- Published on
Sigh.
Despite the fact that AMC’s The Walking Dead has finally reached the end of its journey after an incredible run of eleven fun-filled seasons, I think it goes without saying that we’ve clearly not seen the last of these characters. In fact, if you speak with any of the knuckleheads in charge of the wider Dead universe, they like to think that they’re just getting started. With new spin-offs and minis already shooting and scheduled to air in 2023, this post of mine – as well as any others across the Information Superhighway – is hardly an epitaph. All this is – as it is entirely intended – is an acknowledgement that the original program has reached the end of its original broadcast run.
As I’ve been blogging for quite some time now, I’ve occasionally been asked about why I haven’t sounded off on The Walking Dead. When I engage folks online and/or via email, I tell them that the show just hasn’t stimulated me enough to honestly want to ruminate over its characters, themes, situations, and circumstances. While I’d never argue that the production quality hasn’t been mostly superb, I just haven’t been captivated sufficiently by these various arcs to commit much space to them. That isn’t intended to insult the show in any measure, as – for the most part – I’ve spent an incredible number of hours through its high and lows. I’ve just – simply – had nothing to say about them … especially nothing to say that likely hasn’t been said elsewhere.
Any show that lasts as long as the Dead has is understandably going to endure a lot of critical blowback, both from fans as well as media types. That’s just the nature of telling stories: not everyone – at all times – is going to be equally riveted or moved or thrilled or aghast or indifferent. Instead, the various arcs have been what they’ve been – good and bad – much in the same way some characters have endured while others came and went, some expiring in incredibly bloody fashion. And the dead? The walkers? The rotters? The Whisperers and more? Similarly, they’ve left an imprint, trudged along, and gone the way of history. Or not.
An examination of the show’s ratings plunge over the last few years naturally made the rounds, some pundits using it to suggest that the program quite possibly should’ve gone away much earlier. Such theorizing made for some interesting and informative Tweets – fans debating back-and-forth over their respective ‘quality assessments’ of the years; and – if nothing else – the discourse reminds me why folks become fans in the first place … we like to talk about the likes and the dislikes, and these things obvious fed into those audience numbers. I’ve no interest in doing any grand autopsy of the apparently waning phenomenon, but I will offer up an observation or two, mostly because it’s my day job, folks.
For a program with the ‘Dead’ in its title, The Walking Dead – ahem – really left the Dead for dead over its last few seasons. The handful of narrative developments focused a bit too meatily on the rebuilding of society for my tastes, and I just didn’t find the bulk of stories involving the Commonwealth all that fresh or innovation. Essentially, I’d argue we’d seen a lot of these circumstances before – albeit in much small settings – so the show (for the first time for me) began feeling redundant. Its villains? Hammy. Campy. Borderline unbelievable, honestly, especially given how much of this universe we’d seen before. But the shift away from adventures fostering tension with – even in Daryl Dixon’s words from the finale – our true enemy weakened the potential of a once great adversary.
Now, the showrunners I think even acknowledged this reality when they introduced a late-breaking evolution of new walkers, ones that could apparently control their motor skills more effectively. Suddenly, audiences were treated to stumblers who could climb, pick up objects, and even use rudimentary weapons in their quest to eat flesh. But because these new traits kinda/sorta came out of nowhere (do not get me started on the spin-offs!!!), the development (while interesting) still felt like it was the creation of a room of writers trying to wreck a bit more havoc in a world that had become, sadly, predictable.
If there’s one trait that destroys Horror quickly, then that would be predictability.
Also, I’d argue that the cast just grew too big and cumbersome to truly focus on any authentic relationships. When you go a few seasons of adding new faces to the narrative coupled with eliminating the great zombie threat to the populace, then all of a sudden there are more folks at the table than we literally have chairs for. Before the Commonwealth, the Dead was already running that risk because the creators had fleshed out multiple communities with which to extend the possibilities: once this fully realized return to normality became the backbone to these stories, I contend that there were just too many characters centralized in a show that was supposed to be about the end of the world (to a point) and not a nighttime soap opera.
Lastly?
Well, the final swing of Lucille to the camel’s back was the fact that – in the process of trying to put the world right again – risk seemed to creep into the background of these various soirees. Gone were the days when the audience sat on the edge of its seat wondering who was going to survive, who might come up short in the battle, and who might get bit in the process. With no risk, there was very little authentic possibility for loss; and the removal of the program’s randomness might very well be what inevitably drove viewers elsewhere. What with streaming outlets on the rise and the fact that Dead still relied on the – ahem – weekly serialized broadcast format so many venues have tossed aside, perhaps there just wasn’t room for the routine.
Of its final installment, I will say this: it didn’t move me, not in the way I had hoped it would. It was just … fine. Parts of it felt rushed. Parts of it, honestly, felt a bit too easy. A small part of it moved me … but I won’t spoil that for folks. That’s for me to know and for you to always guess at, if it matters. While I’ll miss the time spent with so many of these very, very good creations, I’d still concede that there’s a part of me glad it’s all over … and, yes, I’ll probably tune in for the spin-offs because I’m a glutton for punishment … and I do so want some real closure.
Maybe they’ll provide it.
-- EZ
Despite the fact that AMC’s The Walking Dead has finally reached the end of its journey after an incredible run of eleven fun-filled seasons, I think it goes without saying that we’ve clearly not seen the last of these characters. In fact, if you speak with any of the knuckleheads in charge of the wider Dead universe, they like to think that they’re just getting started. With new spin-offs and minis already shooting and scheduled to air in 2023, this post of mine – as well as any others across the Information Superhighway – is hardly an epitaph. All this is – as it is entirely intended – is an acknowledgement that the original program has reached the end of its original broadcast run.
As I’ve been blogging for quite some time now, I’ve occasionally been asked about why I haven’t sounded off on The Walking Dead. When I engage folks online and/or via email, I tell them that the show just hasn’t stimulated me enough to honestly want to ruminate over its characters, themes, situations, and circumstances. While I’d never argue that the production quality hasn’t been mostly superb, I just haven’t been captivated sufficiently by these various arcs to commit much space to them. That isn’t intended to insult the show in any measure, as – for the most part – I’ve spent an incredible number of hours through its high and lows. I’ve just – simply – had nothing to say about them … especially nothing to say that likely hasn’t been said elsewhere.
Any show that lasts as long as the Dead has is understandably going to endure a lot of critical blowback, both from fans as well as media types. That’s just the nature of telling stories: not everyone – at all times – is going to be equally riveted or moved or thrilled or aghast or indifferent. Instead, the various arcs have been what they’ve been – good and bad – much in the same way some characters have endured while others came and went, some expiring in incredibly bloody fashion. And the dead? The walkers? The rotters? The Whisperers and more? Similarly, they’ve left an imprint, trudged along, and gone the way of history. Or not.
An examination of the show’s ratings plunge over the last few years naturally made the rounds, some pundits using it to suggest that the program quite possibly should’ve gone away much earlier. Such theorizing made for some interesting and informative Tweets – fans debating back-and-forth over their respective ‘quality assessments’ of the years; and – if nothing else – the discourse reminds me why folks become fans in the first place … we like to talk about the likes and the dislikes, and these things obvious fed into those audience numbers. I’ve no interest in doing any grand autopsy of the apparently waning phenomenon, but I will offer up an observation or two, mostly because it’s my day job, folks.
For a program with the ‘Dead’ in its title, The Walking Dead – ahem – really left the Dead for dead over its last few seasons. The handful of narrative developments focused a bit too meatily on the rebuilding of society for my tastes, and I just didn’t find the bulk of stories involving the Commonwealth all that fresh or innovation. Essentially, I’d argue we’d seen a lot of these circumstances before – albeit in much small settings – so the show (for the first time for me) began feeling redundant. Its villains? Hammy. Campy. Borderline unbelievable, honestly, especially given how much of this universe we’d seen before. But the shift away from adventures fostering tension with – even in Daryl Dixon’s words from the finale – our true enemy weakened the potential of a once great adversary.
Now, the showrunners I think even acknowledged this reality when they introduced a late-breaking evolution of new walkers, ones that could apparently control their motor skills more effectively. Suddenly, audiences were treated to stumblers who could climb, pick up objects, and even use rudimentary weapons in their quest to eat flesh. But because these new traits kinda/sorta came out of nowhere (do not get me started on the spin-offs!!!), the development (while interesting) still felt like it was the creation of a room of writers trying to wreck a bit more havoc in a world that had become, sadly, predictable.
If there’s one trait that destroys Horror quickly, then that would be predictability.
Also, I’d argue that the cast just grew too big and cumbersome to truly focus on any authentic relationships. When you go a few seasons of adding new faces to the narrative coupled with eliminating the great zombie threat to the populace, then all of a sudden there are more folks at the table than we literally have chairs for. Before the Commonwealth, the Dead was already running that risk because the creators had fleshed out multiple communities with which to extend the possibilities: once this fully realized return to normality became the backbone to these stories, I contend that there were just too many characters centralized in a show that was supposed to be about the end of the world (to a point) and not a nighttime soap opera.
Lastly?
Well, the final swing of Lucille to the camel’s back was the fact that – in the process of trying to put the world right again – risk seemed to creep into the background of these various soirees. Gone were the days when the audience sat on the edge of its seat wondering who was going to survive, who might come up short in the battle, and who might get bit in the process. With no risk, there was very little authentic possibility for loss; and the removal of the program’s randomness might very well be what inevitably drove viewers elsewhere. What with streaming outlets on the rise and the fact that Dead still relied on the – ahem – weekly serialized broadcast format so many venues have tossed aside, perhaps there just wasn’t room for the routine.
Of its final installment, I will say this: it didn’t move me, not in the way I had hoped it would. It was just … fine. Parts of it felt rushed. Parts of it, honestly, felt a bit too easy. A small part of it moved me … but I won’t spoil that for folks. That’s for me to know and for you to always guess at, if it matters. While I’ll miss the time spent with so many of these very, very good creations, I’d still concede that there’s a part of me glad it’s all over … and, yes, I’ll probably tune in for the spin-offs because I’m a glutton for punishment … and I do so want some real closure.
Maybe they’ll provide it.
-- EZ
- Published on
Folks, folks, folks: I do not dislike any of the Power Rangers properties.
I do know that I have been caught speaking a bit flippantly about them here and there in the blogosphere or even on my daily citation pages; but that's only because to me it seems like this vast, vast property, and it came into being well after my time with what I'd consider to be more kid-friendly entertaining and/or programming. Yes, I've seen a few episodes of various incarnations here and there; and while I might admire what it does in small ways it just isn't nor wasn't my cup of tea. As I said, I was a bit older and had definitely moved into what I'd call meatier pursuits. As they say: "to each his own ..."
But, yes, I saw the news over the weekend on Twitter when the original rumors of Jason David Frank's passing started hitting the web. (In case you missed it, there was a lot of hubbub regarding it for quite some time.) I did what any faithful in genre circles would do -- I cautioned folks not to overreact, to wait for official confirmation, and to hope for the best and pray for the worst. I even engaged with a few folks on the Twitter feed -- there were some who were adamant it was a vicious hoax, and I tried to just calm them down -- which is something I normally try to avoid.
The thing is: losing a hero is never easy. While I'll never agree that any particular actor is a hero, I'd still agree that talented men and women have a way of transcending the ordinary, lifting up their performances -- if not their lives -- to the extraordinary ... and -- without a doubt -- Jason David Frank touched a whole helluva lot of people. Some of that was through his work. Some of that was through his career since Power Rangers. Some of that was through the convention circuit. However he may've made a legacy, it's very clear that he has one, and -- with his loss -- I think all of us should choose to thankful for the positive impact he may've made on television, movies, fandom, and beyond.
It's never easy saying goodbye. No matter the circumstances, the sum total of any man's life is so much more than how he or she leaves this plane of existence.
Thoughts and prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Jason David Frank.
-- EZ
I do know that I have been caught speaking a bit flippantly about them here and there in the blogosphere or even on my daily citation pages; but that's only because to me it seems like this vast, vast property, and it came into being well after my time with what I'd consider to be more kid-friendly entertaining and/or programming. Yes, I've seen a few episodes of various incarnations here and there; and while I might admire what it does in small ways it just isn't nor wasn't my cup of tea. As I said, I was a bit older and had definitely moved into what I'd call meatier pursuits. As they say: "to each his own ..."
But, yes, I saw the news over the weekend on Twitter when the original rumors of Jason David Frank's passing started hitting the web. (In case you missed it, there was a lot of hubbub regarding it for quite some time.) I did what any faithful in genre circles would do -- I cautioned folks not to overreact, to wait for official confirmation, and to hope for the best and pray for the worst. I even engaged with a few folks on the Twitter feed -- there were some who were adamant it was a vicious hoax, and I tried to just calm them down -- which is something I normally try to avoid.
The thing is: losing a hero is never easy. While I'll never agree that any particular actor is a hero, I'd still agree that talented men and women have a way of transcending the ordinary, lifting up their performances -- if not their lives -- to the extraordinary ... and -- without a doubt -- Jason David Frank touched a whole helluva lot of people. Some of that was through his work. Some of that was through his career since Power Rangers. Some of that was through the convention circuit. However he may've made a legacy, it's very clear that he has one, and -- with his loss -- I think all of us should choose to thankful for the positive impact he may've made on television, movies, fandom, and beyond.
It's never easy saying goodbye. No matter the circumstances, the sum total of any man's life is so much more than how he or she leaves this plane of existence.
Thoughts and prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Jason David Frank.
-- EZ
- Published on
The wifey and I were late to the Supernatural bandwagon.
In all fairness, I was never quite as smitten with the spooky as my better half was, but I'd never argue against the show's central chemistry of an extended family banded together to take a much-needed stand opposite the forces of darkess ... and, yes, this included an incredible assortment of secondary players who came and went from the popular program as needed. One of those was Nicki Aycox. In the guise of 'Meg Masters,' she racked up a solid five visits to the Horror procedural, and she turned in some great work as one of the show's many repeat visitors.
As for the rest of her career?
Aycox definitely had the flexibility to step into mainstream dramas and comedies, of which her legacy certain shows. But genre fans might know her from stops to NBC's SciFi/Sitcom 3rd Rock From The Sun, The X-Files, Dark Angel, and a few others highlighted on her IMDB.com profile.
I'd read somewheres, previously, that sadly she'd developed leukemia a few years ago; and the Yahoo News article concerning her passing indicates she did succumb to the disease late last week.
Thought and prayers are issued to the family, friends, and fans of Ms. Aycox.
-- EZ
In all fairness, I was never quite as smitten with the spooky as my better half was, but I'd never argue against the show's central chemistry of an extended family banded together to take a much-needed stand opposite the forces of darkess ... and, yes, this included an incredible assortment of secondary players who came and went from the popular program as needed. One of those was Nicki Aycox. In the guise of 'Meg Masters,' she racked up a solid five visits to the Horror procedural, and she turned in some great work as one of the show's many repeat visitors.
As for the rest of her career?
Aycox definitely had the flexibility to step into mainstream dramas and comedies, of which her legacy certain shows. But genre fans might know her from stops to NBC's SciFi/Sitcom 3rd Rock From The Sun, The X-Files, Dark Angel, and a few others highlighted on her IMDB.com profile.
I'd read somewheres, previously, that sadly she'd developed leukemia a few years ago; and the Yahoo News article concerning her passing indicates she did succumb to the disease late last week.
Thought and prayers are issued to the family, friends, and fans of Ms. Aycox.
-- EZ
- Published on
Though it’s taken me a bit of time, I think I’ve finally figured out exactly why I’m struggling with Walt Disney’s latest streaming opus, Andor.
Critics of the show – from what I’ve read – have been a bit eclectic in finding one if not multiple reasons they’re unable to truly get behind its various characters and stories. By contrast, Andor’s loudest and most vocal supporters do tend to gravitate toward the mutual position that – ahem – it’s an adult story set in a universe that was arguably created for young’uns. Because its players are going through motions and layers of – ahem – narrative complexity (their words, not mine), those singing the show’s infinite praise typically cite showrunner Tony Gilroy’s slow-burning, plot-heavy mechanics, insisting that the storyteller has most effective brought the Mouse House franchise into the modern era of long-form storytelling.
Now, frankly, I’ve got no real bone to pick with any of that. If I wanted to, I suppose that I could argue about that whole ‘adult perspective,’ but I think – at the end of the day – those quibbles are more likely boiled down to polite differences of opinion. You see the world your way, and I see it mine: while we might share some experiences and maybe even a like-minded platform about maturity and the like, the differences of our education, morals, and upbringing still influence each of us to whatever uniqueness we might find in our respective worldviews … so I’ll leave that issue aside in discussing my thoughts on Andor (generally) and its tenth episode, “One Way Out” (specifically). I do this because – as I said above – I think the installment really crystallized my dissatisfaction with the program.
“One Way Out” was received some incredible accolades in many, many online communities. Some have likened it to Mel Gibson’s Braveheart (1995), a solid and cinematic retelling of the life and times of Scottish warrior William Wallace. (FYI: while I enjoyed the picture as did seemingly all of mankind – if you believe what you read – I didn’t find it the G.O.A.T. of a film so many did.) While I’ve no interest in mincing words on that comparison (and its flaws), I can certainly understand and appreciate how some might allow their emotions to runaway with themselves and demand “One Way Out” be – ahem – christened the greatest Star Wars moment ever filmed … but let’s dial that back just a minute, can we?
In all seriousness: what were Andor and his fellow inmates supposed to do?
For those who might not be following the show as closely, “One Way Out” is, essentially, a jailbreak. Both the wrongly and justly accused residents of an Imperial prison join hands, rise up, and overthrow their captors, throwing off their figurative shackles so that they can pursue a lie beyond their obvious oppression. It’s all captured with some fabulous staging – along with some fabulous cinematography – and I’d be a fool to not give the episode’s loudest voices my agreement … but, again, I ask you … what were these folks supposed to do?
Thematically, Andor is understandably about the founding of the Rebel Alliance. History – real history, and not filmed stuff – has shown us that those who are bound and shackled by tyrannical governments have a pretty solid track record of eventually reaching a boiling point and inevitably pushing back; and despite all of the protestations about how “One Way Out” deserves to be considered the defining hour in all of Star Wars I found it a bit underwhelming and – ahem – downright predictable. Perhaps that’s owed to the fact that I read quite a bit of history, and I’ve long ago accepted the political reality that breaking a culture is not as easily achieved as Hollywood and its employees might have us accept. That’s the stuff of movies … but the stuff of reality is that there are plenty of dark and bloody moments when regular Toms, Dicks, Harrys, Jacks, Jills, and Barbies said, “This far, no farther.”
As good as “One Way Out” may’ve been rendered, that’s all there was to it.
And – taking the argument a step further as I’ve long been known to do – what about those prisoners who were legitimately incarcerated – perhaps even for life – who fundamentally deserved to be behind bars? Andor – as a property – has never quite clearly staked out perfectly the chronological particulars within the broader Star Wars timeline (yes, yes, yes, I’m aware of when it’s supposed to take place), so couldn’t it be very likely that this prison existed well before Palpatine’s current shenanigans and contained authentic bad people? Real criminals? Serious ne’er-do-wells? While Cassian undeniably never deserved the sentence he received (and, yes, please remember that I’m ignoring the fact that he probably would’ve been sent elsewhere if his true nefarious past was known), hasn’t the show inserted far too much wiggle room into a franchise that’s long been a classical struggle of good versus evil?
Because the show is (in my opinion) truly running a bit too fast and loose with its own mythology, I’m having trouble appreciating the yarn its spinning. Facts matter, and – as I’ve suggested that I’ve no possible way of knowing whether every single resident of this prison had the ‘heart of gold’ they’ve given Cassian – the story of the oppressed ‘prisoners’ was given no authentic examination whatsoever. Instead, all of these inmates were granted the kind of ‘feel sorry for me’ aesthetic applied to our hero – who has no fundamental journey or quest, at this point, that I’m aware of – so they’re just as innocent as he is … only he isn’t innocent … well, he is and he isn’t … and do you FINALLY see what I’ve been saying about bad writing ruining even a halfway decent show?
Again: don’t misunderstand me. If you’re thrilled with Andor, then I’m happy for you. As I’ve always argued, there’s vastly more room in our world for inspired adventures; and if you find Andor and these loosely-constructed myths to your liking, then so be it.
Given the fact that this is allegedly coming from the same minds who crafted Rogue One – which I enjoyed vastly more than anything in here to date even with its allegedly eleventh hour retooling – I’m just surprised it’s making so little narrative sense.
Still … may the Force be with us. Always.
-- EZ
Critics of the show – from what I’ve read – have been a bit eclectic in finding one if not multiple reasons they’re unable to truly get behind its various characters and stories. By contrast, Andor’s loudest and most vocal supporters do tend to gravitate toward the mutual position that – ahem – it’s an adult story set in a universe that was arguably created for young’uns. Because its players are going through motions and layers of – ahem – narrative complexity (their words, not mine), those singing the show’s infinite praise typically cite showrunner Tony Gilroy’s slow-burning, plot-heavy mechanics, insisting that the storyteller has most effective brought the Mouse House franchise into the modern era of long-form storytelling.
Now, frankly, I’ve got no real bone to pick with any of that. If I wanted to, I suppose that I could argue about that whole ‘adult perspective,’ but I think – at the end of the day – those quibbles are more likely boiled down to polite differences of opinion. You see the world your way, and I see it mine: while we might share some experiences and maybe even a like-minded platform about maturity and the like, the differences of our education, morals, and upbringing still influence each of us to whatever uniqueness we might find in our respective worldviews … so I’ll leave that issue aside in discussing my thoughts on Andor (generally) and its tenth episode, “One Way Out” (specifically). I do this because – as I said above – I think the installment really crystallized my dissatisfaction with the program.
“One Way Out” was received some incredible accolades in many, many online communities. Some have likened it to Mel Gibson’s Braveheart (1995), a solid and cinematic retelling of the life and times of Scottish warrior William Wallace. (FYI: while I enjoyed the picture as did seemingly all of mankind – if you believe what you read – I didn’t find it the G.O.A.T. of a film so many did.) While I’ve no interest in mincing words on that comparison (and its flaws), I can certainly understand and appreciate how some might allow their emotions to runaway with themselves and demand “One Way Out” be – ahem – christened the greatest Star Wars moment ever filmed … but let’s dial that back just a minute, can we?
In all seriousness: what were Andor and his fellow inmates supposed to do?
For those who might not be following the show as closely, “One Way Out” is, essentially, a jailbreak. Both the wrongly and justly accused residents of an Imperial prison join hands, rise up, and overthrow their captors, throwing off their figurative shackles so that they can pursue a lie beyond their obvious oppression. It’s all captured with some fabulous staging – along with some fabulous cinematography – and I’d be a fool to not give the episode’s loudest voices my agreement … but, again, I ask you … what were these folks supposed to do?
Thematically, Andor is understandably about the founding of the Rebel Alliance. History – real history, and not filmed stuff – has shown us that those who are bound and shackled by tyrannical governments have a pretty solid track record of eventually reaching a boiling point and inevitably pushing back; and despite all of the protestations about how “One Way Out” deserves to be considered the defining hour in all of Star Wars I found it a bit underwhelming and – ahem – downright predictable. Perhaps that’s owed to the fact that I read quite a bit of history, and I’ve long ago accepted the political reality that breaking a culture is not as easily achieved as Hollywood and its employees might have us accept. That’s the stuff of movies … but the stuff of reality is that there are plenty of dark and bloody moments when regular Toms, Dicks, Harrys, Jacks, Jills, and Barbies said, “This far, no farther.”
As good as “One Way Out” may’ve been rendered, that’s all there was to it.
And – taking the argument a step further as I’ve long been known to do – what about those prisoners who were legitimately incarcerated – perhaps even for life – who fundamentally deserved to be behind bars? Andor – as a property – has never quite clearly staked out perfectly the chronological particulars within the broader Star Wars timeline (yes, yes, yes, I’m aware of when it’s supposed to take place), so couldn’t it be very likely that this prison existed well before Palpatine’s current shenanigans and contained authentic bad people? Real criminals? Serious ne’er-do-wells? While Cassian undeniably never deserved the sentence he received (and, yes, please remember that I’m ignoring the fact that he probably would’ve been sent elsewhere if his true nefarious past was known), hasn’t the show inserted far too much wiggle room into a franchise that’s long been a classical struggle of good versus evil?
Because the show is (in my opinion) truly running a bit too fast and loose with its own mythology, I’m having trouble appreciating the yarn its spinning. Facts matter, and – as I’ve suggested that I’ve no possible way of knowing whether every single resident of this prison had the ‘heart of gold’ they’ve given Cassian – the story of the oppressed ‘prisoners’ was given no authentic examination whatsoever. Instead, all of these inmates were granted the kind of ‘feel sorry for me’ aesthetic applied to our hero – who has no fundamental journey or quest, at this point, that I’m aware of – so they’re just as innocent as he is … only he isn’t innocent … well, he is and he isn’t … and do you FINALLY see what I’ve been saying about bad writing ruining even a halfway decent show?
Again: don’t misunderstand me. If you’re thrilled with Andor, then I’m happy for you. As I’ve always argued, there’s vastly more room in our world for inspired adventures; and if you find Andor and these loosely-constructed myths to your liking, then so be it.
Given the fact that this is allegedly coming from the same minds who crafted Rogue One – which I enjoyed vastly more than anything in here to date even with its allegedly eleventh hour retooling – I’m just surprised it’s making so little narrative sense.
Still … may the Force be with us. Always.
-- EZ
- Published on
Stardate 11.16.2022.A: Great Taste, More Filling - A Review Of 1980's Seminal Horror Flick Alligator
Yes, yes, and yes: as a (somewhat) child of the 1980’s, I’m more than passingly familiar with the B-Movie flick Alligator.
In fact, I went to college in the mid-1980’s, and Alligator was exactly the kind of home video movie rental that played on the fraternity house television set quite probably hundreds of times … and I honestly never quite understood why. Though I only watched passing snippets of it – never sitting down with the brothers to digest it all in a single sitting – I was never that impressed with it. (Honestly, back in those days, I was more into cinema classics than anything else, but I could appreciate the random Evil Dead or Re-Animator as anyone else my age.) As a Horror feature, it seemed cheaply made; and I just didn’t find it all that frightening. Still, the picture persisted, and – as I said – it was rented and watched more times than I care to remember.
In any event, I recently caught it screening on one of those Friday Night Turner Classic Movies presentations, so I DVR’d it for posterity’s sake and (finally!) sat through it from start to finish. Better late than never, am I right? I guess I figured I owed it to my contemporaries to experience something I was never gaga over despite all of the opportunities. Though my opinion of it really didn’t change – it’s a bit of charming shlock, at best – I’ll offer up a few other thoughts out of respect for my peers … not like they deserve it for believing as they did that this was one of the high points of 80’s cinema.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
In fact, I went to college in the mid-1980’s, and Alligator was exactly the kind of home video movie rental that played on the fraternity house television set quite probably hundreds of times … and I honestly never quite understood why. Though I only watched passing snippets of it – never sitting down with the brothers to digest it all in a single sitting – I was never that impressed with it. (Honestly, back in those days, I was more into cinema classics than anything else, but I could appreciate the random Evil Dead or Re-Animator as anyone else my age.) As a Horror feature, it seemed cheaply made; and I just didn’t find it all that frightening. Still, the picture persisted, and – as I said – it was rented and watched more times than I care to remember.
In any event, I recently caught it screening on one of those Friday Night Turner Classic Movies presentations, so I DVR’d it for posterity’s sake and (finally!) sat through it from start to finish. Better late than never, am I right? I guess I figured I owed it to my contemporaries to experience something I was never gaga over despite all of the opportunities. Though my opinion of it really didn’t change – it’s a bit of charming shlock, at best – I’ll offer up a few other thoughts out of respect for my peers … not like they deserve it for believing as they did that this was one of the high points of 80’s cinema.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com citation:
“A pet baby alligator is flushed down a toilet and survives in the city sewers. 12 years later, it grows to an enormous size thanks to a diet of discarded laboratory dogs injected with growth hormones. Now, humans have entered the menu.”
I’ve long made peace with the fact that my critics complain that I have a tendency to “suck the fun” out of everything.
You see, I’m in many ways a realist, so movies – while entirely fictional (or to a degree) – present a unique challenge. Clearly, they’re conceived as entertainment, but because of the way I look at the world at large I do require that they – in their own estimable way – make sense. Plot holes ruin the experience for me – even ones that appear so glaringly obvious that perhaps they were meant in jest – and developments or twists that arise inorganically pull me out of the experience. Layered storytelling should progress logically; if not, then there’s a hint of artifice to all of the world, and the resulting failure of cohesiveness turns the meal sour for me. I can’t – as they say – just “get into it,” so I find the flick inferior.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Trust me: I’ve heard it all before.
So when a young girl comes home to find that her baby alligator has gone missing … only for her to grow up to become the area’s – ahem – resident expert on alligators, I’m inclined to think this stuff only happens in movies. When a screenwriter adds even more layers of improbability to the yarn – such as having this little lost alligator subsist for over a dozen years on the diet of lost dogs ingested with illegally-tested growth hormones – the entire house of cards falls completely apart for me as, statistically, it would be damn near impossible for all of these elements to align themselves in such a way as to make this story – as conceived – remotely plausible.
Again, I know. Like I said: I’ve heard it before.
“A pet baby alligator is flushed down a toilet and survives in the city sewers. 12 years later, it grows to an enormous size thanks to a diet of discarded laboratory dogs injected with growth hormones. Now, humans have entered the menu.”
I’ve long made peace with the fact that my critics complain that I have a tendency to “suck the fun” out of everything.
You see, I’m in many ways a realist, so movies – while entirely fictional (or to a degree) – present a unique challenge. Clearly, they’re conceived as entertainment, but because of the way I look at the world at large I do require that they – in their own estimable way – make sense. Plot holes ruin the experience for me – even ones that appear so glaringly obvious that perhaps they were meant in jest – and developments or twists that arise inorganically pull me out of the experience. Layered storytelling should progress logically; if not, then there’s a hint of artifice to all of the world, and the resulting failure of cohesiveness turns the meal sour for me. I can’t – as they say – just “get into it,” so I find the flick inferior.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Trust me: I’ve heard it all before.
So when a young girl comes home to find that her baby alligator has gone missing … only for her to grow up to become the area’s – ahem – resident expert on alligators, I’m inclined to think this stuff only happens in movies. When a screenwriter adds even more layers of improbability to the yarn – such as having this little lost alligator subsist for over a dozen years on the diet of lost dogs ingested with illegally-tested growth hormones – the entire house of cards falls completely apart for me as, statistically, it would be damn near impossible for all of these elements to align themselves in such a way as to make this story – as conceived – remotely plausible.
Again, I know. Like I said: I’ve heard it before.
I realize it’s only a movie, but when that script requires a never-ending stream of narrative twists that defy reason I can’t help myself … and, surprisingly, award-winning screenwriter John Sayles still managed to chuck more fuel onto the fire that was his script of Alligator (1980) as directed by the reliable Lewis Teague. (Sayles, I love what you did with Battle Beyond The Stars, so I’ll forgive you this shortcoming.) The end result of their collaboration remains one of the more fondly remembered Horror features of its era, though I’ll admit that I never quite understood why.
In some respects, Alligator represents one of the high points in bringing ‘the great urban legend’ to life. In fact, we’ve probably all heard stories of reptiles flushed down the toilet, and that is the opening catalyst for putting this creature feature on the cinematic map. Young Marisa (Leslie Brown) comes home from school to find her pet gone; while dad did the nasty deed, there’s never even unifying scene wherein he confesses it to his daughter. (In fact, I don’t think it’s ever touched on once it happens.) Just as we all collectively have wondered what might happen were this done, Alligator quickly ramps up the possibilities with some mad, mad science.
Where it stumbles – and it does seriously stumble – is that it relies too heavily and too consistently on develops that appear more of a screenwriter’s invention than it does authentic story development. Granted, storytellers have long established their loathing of corporations and commerce, but couldn’t Sayles come up with anything other than a big pharmaceutical company being the devil behind-the-curtain here? This trope has come up again and again in Science Fiction and Fantasy, and even back in the 1980’s it was considered ‘old hat.’ To make matters worse, how would it be – sigh – even fashionably possible that said pharmaceutical company would be sponsoring a huge outdoor gala which would be on the dreaded alligator’s escape route from the city? And – lo and behold – wouldn’t that be just the kind of shindig in which this hungry behemoth could stop and make a meal out of everyone seemingly responsible for its tragic condition?
Why … the story practically writes itself!
Thankfully, the film does benefit from some good casting.
In some respects, Alligator represents one of the high points in bringing ‘the great urban legend’ to life. In fact, we’ve probably all heard stories of reptiles flushed down the toilet, and that is the opening catalyst for putting this creature feature on the cinematic map. Young Marisa (Leslie Brown) comes home from school to find her pet gone; while dad did the nasty deed, there’s never even unifying scene wherein he confesses it to his daughter. (In fact, I don’t think it’s ever touched on once it happens.) Just as we all collectively have wondered what might happen were this done, Alligator quickly ramps up the possibilities with some mad, mad science.
Where it stumbles – and it does seriously stumble – is that it relies too heavily and too consistently on develops that appear more of a screenwriter’s invention than it does authentic story development. Granted, storytellers have long established their loathing of corporations and commerce, but couldn’t Sayles come up with anything other than a big pharmaceutical company being the devil behind-the-curtain here? This trope has come up again and again in Science Fiction and Fantasy, and even back in the 1980’s it was considered ‘old hat.’ To make matters worse, how would it be – sigh – even fashionably possible that said pharmaceutical company would be sponsoring a huge outdoor gala which would be on the dreaded alligator’s escape route from the city? And – lo and behold – wouldn’t that be just the kind of shindig in which this hungry behemoth could stop and make a meal out of everyone seemingly responsible for its tragic condition?
Why … the story practically writes itself!
Thankfully, the film does benefit from some good casting.
Back in the day, I was very familiar with the face of Robert Forster. In fact, his work in 1977’s Stunts was a bit of legend for me and my friends. Stunts – a largely forgettable film about some skullduggery in the movie business – played in a seemingly endless rotation on one of the earliest pay cable channels available in our market, so I and my friends had seen it dozens of times. (Seriously, don’t seek it out, unless you’re a Forster fan. Even then, it’s only marginally entertaining.) As the man of action bent on uncovering the mystery behind his brother’s death, Forster’s ‘Glen Wilson’ was everything a bunch of pre-pubescent roughnecks would want to follow in his footsteps. He was ‘the man’ for us, and I’ll concede his unflappable charm elevates Alligator in minor ways.
Award-nominated actress Robin Riker’s career was really just getting in gear. IMDB.com shows that she’d enjoyed some small roles in television, and then the opportunity to go to second billing on a Horror feature dropped into her lap. (You go, girl!) Naturally, her good looks make her easy-on-the-eyes for audiences, and she pairs up opposite Forster with some nice chemistry despite the fact he’s a bit hard on her in some of the quieter moments. But men can stare at her gingery goodness all damn day, and that’s a fact.
Still, it’s hard for me to recognize Alligator as anything other than a modestly successful B-Movie that benefits from being a formulaic creature feature from an era in which ‘anything goes’ on the silver screen. It rarely makes sense – yes, I’ve already conceded the “it’s only a movie” argument – and there’s never really all that much time spent with the ‘gator itself. Call me old-fashioned, but I do like creature features that give me more monster time than anything else; and Alligator’s dark and dreary subterranean settings might be the perfect urban landscape to ratchet up fear, but I wanted more time spent with the critter than with some milquetoast supporting players.
Alligator (1980) was produced by Alligator (if you can believe IMDB.com). (Wikipedia.org reports that it was produced by Group 1 Films.)
Mildly recommended.
As imperfect as Alligator (1980) was and will always be, I suppose there’s nothing wrong with it occupying some soft space in the hearts of 80’s film fans. (FYI: soft spots make it easier for the creature to chew!) It certainly represents a flick whose heart was in the right place, though any critical dissection of its characters, situations, and circumstances grinds the narrative to a serious halt. Still, kudos to those involved for launching a short-lived gator franchise as well as giving screen time to one of mankind’s more enduring urban legends. And God bless us Forster and Riker … a match made in cinema heaven.
-- EZ
Award-nominated actress Robin Riker’s career was really just getting in gear. IMDB.com shows that she’d enjoyed some small roles in television, and then the opportunity to go to second billing on a Horror feature dropped into her lap. (You go, girl!) Naturally, her good looks make her easy-on-the-eyes for audiences, and she pairs up opposite Forster with some nice chemistry despite the fact he’s a bit hard on her in some of the quieter moments. But men can stare at her gingery goodness all damn day, and that’s a fact.
Still, it’s hard for me to recognize Alligator as anything other than a modestly successful B-Movie that benefits from being a formulaic creature feature from an era in which ‘anything goes’ on the silver screen. It rarely makes sense – yes, I’ve already conceded the “it’s only a movie” argument – and there’s never really all that much time spent with the ‘gator itself. Call me old-fashioned, but I do like creature features that give me more monster time than anything else; and Alligator’s dark and dreary subterranean settings might be the perfect urban landscape to ratchet up fear, but I wanted more time spent with the critter than with some milquetoast supporting players.
Alligator (1980) was produced by Alligator (if you can believe IMDB.com). (Wikipedia.org reports that it was produced by Group 1 Films.)
Mildly recommended.
As imperfect as Alligator (1980) was and will always be, I suppose there’s nothing wrong with it occupying some soft space in the hearts of 80’s film fans. (FYI: soft spots make it easier for the creature to chew!) It certainly represents a flick whose heart was in the right place, though any critical dissection of its characters, situations, and circumstances grinds the narrative to a serious halt. Still, kudos to those involved for launching a short-lived gator franchise as well as giving screen time to one of mankind’s more enduring urban legends. And God bless us Forster and Riker … a match made in cinema heaven.
-- EZ
- Published on
Ah, folks, in the words famously said several times by Mel Brooks: "It's good to be the king!"
I kid, I kid, but sometimes the Review Gods do smile upon me ... and the very kind people at Kino Lorber recently treated me to a complimentary Blu-ray copy of that 1970's television classic Night Gallery. I humbly accepted!
For those of you unaware, Night Gallery was the creation of Rod Serling, the man behind the ultimate television staple The Twilight Zone. In fact, I've read that Serling himself saw Night Gallery as a kinda/sorta continuation of Zone -- to a degree -- though the program focused much more closely on Horror as a staple in its stories, dabbling in matters of the occult, ghosts, ghouls, and the like. It premiered in 1970 and last three seasons, and I believe I've read the format was tinkered with just a bit over those three years.
Now, I haven't seen an awful lot of the show. I have seen the original pilot telefilm (I think it aired in 1968 or 1969, which was actually quite good), and I have seen a handful of the first season episodes. While I didn't find the show on the same level of quality as was The Twilight Zone, I still believe it's filled with some of the better stories captured for broadcast audiences of a certain era. Production qualities were quite good, though I honestly felt its tales were a bit too grounded in what I'd call late 1960's and early 1970's sensibilities, which is to say that they were probably a bit light on narrative specifics, a bit overly theatrical.
Still, I would argue that Night Gallery offered an incredible line-up of guest stars, some of them very near their prime, and that fact alone might make a trip into the Gallery a good time for those of us who still appreciate the aging Thespian's ability to chew scenery the way only he or she could.
In any event, I'm going to spend a bit of time over the next few days watching a few of these episodes, and I'll be posting some reviews in this space for regular readers. Do, please, check them out; and for fans of the original program it is available on DVD (Seasons 1 and 2 are already in the marketplace, and Season 3 drops next week). What with the holiday season right around the corner, what household wouldn't benefit from something a bit different on the entertainment menu?
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
I kid, I kid, but sometimes the Review Gods do smile upon me ... and the very kind people at Kino Lorber recently treated me to a complimentary Blu-ray copy of that 1970's television classic Night Gallery. I humbly accepted!
For those of you unaware, Night Gallery was the creation of Rod Serling, the man behind the ultimate television staple The Twilight Zone. In fact, I've read that Serling himself saw Night Gallery as a kinda/sorta continuation of Zone -- to a degree -- though the program focused much more closely on Horror as a staple in its stories, dabbling in matters of the occult, ghosts, ghouls, and the like. It premiered in 1970 and last three seasons, and I believe I've read the format was tinkered with just a bit over those three years.
Now, I haven't seen an awful lot of the show. I have seen the original pilot telefilm (I think it aired in 1968 or 1969, which was actually quite good), and I have seen a handful of the first season episodes. While I didn't find the show on the same level of quality as was The Twilight Zone, I still believe it's filled with some of the better stories captured for broadcast audiences of a certain era. Production qualities were quite good, though I honestly felt its tales were a bit too grounded in what I'd call late 1960's and early 1970's sensibilities, which is to say that they were probably a bit light on narrative specifics, a bit overly theatrical.
Still, I would argue that Night Gallery offered an incredible line-up of guest stars, some of them very near their prime, and that fact alone might make a trip into the Gallery a good time for those of us who still appreciate the aging Thespian's ability to chew scenery the way only he or she could.
In any event, I'm going to spend a bit of time over the next few days watching a few of these episodes, and I'll be posting some reviews in this space for regular readers. Do, please, check them out; and for fans of the original program it is available on DVD (Seasons 1 and 2 are already in the marketplace, and Season 3 drops next week). What with the holiday season right around the corner, what household wouldn't benefit from something a bit different on the entertainment menu?
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
- Published on
For the uninformed: Night Gallery (1969-1973) was an anthology program launched from the mind of Rod Serling, a gifted storyteller who had found previous fame and fortune with the format with the groundbreaking The Twilight Zone (1959-1964). While the two shows share some thematic sensibilities as well as the propensity to rely entirely on guest stars in key roles, perhaps the significant difference is where Zone relied predominantly on Science Fiction as a backdrop for its tales Gallery tended to explore the supernatural, the occult, and the downright macabre at times.
To the show’s credit, Night Gallery enjoyed a pair of Primetime Emmy Awards (one in 1971 and again in 1972 in different categories). While the program didn’t win, series creator Serling himself took home a 1970 Edgar Allen Poe ‘Special Edgar’ trophy for bringing the program to life, another much deserved nod toward the quality recognized in the man’s ongoing legacy at the time.
Recently, I had the good fortune of receiving a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Night Gallery: Season 03, and I wanted to spend some time reviewing a handful of the episodes for interested readers.
Today’s installment: The Return Of The Sorcerer was the third season’s season opener, a thirty-minute chiller starring Horror icon Vincent Price, TV’s popular Bill Bixby, and Tisha Sterling.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the episode’s IMDB.com citation page:
“Sorcerer John Carnby recruits young Noel Evans to translate an incomplete Arabic source book whose most fiendish passages involve being flayed over burning coals and slowly dismembered.”
Ahem.
Far be it from me to look to deeply into Night Gallery’s third season premiere, but – if I’m being perfectly honest – it’s a bit of a stinker. This isn’t to say that it’s deficient in any one way in particular; rather, there’s a general silliness to the entire affair, one that might make audiences legitimately question just what the source material looked like before ending up as it did in this curious edit. IMDB.com credits the script first as a story from author Clark Ashton Smith, a name that in some circles appears synonymous with pulp masters Robert E. Howard and H.P. Lovecraft. Wikipedia.org states that Smith’s catalogue boasts entries in poetry and prose across the genres of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror. Halsted Welles is credited with the screenplay, and – as is almost always the case with Serling’s programs – Rod himself is given ‘uncredited’ on the draft.
As for the story, Carnby (Price) is hellbent on finding a translator for some elusive text, though I’ll admit there’s no clear explanation for his central demand. Instead, there are suggestions that it’s all tied back to a family curse (watch closely, and you’ll see Vincent appear in more than one role here) along with perhaps a jilted love affair with the fetching Fern (Sterling). Noel Evans (Bixby) agrees with a bit too relative ease to continue the work vacated by previous experts, and he even succumbs to Fern’s affections despite the script providing absolutely zero foundation (and credibility) for their apparent tryst … unless, of course, it’s all magic to begin with.
But as the action unfolds, The Return Of The Sorcerer grows ever more opaque.
To the show’s credit, Night Gallery enjoyed a pair of Primetime Emmy Awards (one in 1971 and again in 1972 in different categories). While the program didn’t win, series creator Serling himself took home a 1970 Edgar Allen Poe ‘Special Edgar’ trophy for bringing the program to life, another much deserved nod toward the quality recognized in the man’s ongoing legacy at the time.
Recently, I had the good fortune of receiving a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Night Gallery: Season 03, and I wanted to spend some time reviewing a handful of the episodes for interested readers.
Today’s installment: The Return Of The Sorcerer was the third season’s season opener, a thirty-minute chiller starring Horror icon Vincent Price, TV’s popular Bill Bixby, and Tisha Sterling.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the episode’s IMDB.com citation page:
“Sorcerer John Carnby recruits young Noel Evans to translate an incomplete Arabic source book whose most fiendish passages involve being flayed over burning coals and slowly dismembered.”
Ahem.
Far be it from me to look to deeply into Night Gallery’s third season premiere, but – if I’m being perfectly honest – it’s a bit of a stinker. This isn’t to say that it’s deficient in any one way in particular; rather, there’s a general silliness to the entire affair, one that might make audiences legitimately question just what the source material looked like before ending up as it did in this curious edit. IMDB.com credits the script first as a story from author Clark Ashton Smith, a name that in some circles appears synonymous with pulp masters Robert E. Howard and H.P. Lovecraft. Wikipedia.org states that Smith’s catalogue boasts entries in poetry and prose across the genres of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror. Halsted Welles is credited with the screenplay, and – as is almost always the case with Serling’s programs – Rod himself is given ‘uncredited’ on the draft.
As for the story, Carnby (Price) is hellbent on finding a translator for some elusive text, though I’ll admit there’s no clear explanation for his central demand. Instead, there are suggestions that it’s all tied back to a family curse (watch closely, and you’ll see Vincent appear in more than one role here) along with perhaps a jilted love affair with the fetching Fern (Sterling). Noel Evans (Bixby) agrees with a bit too relative ease to continue the work vacated by previous experts, and he even succumbs to Fern’s affections despite the script providing absolutely zero foundation (and credibility) for their apparent tryst … unless, of course, it’s all magic to begin with.
But as the action unfolds, The Return Of The Sorcerer grows ever more opaque.
Carnby is constantly plagued by some offstage scratches, but the script never clarifies whether or not anyone else in the estate and onscreen is hearing them as well. (There are suggestions, but no one else reacts to them even remotely as profoundly as does Price, that gawking fool.) Furthermore, Evans doesn’t even seem to notice that he’s walking down hallways so thickly and obviously filled with ambient fog (if not smoke) one wonders why this pronounced brainiac didn’t ask if the fire detectors had current batteries. Were we, the audience, to assume he couldn’t see this? It’s as thick as soup! About the time the lovely Fern shows up for dinner dressed more like a cocktail waitress at the local Marriott I figured I wasn’t supposed to take the sudden appearance of the most curious dinner guest ever – a seated ram, horns and all – as any surprise. Why not have the horned beast sitting at the supper table? Especially when Fern’s now carrying a frog for her to kiss at every opportunity.
There’s a bit more lunacy, and yet I don’t feel the need to underscore further how these antics serve to distract more than they endear an audience to the one-dimensional premise. Sadly, this Sorcerer is all atmosphere and no substance, much like the unexplained fog filling the Carnby mansion. Given Price and Bixby’s pedigree, I think it’s safe to say that I expected a bit more from this thirty-minute excursion into the dark arts, but it’s all far too muddled for my tastes. Granted, I’m a full-blooded American male, so I enjoyed watching Sterling for her slim contribution here: while she’s fabulous to look at, I can’t help but wonder what all of her curious ramblings may’ve been about.
Night Gallery: Season 03 (1972-1973) was produced by Universal Television. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good people at Kino Lorber. As for the technical specifications? Though I’m not trained video expert, I found the sights and sounds of this episode to be particularly solid.
Mildly recommended.
If you’re a fan of Price, then perhaps The Return Of The Sorcerer might, at best, qualify as a guilty pleasure. If you’ve read the above, you’ll know that I didn’t find it all that interesting, much less good, but – as a talent – I suspect only Vincent could’ve accomplished what little he did here and make it palatable. Bixby – a known commodity – is a bit wasted in a role that never quite develops, and the end result is a mixed bag of tricks that evokes only a passing visual flourish of a show that deserved a much stronger entry for its third (and final) season.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Night Gallery: Season 03 by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
There’s a bit more lunacy, and yet I don’t feel the need to underscore further how these antics serve to distract more than they endear an audience to the one-dimensional premise. Sadly, this Sorcerer is all atmosphere and no substance, much like the unexplained fog filling the Carnby mansion. Given Price and Bixby’s pedigree, I think it’s safe to say that I expected a bit more from this thirty-minute excursion into the dark arts, but it’s all far too muddled for my tastes. Granted, I’m a full-blooded American male, so I enjoyed watching Sterling for her slim contribution here: while she’s fabulous to look at, I can’t help but wonder what all of her curious ramblings may’ve been about.
Night Gallery: Season 03 (1972-1973) was produced by Universal Television. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good people at Kino Lorber. As for the technical specifications? Though I’m not trained video expert, I found the sights and sounds of this episode to be particularly solid.
Mildly recommended.
If you’re a fan of Price, then perhaps The Return Of The Sorcerer might, at best, qualify as a guilty pleasure. If you’ve read the above, you’ll know that I didn’t find it all that interesting, much less good, but – as a talent – I suspect only Vincent could’ve accomplished what little he did here and make it palatable. Bixby – a known commodity – is a bit wasted in a role that never quite develops, and the end result is a mixed bag of tricks that evokes only a passing visual flourish of a show that deserved a much stronger entry for its third (and final) season.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Night Gallery: Season 03 by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
For the uninformed: Night Gallery (1969-1973) was an anthology program launched from the mind of Rod Serling, a gifted storyteller who had found previous fame and fortune with the format with the groundbreaking The Twilight Zone (1959-1964). While the two shows share some thematic sensibilities as well as the propensity to rely entirely on guest stars in key roles, perhaps the significant difference is where Zone relied predominantly on Science Fiction as a backdrop for its tales Gallery tended to explore the supernatural, the occult, and the downright macabre at times.
To the show’s credit, Night Gallery enjoyed a pair of Primetime Emmy Awards (one in 1971 and again in 1972 in different categories). While the program didn’t win, series creator Serling himself took home a 1970 Edgar Allen Poe ‘Special Edgar’ trophy for bringing the program to life, another much deserved nod toward the quality recognized in the man’s ongoing legacy at the time.
Recently, I had the good fortune of receiving a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Night Gallery: Season 03, and I wanted to spend some time reviewing a handful of the episodes for interested readers.
Today’s installment: “The Girl With The Hungry Eyes” first aired on U.S. broadcast television on October 1, 1972, and the curious yarn starred James Farentino and Joanna Pettet as the fashion photographer and his muse (respectively) thrown together out of mystical circumstance but only one of them has the power to break the spell over mortal men … even at a very high professional cost.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the episode’s IMDB.com citation page:
“Photographer David Faulkner makes the acquaintance of a beautiful but anonymous woman. A beer manufacturer is entranced by the girl and wants to put her on all of his billboards and demands a meeting with her. David and every man the girl meets becomes similarly infatuated with her.”
In fairness, that synopsis (apparently provided by a reader of IMDB.com) doesn’t quite do the thirty-minute story justice because it only flirts (snicker snicker) with the installment’s subject matter. Instead, the script credited to Robert Malcolm Young (inspired by a story from Fritz Leiber Jr.) conjures up a bit of TV magic and commentary about beauty, where it comes from, where it might take us culturally, and maybe why it’s more than a bit elusive. At its core, “The Girl With The Hungry Eyes” only toys with the ideas of advertising and commerce, centering on how something that’s more than a pretty face might move nations to war (or, at least, buying beer), and instead hones in on the dark side of what might make beauty as dangerous as it is lovely to behold.
To the show’s credit, Night Gallery enjoyed a pair of Primetime Emmy Awards (one in 1971 and again in 1972 in different categories). While the program didn’t win, series creator Serling himself took home a 1970 Edgar Allen Poe ‘Special Edgar’ trophy for bringing the program to life, another much deserved nod toward the quality recognized in the man’s ongoing legacy at the time.
Recently, I had the good fortune of receiving a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Night Gallery: Season 03, and I wanted to spend some time reviewing a handful of the episodes for interested readers.
Today’s installment: “The Girl With The Hungry Eyes” first aired on U.S. broadcast television on October 1, 1972, and the curious yarn starred James Farentino and Joanna Pettet as the fashion photographer and his muse (respectively) thrown together out of mystical circumstance but only one of them has the power to break the spell over mortal men … even at a very high professional cost.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the episode’s IMDB.com citation page:
“Photographer David Faulkner makes the acquaintance of a beautiful but anonymous woman. A beer manufacturer is entranced by the girl and wants to put her on all of his billboards and demands a meeting with her. David and every man the girl meets becomes similarly infatuated with her.”
In fairness, that synopsis (apparently provided by a reader of IMDB.com) doesn’t quite do the thirty-minute story justice because it only flirts (snicker snicker) with the installment’s subject matter. Instead, the script credited to Robert Malcolm Young (inspired by a story from Fritz Leiber Jr.) conjures up a bit of TV magic and commentary about beauty, where it comes from, where it might take us culturally, and maybe why it’s more than a bit elusive. At its core, “The Girl With The Hungry Eyes” only toys with the ideas of advertising and commerce, centering on how something that’s more than a pretty face might move nations to war (or, at least, buying beer), and instead hones in on the dark side of what might make beauty as dangerous as it is lovely to behold.
Because this is Rod Serling territory – and it is Night Gallery, after all – there’s also the somewhat supernatural hook: what audiences learn is that this unnamed Girl requires sustenance to survive, and apparently that takes the shape of human souls of the men who gawk at her endlessly with lecherous intent. Though some might suggest the John Badham-directed episode leans heavily into misogynist sensibilities, I’m inclined to argue that critics would be taking this sugary concoction far too seriously. One could gender-swap these central roles – make the model a man and the photographer a woman – and the core theme – that of the danger with investing too fervently in the superficial – still rings true.
But I digress …
Cast as the Girl is the lovely Joanna Pettet, indeed a delicious creature with a face one easily imagines in any and all types of major market media campaigns. She’s a talent who even bared more than just her soul in the pages of Playboy (1968, for those of you Googling); while her professional career appears to have ended in the early 1990’s, she definitely enjoyed a string of small roles in some of TV’s more memorable franchises. Still, it’s easy to see her as the inspiration here, and she makes even the anonymous nature of her curious spirit in the piece real enough to be accepted.
The late James Farentino – a guy who in my opinion never quite found any big breakthrough performance but turned in solid work whenever called upon – plays the somewhat blue-collar photographer David Faulkner who somehow mysteriously finds the Girl in the last frame of a newly-developed roll of film. He knows that he didn’t snap her picture, but – captivated as all men are by her radiance and beauty – he can’t help but expand upon their professional encounter more. Before he knows it, the two of them are bound contractually together, though he’s limited to allowing her to exist in his world without sharing her name, her address, or her true identity.
As you can imagine, the magic of The Girl With The Hungry Eyes requires that no one glance too deeply at its premise, perhaps the guiding metaphor for these thirty minutes if there ever were. When he can’t help himself, Faulkner gets closer and closer to violating the demands his magical model has put on their dubious partnership; but – in the end – he’ll know that she was never quite as real as she was the wistful source of all that men dream about when they’re slaves to hormones they know all too well. As one might imagine, it only takes a spark to send it all up in smoke … eyes included.
Night Gallery: Season 03 (1972-1973) was produced by Universal Television. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good people at Kino Lorber. As for the technical specifications? Though I’m not trained video expert, I found the sights and sounds of this episode to be particularly solid.
Highly recommended.
Though it’s far more magical surrealism than anything else, The Girl With The Hungry Eyes is a winning thirty minutes. It has just enough story to draw an audience in, and it boasts two central performances – Farentino’s and Pettet’s – that work within the mystical construct of a world both with and without boundaries. Naturally, Pettet is just damn fabulous to look at – one could expect no less given the tale – but Farentino is man enough to put an end to her shenanigans before it costs him more than his existence. Good call, my man.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Night Gallery: Season 03 by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
But I digress …
Cast as the Girl is the lovely Joanna Pettet, indeed a delicious creature with a face one easily imagines in any and all types of major market media campaigns. She’s a talent who even bared more than just her soul in the pages of Playboy (1968, for those of you Googling); while her professional career appears to have ended in the early 1990’s, she definitely enjoyed a string of small roles in some of TV’s more memorable franchises. Still, it’s easy to see her as the inspiration here, and she makes even the anonymous nature of her curious spirit in the piece real enough to be accepted.
The late James Farentino – a guy who in my opinion never quite found any big breakthrough performance but turned in solid work whenever called upon – plays the somewhat blue-collar photographer David Faulkner who somehow mysteriously finds the Girl in the last frame of a newly-developed roll of film. He knows that he didn’t snap her picture, but – captivated as all men are by her radiance and beauty – he can’t help but expand upon their professional encounter more. Before he knows it, the two of them are bound contractually together, though he’s limited to allowing her to exist in his world without sharing her name, her address, or her true identity.
As you can imagine, the magic of The Girl With The Hungry Eyes requires that no one glance too deeply at its premise, perhaps the guiding metaphor for these thirty minutes if there ever were. When he can’t help himself, Faulkner gets closer and closer to violating the demands his magical model has put on their dubious partnership; but – in the end – he’ll know that she was never quite as real as she was the wistful source of all that men dream about when they’re slaves to hormones they know all too well. As one might imagine, it only takes a spark to send it all up in smoke … eyes included.
Night Gallery: Season 03 (1972-1973) was produced by Universal Television. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good people at Kino Lorber. As for the technical specifications? Though I’m not trained video expert, I found the sights and sounds of this episode to be particularly solid.
Highly recommended.
Though it’s far more magical surrealism than anything else, The Girl With The Hungry Eyes is a winning thirty minutes. It has just enough story to draw an audience in, and it boasts two central performances – Farentino’s and Pettet’s – that work within the mystical construct of a world both with and without boundaries. Naturally, Pettet is just damn fabulous to look at – one could expect no less given the tale – but Farentino is man enough to put an end to her shenanigans before it costs him more than his existence. Good call, my man.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Night Gallery: Season 03 by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
Regular readers in this space know that I’m not a huge fan of the all-too-conventional slasher picture.
From time-to-time, I’m apt to remind folks that – while I find them a bit too predictable for my tastes – I can appreciate a blue-collar attempt to ratchet up the appropriate tension and deliver some bloody chills and spills. Though I’ll admit that they’re rarely the kind of thing I’ll ever watch over and over, I can still marvel at those films that both stay-on-track as well as ‘stick the landing’ in the process. Those ponying up something special – be it a unique plot twist or maybe even the suggestion of the supernatural – do tend to rate a bit higher on my ranking list … but at the end of the day I’m still prone to watch ‘em once and then get back to the business of exploring bodies with a bit more meat on them there bones.
Nightmare Man is a bit of a mixed pot. It both is and isn’t ‘traditional,’ and the end result winds up being a bit too uneven to truly elevate it to the point of being something special. Those preferring to dabble in the influence of the beyond should take note of its passable charm, though I do question just how special they’ll find it’s a bit-too-predictable second half even though it closes with the suggestion that some things that go bump in the night are truly beyond our grasp.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the product packaging:
“After receiving a demonic African mask in the mail, Ellen Morris is attacked in her dreams by an evil being she calls ‘Nightmare Man’ and is labeled a paranoid schizophrenic by both her doctor and her husband. When Ellen is brutally attacked again, this time after being abandoned on the side of the road while being transported to the hospital, she flees for her life and stumbles upon a remote cabin filled with friends …”
There’s a bit more, but regular readers know of my penchant to not spoil too much of the plot. Yes, yes, yes, this is an older release finding new life on home video fifteen years later, but I’m a stickler for leaving some of the surprises to you – the audience – and I’ll leave it at that.
Suffice it to say, Nightmare Man both is and isn’t a conventional slasher picture. Writer/director Rolfe Kanefsky – a busy, busy professional with over seventy projects currently to his name – packs this Nightmare with a little bit of everything; though it has the framework suggesting it’s a lean-and-mean butchering machine, it does both suggest and develop the theme of otherworldly evil – one that’s not quite as conventional as gets depicted in here – making the second half a bit more interesting than the first. Those who prefer Horrors that are more than meets the eye should have their appetites sated when all is said and done.
From time-to-time, I’m apt to remind folks that – while I find them a bit too predictable for my tastes – I can appreciate a blue-collar attempt to ratchet up the appropriate tension and deliver some bloody chills and spills. Though I’ll admit that they’re rarely the kind of thing I’ll ever watch over and over, I can still marvel at those films that both stay-on-track as well as ‘stick the landing’ in the process. Those ponying up something special – be it a unique plot twist or maybe even the suggestion of the supernatural – do tend to rate a bit higher on my ranking list … but at the end of the day I’m still prone to watch ‘em once and then get back to the business of exploring bodies with a bit more meat on them there bones.
Nightmare Man is a bit of a mixed pot. It both is and isn’t ‘traditional,’ and the end result winds up being a bit too uneven to truly elevate it to the point of being something special. Those preferring to dabble in the influence of the beyond should take note of its passable charm, though I do question just how special they’ll find it’s a bit-too-predictable second half even though it closes with the suggestion that some things that go bump in the night are truly beyond our grasp.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the product packaging:
“After receiving a demonic African mask in the mail, Ellen Morris is attacked in her dreams by an evil being she calls ‘Nightmare Man’ and is labeled a paranoid schizophrenic by both her doctor and her husband. When Ellen is brutally attacked again, this time after being abandoned on the side of the road while being transported to the hospital, she flees for her life and stumbles upon a remote cabin filled with friends …”
There’s a bit more, but regular readers know of my penchant to not spoil too much of the plot. Yes, yes, yes, this is an older release finding new life on home video fifteen years later, but I’m a stickler for leaving some of the surprises to you – the audience – and I’ll leave it at that.
Suffice it to say, Nightmare Man both is and isn’t a conventional slasher picture. Writer/director Rolfe Kanefsky – a busy, busy professional with over seventy projects currently to his name – packs this Nightmare with a little bit of everything; though it has the framework suggesting it’s a lean-and-mean butchering machine, it does both suggest and develop the theme of otherworldly evil – one that’s not quite as conventional as gets depicted in here – making the second half a bit more interesting than the first. Those who prefer Horrors that are more than meets the eye should have their appetites sated when all is said and done.
Also, I’ve always been a fan of masked killer sagas, and this Nightmare does have a face only a mother could love. The script attributes it as having properties that might help couples in trying to conceive (!!!???!!!), a somewhat laughable suggestion but one that doesn’t derail the plot as this one gets into the killing business reasonably quickly. If anything, Kanefsky’s script perhaps focusing a bit too much on its dry melodrama – there’s truly no ‘happy couple’ at the core of any of these cinematic relationships – when what matters most in here is the gruesome façade chasing down the victims one after another. That’s when this Nightmare works best, and that should be no surprise.
While most folks don’t come to a Horror feature looking for big performances, the film is aided by some familiar faces who manage to give something interesting to the project. The comely Blythe Metz is a likeable lead; she balances the act between being a damsel-in-distress while questioning her sanity more than I think most actresses might bring to the role, so it’s easy to root for her survival in what might be an otherwise dim affair. Johanna Putnam shines – albeit a bit briefly – as the former coed who’s trying to get beyond her carnal college days even though her best friend won’t let her grow up. Lastly, B-Movie Queen Tiffany Shepis shows why she’s one of the best in the business – both in and out of her bra and panties – as she stands tall, kicks butt, and (sigh) eventually succumbs to some dark magic … as is the destiny of practically any pretty girl who ever appeared in such a picture.
Lastly, I’d be remiss in my duties if I failed to mention that the film garnered a bit of positive praise from appearances on the film festival circuit. Kudos to all involved for reaching for the stars and actually taking hold of a few in the process.
Nightmare Man (2006) was produced by Paradign Pictures and Delusional Films. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the folks at Ronin Flix. As for the technical specifications? Though I’m no trained video expert, I thought that the sights and sounds within were all very good, but I will admit that a great deal of the night-time settings could’ve used a bit more light in a few passages. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features, then you’ve plenty to look forward to as the disc’s packaging boasts interviews, making-of featurettes, extended scenes, behind-the-scenes, stills, promo materials, film score, and a comprehensive audio commentary featuring the cast and crew. It’s a big collection, and we know that fans truly appreciate releases that go the extra mile.
Mildly recommended.
Though I’m not as big a fan of conventional slasher-style flicks as the next online media knucklehead, I can appreciate a flick that comfortably stakes out its territory and adheres to the basic rules that govern such entertainment: in that respect, Nightmare Man revels in its grim efficiency, only occasionally flirting with some sights and sounds that might be enough to win converts to the sub-genre. My issues with it involve its narrative construction – I’m not a big fan of films that center on the “is she or isn’t she” crazy narrator – and the fact that it never quite settled into embracing its magical surrealism enough to sell the bloody sizzle.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Ronin Flix provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Nightmare Man by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
While most folks don’t come to a Horror feature looking for big performances, the film is aided by some familiar faces who manage to give something interesting to the project. The comely Blythe Metz is a likeable lead; she balances the act between being a damsel-in-distress while questioning her sanity more than I think most actresses might bring to the role, so it’s easy to root for her survival in what might be an otherwise dim affair. Johanna Putnam shines – albeit a bit briefly – as the former coed who’s trying to get beyond her carnal college days even though her best friend won’t let her grow up. Lastly, B-Movie Queen Tiffany Shepis shows why she’s one of the best in the business – both in and out of her bra and panties – as she stands tall, kicks butt, and (sigh) eventually succumbs to some dark magic … as is the destiny of practically any pretty girl who ever appeared in such a picture.
Lastly, I’d be remiss in my duties if I failed to mention that the film garnered a bit of positive praise from appearances on the film festival circuit. Kudos to all involved for reaching for the stars and actually taking hold of a few in the process.
Nightmare Man (2006) was produced by Paradign Pictures and Delusional Films. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the folks at Ronin Flix. As for the technical specifications? Though I’m no trained video expert, I thought that the sights and sounds within were all very good, but I will admit that a great deal of the night-time settings could’ve used a bit more light in a few passages. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features, then you’ve plenty to look forward to as the disc’s packaging boasts interviews, making-of featurettes, extended scenes, behind-the-scenes, stills, promo materials, film score, and a comprehensive audio commentary featuring the cast and crew. It’s a big collection, and we know that fans truly appreciate releases that go the extra mile.
Mildly recommended.
Though I’m not as big a fan of conventional slasher-style flicks as the next online media knucklehead, I can appreciate a flick that comfortably stakes out its territory and adheres to the basic rules that govern such entertainment: in that respect, Nightmare Man revels in its grim efficiency, only occasionally flirting with some sights and sounds that might be enough to win converts to the sub-genre. My issues with it involve its narrative construction – I’m not a big fan of films that center on the “is she or isn’t she” crazy narrator – and the fact that it never quite settled into embracing its magical surrealism enough to sell the bloody sizzle.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Ronin Flix provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Nightmare Man by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
First off, thank you to all of you who reached out to me via the World Wide Web over the weekend regarding the sad, sad news of Kevin Conroy's passing. Naturally, I wanted to get something up, but I had a very busy past couple of days, and this is the first free moment I've had to actually sit down, offer a few thoughts, and commit to the space.
As I've mentioned before, some 'In Memoriam' posts hit harder than others, and that's because of the impact some of these talented folks have had on various franchises over the years. This isn't to say not every person deserves some extra attention; clearly, we all have favorites -- for whatever the reason -- and I do try to manage these posts to honor contributions big and small ... but, try as I might, I'll probably never be able to do justice to everyone.
In any event ...
I've often waxed on about how it's difficult to discuss The Batman with folks in my age group. Many of them are vastly more familiar with that -- ahem -- God-awful Batman satire program from the late 1960's that just didn't win me over as a fan. Yes, I watched it -- probably as faithfully as did others -- and, yes, I suppose on one level it was perfectly entertaining. I just never cared for it all that much. Yes, great car. Yes, great talent. Just ... overall? Not for me.
The 1989 movie was a bit of a phenomenon, true. Kudos to Warner Bros. and Timothy Burton for bringing a whole lot of converts to the wide, wide world of The Bat, as the property was finally given the measure of respect it so often deserved but never quite found. In spite of some -- ahem -- curious zaniness that didn't feel natural to the flick, I enjoyed it well enough. Again, it wasn't perfect -- and I will continue to insist that there has yet to be a perfect live action Batman film to date -- but it was acceptable for its time and place.
Perhaps the greatest thing to come out of the experience, however, was the resulting television program. Batman: The Animated Series -- in my humble opinion -- finally gave The Batman his visual due. The Bruce Timm and Paul Dini inspiration was incredibly respectful to the whole universe that had come before in the comic books, and these stories were crafted in such a way as to honor the legacy as well as bring all of its characters into a somewhat modern era.
The icing on that cake? Kevin Conroy was pitch perfect as both Bruce Wayne and The Batman.
Yes, he was perfect. I've never come across anyone who seriously argued otherwise. Of course, I have debated some choices in other DVD properties that Warner Bros. produced for the sell-thru marketplace, but -- near and far -- Conroy has been highly praised for his singular talents in the DC animated universe. In fact, he's been so highly regarded that he continued bringing it to life in various spin-offs, sequels, and other intellectual property for the better part of three decades. That, my friends, is an incredible legacy that speaks volumes to exactly how well everyone who is anyone in the entertainment business felt about the man's ability.
He was and will remain Batman for, likely, a very long time.
Alas, none of us lasts forever, and word reached my desk over the weekend of the actor's passing from cancer.
Prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Mr. Conroy.
May he forever rest in peace.
-- EZ
As I've mentioned before, some 'In Memoriam' posts hit harder than others, and that's because of the impact some of these talented folks have had on various franchises over the years. This isn't to say not every person deserves some extra attention; clearly, we all have favorites -- for whatever the reason -- and I do try to manage these posts to honor contributions big and small ... but, try as I might, I'll probably never be able to do justice to everyone.
In any event ...
I've often waxed on about how it's difficult to discuss The Batman with folks in my age group. Many of them are vastly more familiar with that -- ahem -- God-awful Batman satire program from the late 1960's that just didn't win me over as a fan. Yes, I watched it -- probably as faithfully as did others -- and, yes, I suppose on one level it was perfectly entertaining. I just never cared for it all that much. Yes, great car. Yes, great talent. Just ... overall? Not for me.
The 1989 movie was a bit of a phenomenon, true. Kudos to Warner Bros. and Timothy Burton for bringing a whole lot of converts to the wide, wide world of The Bat, as the property was finally given the measure of respect it so often deserved but never quite found. In spite of some -- ahem -- curious zaniness that didn't feel natural to the flick, I enjoyed it well enough. Again, it wasn't perfect -- and I will continue to insist that there has yet to be a perfect live action Batman film to date -- but it was acceptable for its time and place.
Perhaps the greatest thing to come out of the experience, however, was the resulting television program. Batman: The Animated Series -- in my humble opinion -- finally gave The Batman his visual due. The Bruce Timm and Paul Dini inspiration was incredibly respectful to the whole universe that had come before in the comic books, and these stories were crafted in such a way as to honor the legacy as well as bring all of its characters into a somewhat modern era.
The icing on that cake? Kevin Conroy was pitch perfect as both Bruce Wayne and The Batman.
Yes, he was perfect. I've never come across anyone who seriously argued otherwise. Of course, I have debated some choices in other DVD properties that Warner Bros. produced for the sell-thru marketplace, but -- near and far -- Conroy has been highly praised for his singular talents in the DC animated universe. In fact, he's been so highly regarded that he continued bringing it to life in various spin-offs, sequels, and other intellectual property for the better part of three decades. That, my friends, is an incredible legacy that speaks volumes to exactly how well everyone who is anyone in the entertainment business felt about the man's ability.
He was and will remain Batman for, likely, a very long time.
Alas, none of us lasts forever, and word reached my desk over the weekend of the actor's passing from cancer.
Prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Mr. Conroy.
May he forever rest in peace.
-- EZ