Showing posts with label Shadow Play. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shadow Play. Show all posts

Sunday, November 27, 2016

1x09 "Nocturnal Immersions"



This week, Craig celebrates his birthday by spotlighting two of his all-time favorite Twilight Zone episodes: “Perchance to Dream” and “Shadow Play,” two masterpieces from the mind of Charles Beaumont. Tangents include Craig’s unresolved crush on Maya the Cat Girl and his lamentable inability to dream in the third person.  Fan favorite Dr. Reba Wissner pops in to set him straight about the curious lack of the Theremin in The Twilight Zone, and of course he gets the usual familial abuse from Teresa and Kendyl. Happy birthday, my ass.

Dr. Reba Wissner’s A Dimension of Sound: Music in The Twilight Zone

Dr. Reba Wissner’s We Will Control All That Your Hear: The Outer Limits and the Aural Imagination


“Windmills of Your Mind” by Noel Garrison (from the album The Thomas Crown Affair original motion picture soundtrack, copyright 1998 by Rykodisc)

“The Technological Womb” by Mysteries of the Universe (from the album The Erotic Nature of Automated Universes, copyright 1995 by Instinct Records)

“Smokey Sax” by Hollywood Trailer Music Orchestra (from the album Film Noir: Vintage Cinema Classics, copyright 2015 by Megatrax Music)

Opening theme: “Neither Here nor There” by Twin Loops


Between Light and a Shadow: A Twilight Zone Podcast is a nonprofit podcast. Music clips and dialogue excerpts used herein are the property of their respective copyright owners; we claim no ownership of these materials. Their use is strictly for illustrative purposes and should be considered Fair Use as stated in the Copyright Act of 1976, 17 U.S.C. section 107. 

Thursday, May 5, 2011

TZ Promo: “Shadow Play” (5/05/1961)




“Shadow Play” (5/05/1961)
Season Two, Episode 26 (62 overall)
Cayuga Production # 173-3657


We’ve all been there. Things go horribly awry, and we feel the bottom drop out from beneath our feet, either by our own folly or by external influence. Our tiny human brains throb, perhaps only for a moment, with a fervent hope that what we’re experiencing is simply a dream or, more appropriately, a nightmare. It seems possible enough, especially given that, no matter how bizarre or senseless our dreams are, they seem to make perfect sense while we’re having them. For those slumbering hours, our dreams are the only reality we are conscious of. To confine our worst case scenarios to the dream world is a perfectly reasonable desire, from a self-preservation standpoint.


“Shadow Play,” written by Charles Beaumont and directed by John Brahm, asks the age-old question: which is more real, our day-to-day reality or the life we live in dreams? Beaumont’s own “Perchance to Dream” from season one touched on this concept, but here it’s explored head on and in much more depth. The entire episode, and every one in it, may very well be one long dream.


Dennis Weaver is engaging and intense as Adam Grant, a man sentenced to death by electrocution. We watch the verdict being announced. We hear the sentencing. We meet the key players. Grant steadfastly claims that none of what we’re seeing is actually happening; it’s all simply a recurring nightmare he’s having. And if they fry him… well, he’ll wake up, and everyone in his dream will cease to exist. Sounds crazy… but damn, he seems to really believe it. As the time of his execution draws near (midnight, of course), those around him begin to suspect, for various reasons, that he may in fact be right.


So you’ve got that tried and true race-against-the-clock-call-the-governor-before-they-flip-the-switch plot device propelling things. You’ve got fine performances, particularly from Weaver and Harry Townes as the cranky DA (Townes was a pretty regular face on TV in the 50’s and 60’s, particularly on Gunsmoke and The Fugitive). You’ve got a top notch script from Charles Beaumont, plus great camerawork from George T. Clemens (heavy on the tilted angles and shadowy lighting, particularly in the opening and closing courtroom scenes). John Brahm, who directed more TZ episodes than any other director, holds it all together beautifully. There’s nothing wrong here. This is top notch Zone, and it sits comfortably within my top 10 all-time favorites.


CBS revived The Twilight Zone in 1985 with a one-hour, multiple-story format. The series offered mostly new tales, with occasional remakes of classic TZs. “Shadow Play” was one of the episodes remade. As I recall, it doesn’t deviate much from Beaumont’s script, except for some business about Grant having a sister. It’s probably the single best remake, but that’s really not saying much (the other remakes included “Night of the Meek,” “Dead Man’s Shoes,” and “The After Hours,” and none of them are worthwhile). The TZ revival worked best when they ignored the lofty heights of the original and focused on new stuff (“Profile in Silver,” “Nightcrawlers,” and “The Once and Future King” are just a few examples of the new crew getting it right). You know, I should probably spotlight the ‘80s series at some point….

Peter Coyote in the remake. You, sir, are no Dennis Weaver.



Next week, Shelly Berman visits The Twilight Zone. Rod tries to be funny again. It, um… doesn’t quite work out.




Tuesday, March 2, 2010

TZ Profile: Arlen Schumer (Part 1 of 2)


The subject of today’s spotlight needs no introduction, especially not to Twilight Zone fans operating at an obsessive fan level approximating mine. But since this blog is available to the entire world via this marvelous thing called the internet, I’ll pretend that those reading have never heard of the guy.

I first became aware of Arlen Schumer in 1991. Lisa, my first wife, who was well aware of my preoccupation with all things Twilight Zone (having purchased the first two Varese Sarabande soundtracks on cassette for me the previous Christmas), held up a book that she’d spotted as we browsed the shelves at Powell’s Books in downtown Portland.


I eagerly snatched it out of her hands and gazed lovingly at it. It wasn’t a work of fiction, like the Original Stories collection I’d purchased back in 1985. It wasn’t a work of nonfiction, like Zicree’s Twilight Zone Companion (which I’d beaten the hell out of since I’d first bought it in 1983). No, this was something else entirely. The title said it all: Visions from The Twilight Zone, by Arlen Schumer. And visions they were. We generally refer to this type of publication as a "coffee table" book. This was so much more. This was art. This was my favorite television series, in all its visual splendor, distilled and compressed into a 10" x 9" x .75" package. I had to have it, but at the time I was dead broke. Lisa, in her infinite generosity, bought it for me. No wonder I married her.



I took it home and devoured it with my eyes, my trembling fingers turning each page as I read the words aloud, snatches of dialogue married to stark, compelling images The words frequently didn’t match the specific episode shown, but the themes rhymed. This was poetry. No, it was something beyond poetry. There was something post-modern in Schumer’s approach, something akin to sampling, a practice that had only recently began to take over popular music, in which short musical riffs or drum loops were taken from one song and looped into another. The words and images from The Twilight Zone had been extracted, remixed, re-purposed, and presented as something wholly different, wholly original, yet still in keeping with the series’ recurring themes and ideas. This guy Schumer, whoever the hell he was, was an absolute genius.

...a sample page. Image from "Shadow Play" overlaid with text from "Escape Clause."

The images in the book stem from actual photographs of a black and white television screen, the resolution of which was a scant 250 scan lines. The result is a convincing approximation of what viewers of the show back in the early 60’s must have seen, and it adds to the visual mystique of the book immensely. All the text in the book is set in Bernard Modern, which just happens to be the very same font used in the series’ opening and closing credits. If that’s not attention to detail, I don’t know what is. The book also includes the classic episode “The Eye of the Beholder” in its entirety (in words and images), as well as insightful essays by J. Hoberman, Carol Serling (Rod's widow), and Schumer himself. Icing on the proverbial cake comes in the form of a piece culled from the private notes of series producer Buck Houghton, bestowed upon Schumer by Houghton himself.

…Our man Schumer, 20 years ago, rocking the bow tie.

The bio on Schumer in the book is pretty skimpy… graphic designer, graduated from the Rhode Island school of design, comic book artist, student of popular culture. The intervening 20 years have added some new credentials… but we’ll get to that, in Part 2.

The book, as books often do, went out of print several years ago. I remember spotting a hardcover copy at some point at a Barnes & Noble, clearance-priced at $5.00, and passing it up (d’oh!). If you don’t have this book, FIND IT. There are copies on eBay. There are second-hand copies on Amazon. Seek it out. Of all the Twilight Zone books in my collection, this is by far the most beautiful, the most exciting, the most moving. I had the rare joy of buying a copy for my friend Bill Huelbig, who resides on the other side of the country in New Jersey, this past Christmas. He’s just as big a Twilight Zone fan as I am, so I’m not sure how this particular work of art has eluded him all these years. I was happy to rectify the situation, and I’m prepared to do it again, should some other deserving TZ fan come forward, empty hands desperately outstretched. This book needs to be experienced. Hell, it needs to be BACK IN PRINT. Chronicle Books, are you listening? Do you even still exist?


Fast forward twenty years, give or take. Mr. Schumer presents The Twilight Zone Forever, a “multimedia visualecture” at The Times Center in New York City on 10/02/09, the show’s 50th anniversary. My aforementioned friend Bill buys a ticket and attends, much to his delight (and my internal dismay, since there’s no way in hell I can afford to make the trip). Bill reports back with a positive review (which will appear in Part 2 of this spotlight). A few weeks later, I take a chance and email Mr. Schumer, having only recently discovered his website, wondering if perhaps the presentation was videotaped. Turns out it was. And Mr. Schumer, out of an immeasurable kindness, sends me a DVD of the presentation. But we’ll get to that, in Part 2.

It doesn’t stop there. The magnanimous Mr. Schumer proceeds to send me an assortment of TZ-related gifts, one of which I’ll address right now, since it’s germane to the topic at hand.


Sight, Sound & Mind: A Montage of The Twilight Zone’s Words, Images & Music is a 12-minute DVD that mirrors Schumer’s Visions book, page by page (one dissolves into the next, with that 250-lines of resolution look gloriously intact), augmented by musical cues from various episodes, with all of the text read by the author himself. This alone makes the disc essential (honestly, can you imagine anybody but Anthony Bourdain reading Kitchen Confidential out loud? I like to think that if my novel Diminished Returns ever gets published, I’ll get to do the audio version). The Visions book is Schumer’s baby, and his voice brings it to vibrant, shimmering life.

I can’t stress enough what a treat this DVD is to behold. As I’ve already stated, the book needs to be back in print or, better yet, back in print with a copy of the DVD included. Until that happens, however, something of a guerrilla approach will be necessary for interested parties to attain the full experience. Get the book, then contact Mr. Schumer directly at arlen@arlenschumer.com to inquire about the DVD. Or inquire about the DVD first, then get the book. Either way, they’re two great tastes that taste great together.

My marriage to Lisa lasted nine years. The Twilight Zone, on the other hand, is forever. Arlen Schumer agrees, as you’ll see in Part 2 of our profile. Stay tuned, won’t you?


Thursday, December 17, 2009

Second Thoughts…

As the title suggests, I'm having some second thoughts. It concerns a commitment I made a few months ago. I made this commitment with the best of intentions, with a strong and fervent desire to see it through. The thing is, I didn't think it would be this hard. Truth be told, I'm having a helluva time sticking to my guns. I'm seriously considering throwing in the towel and calling it a day.

What the hell am I talking about, you ask?

As The Twilight Zone's 50th anniversary approached, I made the rather ambitious decision to put myself on an "anniversary celebration schedule," in which I would watch all 156 episodes on their respective anniversaries. I would only watch one episode per week, perfectly mimicking the original broadcast schedule (including repeats), for five years. I actually avoided the series entirely for well over a year in anticipation of this undertaking, leaving my glorious Definitive Edition DVD sets to gather dust on the shelf. October 2nd, the glorious 50th anniversary of the series' debut on CBS, couldn't come fast enough and, once it did, I was in heaven… and have continued to be, for half an hour each week, for the past 11 weeks.

Until now. You see, there's no episode to celebrate this week. On 12/18/1959, the show was pre-empted by "Iran: Brittle Ally" with Edward R. Murrow (the show was pre-empted a number of times throughout its run… the next one happened on 4/22/1960).

Perhaps it's no coincidence that I'm questioning my commitment to this viewing schedule in the same week that there's no episode to watch. What's the problem, you (impatiently) ask? Why, I'm Zone-dependent, an anxiety-ridden addict, and this one-episode-per-week thing is leaving me seriously Zone-deprived. I crave more. I need more. The thought of not seeing "Shadow Play" for a year and a half just kills me. Worse, "Death Ship" is over THREE YEARS away!

What to do? Well, perhaps I can have the best of both worlds. I could still watch each episode on its 50th anniversary, but I could also give myself permission to watch as many other episodes as I want from week to week. But... wouldn't that dilute the experience? As I stated in an earlier entry, I committed to this schedule for the express purpose of experiencing the show just as it was originally presented, and hopefully gaining new insight into the show as a result. At first, I enjoyed the resultant anticipation, excitedly counting down the days until the next episode… but lately it's been more frustrating than anything else. Chalk it up to my immediate-gratification-oriented generation, or perhaps my individual lack of patience; either way, the dearth of Zone in my life is starting to drive me crazy. Those beautiful DVD sets just sit there, crying out for attention, and I must turn a perpetually deaf ear to their pleas. And yet, to cave in and give up only 11 weeks in…. well, that would make me pretty weak, wouldn't it?

*Sigh* I dunno. What to do, what to do?

Perhaps a compromise is in order here. Perhaps I could "gift" myself a free episode whenever there's a hole in the schedule (like this week, for example). And since it's almost Christmas, this would allow me to watch "The Night of the Meek," which I usually watch every holiday season (along with A Christmas Story, It's a Wonderful Life, A Charlie Brown Christmas, etc) but was planning to skip because of this so-called "anniversary celebration schedule."

Funny… it's feeling less like a celebration and more like a form of masochism. The Twilight Zone is by far my favorite TV series of all time (and frankly, I love it even more than my favorite movie of all time, Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo), and maybe this experiment, or endeavor, or whatever the hell it is… well, maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all. All this self-denial can't be good for the soul. Bottom line --- if I'm not enjoying it, then there's something seriously wrong.

Hence… second thoughts.