TZ Promo: "The Bard" (5/23/1963)

Season 4, Episode 18 (#120 overall)

Cayuga Production # 4852

Originally aired May 23, 1963

50 years ago tonight, an ex-streetcar conductor-turned-struggling television writer found a supernatural route to instant success, with the help of history’s greatest playwright.

“The Bard,” the eighteenth and final episode of The Twilight Zone’s abbreviated fourth season, finds Julius Moomer badgering his agent, Mr. Hugo, into giving him a crack at a pilot for a series about black magic. Does he know anything about black magic? Of course not, but he’ll happily research it. Hugo, clearly exasperated with Moomer’s aggressive begging, relents.

Our first indicator that supernatural forces are at work comes when Moomer visits a book shop in search of material for said research. An ancient tome (cleverly titled Ye Book of Ye Black Arte) flies from a shelf, apparently of its own volition, and lands at his feet. Spooked, the clerk lets him have the book gratis and hustles him on his way. Moomer’s subsequent attempts at conjuring (what exactly he’s trying to conjure isn't clear) appear unsuccessful at first, but his misfortunes reverse when he inadvertently summons….

…yup, it’s William Shakespeare himself. He doesn't seem terribly nonplussed to have inexplicably materialized in the twentieth century; in fact, he rather congenially agrees to ghostwrite Moomer’s pilot assignment. The Tragic Cycle results, Moomer gains instant acclaim from the Television City bigwigs, Shakespeare objects to the sponsor-demanded changes to his work and, as the saying goes, hilarity ensues.

“The Bard” is surprisingly successful for a Serling-penned comedy (like earlier entries “Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up?” and “The Night of the Meek”; his other attempts are dreadfully unfunny and, in the cases of “Mr. Bevis” and “Mr. Dingle, the Strong,” actually rage-inducing). Since most of the characters here are larger-than-life, Serling’s inflated and unrealistic dialogue isn't as glaringly inappropriate (an exception is Cora, a meddlesome kid in Moomer’s building who suspects he’s up to no good):

Caption:  Seriously, what 12 year-old talks like this?

Much of the success of “The Bard” stems from Serling’s inside perspective on the inanities associated with television production. Shakespeare’s bristling against network interference, for example, comes straight out of Serling’s own well-documented experience with censorship of his pre-TZ work.If you haven’t seen it, there’s a remarkable Mike Wallace interview with Serling in which this very topic is discussed in detail.

There’s also a marvelous in-joke in the episode’s prologue: among Moomer’s many failed TV series ideas is one in which he proposes to turn The Millionaire into The Multi-Millionaire and expanding it to fill an hour time slot.  Serling is clearly jabbing CBS for its questionable decision to do that very thing to The Twilight Zone (his point must have hit home, seeing as how the very next episode aired --- the season five opener “In Praise of Pip” --- found the show returned to its original half-hour format).

Jack Weston is perfectly cast as the talentless but endlessly determined Julius Moomer. We last saw Weston murder poor Pete Van Horn in season one’s “The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street.”  

The great John Williams (no, not the film composer) shines as the beleaguered William Shakespeare.  Williams was a frequent face on TV’s Alfred Hitchcock Presents; he also appeared in Hitch’s Dial M for Murder and To Catch a Thief. His last role was Sire Montrose on the “War of the Gods” episode of TV’s Battlestar Galactica in 1979.

The estimable John McGiver appears as Mr. Shannon, the soup magnet whose company is sponsoring The Tragic Cycle, and we’ll see him again in season five’s “Sounds and Silences.” McGiver is excellent as liberal Senator Thomas Jordan in one of my favorite films, 1962’s The Manchurian Candidate, in which he famously takes a fatal bullet through a carton of milk.

A young Burt Reynolds offers his services as Rocky Rhodes, the actor cast in The Tragic Cycle’s lead. Rhodes is an obvious lampoon of the method actors of the day, but Reynolds goes the extra mile and infuses him with a certain, shall we say, dullness of mind that is truly hilarious to behold. Reynolds went on to a storied career in film, and was apparently quite a sex symbol in the 70’s, as evidenced by his appearance in Cosmopolitan Magazine in 1972.

Effective March 23, 2015, Blogger will disallow all sexually explicit or graphic nude images. Therefore, ol' Burt's nether region must be concealed. Sorry, guys 'n dolls.

I hadn't seen “The Bard” in probably 20 years or so before scanning the episode for screen captures recently. Reynolds’ performance brought to mind Matt Leblanc’s dimwitted but lovable Joey Tribbiani from TV’s Friends. I dunno, maybe it’s just me (betcha never thought you’d see a Friends reference here, did you?).

Fred Steiner was commissioned to create original music for “The Bard,” his seventh and final contribution to The Twilight Zone’s musical landscape. His score is comprised solely of brief, comical cues (appropriate, since there’s really no drama to be found here) and, while it all works fine within the context of the episode, I’m sure they could’ve pulled similar cues from the CBS Music Library (for free!) and used Steiner’s considerable talents elsewhere (stock scores were used in a number of season four episodes which certainly deserved original music, like “In His Image,” “Death Ship” and “Printer’s Devil”). Steiner also contributed the score for “I Dream of Genie” earlier this season, which was equally pointless… man, what a waste. For Rod’s sake, this is the guy who gave us “The Passersby” in season three, which stands one of the all-time great TZ scores! Anyway, if you care, Steiner’s underscore for “The Bard” is isolated on both DVD releases (volume 42 and the season 4 Definitive Edition set) and the more recent season 4 blu-ray release, so you know where to go if you want funny music to accompany those cat videos you’re about to upload to YouTube.

“The Bard” is a nice hearty chuckle to close out the series’ abbreviated fourth season. The Twilight Zone would return for its final season in September 1963, which means we’ll be back in September of this year to celebrate each episode’s 50th anniversary. I imagine it’ll be pretty quiet ‘round here between now and then... Have a great summer!

TZ Promo: "I Dream of Genie" (3/21/1963)

 Season 4, Episode 12 (#114 overall)

Cayuga Production #4860

Originally aired March 21, 1963

50 years ago tonight, another genie visited The Twilight Zone, this time only offering one wish instead of the customary three. I dunno, maybe times were tough (I imagine this would happen today too, with all the sequestering and whatnot going on).

John Furia Jr.’s “I Dream of Genie” introduces us to George P. Hanley, another of The Twilight Zone’s spineless doormat types (on the ObnoxioMeter ™, I’d probably place him somewhere between Roger Shackleforth and Henry Bemis; at least he’s nowhere near James B.W. Bevis levels of noxiousness).

Here’s “I Dream of Genie” in a nutshell (spoiler alert, if you care):  guy inadvertently buys a lamp, which houses a modernized genie who only offers him one wish.  Guy spends the next hour imagining different wishes and their resultant consequences.  Guy can’t make up his mind.  Guy finally decides to take over the genie job himself, restores all the classic Middle Eastern flair associated with genies in lamps, and starts dolling out the customary three wishes per customer.

“I Dream of Genie” tries to be light and charming, and there is a certain Walter Mittyesque quality therein as George entertains elaborate fantasies in the form of dream sequences, but unfortunately there’s just not enough actual content here to fill an hour, so it gets tedious pretty fast. It doesn't help that TZ has already done this basic story (season two’s “The Man in the Bottle,” which also featured a genie in modern attire), so there’s nothing new or original here (except the ending, which I’ll admit is a well-played surprise). 

One bright spot is the fact that George’s pet dog, Attila, changes from fantasy to fantasy (all told, four different breeds play the various versions of the pooch).  I’m a dog lover, so naturally I was tickled.  And I can’t deny that I enjoy the scene early in act two in which George mulls over possible new vocations before the actual dream sequences kick in (scientist, army general, etc).

However, these elements wouldn't be enough to sustain a half hour format, much less this season’s double length requirement.  Sad to report, “I Dream of Genie” is probably my least favorite episode of the entire fourth season.  There’s just nothing here to hold my interest, man.  Nothing, that is, except…

Arroooooogah!  Patricia Barry!  TZ babe alert! Barry Previously appeared in season one’s “The Chaser” (alongside George Grizzard as the above-mentioned Roger Shackleforth).  Funny --- the coworker she flirts with here is also named “Roger.”

Barry also appeared in 1983’s Twilight Zone: The Movie as Anthony Fremont’s unfortunate mother in the “It’s a Good Life” segment (not sure why they didn't get Cloris Leachman to reprise her role from the original episode, though). 

We last saw Jack Albertson in season three’s “The Shelter.” It’s hard not to picture him surrounded by Oompa Loompas in 1971’s Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (in which he played Charlie’s beloved grandfather); however, he’s probably best remembered for his Emmy-winning role as “The Man” himself from TV’s Chico and the Man.

Other TZ alumni on display here include Loring Smith, who previously appeared in season two’s “The Whole Truth” as politician “Honest” Luther Grimbley.  We also get another dose of James Millhollin, who delighted us in season one’s “The After Hours” and season two’s “Mr. Dingle, the Strong.” Less delightful (and more head-scratchingly bizarre) was his choice to appear as Willoughby (!) the llama in the “Great Vegetable Rebellion” episode of TV’s Lost in Space.

George P. Hanley is played by Howard Morris in his only TZ appearance. He’s probably best remembered as Ernest T. Bass on TV’s The Andy Griffith Show, but you've probably heard his voice in numerous television cartoon series, including The Flintstones, The Jetsons, Magilla Gorilla and, more recently, Cow and Chicken on Cartoon Network.  He was also the original voice of McDonald’s Hamburglar!

 I got yer Robble Robble right here, Andy!

I cannot for the life of me fathom why this episode was endowed with an original score, while worthy season four episodes like “In His Image” and “Death Ship” got the recycled library music treatment (imagine Bernard Herrmann tackling either of those!). If it’s any consolation (it’s unfortunately not), Fred Steiner’s work is serviceable enough… but instantly forgettable.

“I Dream of Genie” strives to be a light comedy with supernatural overtones, but it wears out its welcome long before the hour is up.  And even if it didn't, if it somehow managed to hold our attention till the silly end… well, The Twilight Zone has done this story before, rendering this effort completely superfluous.  File it under “U” for Unnecessary and hey, while you’re at it, take next week off.

In two weeks:

Sorry to WAX rhapsodic, but Martin Balsam just plain KILLS in his return to The Twilight Zone.

Seriously, he SLAYS ‘em.

TZ Promo: "Miniature" (2/21/1963)

Season 4, Episode 8 (#110 overall)

Cayuga Production # 4862

Originally aired February 21, 1963

We've seen this type of story before on The Twilight Zone, in which a misfit finds a supernatural means of permanent escape, be it into the past (“A Stop at Willoughby,” “Static”), an alternate reality (“A World of Difference”), or a nonspecific combination of both (“The Sixteen-Millimeter Shrine,” “Kick the Can,” “Young Man’s Fancy”).  Both “The Night of the Meek” and “The Fugitive” are variations on this theme as well.  Tonight we meet yet another of TZ’s unhappy loners who finds a way out of his troubled existence into something… well, else.

Charles Beaumont’s “Miniature” introduces us to Charley Parkes, a thirty-something bachelor who lives with his mother, has no friends, and who has just lost his job because he simply “ doesn't fit in” (I’m pretty sure he could sue for wrongful termination these days).  He can’t be bothered to look for another job, however, as he’s too busy visiting a local museum every day, gazing longingly at one particular item on display.

It’s a fairly average dollhouse, silent and inert, complete with a tiny wooden girl sitting at the tiny wooden piano.  When Charley looks at it, however, it comes to glorious life in a charming miniature pantomime:  the girl (Alice) plays the piano, a tiny maid attends to her every whim, and a tiny gentleman caller comes a’calling.

Charley falls desperately in love with the Alice doll, indulging in an ongoing one-sided conversation with her through the glass shield protecting the dollhouse.  Things seem harmless enough until the tiny gentleman caller shows up drunk, clubs the maid into unconsciousness and attempts to deflower Alice by force.  Charley panics and smashes the glass wall, and subsequently winds up in a psych ward.

   

Without giving away more of the plot (though I’ve pretty much spoiled it at this point anyway), it’s safe to say that Charley eventually manages to get himself released, return to the dollhouse and, through unspecified magic, vanishes forever from human existence, only to reappear as the doll’s tiny new companion inside the dollhouse.

Now, maybe I’m overthinking this, but what exactly happened here?  Okay, on a prosaic level, Charley transmogrified into a miniature wooden figure, just like Alice (up till then, it appeared that he was operating under a very complex delusion).  Going forward, in what capacity will these two wooden lovebirds exist?  Are the dolls actually miniature people (like Mary Norton’s The Borrowers, recently made into a lovely animated film by Japan’s Studio Ghibli called The Secret World of Arriety), masquerading as inanimate objects during the day and doing their living at night, in secret (oh shit, is this a precursor to Night in the Museum?).  Or is the dollhouse some sort of inter-dimensional portal to some other universe, a cosmic way station in which our reality bleeds into the other, only visible to a select few?

The setup for “Miniature” feels very much like a Jack Finney story:  a guy falls in love with a girl from the past; however, in Finney’s hands, Charley would've sought the real Alice Summers (or at least her grave) out.  At no time in Beaumont’s story does this seem to occur to Charley; rather, he simply falls in love with an action figure-sized woman, which is completely impractical on a number of levels.  But maybe this makes sense, given Charley’s introverted and apparently sexless nature: see how disastrously he interacts with a normal-sized woman on a blind date:

The humor in “Miniature” is gentle and quirky, mirroring Charley’s personality, except for one scene that, truth be told, kinda bugs me.  At the end of act one, the gentleman caller arrives at the dollhouse to take Alice out (to take in the nearby African tribal exhibit, perhaps?).  As Charley watches intently and presumably jealously, this happens:

Anybody got some Windex?

I would've preferred a furrowed brow here, maybe an uneasy knuckle nibble.  The smooshed-nose-against-the-glass routine is just plain childish; it worked in “The Night of the Meek” because excited kids were doing it.  It’s out of character for Charley, it violates the tone of the piece, and it’s just dumb.

Oscar-winner Robert Duvall did a lot of TV in his younger days, and genre fans will recall his two stints on The Outer Limits (“The Chameleon” and “The Inheritors”).  Here he shines as the awkward and shy Charley; however, he was much more awkward and shy as the enigmatic  Boo Radley in 1962's To Kill a Mockingbird.

Mrs. Parkes, who is probably largely to blame for Charley’s social awkwardness, is well essayed by Pert Kelton. Kelton was the original Alice Kramden, back when The Honeymooners was a recurring sketch, performed live on TV’s Cavalcade of Stars. I kinda wish Charley had given her the old “Pow! Right in the kisser!” right before he disappeared forever.

William Windom returns to The Twilight Zone as Charley’s psychiatrist, Dr. Wallman. He’s just as humorless here as he was last time we saw him, playing the army major in season three’s “Five Characters in Search of an Exit.”

John McLiam is great as the sympathetic museum guard who ultimately spots the vanished Charley inside the dollhouse (but keeps it to himself). McLiam appears in bit roles in three other TZ episodes (“The Shelter,” "The Midnight Sun,” and season five’s “Uncle Simon”).

TZ alumn Barney Phillips, as Charley’s boss Mr. Diemel, is less likable here than in his previous appearances (“The Purple Testament,” “A Thing About Machines,” and “Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up?”).  Fear not, he’s not sporting a third eye this time around.

And hey --- TZ babe alert!  Pity this is Claire Griswold’s only TZ appearance.  She may be made of wood, but she’s crazy hot, and I wouldn't mind… (insert inappropriate wood-related innuendo here).

A gentle tale like this demands (okay, nicely asks for) gentle music.  Fred Steiner’s score incorporates several different classical works (most notably Mozart’s Piano Sonata in A Major, the tune that the Alice doll plays), and the result is quite lovely.  Given the melodramatic nature of the pantomime scenes inside the dollhouse, classical music just feels appropriate.  Steiner’s score has never been released on any music format (vinyl, cassette, CD or digital), but you’ll find it in isolated form on both DVD releases and the more recent Blu-ray edition of season four.

“Miniature” is the first of five TZ episodes that were omitted from the original syndication package (“The Lost Five”) for various reasons.  In the case of “Miniature,” a pending plagiarism lawsuit kept the episode off limits when the series was prepared for syndication in 1964.  It aired only once, 50 years ago tonight, and remained buried until 1984.

In 1984, three of the “lost five” episodes were collected in a television special celebrating the series’ 25^th anniversary, one of which was “Miniature.”  As a “bonus” (note the sarcastic quotes), the scenes inside the dollhouse in “Miniature” were colorized.  The colorization thankfully did NOT carry over into the various home video releases of the episode (which are four in number: Columbia House VHS collection, DVD volume 31, the season four Definitive Edition DVD set, and the season four blu-ray set). The colorized scenes were included as a bonus on the Definitive Edition DVD set, but omitted for the more recent blu-ray release (presumably because they realized what an abomination it was).  Let’s allow this unfortunate chapter in the episode’s unique history to fade into oblivion.

Next week: Burgess Meredith returns to The Twilight Zone.  Speak of the devil!