Ellery Queen (Charles W. Runyon), The Last Score (1964)

Queen, Ellery (Charles W. Runyon), The Last Score, NY: Pocket Books 50486, 15 October 1964. 165 pp
______. The Last Score & Beware the Young Stranger, NY: Signet Double Mystery (AE1307), October 1978. 158 pp


For detailed information on EQ and a bibliography of works, please visit World's Best Detective Crime and Murder Mystery Books.


As is now common knowledge, though kept from the public for many years, "Ellery Queen" was composed of two men, cousins Frederic Dannay and Manfred Lee (born Daniel Nathan and Manford Emanuel Lepofsky, respectively). Rather than creating a character, they created what has become essentially a brand, as the ever-churning EQ machine included innumerable novels, short stories, a still-running popular magazine, a TV series and several movies, along with a series of anthologies. Throughout the 1960s a number of young, up-and-coming writers ghosted as Ellery Queen. This was partly due to the fact that Lee suffered a series of heart attacks and was unable to work. Some of the ghosted novels were based on treatments that Lee had done, or at least begun.

The Last Score is considered among the strongest of these ghosted novels. It was written by little-known Charles W. Runyon (b. 1928), who wrote in a variety of genres, including three novels as Ellery Queen: The Last Score (1964), The Killer Touch (1965) and Kiss and Kill (1969).

In The Last Score, Adventure traveller and guide Reid Rance is approached by wealthy socialite May Gibson with a request to take her youngest daughter Leslie on a field trip through Mexico. Not wishing to babysit a seventeen year-old, Reid tries to evade the task, but alas cannot, since there would otherwise be no novel. While in Mexico he does his best to fend off the teen's sexy come-ons while teaching her proper behaviour south of the border, until one night Leslie disappears. It turns out she has been kidnapped, and Rance must go through one hell of a ride to get her back.

The novel is surprisingly well written, with solid prose, good character consistency and development, and an unusual amount of experimentation, which does lead to a certain amount of unevenness in tone, but also adds to the book's appeal. The first third of the novel is overly long and a little flat, as it consists of Reid fending off the feisty Leslie, yet once she is kidnapped we speed along through drugs, money, romance and a nice array of bad dudes (despite the acts of violence, I think real-life drug cartels would do much worse than this gang, and probably get away with it too). Surprisingly and even oddly, during the novel's last third the point of view shifts from Rance to Leslie's half-sister Karen Frankel, then to Leslie herself until finally, to cap off an exciting ride, for a few pages we are treated to the inside of El Delgado (the Thin One), our head bad dude, as Runyon escalates the drama with some stream of consciousness, wanting us to understand what has driven Delgado to the life he has been leading.

The novel's single greatest achievement, however, is Runyon's portrayal of a Reid high on some strong pot. Reid is forced to smoke while with the enemy, and his shifting thought processes are well recorded. Despite the accurateness of his descriptions and my assumption that Runyon has toked a little in his time, the novel does feature a clear anti-dope attitude, firmly entrenched in the belief that a little pot leads to a lot of heroin. There is a long lecture early on, with Rance doing his best to frighten the unconvinced Leslie away from her desire to try the stuff. Moreover, her kidnapping is a direct result of this desire. It is, of course, entirely possible that this anti-doping message was forced into the book by the publishers, so I won't speculate needlessly on Runyon's own opinions.

The Last Score presents us with a world of men. Reid Rance is a manly tough-guy with some good sense and a dash of sensitivity (and a cool name, though perhaps a little to Harlequin-esque). He falls not for the hungry, attractive Leslie but prefers the challenge of her older half-sister, sexy feminist journalist Karen Frankel. Other men are tough but lacking Rance's firmly established sense of morality, from the colourful bad guys to the deadly Delgado and the competent Mexican Lieutenant we meet later on. Rance is set up early on in contrast with his standard clients, all pretend men who want a week or so away from their urban nine-to-five selves in order to play tough toreador or crocodile hunter. Rance is the real thing, along with the heart of a noble gentleman.

And though the women can be feminists they remain mostly feminine. Karen learns to drop much of her feminist front and lets her hair down (figuratively as well as literally), becoming more and more feminine and clearly falling for good man Reid.

Credit goes to Runyon for including a few solid good Mexican men and therefore avoiding stereotypes, from Felipe, the youthful victim of the American dream, to the sympatheric cab driver Salvador and the focused Lieutenant who helps save the day. Moreover, [spoiler alert] we learn that villain El Delgado is actually American.

There are no real surprises with how the novel ends, but a quick and fun read it is. Shortening it down to novella length would make for a great read, but with the extra padding The Last Score remains an interesting contemporary exploration of the 1960s culture of marijuana as well as gender. Though nothing like a textbook, it's good to explore these themes in context of a little adventure story.

In addition, one of the great things about this book is the list of characters. Strangely though, some of them contain, or imply, spoilers. My three favourites:

Reid Rance: This travel agent's moment of truth lasted a lifetime.
May Gibson: Fate took care of her three husbands, but her daughters were another cup of tequila.
Karen Frankel: A cold cookie, but Reid crumbled her.

Overall some fine, fun stuff. 6/10

Prairie Fire, Spring 2010

Prairie Fire, Spring 2010, vol. 31, no. 1. 136pp
Edited by Andris Taskans

Over the past couple of years my standard response to most literary journals is that while the overall quality of the writing is quite good, only two stories (commonly the first two) are really worth reading. The problem is not only in the stories themselves, but in that there is usually a tiring sameness to the stories collected in any given journal, so that a story that might be more appealing amid a wider ranging collection, can never gain any form of autonomy amid its kin. Imagine painting a blue tree on a blue wall: the shades might be different but the overall effect is not terribly distinct. This particular issue of Prairie Fire is an exception to the trend, and while the first two stories were clearly the strongest of the bunch, others proved more enjoyable than I'd anticipated.

There are similarities between some of the stories: two feature decapitations, two have young narrators, two have doctors, two have chickens... Truth be told there is more diversity in content than is usual, and this was refreshing. I have many partially-completed journals, both literary & genre, lying about my study & bedroom, so that completing any one feels like a rare accomplishment. Sure there were the standard thematic elements, but the idea is to produce common ideas (for what ideas are truly original?) in less than common form of expression, whether an interesting story-line, creative structure, good humour or interesting characters. This issue was a breeze to read; there was only one story I didn't care for and couldn't finish in a single sitting.

As with many of these journals, the binding and cover are quite attractive and these slim books look quite attractive on a bookshelf. I felt terrible when I knocked some water onto my desk which led to the crinkling of a few back pages; I normally take such good care of my books (all my things, really) that it almost hurts to feel the wrinkled pages between my fingers.

As per usual I will review the fiction only, though I will make mention of a poem I quite enjoyed: "This Poem Permanently Removes Hunger" by Jesse Patrick Ferguson.

"Søren and Regine" by David Bergen. As a teenager I was awed by Søren Kierkegaard's 1843 work Either/Or, and from his work I became curious about the man. David Bergen paints a vivid portrait of Kierkegaard in light of his love for Regine Olsen. Tremendously absorbing in all respects, the narrative itself is vivid and smooth, yet what works particularly well is the interwoven notion that Kierkegaard believed you can accurately speculate about a person's inner state by examining their exterior appearance, and climaxing the piece with a brief description of a portrait of Regine and a photograph of Søren which essentially debunk the philosopher's idea. Here Kierkegaard appears at once charming and destructively obsessive, and the portrait is apt. This is my first work by Manitoba author Bergen, whose 2005 novel The Time in Between was shortlisted for the prestigious IMPAC Dublin Literary Award. 8/10

"Mazing Grace" by Michael Van Rooy. "Dad robbed banks." As implied by this opening line and the unusual title, "Mazing Grace" is a fun read. It's the story of a teenager's impressions of his father, old family tensions and the solid framework of a family that leads to a small sacrifice in order to gain something of utmost importance. A short piece with good, brief sequencing and a well-rounded storyline. Michael Van Rooy received the 2008 John Hircsh Award for most promising Manitoba writer, and also serves on the Prairie Fire Board of Directors. 7/10

"Locusts and Honey" by Billie Livingston. A young woman tells of the decline of her less than stable uncle. The repetition of their similarities can reveal much about the narrator, evoke a kind of threat, but doesn't really. Ultimately the story has less and less to do with the narrator, a direct result of the plot taking over from character three quarters of the way through, and assaulting the reader with plenty of hard-edged scenes. Overall well written, but it fell apart for me after the mid-way point. 6/10

"The Persistence" by D.W. Wilson. A man returns to his home town and finds construction work with an old friend who was once his employee. He is still getting over his divorce to a painter who has recently remarried. Well written but too long and too dull. 4/10

"Lake Vostok" by Mary Thaler. Judy arrives at Lake Vostok in Antarctica to supervise some deep ice drilling, but really she is there in search of an old friend who has disappeared. Thaler's bio claims she is at Université Laval, "where she studies the biology of microscopic plankton in the Arctic Ocean." I liked the fluid writing and the science, but didn't care for the characters. In fact, I was surprised the scientists in the story are such good writers, at least the missing one who had left all those notes and recordings behind; the scientific dissertations at Laval U must be among the most poetic. 6/10

"Alice" by Lucie Moeller. In the bed of a city hospital lies Alice, a young heroin addict. Alice is being treated by young Dr. Henry Nolan, who at some point will have his notion of the Hippocratic oath challenged. This story kind of snuck up on me. The first two pages were agony, and my brain was heatedly crying out, "Why do I read these damn things!" The characters were flat and I just couldn't fall into the trite mesh of sympathy the story was begging for. Feel for me! it called, Feel for US! And before I knew it my interested was triggered, and then, of all things, I was enjoying the story, until finally I was caught blatantly sympathizing. Damn it! I was tricked; even that final sentence pricked some fibre in my heart muscles. Nicely done, Ms. Moeller. I applaud your work. But did you have to name her Alice? Alice's Adventures Through the Looking Glass and Alice in Wonderland, along with Jefferson Starship and Go Ask Alice. I get it! I might have sympathized a tad more if her name were, say, Bella. Or even Lucie. 6/10

"Just Pretending" by Lisa Wilson. A tragic coming-of-age story alternating between two scenarios: the seven year-old farm girl who witnesses the red rooster's head being lopped off, and the fourteen year-old girl who strikes up a romantic relationship with Joe Jackson, the university student she meets online. Overall a good story, though I didn't feel that all its separate components were properly melded together, that the notion of pretense was more a side-bar than an integrated thematic point, and the fact that the title is linked to a theme rather than a more concrete story component only strengthens this impression. The tone seems at times to shift, and I can't figure the age of the narrator and how distant she is from the experiences she is relating. Aside from these points the writing is smooth, the characters well realised and the story generally well written with some nice touches of humour. 6/10

"Shelterbelt" by Amber Hayward. A boy runs along along the shelterbelt beside the family farm, instances of his short life flashing by him in second person. A believable boy written by a woman (or a man named Amber) in familiar situations, everything from lacking friends, moving house, sibling relationships and first kisses. Despite the familiarity I enjoyed this short bit of fiction (not quite a story); it is well written and I found myself capturing each detail clearly in my mind's eye. This ability, of course, is not of my keen sense of visualization, but rather of the author's ability to detail scenes so that they become vivid in and of themselves. Moreover, I love that word "shelterbelt" and think I'll order a shot of it at the bar tonight. 7/10

[I must admit I did not care for the killing of the kittens, and the fact that they were decapitated struck me as odd. So odd I tried to picture it, and seeing the fluffy things stretched out on the chopping block was too much for me. And then I wondered why we have back-to-back animal decapitation stories, which of course reminded me of Horacio Quiroga and "The Decapitated Chicken," and from there my thoughts just deteriorated.]

"Bush Country" by Niall Fink. [Spoiler: No heads are lopped off in the course of this story.] Two Alberta field pipeline workers drive deep into desolation seeking a possible goldmine. At one point Mack wields a chainsaw and I thought for an instant that his partner's head would roll along the ice. My imagination wasn't deterred by the fact that the partner is the narrator telling the story after the fact. Though no heads roll some characters do, in a sense, lose their heads, and rather than a wealth of treasure, Mack finds little more than a reflection of himself. While the story wasn't bad and I found the setting both intriguing and well realised, I wanted something more than what I would expect from a story of this kind, and it offered nothing beyond my expectations. 6/10

Tales from the Darkside Season Two: Episodes 17 to 24

[Edited 30 July 2011: cleaned up text & new screenshots.]

For the review of episodes 1 through 8, please click here.
For the review of episodes 9 through 16, please click here.
Season One begins here.

The final third of season two is much improved over the first two-thirds. Overall, the season was a mixed affair. Some ideas had good potential but the scripts were simply weak. Often, rather than using a nifty idea to make something memorable, the show resorted to adapting original ideas as sitcom-quality comedies that were desperately crying out: "Look how neat and funny I am," when in fact they were not. The show spent much of the season masquerading as Tales from the Darkside, while it was being presented as Tales from the Sillyside.

It did not help that the quality of the acting was well below average. Gone were the many neat casting roles of season one (though we did have some fine performances from the likes of Marie Windsor, Abe Vigoda, Jerry Stiller, Coleen Gray and Susan Strasberg), replaced by actors whose careers spanned less than ten television appearances. Granted, the comedic horror that the show spewed out on a nearly weekly basis did not allow many of the actors to perform in any notable way, but even in serious episodes such as "Parlour Floor Front" (here I'm referring to the two homeowners; Adolph Caesar was quite good) the "serious" acting was two-dimensional.

There were some long gaps between episodes, with no episode airing throughout March and April; the final episode aired nearly two months following its predecessor. I'm not sure why this was. Perhaps they were contracted a maximum of twenty-four episodes and at season's end stretched them out as special events while running re-rums or giving another show a chance to perform better. Or perhaps the producers were late in delivering the final episodes. All this, of course, is just speculation.

The strongest episodes from Season Three are: "The Last Car," "A New Lease on Life," "Effect and Cause," "Ursa Minor," and "Dream Girl," while other half-decent episodes were "Ring Around the Redhead," "The Old Soft Shoe," "The Devil's Advocate" and "The Shrine." The rest are forgettable or very close to it.


"The Shrine." (Episode 17: first aired 9 February 1986) Directed by Christopher T. Welch, written by Jule Selbo from a short story by author/editor Pamela Sargent. Starring Lorna Luft, Coleen Gray, Virginya Keene, Janet Wood and Larry Gilman. 6/10

Christine Matthews (Judy Garland's daughter Lorna Luft) returns to visit her mother (no, not Judy, but veteran Coleen Gray in her final screen role) after a six-year absence. Things are awkward between the two women, with tensions that have been present yet repressed for many years. We learn quickly that Christine has suffered a nervous breakdown and is convinced that her mother believes she is a failure. The creepy element is that mom has turned Christine's bedroom into a shrine, and in the late and early hours a little girl's voice can be heard in the room.

There are some creepy moments; just the idea of seeing yourself again as a ten year-old is enough to send anyone over the deep end. There is also a wonderful opening sequence that makes sense only after having watched the entire episode. Late on a stormy night Christine is knocking on the door, calling out to her mother: "Mother! Mother!" But her mom is asleep in the kitchen chair. We also hear a distant little girl's voice calling "Mommy!" and mom awakens, but instead of heading for the door to let Christine in from the rain, she heads to the stairs leading to the bedrooms, and the shrine. A truly nice, subtle touch.

This is also among the rare Darkside episode featuring an unambiguous happy ending, so I suppose that makes it unpredictable. The opening is well done and it's fairly well written, though the ending drags a little and there is a seemingly useless scene with Christine's brother (Larry Gilman), a character exposition scene that could have been written for her friend Toni (Janet Wood) instead: the episode deserves an all-female cast since the highlighted relationships are between mother and daughter. Aside from Coleen Gray the acting is fairly standard, though the roles don't require anything too elevated. Despite these intrusions I did enjoy this one for the most part, glad when the show tried to do something a little different, or at least do it a little differently.


"The Old Soft Shoe." (Episode 18: first aired 16 February 1986) Directed by Richard Friedman, written by Art Monterastelli. Starring Paul Dooley, John Fiedler, Kathy McLain, Dorothy Parke and Patrick Farrelly. 6/10

"No I'm not with some cheap floozie,
I'm in some creepy motel for God's sake!"

Travelling lingerie salesman Chester Caruso (Paul Dooley) is stranded in a cheap motel owned and operated by eccentric Arthur (the always lovable John Fiedler). There is only one room remaining, which Arthur is mysteriously unwilling to let, though an ten bucks is all the convincing he needs. In this room is beautiful ghost Glenda (Dorothy Parke), who believes that Caruso is a man named Harry. The rest is mostly predictable, though not necessarily bad.

The humour is at times painful, though the scene with Fiedler entering the room with a shotgun is amusing simply because it's reminiscent of the Warner Brothers hunter of bunnies Elmer Fudd, who Fiedler oddly resembles. (I wonder if this was intentional.)

The additional story explanations given at the end, Arthur's confusion about the odd events in cottage number 7 just don't make any sense. [Spoiler] Arthur is at first unwilling to rent the cottage out, though keeps the key in full view, and knows full well it's the room his father was drowned in, yet seems unaware and even shocked to learn of the room's unusual occurrences.

Finally, the title "Old Soft Shoe" is a reference to Caruso's soft dance steps, yet his tango is awkward and I can't imagine him ever competing in ballroom (I'm saying this as someone with experience). However, Caruso/Dooley is truly smooth in his approach with women, or so he thinks. Married and seemingly faithful, though flirtatious and wanting so much to be the womanizing road warrior, he is at the end of the day an old soft shoe, a slipper really, lacking danger, mystique and likely not a real threat of infidelity.

A special note on the cast, since each member does an honestly good job with this fairly generic ghost story. Dramatic and comedic character actor Paul Dooley, who was a stand-up comic for many years fits his soft shoes well. John Fiedler has been in just about everything, from 12 Angry Men to Star Trek and Kolchak: The Night Stalker, two The Twilight Zone episodes ("The Night of the Meek" and "Cavender is Coming") as well as two AHP episodes, including the popular Henry Slesar scripted "Incident in a Small Jail." Torontonian Dorothy Parke is simply lovely, and it's too bad she hasn't appeared more on screen. Non-actor Patrick Farrelly with the bit part as the sheriff was among the call-in voices in the episode "The Devil's Advocate."


"The Last Car." (Episode 19: first aired 23 February 1986) Directed by John Strysik, written by Michael McDowell. Starring Begonya Plaza, mary Carver, Louis Guss, Scooter Stevens and Bert Williams. 8/10

Young Stacey is heading home for Thanksgiving, and finding the train awfully crowded, makes her way to the peaceful confines of the last car. "Why is it so empty back here?" she muses, and the friendly old lady tells her it's because the furthest car sways the most, which many find uncomfortable. Stacey settles into a seat, and besides herself and the friendly older lady, the car is occupied by a young boy and an old man. Everyone is a little too agreeable, a little slow even, not the sharpest knives in the drawer.

And then there are the tunnels...

What makes this such a strong little play is not the shocking ending, since we can quickly figure out what's really going on, but the odd characters, each of whom are well portrayed, and those creepy little tunnel episodes. The surreal bits, from the Old Man's replenishing lunch box to the Boy's changing costumes and Mrs. Crane's quick knitting, are all excellent additions to something that could have been just bland, but is happily creepy. Director John Strysik has helmed some of the better Darkside episodes so far, with "Anniversary Dinner" in the first season and "A New Lease on Life" earlier in season two. Here he succeeds in directing the strongest episode of the season.

Members of the cast do a good job all around. Colombian actress Begonia Plaza as Stacey; Mary Carver (Mrs. Cecilia Simon of Simon & Simon) as Mrs. Crane, Louis Guss I thought great as the zombie-like yet strangely sympathetic Old Man; Scooter Stevens is a fine freckled Boy; and Bert Williams is nicely smiley in his brief turn as Conductor.


"A Choice of Dreams." (Episode 20: first aired 4 May 1986) Directed by Gerald Cotts, written by James Houghton from a story by Edward F. Shaver. Starring Abe Vigoda, Ralph Monaco, David Chandler and David Glen. 6/10

"Don't just stand there! Get me a bottle of scotch!"

Mobster Jake Corelli has just learned that he is dying. Having lived with more power than most can imagine, and more money, Corelli is nonetheless impotent in this new twist of events. The doctor makes it clear that he will die, and that the cancer he has will prove to be excruciatingly painful. Yet a mysterious scientist calls on Corelli with an offer of salvation through Afterlife, an invention that offers a kind of immortality: the ability to spend eternity with the happiest of his memories. Of course this comes with a hefty sum, which Corelli is able and willing to pay (for otherwise there would be no episode).

"What are you, some kind of hippy undertaker?"

Like most Darkside episodes I found this to be predictable, yet I did enjoy the progression, the quiet meditation and the suffering Corelli. The wonderful Abe Vigoda is in fine form in this episode, as is Ralph Monaco as right hand man Angelo. The others are a little weak and the laboratory set is less than impressive, but Vigoda and a few good one-liners prevent the episode from ever getting dull.


"Strange Love." (Episode 21: first aired 11 May 1986) Directed by Theodore Gershuny, written by Edithe Swensen (see below at "The Unhappy Medium" for comments on Swensen). Starring Harsh Nayyar, Marcia Cross and Patrick Kilpatrick. 5/10

A vampire love triangle. (The title, "Strange Love," is out of place in an era when love between mortals and vampires is, unfortunately, all too common.) In 1935, vampire Edmund Alcott drags physician Philip Carrol to the aid of his wife Marie who has broken her knee while dancing. We learn that times are tough and it's hard to find good, clean blood (it is, after all, during the Great Depression), so the doctor is essentially held captive and should do nicely for supper. Complications arise when the good doctor and his patient start developing feelings for each other. (Personally I find this odd, since though I love meat, I've never fallen for my steak enough to want to spare it, let alone make out with it.)

Yet that is only one of several problems with this ill-thought-out episode. The first main problem is that a superhuman vampire suffers a serious injury so easily (you'd think after hundreds of years of practice they'd be able to get their steps down). Yet they are desperate for a doctor to come and care for the wound, whereas the knee heals all by itself in no time. (But what the hell, we have a set-up for romance, don't we?) The second main problem is the choice of costume and make-up: we learn on sight that these archetypal figures are bloodsuckers, so that when the fangs are revealed there is absolutely no surprise. (Alcott is evidently modelled after Bela Lugosi.)

A dull and predictable episode, which would have ended better with an additional twist: Marie turns out to be have been the one to turn Edmund, hinting that every half-century or so she seeks a new mate, tired of the old. But that was not to be and so our generic ending remains for all eternity. (Like a vampire this episode is, sucking the universe of logic and good sense.)

It can be argued that, though the good doctor is turned into a vampire, this is a happy ending since they find love, while the evil vampire dies. I must add that there is an additional attempt at making Marie likable by revealing that she does not drink human blood, only the blood of animals. (Something much touted as of late with a ridiculously popular vampire series.) Edmund is made so unlikable (and unattractive) that one wonders what Marie ever saw in him, and I must add that versatile Indian actor Harsh Nayyar is a little irritating in this role, while Patrick Kilpatrick is a wuss who later becomes demented, it seems.

The best thing about this episode is the elegant and beautiful Marcia Cross, who delivers a fine performance made better by her absolutely wondrous knee.


"The Unhappy Medium." (Episode 22: first aired 18 May 1986) Directed by Dusty Nelson, written by Edithe Swensen. 2/10

Televangelist Farley Bright (Peter Miller) is dead and three people are gathered to view his video will (appropriate for someone who has made his fortune through the medium). His sister Caroline (Connie Stevens) wants the estate and to amass an additional fortune by taking over the business; associate Jonathan Reed (Richard Kuhlman, who is to appear in a season four episode) wishes to take on the role of tele-preacher; niece and Caroline's daughter Jenny (Carolyn Ann Clark) wants to donate the money to a humanitarian cause.

This is the second straight episode penned by Edithe Swensen, and the third in the series from a total of ten Darkside episodes. As the show progresses, Swensen will go on to prove that her attempts at humour tend to fall flat. Her first season episodes are lighter affairs, dealing with tricksters who lose the fight against good, and in this sense her scripts generally have happy endings. Of the first three this is by far the weakest, though none are good. Still early in her career, Swensen will go on and write some fine television, with six episodes of Monsters, one for Star Trek: The Next Generation, and five episodes for the excellent Odyssey 5.

There isn't much to say about this one. The evangelist is caught in limbo with the devil chasing his tail, and he uses Jenny to tell everyone (including the bored viewer) what's really going on, and to yell some threats out. Hence the title, as Jenny is an unhappy medium. Kind of like a puppet on strings. Characters open doors that look into Heaven and Hell, and all we see are smoky neon lighting, with Hell in red and Heaven in an odd, cold blue rather than a warm gold. The ending is silly but then again so is the beginning and those parts in between, and the only thing worth watching is that brief moment when Connie Stevens struggles with a painting, believing there is a safe hidden behind it. There is something charming about that handful of seconds.


"Fear of Floating." (Episode 23: first aired 25 May 1986) Directed by John Lewis, written by Donald Wollner from a story by Scott Edelman. Starring Lex Luthor, General Jonathan Krantz and Lisa Simpson. 4/10

In the middle of a tremendous heat wave in dusty Arizona, a man wearing heavy shoes (Sherman Howard, Lex Luthor from Superboy) rushes into a military recruiting house where two soldiers, Corporal Marcia Smith (Anne Lange) and Master Sergeant Buzz Caldwell (Leon Russom, Krantz from Prison Break) are on the verge of losing their senses amid the heat and boredom. The stranger, however, is seeking not a military career, but sanctuary from the crazed members of a circus he has just fled from. Well, it becomes clear that this person is a fibber, but more so, he has a special, uncontrollable talent, which is that without the weighted shoes he will float. And I mean float; not fly or glide, just soar uncontrollably like a helium balloon.

The odd premise, unique setting intermingled with its theme of becoming "grounded" by taking responsibility for one's actions could have worked nicely, but it doesn't. The problem is that the writers tried to create an amusing comedy when a more serious take on a surreal situation would have suited it better. Think of the excellent first season episode "If the Shoes Fit..." (S1E18)

The acting is fine, with a neat appearance by Yeardley Smith (best known as the voice of Lisa Simpson) and I liked the set quite a bit, with its dated recruiting posters and miscellaneous junk. There are some nice camera shots, with the opening focus on Uncle Sam's poster followed by the neat angle through the ceiling fan (see the shot above) which nicely displays both the neatly cluttered set and the element of heat. Moreover, it manages also to foreshadows the ending. Even the music has a playful military quality. Sadly, "Fear of Floating" is a failed episode that could have been far better.


"The Casavin Curse." (Episode 24: first aired 13 July 1986) Directed by Frank De Palma, written by Edithe Swensen. Starring unknowns Catherine Parks, Joseph Cortese, Scott Lincoln, Julie Ariola and John Brandon. 5/10

If the title hasn't given it away, Gina Casavin is cursed. Or is she? The lovely woman (Catherine Parks) believes she is unable to fall in love, simply because she is convinced that the man she loves will die a horrible death. The episode opens onto a bloody scene, shots of a woman lying by her white, virginal bed, covered in blood, pills on the table, flowers in a vase, a mirror on the wall... everything covered in blood, while a man lies dead at the vanity table, his back slashed open by what appears to be a set of claws. Suddenly there's a knock at the door, a woman calls out some information useful to the viewer, and our lovely, troubled heroine starts to scream: "I killed him!"

I found this episode painfully predictable. Perhaps I have read too many short stories employing a similar trope, with the idea of [spoiler alert] an attractive, innocent woman who is being sheltered by a mean-looking man who intends on marrying her despite the fact that he is her brother (played malevolently by Joseph Cortese). In his efforts he keeps all other men at bay. (Hey, it's Darkside's version of The Barber of Seville, just not as fun to watch.) The thing is, she did kill the guy. Her brother was right all along even though we don't want to believe him since he's such a [expletive]. The idea is that the viewer will automatically believe the woman innocent even though she doesn't believe it herself. The mean guy turns out to be in the right, and love does not prevail over all, but rather vengeance is a more powerful force. There is a little post-twist twist, which was unpredictable yet unnecessary and out-of-nowhere. Though really, the entire episode was not terribly necessary either.

Briefly: Russell Banks, Affliction (1989)

Banks, Russell. Affliction. NY: Harper & Row, 1989


In Russell Banks's Affliction, small town New Hampshire police officer and local well digger Wade Whitehouse is having a crummy week. A crummy week following a crummy life. Overall a powerful novel, with some great characters, dialogue and absolutely fine writing.

Then why did it take me three weeks to finish this novel?

Told through the point of view of Wade's youngest brother Rolfe, who has pieced the events together in so horribly an obsessive manner that he can imagine what Wade was eating, thinking and feeling throughout these tragic events. Rolfe's obsession came about as a result of wanting to understand the horrible tragedy that Wade's life had become, and to come to terms with those final hours leading to horrible acts of violence. An ingenuous method and wholly believable, yet what slows down the narrative is the vast amount of detail, often repetitive, that I felt were not only needless, but intrusive.

Reading through these details I found myself skimming, my thoughts drifting off, wondering why the narrator is so desperate to pound certain points across, as well as certain minor details. The more he pounded, the less I was inclined to buy into his theories, as though we were kids in the schoolyard and he wanted so badly for me to believe his incredibly tall tale that to help convince me he was being insistent, nodding his head aggressively and staring at me as though daring me to disbelieve. Yet because I trusted him at the beginning, this insistence was simply annoying, and I wanted to tell him to just get on with bloody story already. How exhausting, to the point that I was longing for the schoolyard bell to ring and quiet the little bugger.

And yet it is a powerful novel with some great moments. In all honesty, my rant was exaggerated for effect; annoyed is a strong word and I will certainly hunt me down some more writing by Mr. Banks.

I might even check out the movie.

Tales from the Darkside Season Two: Episodes 9 to 16

[Edited on 27 July 2011: added new screen shots.]

For the review of episodes 1 through 8, please visit here.
For the review of episodes 17 through 24, please visit here.
Season One begins here.

During the second third of season two, I discovered that I enjoy the more unusual, surreal and harder to define episodes. I've noticed that many viewers complain that there wasn't enough horror in the series, which is certainly true for something coming to us from the "darkside" (not to mention coming to us partly from George A. Romero), but some of the more unusual fantasies play out nicely, better than the straightforward horror. The comedic episodes are where the real horror lies, as these are usually prime examples of horrible television.


"The Trouble with Mary Jane." (S2E9) First aired 25 November 1985. Directed by T.J. Castronova. Written by Edithe Swensen. Starring Phyllis Diller, Lawrence Tiernay and Anita Dangler. 5/10

Nora and Jack Mills run a "Tea Shop" through which they swindle their customers with false tarot and crystal ball readings. They are recruited by a wealthy woman to perform an exorcism on her granddaughter. The episode consists of the couple's, though mostly Jack's, attempts at sending the possessing demon back to hell. Another weak attempt at humour, with obvious, exaggerated comedy, including a fair amount of slapstick and poor performances by the adults (I've have always found Phyllis Diller annoying, who was appropriately cast as the annoying lead in the poorly written and lamely executed Night Gallery episode "Pamela's Voice"). The unknown Tanya Fenmore as the granddaughter is of fun to watch, and her exaggerated Exorcist-inspired performance almost helps to save an otherwise bland episode.


"Ursa Minor." (S2E10) First aired 1 December 1985. Directed by Theodore Gershuny, teleplay by Gershuny from a story by John Sladek. With Marilyn Jones, Timothy Carhart, Malachy McCourt and Teddy the bear. 7/10

"I'm thirty-one years old, and I don't have the faintest idea what's real."

For her birthday Susie receives a little stuffed teddy bear from daddy. Strange thing is, daddy doesn't remember having picked it up. Well, since daddy is such a hopeless alcoholic, perhaps that's not so strange after all. Soon little accidents begin to happen around the house, like the vase of flowers getting knocked over and paw prints appearing on the wall. It wasn't Susie's doing of course, and without hesitation she names the culprit: "Teddy did it!" Now mommy isn't too happy with Susie not taking responsibility for her actions, and daddy is too drunk too care but keeps putting an end to mommy's temper tantrum, passive as he is. Well, mommy soon begins to suspect that Susie's imagination isn't as over-developed as she had thought, something the audience figured out long ago even though we've just met the little tyke. (Well, I suppose the opening Darkside titles were enough to tip us off.) Mommy is especially troubled when Teddy's eyes suddenly grow a bright red, and while she's stunned by terror, the poor viewer is stunned by the fact that effects crew couldn't come up with a better effect. Suddenly we cut from glowing ruby eyes to mommy tossing & turning in bed, so we're not too sure if those evil-looking eyes were real or part of a dream.

A clever episode that plays well with the generic demon doll storyline, but the ending really tosses the generic aspects aside by being both original and excellent. The finale highlights a number of family and responsibility themes that echo throughout the story. The more than dysfunctional mom & dad relationship is a great touch.


"Effect and Cause." (S2E11) First aired 8 December 1985. Directed by Mark Jean from an original script by Darkside regular Michael Kube-McDowell. Starring Susan Strasberg, Ben Marley, Judith-Marie Bergan and a bunch of objects... or not. 7/10

Free-spirit Kate Collins lives in her run-down home and insists on doing what she wants, rather than get a "real" job. One afternoon, friend David is visiting when the doorbell rings; two paramedics are at the door wondering where the victim is. David is baffled, so the paramedics, in their superior wisdom, clarify: the woman who fell down the stairs. A moment later, Kate falls down the stairs. Cool beginning, but it gets better.

Stuck at home with a broken leg, things begin to disappear, people appear at the door when unexpectedly needed, while other objects simply metamorphose right in front of Kate's eyes. She is fascinated, and while sister Janet, a devout skeptic, refuses to believe her, David is encouraging the neatness of these events. Yet while Kate does think they're neat, the sudden shifting of reality, she soon learns, can also be dangerous.

Whether different realities have crossed or the house itself is somehow out to get her, the reason objects disappear or change is not terribly clear. Yet it doesn't really matter. This neat episode (the best of the season so far) hearkens back to some of the better Twilight Zone episodes, such as "And When the Sky Was Opened" and "Mirror Image," though the disappearing objects in these little plays were usually human. Susan Strasberg does a great job as the free spirit, and while the script does at times fall into silliness territory, the storyline doesn't let up and makes for a good show. It helps too that the ending is quite strong, even a little disturbing.


"Monsters in My Room." (S2E12) First aired 22 December 1985. Directed by James Steven Sadwith from his original script. Starring Seth Green, Beth McDonald and Greg Mullavey. 5/10

Wimpy little Timmy likes animals, real and stuffed, playing piano and being sung lullabies at bed-time. Stepdad Biff thinks the kid needs some manliness in his bones so tosses footballs at him, makes him drink beer and is all around unpleasant company. Biff doesn't even understand how Timmy could be afraid of monsters in his room, yet these creatures seem a little too real.

A good concept is badly executed. It appears the show was intended to be a light, tongue-in-cheek affair (it is the Christmas episode after all), with a cute kid and an a-hole who gets what he deserves. I suspect the monsters were supposed to be ambiguous, the audience wondering if it was all in his head or not until the final reveal, and yet it fails because it is too predictable. We've seen enough of these good kid/bad guy scenarios to know that, especially around the holiday season, good conquers its fears while bad is simply conquered. There are some amusing bits, some nice exaggeration, though I would've liked more over-the-top bedroom moments. And while the battle between Timmy and Biff rages, poor innocent mom is left at the end to suffer.


"Comet Watch." (S2E13) First aired 12 January 1986. Directed by Warner Shook and written by Jule Selbo and Harvey Jacobs, from a short story by Jacobs. Starring Fritz Weaver, Anthony Heald, Kate McGregor-Stewart and Sarah Rush. 4/10

Another tale of the wimpy husband whose wife doesn't understand him and would rather he be a wealthier and more successful businessman or banker. In this one, the Omega male is amateur astronomer Englebert Ames who is about to gaze through his telescope to watch Halley's Comet as she is about to make her closest pass of the Earth. Well, in barges his less than lovely wife, eating cheap chocolate while her head is in curlers. (This archetypal image alone can alert the average American as to who is whom and how the episode will eventually end. Just recall last season's "The Word Processor of the Gods.") Wife tells hubby to get dressed since daddy has invited them to dinner, and poor mousy Englebert is stricken anxious as the once in seventy-five year event is coming to pass. Well, gazing through the scope he sees a pretty girl who is evidently standing beside a smoke machine. She tumbles into the room through the telescope and we soon learn she has been riding the comet with none other than Sir Edmund Halley himself since September 1910, her wedding day. Halley (Fritz Weaver, whose appearance in the season one episode "Inside the Closet" is far more memorable) has been chasing the lovely bride-to-be for three quarters of a century, and while he's quite frisky she's a little worn out. Well, the characters do get paired off and it's all supposed to be funny and heartwarming but is instead irritating.


"Dream Girl." (S2E14) First aired 19 January 1986. Directed by Timna Ranon, written by Ranon from a short story by Barbara Paul. Starring Carolyn Seymour, John Cedar, Lou Cutell, Shannon Kriska and Dawson Mays. 6/10

In this truly odd episode, New York Chamber Theatre director Andrea Caldwell (Carolyn Seymour, who also performed the female demon voice in Episode 9: "The Trouble with Mary Jane") has lost patience in her search for the play's author, the latest of a string of theatrical disappearances. An actress and an electrician have also gone missing. Soon Andrea finds herself in a surreal fantasy, being controlled by the theatre's janitor Otto Schrog (Lou Cutell) in the most obvious of macho roles. Here she stumbles upon actress Didi (Shannon Kriska) and electrician Joe D'Amico (Dawson Mays), discovering that all four of them are caught in Otto's strange fantasy.

This episode is surreal and unusual, yet while the humour often misses its mark I found myself enjoying the quirky little tale better than most straightforward episodes. Partly it is the quirkiness that I find appealing, the unusual story as well as the almost childish directing attempts to create a dreamlike atmosphere. And the costumes were pretty neat, from Andrea's cute Alps waitress uniform to D'Amico's hilarious shirtless farmer overalls. What I find most appealing, however, is the notion that it is the director who is unable to control the action; she can criticize the quality of the fantasy, the unoriginal scenarios and ridiculous dialogue, but as much as she tries to control the scene she can't. Of course we can relate this to life events, draw up a thesis on the notion of free will and the individual's inability to stage his own life. Moreover, we learn that Otto is a hopeless, sadly unsuccessful dreamer who once yearned for the romance of work at sea. We cannot control our destiny just as we cannot control those around us, and Andrea learns at the end that in her attempt to take control of Otto, not only to seek escape but to stake vengeance, she becomes a mere player in another's fantasy. As silly as the episode may be, it works on more levels than most other season two Darkside offerings.


"A New Lease on Life." (S2E15) First aired 26 January 1986. Directed by John Strysik; written by Michael McDowell and Harvey Jacobs from a story by Adam K. Jacobs. Starring Marie Windsor, Robert Rothman, Ben Frank, Robert Sutton and Patricia Pelham. 7/10

A young professional moves into the St. George, a nifty downtown building for a whopping $200 per month; a price, he says, that wouldn't even fetch a parking spot. The catch becomes all too obvious to the viewer early on, intentionally so, yet makes for good fun as we watch young Archie Fenton (Robert Rothman, blues singer Chicago Babe) exist in complete obliviousness to the fact that the building is alive. Building caretaker Madame Angler (veteran Marie Windsor in a great performance) is a treat to watch, as are handymen Al and Mac (Ben Frank and Robert Sutton), who are somewhat reminiscent of arrogant repairmen Spoor and Dowser of Terry Gilliam's brilliant 1985 film Brazil. Pale neighbour Helen Tanner (Patricia Pelham, or Lady Patricia Pelham-Clinton-Hope, then wife of actor Nick Mancuso) is also a nice addition, making for a fine set of well-rounded characters. It is the people who are truly creepy here and not the building itself, yet this too appears intentional and is a wise decision since emphasis on the building and the inherent silliness of it being organic has the potential of leaning to the unintentionally comedic.


"Printer's Devil." (S2E16) First aired 26 January 1986. Directed and written by John Harrison, from a short story by the prolific Ron Goulart. 4/10

There is little else to comment other than the fact that John Harrison, the dude behind the episode "The Satanic Piano," has brought us another bad episode. Author wannabe Junior P. Harmon (Larry Manetti, most recognizable as Orville Wright in Magnum P.I.) responds to a radio ad and meets successful literary agent Alex Kellaway (an amusing Charles Knapp) who happens to use all forms of magic to promote his authors. Moreover, he expects his writers to perform spells as well, and insists that Harmon would most benefit from animal sacrifices. Occasionally amusing, the episode is mostly dull and utterly predictable. It doesn't help that Kate Charleson as editor and love interest Brenda Hardcastle is miscast.

Planet of the Apes: The Series (1974) Part II

For an overview and a review of the first seven episodes, please click here.
For some great series posters (I've borrowed one below) and other great memorabilia, please visit Hunter's Planet of the Apes Archive.

And so we come to the end. Not just of the season but of the show. As the opening credits of the final episode began and the percussions sounded, I was admittedly saddened; the series grew on me more than I had expected. It's too bad the networks didn't allow for POTA to at least play out the entire season, thereby giving it a chance to garner additional viewers, and at least leaving us with a few more episodes. There is no finale here, no opportunity to let viewers know of the eventual fate of our heroes. The show simply ends, as though the peephole we've been glimpsing through at these events has been boarded up, and while the three fugitives continue on the other side to live on the run, we no longer have any access to them. I truly hope they managed all right.

"The Deception." (Episode 8: First aired 1 November 1974) Directed by Don McDougall (his third and last for the show), and written by Anthony Lawrence.

Human (or ape) nature doesn't change over the centuries. Our heroes stumble upon blind female ape Fauna (Jane Actman) who lives isolated with her uncle. Since she is blind, the humans do not need to hide in Fauna's presence, only to avoid her touch. As a consequence of this deceit, Fauna quickly falls in love with Burke, claiming his voice is similar to that of a former lover. Burke is the second of our heroes to have a female lusting after him (Galen met a lustful female chimpanzee back in "The Good Seeds," and don't worry, there is plenty more female lust to come).

Fauna's human-loving father was a victim of the dragoons, a secret society of apes that perform violent acts against local humans while wearing cloth masks. To help out the innocent members of the local community, Galen infiltrates the organization by becoming a dragoon recruit. There is nothing subtle or surprising about the episode but it is nonetheless well done. Science fiction set in the future often deals with our mistakes of the past (and visiting the past is a common science fiction trick, popularized for television by Star Trek; POTA is uniquely pre-steampunk in that it is set simultaneously in the future and the past--the future of Earth existing in a primitive setting). I wonder how much pressure (if any) producers or writers faced in having to deal with topical issues, or scenarios dealing with recent American history.

The title of this episode alludes to a variety of deceits, from the deceiving of an innocent and sensitive blind ape by our fugitives, to her uncle's deceiving her about his role in dragoon violence and the part he himself played in her father's death. 7/10

"The Horse Race." (Episode 9: First aired 8 November 1974) Directed by Jack Starrett, and written by Booker Bradshaw and David P. Lewis.

Most shows had one of these: an episode consisting of a race with great stakes to be had or to be lost. In this one, Virdon must race against Urko's best horse in order to save the life of a rebelling human farm boy. Urko's team of soldiers do not play fair, setting traps and planning, at the finish line, to kill the opposing jockey. The theme is a little tired and the episode itself is standard fare. Moreover, favourite character Galen has little to do with this, except to get stung by a poisonous scorpion that sets off the chain of events. 5/10

"The Interrogation." (Episode 10: First aired 15 November 1974) Directed by Alf Kjellin, and written by Richard Collins. Guest starring Beverly Garland, Anne Seymour

Director Alf Kjellin is a veteran of television, with work dating back to 1950s Swedish cinema, and a repertoire that includes an episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents and eleven episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Hour; in the 1980s he fared quite poorly, having to work on Dynasty. Either way, the effort put into this hour of television is quite commendable.

In a quick, exciting opening sequence, Burke is captured by gorilla soldiers. In Central City, it is evident to General Urko that Burke's capture will lead the other fugitives to him, so troops are set up at every possible entry point. And while Urko wants to have Burke lobotomized, Zaius instead hands him over to the young chimpanzee scientist Wanda for experimentation. There is a wonderful scene between these three, the orangutan, the gorilla and the female chimpanzee, where Urko's frustration at the others' need to experiment and his understanding of brainwashing is simply hilarious. Mark Lenard, best known for his various Star Trek roles including Spock's father Sarek, is particularly effective here as Urko; while we are faced with his most irrational and threatening side, he manages nonetheless to be amusing to the point of likable. Television icon Beverly Garland does a great Wanda (she has had regular appearances in many TV shows, including the role of Maggie in the The Twilight Zone episode "The Four of Us Are Dying").

As for the washing of the brain, Wanda wishes to use the methods she discovered in a book found in a time capsule from the distant and primitive past of 1986. Oddly, though, the book looks like something printed in the 1940s. What is odder still is that though Wanda wishes to brainwash Burke, to "replace his ideas with other ideas" (paraphrase), what she essentially does is interrogate and torture, asking him over and over which humans have helped him and his fellow refugees. She employs disorientation, sleep deprivation, starvation, and so forth, and I'm really not sure where the replacing of ideas comes into play. I'll blame the confusion on the tattered book having been produced in 1986; that was truly one dated and confused society (I wonder what else was locked into the time capsule, a recording of "Walk Like an Egyptian" and VHS copies of Platoon and Top Gun. The horror.)

Other wonderful moments in this episode include Galen impersonating a woman, and the interactions between Galen and his parents. Yes, we meet his chimpanzee folks, his liberal, loving and rational mother, and his hard-headed father. Anne Seymour makes a wonderful mother to sensitive Galen, while Norman Burton is her fine antithesis as father Yalu. Really, apes are so like humans in nearly every way; why can't we just get along? (Incidentally, Burton was also in the original Planet of the Apes film, playing the gorilla hunt leader.)

And all this excitement is capped off by a great hospital fight sequence. 7/10

"The Tyrant." (Episode 11: First aired 22 November 1974) Directed by Ralph Senensky, and written by Walter Black.

Urko is once again a good ape. Not that he has warmed to our heroes, but simply because he is decidedly at odds with bad ape Aboro, the "Tyrant" of this week's title. In a farming region Aboro, an old academy buddy of Urko's, has bribed his way to the role of prefect. While Aboro is quite amoral, willing to use murder for profit, he says of the ape general: "Urko never approved of corruption." This treats us to a unique view of our heroes' prime enemy, essentially portraying him as an upright lawman bent on chasing our friends from a sense of duty rather than personal vengeance. This portrayal, however, completely contradicts previous Urkos we've seen, especially the overly corrupt one of "The Horse Race." But consistency has never been a staple of television, and given that last week we settled for dumb Urko to great laughs, this week we'll happily accept upstanding Urko.

Yet there is another glaring error in the episode, though this one is self contained and not a result of the series as a whole. Our heroes play Robin Hood by inciting humans to steal back some grain, a revolt which leads to the death of a human. (A responsibility our leads do not appear to be guilted by, or even fully aware of.) This cold-blooded killing and the previous attitudes of our heroes inspires a human youth to want to rebel against the apes. Yet now our wise humans, who that same morning roused the same man to rebel, getting another man killed, wisely tell the revolutionary wannabe that it might be best to go through proper channels and meet with the district prefect. Why had they not made this wise, unrebelious suggestion before getting an innocent man killed?

Roddy McDowall once again steals the show with Galen's impersonation of Zaius's assistant Octavio, and the strongest scenes in the episode are those between Octavio and Aboro. The corrupt Aboro is well played by unknown Percy Rodrigues, who lends a fine voice to the role. 7/10

"The Cure." (Episode 12: First aired 29 November 1974) Directed by Bernard McEveety, and written by Edward J. Lakso.

Finally, Virdon can also boast about having a woman lusting after him, this one even more lustily determined than the females desiring Galen ("The Good Seeds") and Burke ("The Deception). Moreover, this time the lust is all human.

We have seen our multi-talented ass-tro-nauts play the role of gladiators, farmers, veterinarians, fishermen, electricians, and jockeys, and in "The Cure" they reveal their talents as both doctors and apothecaries. Our heroes have just left the haven of a small community, forced to return when they learn (conveniently) that a sickness has struck the human population. Being good doctors, they quickly assess the symptoms of malaria, and, as masterful apothecaries they search for the tree whose bark can be ground into a cure. They must, however, match wits with the chimpanzee physician who, it quickly becomes apparent, knows little of ailments, as well as General Urko, who becomes livid when his own men become infected. (Multi-talented, certainly, but just imagine all they could have accomplished had they had access to Wikipedia.)

An average episode with some ups and downs. The ease with which our pilots can treat this illness borders on comical, though I suppose it's necessary for the show to focus on the tensions between Urko and, well, pretty much everyone else. A smart move was to begin with the men leaving the community, the woman Amy (Sondra Locke, successful actress and long-time partner of Mr. Clint Eastwood) already in love with Virdon, rather than to tire us and embarrass the actors by showing the awkward process. 6/10

"The Liberator." (Episode 13: never aired) Directed by Arnold Laven, written by Howard Dimsdale. Guest starring John Ireland.

"If chimpanzees were ever afraid, and if humans were what they were afraid of, I can tell you that is a man to fear." So says Galen of village leader Brun, a man who prays to the gods and, as witnessed by our chimpanzee friend, the gods listen.

In this world laws are as diverse and numerous as the villages. Twice a summer apes arrive at this episode's village to gather five human slaves and drag them to the mines, each of whom, we later learn, dies within a few months. Village members hunt the "meadow people," those who live out in the open to give to the apes in place of their own. Stumbling upon a fleeing villager, Burke and Virdon are caught and held as future slaves for the apes. All of these laws are upheld by leader Brun, even where the happiness of his son is concerned, whose wife is also to be among the slaves.

(Major spoilers.) Whereas earlier our heroes have proven their talents in a variety of areas, here we add to their expertise the knowledge of chemistry. It turns out that the thing killing those who enter the temple is not a pagan god, but a poisonous gas, and Brun survives only because he wears a gas mask (it is this technological defense that is our future god). Moreover, Brun is stockpiling the poison so that he can later use it against the apes, annihilating them. A creepy episode that is essentially about genocide and germ warfare. Canadian-born John Ireland does well in playing Brun, being menacing, kind and naive all at once. Truly a very good episode, in part because both apes and humans are portrayed in their darker colours. 8/10

"Up Above the World So High." (Episode 14: First aired 6 December 1974) Directed by John Meredyth Lucas, written by Arthur Browne Jr. and S. Bar-David from a story by Bar-David (Shimon Wincelberg). Guest starring Joanna Barnes, Frank Aletter and Martin E. Brooks.

"Some humans are much more human than other humans. You! You are the most human." So says wise Galen, though we learn that even chimpanzees can be human, some even more human than humans.

In their final screen adventure, our friends try to help a hopelessly stubborn and ambitious man (the You! from the quote above) named Leuric (Frank Aletter) who has built a glider and wants nothing more than to be the first person to fly. By now we've learned that Burke and Virdon can do anything, so of course they realise immediately that Leuric's glider cannot the mystery of flight, and that they can, in no time at all, build something better. (In fact, the glider's so finely tuned with great steering and comfy first-class seating I'm surprised our heroes can't fly it straight back to the home of their past.) The real treat in this episode, incidentally, is watching an excited Galen perfect the flying machine.

Yet the real excitement sits in blue-eyed chimpanzee Casia, a scientist proven to be more human than hard-headed Leuric. Now, by "human" Galen (and I) mean those aspects that make us desire glory only for ourselves and limit our perspectives of the world as a whole. Casia is strong-willed and driven by a need to show the world that chimpanzees are superior to gorillas and orangutans, and is haunted by the reality that no chimpanzee sits on the high council. Galen is smitten with her, as she is with him, and the attraction, along with Galen's flirting, is great to watch. Moreover, Casia is well introduced in her meeting with gorilla officer Konag (Martin E. Brooks, who was Leander in the previous episode "The Surgeon") as she toys with him and gets everything she wants. As Casia, Joanna Barnes does a great job, both in delivery and in the way she positions those chimp hands.

Directed by the late, long-time TV writer and director John Meredyth Lucas, who has written and directed for Star Trek, and did a fine job with the Night Gallery segment "The Housekeeper" (see my review). Despite some sound trouble in some outdoor sequences, with voices nearly drowned out by strong gusts of wind, Lucas has put together a well structured episode. There is some great lighting and shadow play in the sinister moments in Carsia's quarters, and the flight attempt scene is nicely desperate and chaotic, though this is enhanced primarily by the editing.

A good episode for a series that truly should have run the course of the season. But I suppose network producers are more human than both humans and apes. 7/10

Tales from the Darkside Season Two: Episodes 1 to 8

[Edited for formatting & new screenshots, 3 July 2011]

Season One begins here
Season Two continues here


Many of the first season directors and writers have returned for a much weaker showing; you would think experience with season one would have taught those behind the camera to produce better fare. Compared to the opening season, this one features less originality, less diversity, less creativity, while providing us with some truly poor acting. The first third of the season is consistently average to below average, with a couple of embarrassing entries. While there are the occasional good make-up effects, from Tom Savini and others, there is little to recommend in this batch of stories. The season does improve, but fails to meet the quality of the show's inaugural year.


"The Impressionist." (S2E1) First aired 26 September 1985. Directed by Armand Mastroianni. Written by Haskell Barkin from a story by M. Coleman Easton. Starring Chuck McCann. 4/10

Comedy club performer Spiffy Remo is an impressionist, his impersonations so canny that he is taken away from his show by a mysterious, steel-eyed government agent. He has been unwillingly recruited for a super duper secret mission, so secret that I can't tell you what it is, only that it has to do with aliens and greatly alters the life of our hero, and thankfully for the rest of us, puts an end to his comedy act.

An odd season opener, this one, but not in a good way. I don't think "The Impressionist" attracted many new second season fans. The problem is the story-line isn't all that interesting. It was written by Haskell Barkin, and is Barkin's third and final Darkside, following the first season's "Pain Killer" (S1E3) and "All a Clone by the Telephone" (S1E11). I appreciate the attempt at trying something quirky, but this one just isn't all that interesting. Comedian and voice actor Chuck McCann is average, while the rest of the cast is embarrassing to watch.


"Lifebomb." (S2E2) First aired 6 October 1985. Directed by Frank De Palma. Adapted by Michael Kube-McDowell from his own story. Starring Bill Macy, Robert Riesel and Samantha Harper. 5/10

Successful CEO Ben Martin is approached by an insurance man offering him technology that will prolong his life. The "lifebomb" is attached to the back with various sensors that, when the host is in danger, transforms into a cocoon to protect and administer medicine until help arrives. The episode follows an interesting concept and tries to act thematically as a reminder of the briefness and value of human life. The twenty-something minutes, however, prove repetitive, with some weak acting so that despite its strong premise, it soon becomes less than pleasurable to watch, which again reminds us of the briefness of life.


"Ring Around the Redhead." (S2E3) First aired 13 October 1985. Directed by Theodore Gershuny. Adapted by Gershuny from a story by John D. MacDonald. Starring John Heard, Penelope Ann Miller, Caris Corfman and Greg Thornton. 6/10

A lonely inventor is about to be executed for the murder of a sleaze, and tells an attentive journalist what no jury would believe: that a gateway opened to another universe and it brought him love. Based on a short story by prolific mystery writer John D. MacDonald, it is written and directed in the style of film noir, but often resulting in film 1980s. There are elements of the tongue-in-cheek, with everyone involved aware of how dated and silly the storyline is, but knowing it can still be fun. The story is predictable yet nonetheless enjoyable. Characters are stock, and there are some things more unbelievable than a gateway to other worlds, such as a man being convicted on death row and going immediately to the electric chair rather than having to wait locked up over the course of a few years. Worse still is that awkward moment right at the beginning with a very self-conscious actor playing a security guard showing what I believe is supposed to be disdain or disgust in the face of our hero. And finally, no one would believe the nerdy John Heard would be able to kill anyone. Some of the acting is a little stilted, though this may have been intentional, though Penelope Miller does a good job in her first screen role.


"Parlour Floor Front." (S2E4) First aired 20 October 1985. Directed by Richard Friedman. Written by Carole Lucia Satrina. Starring Adolph Caesar, Rosetta LeNoire and a couple of non-actors. 4/10

"I'm sorry. It was a pretty cat."

You know this one will be about voodoo or island rituals since there is a black man in it. Ironically, Romero did well himself in casting a black man in a non-race specific role in Night of the Living Dead, and continued casting colour-blindly over the years, and while he had little to do with casting here... but I digress.

[Warning: mini rant.] It is unfortunate that most Darksides casting black actors did so consciously, as in "Parlour Floor Front" and "Baker's Dozen," (S3E9) and while "The Satanic Piano" (S2E6) could have been played just as readily by a white cast, there was a kind of 1980s Lionel Ritchie pop sensation thing going on there. The only Asian actor, James Hong, was cast as a Laundromat operator, and later a Hispanic woman is cast as the poverty-stricken victim in "Payment Overdue" (S4E10).

A white couple recently bought a house in which lives a black man in the parlour floor front, who has an unbreakable lease. Turns out he does magic, white woman is evil, the cat dies and oh my god the curse was real all along. The only good thing about this episode, actually, is Adolph Caesar, and it is too bad he wasn't cast in more roles, non-specific race roles or otherwise. As for the white couple... the worst example of acting I've seen in a long time, and I am not surprised that the male half (John Calonius) has only one other credit to his name on IMDb. The female half, Donna Bullock, is so superlatively mean that it's difficult to judge her acting; how anyone would marry her is indeed the most complex mystery in the episode. The directing is not much better: there is a scene where soft white man threatens to leave evil white woman, empties out a drawer, grabs a bag that is really a tiny cloth suitcase and tosses a handkerchief or sock or rag into it, appear satisfied that he's prepared for a long journey, and noiselessly slams the cloth briefcase shut. That'll show her!


"Halloween Candy." (S2E5) First aired 27 October 1985. Directed by Tom Savini. Written by Michael McDowell. Starring Roy Poole, Tim Choate and Savini's make-up. 6/10
Make-up artist Tom Savini has returned for another turn at directing a Darkside episode, after having done a fine job with season one's superior "Inside the Closet." (He will return for the fourth season with yet another strong showing.) This year's Halloween entry is about old curmudgeon Mr. Killup who refuses to give candy to kids on the all important night and pays the price. Savini's masks and make-up are great, but the episode is illogical and unintentionally sad. While Mr. K is supposed to be getting his comeuppance for being so curmudgeonly, I felt for the poor, aging man, who does little other than nap, watch television and eat. "What else is there to do?" he asks his son. What indeed. Hi wife is gone, he's had no career and little in the way of interests, aside from the little TV. The poor widower is eking out his days to the last, and if he wants to be curmudgeonly and left alone, the choice is his right and should not be punishable by death.


"The Satanic Piano." (S2E6) First aired 3 November 1985. Directed by John Harrison. Written by Harrison from a story by Carl Jacobi. Starring Michael Warren, Lisa Bonet, Phil Roth and Felice Orlandi. 2/10

"What the hell do you know about sexy?" Warren snaps at teenage daughter Bonet. The image of innocence both here and the early years of The Cosby Show, actress Lisa Bonet would prove to be more than sexy (and little else besides) only two years later with her infamous screen time spent with Mickey Roorke in Alan Parker's Angel Heart. Such are the connections we make through visual media.

And we are forced to seek some frame of reference in order to stave off boredom in this lacklustre episode. Popular musician Pete Bancroft is experiencing composer's block when he is mysteriously invited by a mysterious stranger to a mysterious address to receive a mysterious offer concerning a mysterious piano. It has something to do with sucking souls and the musician's "I love you daddy! I wrote this song for you!" daughter is sucked into the sucky situation of an episode that simply sucks.

We do learn the important lesson that over-produced synthetic 1980s music is the choice of sound for the devil, soul music, if you will. Bonet is quite awful and Warren is simply irritating (he was at the time near the end of his long stint on the popular Hill Street Blues), but really they are stranded in a story with a script beyond bad. The set-up, during which we learn about the musician's woes, takes nearly half the episode, while the rest is fleeting, predictable and unremarkable. The music itself is painful generic 80s Faltermeyer-like. I can blame only John Harrison for the entire fiasco, as he not only adapted the story and directed, but also composed the music. This was the third of eight episodes he directed and composed the music for.


"The Devil's Advocate." (S2E7) First aired 10 November 1985. Directed by Michael Gornick. Written by George A. Romero. Starring Jerry Stiller. 6/10

Luther Mandrake, midnight talk radio host of "The Devil's Advocate," is more devil than advocate as he not only rants and raves about the unfairness of life, but does his best to drag his listeners and callers down. As with first season episode "It All Comes Out in the Wash," it's a kind of monologue or one-man show carried by a single actor, with occasional interruptions (in this case, solely by voices). Jerry Stiller is well cast and able to practice the all-out rage he later perfected as Frank Costanza on Seinfeld. These kinds of episodes are difficult to produce as they must maintain a single idea over twenty or so minutes while keeping viewers interested by mounting suspense and delivering quality mono/dialogue, with enough movement on screen to keep the audience watching. There are some nice touches, such as host Mandrake watering his plant from the cooler, spilling thick soup onto the voice modulator of his flashing console, and a zombie-like engineer who eventually falls asleep on the job.

The ending is not surprising but surprisingly sad since we (at least I) did feel a pang of sympathy for Mandrake. Unfortunately there is too much exposition and the voice at the end is somewhat unoriginal and even silly.


"Distant Signals." (S2E8) First aired 17 November 1985. Directed by Bill Travis. Written by Theodore Gershuny from a story by Andrew Weiner. Starring Darren McGavin, Lenny Von Dohlen and David Margulies. 5/10

Mysterious Mr. Smith appears with bars of gold, insistent that production on a 1960s detective TV show be completed. The show, "Max Paradise," was cancelled mid-season, yet evidently has a following far away. A cheap, poorly written detective show about a man seeking his identity.

I always like to watch Darren McGavin, whether as the dad in the wonderful A Christmas Story, the lead in Kolchak: The Night Stalker, or in his many roles in anthologies such as Alfred Hitchcock Presents and Tales of Tomorrow, but even he can't save the drivel that is "Distant Signals." He is well cast, though, a hearkening back to his portrayal of Mike Hammer in the late 1950s. The episode is all-too-predictable, with Mr. Smith's identity evident as soon as we see him. The episode is a simple affair, with false tension created by McGavin's sudden inability to rehearse, easily remedied, and his out-of-nowhere expository revelation of why the show was completed is just silly. Moreover, Lenny von Dohlen is too self-conscious as Mr. Smith, appearing like a kid in his first high school stage role.