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Perry Mason: The Case of the Mystified Miner (1962)
A Lot of Mean Ladies
The second half of Season 5 has some real gems and "The Case of the Mystified Miner" is certainly one of them. This episode is based on the Gardner novel "The Case of the Spurious Spinster." The only misleading thing about that title is the implication that there is only one spinster.
"Mystified Miner" centers on Susan Fisher, a secretary for the Corning Company - owned by Amelia Corning. She works directly for Mr. Campbell, whose job is not particularly well described. Nonetheless, Campbell's son runs into the office on a Saturday and hands a shoe box to Susan (he says it's treasure that he needs to hide from the pirates, how cute). She discovers that it's filled with genuine treasure indeed - $200 thousand dollars! Before she can notify Mr Campbell, Mrs. Corning calls and tells Susan she's just arrived from South America and to pick her up at the airport right away. This sets off a chain of events that cause Susan Fisher to look awfully bad. Fisher (played by Kathie Browne, who was in 4 episodes of Perry Mason and 3 episodes of Ironside) does a good job playing the trusting but naive good girl. Every time she does something stupid, it's only a little annoying to watch.
The basic idea is that somebody is embezzling from the company, and the murder that takes place is undoubtedly tied into the embezzlement. Simple enough, but the relationships between the characters are unclear which can make the story rather confusing. On the other hand, the episode has excellent pace. From the moment the kid runs into the office with his "treasure," something interesting is always happening and it isn't until the very end that it actually makes sense. Like a lot of Perry Mason epilogues, there's a lot of explaining to do.
Della mentions her age to a mechanic (I can't tell if it's supposed to be a joke or not) and Tragg has a funny scene in Mason's office. There's also a clever tactic employed by Mason to tamper with evidence in a circuitous manner, which winds up being completely irrelevant. Overall, there are a lot of good reasons to watch this one.
Perry Mason: The Case of the Glittering Goldfish (1959)
A Close-Up of Murder
If you are prone to motion sickness, take some Dramamine before watching The Case of the Glittering Goldfish, because you are in for some very abrupt and constant camera motion - in particular, some rather intense close-ups. But before the dramatic direction goes into full effect, we are shown a monumental innovation: the cure for gill fever! Tom Wyatt has spent the better part of his recent years perfecting the formula. What he doesn't know is that, in order to fund the experiments, his employer (Gage Clarke as Frederick Rollins) has sold the fish store to a man named Huxley.
Huxley's purchase made him sole owner of Wyatt's cure for gill fever, because it was done in Huxley's store with Huxley's lab equipment. As you can imagine, both Wyatt and Rollins are pretty cheesed with Huxley and they do the intelligent thing by consulting Perry Mason, who promises to look over the contract and find a loophole that will restore ownership of the fish medicine to Wyatt and Rollins. Unfortunately, Wyatt's blood is found all over the scene of the crime when Huxley's corpse is found- he's been poisoned with morphine. Wyatt is arrested and the search for the killer begins, a search complicated by the fact that everybody hated Huxley. Including Huxley's wife.
Cecil Kellaway plays Huxley's drunken scientist (Darrell Metcalf), assigned to break down the formula for the gill fever cure. Kellaway is hilarious as the drunken genius. One scene has Kellaway and Mason trading fish metaphors during a discussion of the murder, and even the stone-faced William Hopper can be seen trying to stop himself from laughing.
The aforementioned direction is a bit jarring and not to my taste, but it adds to the general feel of campy late-50s noir. All in all, this is not up there with the best of the Perry Mason episodes. It's corny, complicated, and predictable if you're an avid Mason fan. But Kellaway's performance is every bit as contagious as gill fever, and for that, it's a fun hour of television.
Ironside: The Happy Dreams of Hollow Men (1970)
It's just a cold!
A very unusual episode of Ironside pairs the chief with an old friend in a cozy cabin for what is supposed to be a brief, enjoyable visit during which the two men can catch up and have a few drinks. What Ironside doesn't know is that his friend Harry is fighting a personal battle -- addiction. He's hooked, holed up, and is just starting to get the shakes as Ironside arrives.
Harry's connection is supposed to make an emergency delivery but can't make it there and gets stranded at a hotel due to a snowstorm that closes the only road to the cabin. Thus the friendly visit turns into a battle between the desperate addict and the compassionate but tough Chief Ironside. There is no detective work or dastardly plan to thwart. It's completely against the Ironside formula and it would have been a complete disaster were it not for Joseph Campanella's portrayal of an addict in the height of withdrawal.
It is certainly a bit cartoonish at times (more or less "I'm willing to kill to get my fix") but overall it's a fairly accurate portrayal of heroin withdrawal. The exterior of the men melt away as they become vulnerable to each other, and there is nobody to save them. A side plot with Harry's dealer and Mark waiting for the roads to clear is thrown in which reminds us what show we're watching. Otherwise, this is like a slightly above average after school special about addiction that happens to have a terrific performance from Campanella to carry it.
The Ray Bradbury Theater: The Lake (1989)
A lake made out of my tears because this episode makes me cry so many tears
Watching "The Lake," I was forced to remind myself every few minutes that this was Ray Bradbury theater, because it felt so much like an episode of the 80s reboot of the Twilight Zone. It's one of those dreamy, nostalgic coming of age stories that uses the present as a point of reference. In order to form a cohesive narrative, Bradbury Theater destroys the meaning of Bradbury's original story, "The Lake," on which this episode was based.
Destroying the story is not as offensive as it sounds, because a Bradbury story will never look as good on a television as it looks in your head. It's just confusing trying to follow what you're watching and what you know - but what you know isn't what's happening. Yes, it's a cohesive, dreamy story recalling the end of a summer and the beginning of adulthood - which, as Bradbury explains, is a coincidence as (he claims) this story was the one that "turned (him) into a writer." It's a nice story, you will probably remember it, but it's sappy and the meaning of the original is lost. And it's really sappy.
Alfred Hitchcock Presents: Graduating Class (1959)
A Below Average Grade for Graduating Class
Miss Siddons is the new European history teacher at an all-girl college, and she is a bit shy at first. However, she quickly sorts out who the slackers are and who the model students are, and forms a particularly close bond to one girl named Gloria. Her perception of Gloria is altered when she witnesses her accompanying an older man into a night club and struggles to maintain an appropriate relationship with both Gloria and next door neighbor Ben Prowdy.
This episode is very awkward, and much of that awkwardness comes from the way in which the story is presented. Too much time is spent setting up the premise and some of the events which promise mystery and intrigue are quickly resolved and revealed as misunderstandings. The lessons revealed through the story of Miss Siddons - "don't judge a book by its cover" and "choose your friends wisely" - are taught haphazardly and result in a muddled story that is sometimes quite boring and ultimately a little bit confusing and unbelievable.
It takes an awful lot of time to tell this story which is actually pretty simple, and although the lessons to be taught are fine ones, this is really not one of the better episodes of season five.
Alfred Hitchcock Presents: Tea Time (1958)
A Dialogue-Heavy Dandy from Season 4
In the fourth season of Hitchcock Presents, the show increasingly made use of elaborate set design and took a turn away from the early episodes, which often took place on two or three sets and was centered mostly on dialogue. In a way, Tea Time is more like a season one or two episode in that it could easily be reproduced on stage without losing much, if any of its impact.
The premise centers around a successful middle-aged businessman, Oliver, and his complex romantic affairs. His wife, Iris, receives an invitation for tea from his slightly younger and slightly more attractive mistress, Blanche.
Blanche asks for Iris to consider divorcing Oliver, as their marriage has become dull and she seems to be primarily interested in his finances. Iris flatly refuses and mocks Blanche for her romantic idealism, but the tables quickly turn when Blanche reveals that she has a letter proving that Iris had an affair early in her marriage. Iris comes up with a desperate plan to resolve the conflict and keep her husband.
The dialogue proves to be the thrust of the episode, and both actresses do an excellent job providing interest with very little to work with. The typical Hitchcock themes of divorce, affairs, and murderous intentions are all in place and provide for a nicely executed episode, although it is not exactly enthralling. Nice performances, classic premise, some unexpected turns in the story, and a whole lot of dialogue make this installment a worthwhile addition to season four.
Alfred Hitchcock Presents: The Children of Alda Nuova (1962)
Weird, awkward episode
This episode begins with an American ordering a drink (or at least trying to) at a café in Italy. A nearby patron helps our unlikeable protagonist order correctly and subsequently reveals himself to be an intellectual American, aware of many obscure sites that the average tourist would never know of. So the unruly American travels to Alda Nuova for a good time. Unfortunately, there are no good times to be had for the viewer of this episode, for it is dry, confusing, and poorly edited. Ancient Italy serves as a nice idea for a setting, but the sets used for this episode do little to create the illusion of grand antiquity.
The lead actor performs quite well in his role, but it doesn't make up for the lack of organization in the story. Increasingly negative and tense situations arise, but it doesn't do anything to pique the viewer's interest, as the American character is a goon and the Italian children look like a bunch of college students with dirt on their faces. Leading up to the end, you have a feeling that some kind of twist is likely to occur, but quite frankly, it doesn't really matter. Overall, this is a very poor episode and one of the worst installments of season 7.
Gapeman (2008)
A Brilliant Condemnation of Establishment
"Where are you Gapeman? It's me, Dana!" Such is our introduction to Brian Pumper's Gapeman, a film which dares to question society's reigning establishment in the interest of promoting transparency, honesty, and individual freedoms. One may not expect to find such a commentary woven into the fabric of a film entitled Gapeman, but that's exactly why Pumper chose to begin the film with the "it's me, Dana" line. Obviously, this line references Judy Blum's novel "Are you there God? It's Me, Margaret." Much like Blum's protagonist, Dana is stuck in between two worlds - one in which she can take care of herself (presumably with butt plugs of some variety) and another in which a deity incarnate such as Gapeman is required to catalyze her self actualization.
Like any inspired director, Pumper and his Gapeman character refuse to answer these questions in the first scene. In fact, the frustrating part of this film stems from the director's repeated refusal to be overt about his themes. In doing so, the anal gape becomes a metaphor. With each gaping hole, the viewer is exposed to the two levels of Gapeman - the intrinsic and extrinsic motivations that Maslow hypothesized were driving our polarized behavior.
Finally, Pumper delivers the goods with the Annette Schwarz and Adrianna Nicole in the third scene. Here we have two girls, trying to find themselves in the world, having to compete with one another for Gapeman's approval. This is where Pumper makes his scathing criticism of religious establishment. Worship me and I will validate you, he implies. Yet this validation is fleeting as Gapeman goes back and forth from one woman to the other until he has seen deep within both of them and, having grown tired of them, discards them for another.
The Kelly Wells scene, however, is the true gem of Gapeman. Ms. Wells makes no attempt to hide the film's true meaning - "Gapeman is my God!" she screams. "I worship you, Gapeman!" After all the covert symbolism that Pumper instilled in the other scenes, it was both shocking and refreshing to see these themes shouted out in between analogies for how large her anus could gape.
Unlike Judy Blum's character Margaret, there is no simple resolution for Gapeman's cast of wandering souls. They will have to cope with the injustices of social and religious establishment, going back and forth between searching their own souls and looking for approval from the likes of a Gapeman or Gapemen.
Almost Famous (2000)
Cameron Crowe's spectacular, personal time capsule
When Cameron Crowe interviewed Led Zeppelin for Rolling Stone in 1975, he asked Jimmy Page, "How important was Stairway to Heaven to you?" Page responded: "Every musician wants to do something of lasting quality, something which will hold up for a long time and I guess we did it with 'Stairway' . . . I don't think there are too many people who are capable of it. Maybe one. Joni Mitchell . . . she's able to look at something that's happened to her, draw back and crystallize the whole situation, then write about it." Crowe, the writer and director of "Almost Famous," finally created his own "Stairway." While, early in his screen writing career, he wrote a handful of quality scripts, such as "Fast Times at Ridgemont High," "Say Anything," and "Jerry Maguire," 25 years went by between his genesis as a professional writer and the release of his masterpiece. And, in order to create it, he referred to something Jimmy Page once told him about Joni Mitchell. Just as Page hailed Mitchell's songwriting ability, Crowe looked at something that happened to him, drew back and crystallized the whole situation with beauty, humor, and emotion.
Patrick Fugit stars as William Miller, a fictionalized version of Crowe himself at the age of 15, in the early 1970s. His overbearing mother struggles to guide him into the field of law, but his passion for music and assistance from a successful rock journalist leads him down a very different path. Soon, he is hired by Ben Fong-Torres, an editor for Rolling Stone, to follow an up-and-coming band called Stillwater. William proceeds to, just as Crowe did, lose his virginity, hang out with celebrities, and fall in love while being initiated into the world of rock and roll.
Fugit delivers a fantastic performance. It is remarkable that a teenager was able to pull of a performance of this caliber. His character comes off as an intelligent, likable young man and a role model surrounded by new temptations. Billy Crudup and Jason Lee deliver strong performances as two members of Stillwater, with Lee's character, Jeff, losing a battle to prevent Crudup's character, Russel, from taking over as star of the band. Meanwhile, Russel has a fling with the lovable but naive groupie (Kate Hudson) who goes by the name Penny Lane.
At its core, "Almost Famous" is a story about the battle between two worlds. Penny frequently refers to "the real world," and makes it quite clear that the world she currently inhabits isn't anything close to real. Each character has their own battle with accepting one world or the other, and this is an extremely important element in Crowe's portrait of society in the 1970s. The country is learning a new way of thinking, a new way of speaking, a new way of living. As a viewer, you are thrown into this world with the sights and sounds of the 70s. The music is fantastic, and while rock and roll is dominant, Crowe threw in Simon and Garfunkel as well as Cat Stevens.
When the film is over, you are left with a feeling of elation but also remorse. "Rock 'n' roll is a lifestyle and a way of thinking," Jeff says, "and it's not about money and popularity. Although, some money would be nice. But it's a voice that says, 'Here I am... and f*** you if you can't understand me.' And one of these people is gonna save the world. And that means that rock 'n' roll can save the world... all of us together. And the chicks are great."
The great irony is that Crowe spent most of his career writing about other people's lives. His masterpiece was achieved by writing about himself. I recommend this movie for anybody with a passion for music or film making. It could change your life. Almost.
Weapons of Ass Destruction 5 (2006)
Good fun for all!
The beginning of the fifth installment to the WOAD series drops hints at the mortality of innocence and youth. A screeching noise followed by the ominous "nuclear power" symbol tells the viewer to prepare for a ride that he or she will never forget. However, moments later, the introduction of the film's actresses does nothing but foreshadow the imminent destruction of the innocence of youth. The contrast between vitality and degradation has never been so laid out for the viewer in the "Weapons" series. Jules Jordan clearly had a vision when he wrote this screenplay.
The first scene involves a nurse -- a commentary on the health care system of the United States. Jordan clearly feels that the medical profession has been inundated by corporations who have made profits a top priority over the well-being of patients. This concept is illustrated by the nurse who takes good care of her patient, yet overwhelms his sexuality with anything and everything except for tenderness and care.
The second scene is an abstract piece about aging that transitions nicely into the third scene, a blatant social expose on international affairs. It is fitting that in this scene, the actress is a British girl, Isabel Ice, making her finest film since "My Ass is Haunted." The symbolism is powerful -- two Americans smothering a single foreign girl, so lost and so afraid in the corporate capital of America known as Hollywood. The attention paid to her, according to the director, is an attempt to compensate for the mistreatment that she is truly receiving. The end of this scene has an interesting twist that reminded me of the "rosebud" scene from Citizen Kane. Hearing the haunting phrase will never again have the same connotations to you after seeing this film.
I would suggest to anybody who enjoys this genre to pick up a copy of WOAD 5 today. It may change your outlook on film, but it also might just change your outlook on life. I won't spoil the ending, but if you think Jordan was satisfied with his metaphors relating to health care, loss of innocence, international relations, and aging, you are sorely mistaken.
7 stars out of ten