

Am I watching cops, or crooks?

[8 August 2021]

These days, "Motte and Bailey" is a term that usually refers to a dishonest type of arguing. What it boils down to is, someone will pretend to make a sensible claim (the motte), but they're just using it as cover to push something more controversial (the bailey).

I wondered if the makers of "Scott and Bailey" called it that as a pun, because a motte & bailey is what I got when I watched the first episode. It's presented as another British murder detective show, but turned out to be a celebration of police corruption instead.

The title characters are two cop partners. As so many of these modern series do, it spent a ton of time on Bailey's personal life, more domestic melodrama than mystery. Her boyfriend of two years, Nick, dumps her very unceremoniously. Some odd signs, like his abrupt sale of his condo, inspire her to investigate him, by abusing her police power to search his background. Scott warns her this can get her disciplined (I think she said Bailey could even get fired). But of course Scott goes along with it.

Bailey discovers the extraordinary and unlikely fact that Nick has been leading a double life as a married man with children and a fancy house. Such a development calls out for more insight into his character. What drove him to become a virtual bigamist?

If you're wondering this, you're out of luck, because the episode, and Bailey, couldn't care less. The whole thing is presented as shallowly as possible for such a plot twist. As far as they're concerned, Nick is a cad, and that justifies Bailey exploiting him. She actually *blackmails* him into giving her the condo.

And Bailey's supposed to be the heroine?

For a while, I thought they were setting up Bailey to come to her senses, by presenting a parallel plot in the murder investigation (Remember? This is supposed to be a murder mystery...I think), with another scorned mistress going too far. But no. Bailey fails to see any connection, and the episode acts like it's good she turned into a blackmailer.

Remember, deceiving a girlfriend isn't actually a crime. Blackmail is.

I watched this in the US in 2021, a time when police corruption doesn't go over so well here.

That does it for me and this series. I miss when heroines like Laura from "Rosemary & Thyme" would settle for throwing a rock through her hubby's window.

Arsenic & Old Lace (1962 TV Movie)

Of historical interest only. Try the Cary Grant version!

[2 February 2021]

I've never seen Arsenic & Old Lace (A&OL) on stage where it originated, but as a big fan of the 1944 feature film, I feel you'd be best off watching that version before trying this 1962 TV movie.

(Note: The 1944 film is currently listed as 1942 on IMDb, because its release was complicated.)

I suppose if you haven't seen A&OL in any form, the '62 will make some impact because the plot will be entirely new. But if you're experiencing A&OL for the first time, why not do it with the best production values you can find? You'll get those from the '44, a true classic of black screwball comedy that comes with the quality of Hollywood A-list movies. Frank Capra directed, and legendary Cary Grant was the lead, in the tradition of his energetic comic performances in other screwball comedies like His Girl Friday and The Awful Truth. Rounding out the cast were some of the best supporting actors of that era, like Peter Lorre, Edward Everett Horton, and James Gleason.

In the early 60s, there were no streaming services, and people couldn't just go out and borrow or rent a 1944 film. Under those circumstances, people probably liked how NBC and Hallmark made a new A&OL for TV, but today it's not your best option, or even a very good one. This appears to have been a live broadcast, which is impressive except for how the technical standards of live early 60s TV were primitive. The inferior staging, sets, direction etc. dampen the comic energy. I even had to turn on closed captions to hear the dialogue.

At 90 minutes, this must've been cut considerably from the play. (The '44 Grant/Capra version was almost 2 hours, and was adapted by the talented Epstein twins.)

Historical value is the only thing going for the '62. It shows you what old live TV was like, but this is now hard to watch. Most significant is the chance to watch horror legend Boris Karloff reprise the villainous role he originated in the first stage production. (His popular Broadway performance kept him in New York, unable to join the Grant/Capra film.)

The cast is notable, too. No one can fill Cary Grant's shoes, but Tony Randall (The Odd Couple) was a catch. Mildred Natwick (The Trouble with Harry) plays one of the sweetly dangerous aunts, and a few classic TV/film buffs will recognize Dorothy Stickney as the other one. A younger Tom Bosley (Happy Days) is game to play Teddy, the deluded brother who thinks he's Theodore Roosevelt. As plastic surgeon Dr. Einstein, George Voskovec, with his big glasses and messy character, is unrecognizable compared to his appearance in 12 Angry Men, when he played the clean-cut watchmaker from Europe.

The Echo (1998– )

If you think thrillers and preaching go together

[7 December 2020]

At the beginning of his stardom appears Clive Owen in this mixed-up mystery. As reporter Mike Deacon, he gets assigned to do a story about poverty, focusing on a bum named Billy Blake who killed himself gruesomely in a stranger's garage. But Mike senses there's more to Billy and his death than meets the eye.

A plot unravels which may or may not include embezzlement, shady business, secret identity, and murder. These kinds of plots tend to be convoluted to begin with, but "The Echo" is remarkable for how haphazardly it handles everything.

Maybe its source novel was stuffed with too many themes, plot twists, cliches, and quirky characters. "Echo" veers all over the place. First it's a mystery, then it's a family drama, then it's a drama about a self-loathing bum who spouts poetry and draws perfect forgeries of classic paintings on the sidewalk. And what the heck, now let's make one of Mike's acquaintances an idiotic trespassing voyeur.

Oddly, Part 2 changes into comedy for a long time. I did titter at watching middle-aged John Forgeham (always dressed in a track suit) chase down a nerdy prowler. (The prowler had come back to a courtyard to fetch something, but clumsy filmmaking makes us think he'd sat in the courtyard all night, and waited till daylight to make his getaway!)

The tone and dialogue get noticeably sillier, to the point of full-blown domestic farce as Mike hosts his lawyer and not one, but two troubled houseguests for Xmas. These include a homeless person said to be a minor, but played by a balding man. Ian Bartholomew is along for the ride, fuming and running around as a frustrated detective, the poor dear.

The filmmakers seem to give up; answers mostly come from "info dumps". Billy's death is supposed to have symbolic meaning to someone, but it's just lame--no character could've figured it out as intended.

Of course, our hero Mike must be a tragic one, a slobby chain smoker with a dysfunctional family and a painful past. Supposedly he gains a moral education about this. Not only is it time-consuming, but also it's linked to yet another weird shift in tone, as the program suddenly turns religious, and preaches to us about damnation and the sanctity of life. We're told that some things are "worse than crimes... They're sins!" Yes, you will hear churchy choir music on the soundtrack. Rather hypocritically, the movie bashes someone for assisting a suicide, while approving another suicide as a noble attempt to help someone.

Our bad boy reporter even acts like a priest all of a sudden, and scolds a woman in a scene filmed as if it's a Catholic confession behind a screen! Whatever points Mike has, the fact that he lectures her so soon after (unrelatedly) she had been raped left a bad taste in my mouth.

Hostile Witness (1969)

Don't look at the poster!

[22 June 2020]

If you're thinking of watching this movie, avoid looking at its posters! The studio had the bad idea of producing some with images that give away info only revealed at the end! As of this writing, sources like IMDb and Amazon Prime feature this poster, so beware!

As for the movie, expect a solid but not outstanding courtroom thriller. Gets a little far-fetched. I was surprised to learn that actor Ray Milland did some directing, including this movie that he stars in. I enjoy old movies, so I didn't mind that this film feels like it was made by a journeyman in 1948 instead of 1968. The direction and most of the acting are simple. However, the set design and the late 60s color look rich. The Old Bailey sets could've come straight from Rumpole of the Bailey.

Of special note is Sylvia Sims, who gives the strongest performance as a competent young barrister.

The Outer Limits: Summit (1999) Season 5, Episode 13

"Summit?" More like the bottom of the pit.

[12 April 2020]

Conflict and accident jeopardize a peace summit between two warring factions. The bulk of the plot is an "overcome our differences" potboiler, with the usual cliches and stock characters. But that's not the worst of it. After violence wipes out one of the diplomatic parties, the episode climax is their admiral on a videophone insisting the other party all kill themselves. Only if they do so will they prove their honesty and commitment, enough to persuade him to draw down his army and avoid World War III.

Thus do the last ten minutes basically turn into a snuff film, as Desperate Housewife Bree Van de Kamp, Leo McGarry from The West Wing, and two other officials slowly shoot or electrocute themselves.

This is Screenwriter Logic at its worst--a contrived scenario with characters who make and fulfill absurd, inhumane demands that no one would make in real life, all so we may solemnly nod our heads at what a noble, selfless thing these people are doing.

This isn't serious drama. So what is it? A brainless death fantasy by a self-dramatizing TV show? Or maybe it was just a sick joke all along, made for kicks? Either way, it's grotesque and anti-human.

Pathetic. Probably the worst Outer Limits episode I've seen.

Agent F.O.X. (2014)

Might've worked as a short Sat. morning cartoon instead of 87 min.

[16 February 2020]

Saturday morning cartoons were typically junk food. But a little is okay. For some kids, those cartoons were a fun way to kick off the weekend after a week of school.

Agent Fox reminds me of them. The acting and humor are broad. In fact, none of its elements--city setting, plot, animation, etc.--are outstanding in any way. They could perhaps have been amusing enough for a series of 30 min. TV episodes. So could the premise of a dishonest fox "agent" going undercover in a community of peaceful rabbits. But a movie, almost 90 minutes long? This isn't nearly good enough for that.

Although some parents will consider it to be a waste of time, many kids will get bored before the 87 minute mark anyway.

See if you can count the number of times they recycle the footage of the fox starting up his computer.

Gets another demerit for the way the characters go "Huh?...Huh?" all the time. Very weird dialogue tic. The fox, for instance, sneaks through a house to burgle it, going "Huh?" at every step. Later he burgles Town Hall; same thing.

Three Piece Suite (1977)

Diana Rigg shines in sketch comedy both good and bad

[12 May 2019]

This was a short-lived sketch comedy series starring Diana Rigg. Each episode consists of three sketches (or short films) of about 10 minutes each. The longer length allows for greater plot development, and sometimes more depth of character and themes than sketches typically have.

Almost every sketch features different writers and supporting actors. The sketches run the gamut of plots, and a lot of them are "two-handers" (just Rigg and one co-star). The only constant is the presence of Rigg. She's one of the great actresses of our time, and here she shows her extraordinary range and comic skill as she disappears into a wide assortment of roles, from lovelorn spinsters, to middle class housewives, to a homely but spirited powder room attendant. Helping her do this are the terrific hair and wardrobe crew.

The writing is hit and miss--probably 50% is at least okay, or even great, while the rest is not. Besides a few clunkers, other sketches that are middling (rather than outright bad) feel worse because the 10-minute running time drags them out. Writer Roy Clarke ("Keeping Up Appearances") surprisingly contributed a snoozer, though Rigg is right on target as an airheaded American starlet. Magazine editor Tina Brown even wrote a sketch, but it's incoherent. Later, John Cleese is wasted as a hypochondriac who lives with equally loud Rigg in a hovel.

On the plus side, Bob Larbey (best known for "As Time Goes By") and John Esmonde (who wrote "The Good Life" with Larbey) wrote one of the best sketches, "Mea Culpa", in which Rigg plays (apparently) a nun who tells a sympathetic man her absurd life story while riding a mountain tram. Also excellent all round is the spoof "Wonderful Woman" by Dick Clement & Ian La Frenais. It co-stars the great Bob Hoskins, who didn't realize his cockney wife was a superhero--a job that can clash with domestic life!

"Little Things...Parking" by Michael Sadler is a first-rate short film about an arguing couple. As the title indicates, it derives humor from an everyday problem, while adding just the right touch of silliness. The characters actually return later in the series, to much worse effect. Elsewhere, the plot of "Celluloid Dreams" by Neil Shand went over my head, but it's full of sharp banter, the type heard in classic Hollywood comedies. As an uptight reporter, Rigg goes through an amusing transformation to get a scoop, and an unrecognizable George Baker offers solid support as her co-worker.

At times difficult to get through, Three Piece Suite nonetheless deserves higher than the low rating it holds as of this writing. And I'm giving it an extra star on account of Rigg's outstanding acting.

The Golden Girls: The Sisters (1987) Season 2, Episode 12

Nancy Walker: the perfect sister for Sophia!

[24 March 2019]

What a brilliant casting move--the filmmakers got Nancy Walker to guest star as Sophia's sister Angela.

A Hollywood veteran perhaps best known for "McMillan & Wife" and "Rhoda", Walker is just as petite as Estelle Getty, creating a fun sight gag and a perfect match (and perfect foe!) for Sophia. They buried Walker under the same makeup, wig, and glasses as Getty, but her distinctive voice is quickly recognizable.

Angela proves just like Sophia in other ways--namely, being stubborn and vindictive! Dorothy brings her over from Italy as a surprise present for Sophia's birthday, but old grudges surface. Will the reunion be a disaster?

Walker is excellent. Also, in a fun early plotline, Dorothy (amazingly) entrusts Rose not to reveal the surprise present too early, and your knuckles will get white as Sophia tries to trick Rose into doing just that!

The Suspicions of Mr Whicher: The Suspicions of Mr Whicher: Beyond the Pale (2014) Season 1, Episode 3

Wish fulfillment for libs who like costume drama

[2 March 2019]

Because the first Whicher film was based on a true story, it was limited by the facts, and wound up anticlimactic. The filmmakers then made three fictional movies for Whicher, but this didn't really solve matters. They were a mix of melodrama, average content, and sensationalism trying to appeal to modern viewers (e.g. plots about incest or illegitimacy, and of course the burdened or "tragic" hero).

That brings us to the third of these, "Beyond the Pale." At least one critic complained that its lighting was too dark. The previous movies certainly had that problem--with investigation scenes, for instance, straining our eyes by being shot in dingy, dark rooms. But "Beyond the Pale" was the first that actually used dark lighting in a good way, creating some moody, well-crafted sequences.

I'm afraid that's all I can say in favor of this movie. Supposedly a detective story, its purpose is actually to pander to modern viewers' politics. It does this by taking the social justice wars of today and staging them in the distant past so we can watch righteous Victorians fight for 21st century liberal values in the Victorian Age. Unlikely to say the least, and eye-rolling TV, but it's a common mistake these days.

As the pun in the title indicates, darkness and lightness prove central to "Beyond the Pale" in another way, as the plot examines issues of racism. The conflict comes down to a custody battle between a white man living in England, and the Indian woman who wants to bring the kids back to her home country. He's a politician from a rich, powerful upper class family, but he has wronged her in various ways. The film starts to portray him as a complex character, but soon throws this away by turning him into a criminal weirdo.

I checked the Spoilers box as a formality, but you'd call the ending anyway. (What, you didn't really think the kids were going to stay with their English dad, did you?) Sure, the mom is powerless and has no legal rights, being a non-citizen. The Brits hold all the cards, and the dad is an upper class white male politician powerful enough to treat the Indian woman callously and get away with it. But for these same reasons, a 21st century TV thriller is guaranteed to make him lose. The Indian wins over him and her in-laws by giving a liberal righteous speech, in which the filmmakers all but paint a halo over her head. What a fantasy!

The cold truth is that in real life, all the English characters--Whicher included--would do everything they could to keep the kids in England, no exception. Why wouldn't they? They have the power. And with or without racism, they'd be nationalist enough to choose England. From their POV, there's no reason to throw away the privileges of raising the kids in England with their rich, powerful white upper class family, with an English education and a promising future in the English elite.

These Whicher movies are mediocre, a waste of Paddy Considine, an excellent actor with great presence.

Miami Vice: Definitely Miami (1986) Season 2, Episode 12

Nah, don't start with this one

[13 December 2017]

An excellent show like Miami Vice has plenty of ways for newcomers to discover its unique blend of entertainment, smart drama, high production values, and the best side of 80s style. So I'm surprised that this of all episodes currently holds such a top rating on IMDb. I'd advise newcomers to start with a different one, lest you get the wrong impression.

"Definitely Miami" jams two plots into the same hour. Either one had the potential to be excellent in its own episode, but since they're compressed into less time here, they both get short shrift.

The sluggish direction falls short of Vice's high standards, and features a rough opening scene for the heroes. While sitting poolside at some sort of country club, waiting for a contact from the underworld, an undercover Sonny ogles a stranger. Yeah, Sonny has an eye for the ladies, but his blatant lechery here is out of character, over-the-top; and the direction matches it, capped off by what may be the goofiest shot of Don Johnson in the entire series. The seconds drag on as the camera pans over the woman's body, and a grinning Sonny stares and stares.

The woman he's ogling, Callie Basset, is another weak link. The character is supposed to be Sonny's vulnerable, yet mysterious and perhaps untrustworthy object of affection. Vice is known for its star-studded guest casts and their strong acting, but the model playing Callie doesn't impress, and she fails to bring depth to the role.

The episode's 2nd main guest actor does better. Best known for playing Phillips, chief of the boat in Apocalypse Now, Albert Hall cuts a dash as a pushy federal agent trying to convince a mobster to testify. His final scene with Castillo is very well-directed, unlike most of the episode.

I would direct newcomers towards a different episode instead. There are so many to choose from, and I haven't even finished the series yet, but perhaps "Knock, Knock... Who's There?", "Fruit of the Poison Tree", or "Child's Play". I haven't seen "Brother's Keeper," the double-length pilot, for a while, but that one might be a good general introduction.

The Muppet Show: Rich Little (1977) Season 2, Episode 4

Little brings a lot of talent to another excellent episode

[1 November 2017]

As well as I know the Muppets, I never saw much of The Muppet Show until recently, and I'm struck by what a well-made series it is. For this episode, a big part of that comes from guest star Rich Little, renowned impressionist, "the only man I know who can be anybody he feels like", says Kermit.

In a series of very short but sweet imitations, Little treats us to a cavalcade of 20th century stars. Well-known to 1977 audiences, today they're probably best known to classic film fans. Let's see if I've got them right…

Little matches the voices and inflections with uncanny talent. Close your eyes and you'll swear that's really James Stewart and Burt Lancaster on the screen. In the same sketch, he hams it up as Nixon and does spot-on impressions of Cary Grant and Groucho Marx. The script's references to Lancaster may confuse the fact that he slips in a Kirk Douglas, too. "I'll turn your head into a dimple!" he threatens a snide reporter while pointing to his chin, a la Douglas and his famous dimpled chin. I'm not certain who the sketch finishes with, but I'm guessing it's Vincent Price, because it causes monsters to burst through a door and crowd around Little. (Price did a lot of horror movies; ergo he attracts monsters.)

In a musical sketch, Little and Kermit sing "Well Did You Evah" from the film High Society, with Little impersonating its stars Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby right after each other. He begins this sketch with an impression of Gene Kelly in "Singin' in the Rain." Surreally, he shifts to a dead serious Richard Burton reciting the lyrics as if he were doing a Shakespearean soliloquy. A John Wayne impression follows Burton, and the sketch finishes with Miss Piggy and "Maurice Chevalier" in a duet from Gigi.

The show begins with Little fooling a naive Scooter, when he comes to fetch Little for curtain time but the door keeps opening to these famous "celebrities". "Wow, Humphrey Bogart," says Scooter. "But where's Rich Little?" W.C. Fields is also featured here.

Besides these stars, Little actually does impressions of Kermit and some other Muppets themselves. He gives Statler and Waldorf a retort by copying Statler, and when Little pretends to be Miss Piggy, you'll swear they just dubbed in Frank Oz. He nails both Miss Piggy's sweet talk and her angry outburst.

The rest of the show is mostly the Muppets' usual warm, clever humor. There's also a sketch that's pretty violent for a family show--wild animal Muppets eating each other!--so it will probably scare the youngest children, but the puppetry is superb, featuring a lizard-like Muppet humming and kicking his legs while sitting on a wall.

A Touch of Frost: Endangered Species (2006) Season 13, Episode 1

They still make shows like this?

[16 September 2015]

The detective show clichés and grotesque violence aren't worth discussing. What took me aback was that the characters and dialogue don't seem to be from 2006, but 1946. As part of a plot about animals smuggled from Asia, a man of Asian descent is brutally murdered. When white females are killed, TV cops have been known to spend a little *too* much time lingering over their corpses and staring wistfully at the crime scene photos. For this victim, Inspector Frost instead makes offhand references to "the Chinaman" over and over. What, did the screenwriters dust off a pulp novel from 70 years ago?

It gets worse. The body is found with a notebook of writing in a language Frost assumes is Chinese. "It is, in fact, a notebook, and not a menu," he tells his all-white police squad. Finally, they identify the victim as Lahn Loc, a smuggler with a Vietnamese background working with another man named Flanagan. Superintendent Mullett struggles to discuss the two crooks "Flanagan and that man called, er... The Vietnamese." Right, 'cause Lahn Loc is soooo hard to pronounce. Worse, even after they learn he's Vietnamese, Frost *still* calls him "the Chinaman."

Sounds like "Midsomer Murders" wasn't the only British detective show that needed to get past some racism. This 2006 TV movie was called "Endangered Species," and I hope that in the 9 years since, this outdated treatment of Asians has gotten more "endangered" too.

Babylon 5: In the Beginning (1998 TV Movie)

Babylon 5 newcomers, beware: don't begin with "In the Beginning"

[12 December 2013]

Having watched virtually no "Babylon 5" but willing to check out this series, I made the mistake of assuming I should start with this prequel TV movie, chronologically the "first" story in the series' universe.

Turns out the prequel was obviously to provide pre-existing fans with bonus backstory -- so much so that at times, the film simply gives up on making sense as a standalone product.

As a framing device, we get a badly-lit emperor narrating historical events to a bratty little noble and his sister. At no point does the film care to explain why half the buildings outside the palace are on fire.

The emperor tells the story of Earth's war with aliens called the Minbari. He focuses on the role played by Delenn, a young Minbari leader, and John Sheridan, a human military officer. The war story is the bulk of the movie, until it swerves into left field by thrusting Sheridan and Delenn into a radical context that has nothing to do with the story we've seen up till now. I don't think Delenn and Sheridan ever even met, but suddenly they're shown to be held captive together in parts unknown, not to mention lovers. And again, it's left completely unexplained. I don't think it was the filmmakers' intention to leave me laughing as the end credits rolled.

It doesn't help that the film's structure grows crude. The bulk of the film is well-paced, examining the causes of a deadly war and its first few months. At about the 75 minute mark, however, it pulls the rug out from under a plot it's been developing and suddenly compresses 3 years of events into a few minutes. This is done mostly via battle scene overdrive. These battles are the movie's best CGI, but I'm not sure anyone over 19 will be interested in all this carnage, particularly with the clichéd voice-over. There's something perverse about the narrator celebrating courage while we watch a slow-motion stabbing.

The film's actual resolution is an anticlimax. I can only guess it contains references to TV canon designed to please the established fan.

On the plus side are the costumes and makeup, into which most of the budget seems to have gone with good effect. Poor Andreas Katsulas must have spent hours in the makeup chair, so I'm glad he shines in the role of G'Kar. His reptilian getup is amazing, right down to the scarlet eyes. Theodore Bikel and the too-quickly-dismissed Reiner Schone offer solid support.

When Sheridan assumes command during a crisis, the filmmakers make great use of limited resources, using close-ups and rapidly-shifting lights to ratchet up tension. The Grey Council stands out as excellent minimalist work from filmmakers who were limited to cheap sets. The Council sequences are stylishly lit and well-directed -- way more so than that annoying Delenn/Lenonn dialogue with the candle flames passing in front of the lens.

Alfred Hitchcock Presents: The Cuckoo Clock (1960) Season 5, Episode 27

Cuckoo Crock

[4 August 2012]

When a series runs for 7 years -- even when it's the superb Alfred Hitchcock Presents -- we'll find a few duds along the way. I guess we shouldn't be surprised if a series starts recycling old material, either. This week's tale of an isolated housewife facing the prospect of an escaped asylum inmate retreads episodes like Fog Closing In and The Dangerous People. Not to mention, it relies on the outdated, potboiler cliché of mentally ill people as monsters to fear, icky psychos lurking in the shadows.

The cabin setting, and the uncertainty over an at-large villain's identity, echo the episode A Little Sleep as well. The distraught young Madeleine Hall has barged into housewife Ida Blythe's cabin, and is she or isn't she the escapee, whose gender is (awkwardly) kept secret? I can avoid spoiling that, and still say the ambiguity of the women's encounter would be more compelling if the episode didn't stack the deck against Hall. Fay Spain's acting isn't the problem. Last seen as the domineering screenwriter in The Last Dark Step, she's equally good here, but Hall is written as having an absurd penchant for disturbing rhetoric, and condemning doctors and others who don't understand it.

Perhaps a serious consideration of the mentally ill is too much to expect from this premise, although the series can do great drama. But this episode has no point other than cruelty and ugly violence, which it takes great pains to produce. It doesn't help that its characters often behave implausibly.

It's also one of the series' worst-made. The general store scene is like a rehearsal on stage. The actors shout their lines at each other -- when they don't outright forget them.

A cheapie, unworthy of its brilliant hosting scenes: surreal comedy in which Hitchcock takes the lid off some literally canned laughter (as well as screams).

Alfred Hitchcock Presents: The Day of the Bullet (1960) Season 5, Episode 20

The skill and bravery of Alfred Hitchcock Presents astonishes again

[1 June 2012]

A fine display of what range Alfred Hitchcock Presents (AHP) has. Operating from the go-anywhere nature of anthology series, it knows how to apply its basic suspense format to a medley of genres -- and still handle each one with quality filmmaking. Black comedy, tense nailbiter...and, as "The Day of the Bullet" shows, tragic drama.

This one's centered on two strong child performances by an interesting cast: Glenn Walken (brother to Christopher), and Barry Gordon, future Donatello. Yet the story is no bit of childish fun. Given the primary use of child characters, AHP tackles disturbing subject matter here, both bravely and sensitively. The boys, Clete and Iggy, witness an ugly act of violence, what proves to be the catalyst to their own wrenching personal drama.

The boys are well-drawn and well-played characters. They're loyal friends, but sometimes conflicting in their outlooks, and convincingly childlike, despite a height difference in the actors that sometimes distracts. They wince at the beating they witness, and we flinch at their exposure to such a thing, but it's charming when this reveals what a worldly, yet childish code of honor they've already developed in reaction to the horrors of NYC. They shake their heads at what cowards adults are, what "yellow skunks," willing to beat up a guy 2-against-1.

Their code of honor and childish traits continue to power the dramatic conflict, coming up as they do against the complexities and tragic ironies of the world.

The spark plug Gordon leads the way with a commanding dramatic performance, and the episode is sealed by Norman Lloyd's exquisite direction. What at first seems to be a Brooklyn street empty for budget reasons proves to be a haunting setpiece for this admirable drama.

The distinctive, uncredited voice of Lloyd himself serves as one of the kids narrating from adulthood. His recitation caps off the story nicely, and it's worth forgiving how his transatlantic accent doesn't match the kid's Brooklyn one.

Hitchcock's jokey hosting scenes as a shady lot attendant are more out of place for such an episode, clever as the gimmick is. Check out when he carefully combs his bald head. I can definitely see a shady lot attendant doing that.

The Twilight Zone: Night Call (1964) Season 5, Episode 19

An ugly exception -- and unintentional prophecy -- from a decent series

[24 March 2012]

(I've tried to keep the spoilers vague.)

Although The Twilight Zone (TZ) likes to indulge in sermons -- which often ride on broad, melodramatic flights of purple prose -- at least it usually has the excuse of a humane heart and thoughtful mind genuinely interested in the human condition and serious issues. Night Call, by contrast, is astonishing in its arrogance, cruelty and pointlessness. The word "stupid" often serves as a putdown. In this case, it's merely another accurate adjective.

Already stressed by a loud, fierce nighttime thunderstorm, the elderly and crippled Elva Keene is confused, then frightened by persistent phone calls from a weird, mostly non-responsive caller. She finally screams at him to leave her alone. And mightn't any of us? Her reaction is entirely understandable. The calls sound very much like the work of a malicious prankster, even a dangerous stalker. They'll scare a woman in Elva's vulnerable position especially. To today's viewers, the caller might also sound like a more sympathetic case -- a mentally retarded person -- but a woman of Elva's age, back in that era, would be less likely to understand this. It was still early in the days of advocates like Rose Kennedy.

Yet Night Call holds Elva's natural reaction against her, ultimately punishing her simply for not understanding something that no one could. The basic plot elements of her undoing -- a gotcha matter of semantics taken too literally -- are silly enough. They also tie into a backstory on which TZ slams what may be its most childishly reasoned hammer of judgment. (Complete with misogynist tinge -- basically, "Never let your uppity woman get her way, gents, least of all driving privileges.")

This is bad enough, but then Rod Serling's narration chimes in to actually celebrate her fate as right and proper, capped off with a cruelly literal metaphor about this paralyzed, largely bedridden woman "making her bed and having to sleep in it". Serling, creator of a beloved, socially conscious series, has never sounded so smug and small-minded.

I wonder if Serling was responsible for the judgmental ending, apparently a change from screenwriter Richard Matheson's short story. At the least, he should've known better than to narrate this text.

He wasn't aware of his hypocrisy, either. The narrator who claims the crippled woman deserved her sickbed died on the bed of an operating room at age 50, after a life with much overwork and heavy smoking on screen and off. Probably Serling still deserved a better eulogy than the one he gives Elva Keene.

Alfred Hitchcock Presents: Specialty of the House (1959) Season 5, Episode 12

This meal's hard to swallow

[4 March 2012]

This was despite a few features. The filmmakers do a good job presenting some weird contrasts. There's the secret restaurant's opulent interior, and the back alley dive atmosphere you have to pass to get there. The restaurant is basically a men's club, so what a surprise that a woman is the proprietress of this male-centric setup.

And you have to ascend that big staircase, as if going up to heaven to eat one of the best meals in the world. (For some characters, this proves more than figurative, doesn't it?!)

Interestingly, Robert Morley basically plays a version of his great gourmand role from "Who Is Killing the Great Chefs of Europe?" in the 70s.

However, the episode will amount to little more than a talkie for most contemporary viewers, because they can probably predict the restaurant's dark secret. Maybe fewer did back in '59, but not today's more experienced audience and its various edgy content like "Tales from the Crypt".

This episode matches that series' grotesque vibe. It's not to my taste, but perhaps it's an achievement of sorts that the Hitchcock series could hit this tone 30 years before an uncensored HBO could.

Yet the premise doesn't make sense. Why would Spirro victimize her own loyal, paying customers? How can the others not catch on, and fear for their lives? What prompts Spirro to work out such a special, secret relationship with Costain?

Into the Blue (I) (1997 TV Movie)

Good TV thriller when taken on its own terms; obviously no friend of the book

[20 July 2011]

Having been dismayed by many tawdry TV rewrites of perfectly good books, I can understand why the "Into the Blue" author and many readers would be apoplectic after watching this. Instead of gasping at the thrills and chills in this TV movie, those who read the book first will merely gasp in surprise at how well over half of anything to do with it has been radically altered for this film, including the most major characters and plot twists.

That any major changes should occur is not a surprise, however. Indeed, one wonders just why the producers chose to film this book of all things. There was just no way 400 pages of dense, hard paragraphs and exhaustive backstory (all in tiny font) could've made a film of 110 or so minutes. Despite having some compelling drama and ideas, frankly the book can afford to lose perhaps 100 pages.

Even so, by the standards of adaptations, this film's condensations and rewriting are savage. I read the book second, then revisited the film. Thus for me, it's rather a hoot how the film broadcasts right from the start how it's spared nothing in its rewriting. In the first five minutes, Harry Barnett shows someone a portrait of Alan Dysart's wife, a small but important (and alive) supporting character in the book. Harry reports that she died of cancer 2 years ago, then moves on without another word. That's that for wifey!

But the film gives us a decent enough TV movie thriller. Its technique is plain, typical for TV movies, but offers attractive sets, location shootings, and cinematography. The book has its share of melodrama, but the film really ups the thriller factor, which gets clichéd but still fun.

The altered story also retains much of what worked best in the book's drama: Harry Barnett's central quest, and an interesting friendship with the vivid, yet inscrutable Alan Dysart.

True, the film is clichéd in how it sets up Harry's private investigation of Heather Mallender's disappearance. The usual "innocent man must launch his own private investigation to clear his name, while the authorities hassle him and do nothing useful." But it keeps the device of Harry obtaining photos Heather has shot, and using them to retrace her own investigative journey from the past. The film gets great cinematic fun out of this -- Harry will give us a close-up view of a photo of a building; then the shot pans up to show the actual building, proving that he's on the right track.

Alan too remains compelling: a well-fed and well-groomed man of power (love the suspenders) who's generous, supportive, yet ambiguous. (The film errs a little by making him ambiguous from the start.) Forever helping Harry out of trouble, Alan provides one of the most gripping dramatic moments when Harry declines to do him a major favor. Alan stops and glares at him, and complains to Harry for the first time. "It's the only favor I've ever asked of you." Immediately he departs in defeat. We feel the pain and guilt such an accurate criticism must've made to Harry.

Unfortunately, the film glosses over their surprising drama at story's end.

Zora Labrooy, friend of Heather and secretary to a shifty psychologist, provides another strong character and relationship for Harry. Despite rewrites, her essential elements are largely the same. The investigation pushes her to become an ally and assistant to Harry. Besides its own ambiguity, this friendship is made interesting by an increased, constant tension and fragility. They're never sure they can trust or find a real use for each other.

Also of note is John Thaw, who provides the right dramatic gravitas whenever required. It's also fun to see him convincingly play a cockney man of modest background, in contrast to his famous role of cultured Inspector Morse.

Quantum Leap: The Right Hand of God - October 24, 1974 (1989) Season 1, Episode 4

"Right Hand's" righteousness run amok

[13 March 2011]

For an episode that wears piety and Christian charity on its sleeve, The Right Hand of God (TRHoG) is remarkably self-serving. Perhaps it's true that when people, like the characters here, are so convinced that their desires are part of God's plan, the more skeptical you have to be.

As stakeholders in a Sacramento pro boxer's career (!), Sister Angela and her convent hope to use his winnings to finance a new chapel and services (of both kinds) for the homeless. Although many viewers have no interest in the evangelism that goes with that, few will fault the nuns for wanting to do more social work. Nor can we fault Sam (who takes the boxer's place) for hoping to win the prize money on their behalf.

But does that make it okay for the hero Sam to cheat his way to victory? This he does, when he has a friend interfere on his behalf during the fight, and gets special help from a second. The nuns could use the money, but what about the opponent who loses out? At no time does anyone consider his rights, or needs. What if he plans to spend the money on his own charities? What if he depends on that money to keep his family from living in a seedy one-room apartment? Nor is basic sportsmanship considered, needless to say.

This ironic lack of ethics is extra troublesome given the mantle of righteousness TRHoG assumes. Angela's religiosity gains precedence in the plot, reinforced by her manipulative tragic backstory that ends with her born again. She also thinks Sam was sent to her by God to win the prize money. TRHoG would like to think Sam's scheme on behalf of such a person is not just heroic, but holy. In fact, his role in ultimately reaffirming her faith is presented as his purpose in Sacramento no less than his prize-winning is.

The religious elements are rather confused, too. On one level, TRHoG is just indulging in comedy by turning nuns and a priest into boxing fans who train a boxer, attend matches, and cheer on their trainee. The priest even knocks down Sam while sparring. This begs the question of how likely it is that these clerics would show such interest and support for a violent sport that's all about men beating each other until they're bloody, bruised and unconscious.

And its portrayal of Angela as a pious, deeply spiritual woman of faith achieves the opposite. When she fears Sam has lied to her about his plans to win the match for her, it's enough to make her lose faith in God again. A faith that entirely depends on whether one man is telling the truth is a fragile one. Whatever her religious beliefs turn out to be, Angela should probably re-evaluate a few things.

But TRHoG's worst "sin" might be the sexism of Sam pressuring and guilt-tripping his stripper girlfriend to go naked in front of thousands in an arena, as part of his scheme to win his match. Since she's a stripper, he rationalizes, surely this is totally do-able. Compared to this, the clichéd training montages are almost fun.