Yes, yes, and yes: I did see that Louise Fletcher's passing made the news over the weekend, folks, and thanks to everyone who dropped me a quick note to make sure I was in-the-loop.  Even a few of you regular readers remembered that I'd penned a piece about the actress' work in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (right here), so that you for keeping me on my toes.  I wanted to try to get up an 'In Memoriam' post on Sunday, but the time simply got away from me.

In short, I think it goes without saying that few reach the level of acclaim that did Ms. Fletcher in her career.  To play a memorable role or two is certainly laudable, but her Nurse Ratched from 1975's One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest transcended the pictures of the day so much that it grew into its very own pop culture meme at a time when no one even knew what memes were (yet).  Folks who were around in the day can certainly attest to that singular legacy, and I think she's a talent that genuinely deserves to be discovered and re-discovered in the pantheon of screen actresses.

Brief sidebar: I once was keenly misunderstood for my take on Nurse Ratched by a group of film nuts when I said that Fletcher's work in that film had an undercurrrent of sexiness.  They thought I stated categorically that I thought Ratched was sexy, to which I had to explain further.  Nurses are a sexual stereotype of heterosexual males (sorry, can't speak for the other persuasion), an archetype that's produced 'sexy nurse costumes' to perpetuate the fantasy even further.  My point was -- much like the ladies of a certain era fell head-over-heels for Star Trek's Mr. Spock, thinking they could break through his sexless Vulcan exterior -- there were a contingent of males who concluded the same with Nurse Ratched.  It didn't have anything to do with sex deliberately; it was that undercurrent of sexiness associated to nurses that I was trying to elaborate on, and I was misunderstood.

But, yes, Ratched -- in Fletcher's delicate hands -- was a phenomenon; and I think in many ways those lingering memories of such an incredible performance elevated the woman's status when she stepped into the shoes of Kai Winn on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.  For those who would claim otherwise, I'd tell you to ask your older Trek enthusiasts such as myself if the association went by unnoticed, and I trust you'll earn an earful.

​This immeasurably talented lady was no stranger to genre projects.  One of her earliest screen roles was a guest appearance aboard One Step Beyond (1959) ... and the opportunities only grow richer from that point forward.

In 1980, she headlined Mama Dracula, a rather obvious vampire comedy about bloodsuckers needing the blood of virgins to survive: since the Sexual Revolution, you can imagine those have been in short supply.

In 1981, she joined the cast of Strange Behavior for South Street Films.  The dark SciFi/Fantasy explored one scientist's efforts of turning one town's teenagers into vicious murderers.

In 1983, she enjoyed two meaty appearances in genre films, one a bit campy and one a bit cerebral: Michael Laughlin's Strange Invaders saw aliens taking over a small midwestern town while Douglas Trumbull's Brainstorm had a team of specialists tapping into the human mind's potential.

​And -- for what it's worth -- the list goes on and on.  While some of the roles may've been small, they were certainly awarded a level of depth by the lady's gift at characterization.  In fact, go back and watch any of her appearances aboard Deep Space Nine, and you can marvel at the way she almost effortlessly conveys both meaning and any number of possible subtexts to each and every scene she's in.  I've always thought it the mark of a greater player who can make you think about the motivation ... and Fletcher always made me think.

Thoughts and prayers are extended to the friends, family and fans of Louise Fletcher.  May she rest in eternal peace.

​-- EZ

NBC’s Quantum Leap first premiered on March 26, 1989.
 
Almost immediately, audiences fell in love with not only the character of Dr. Sam Beckett (played by Scott Bakula) – the scientist who curiously found himself a man lost in time with the mission of setting things right that once went wrong – but also his slightly eccentric sidekick Admiral Al Calavicci (Dean Stockwell) – the colleague who appeared holographically in the past usually with information required to both set the plot in motion as well as clarify what Sam’s task was in order to leap to his next adventure.  Imbuing what could’ve been two cerebral characters with an almost ‘Abbott and Costello’ sensibility, the program was first-and-foremost about human beings and the choices they make that propel both the good and bad trajectories of their individual and shared existences.  These were people who met people for the purposes of saving people, and Leap – unlike other shows – stayed true to its formula because it worked each and every time it was tried.
 
The SciFi/Fantasy show was the mastermind of veteran TV producer Donald P. Bellisario, who also credits work in such franchises as Battlestar Galactica, Tales Of The Gold Monkey, Magnum PI, Airwolf, and JAG on his impressive resume.  Under the man’s stewardship, Leap went on to garner an incredible six Primetime Emmy Awards wins as well as attention from such organizations as the Academy Of Science Fiction, Fantasy, And Horror Films; the American Society Of Cinematographers; the Directors Guild Of America; the Golden Globes; and the Writers Guild Of America.  It was that rarity of rarities – an intelligently-written televised adventures serial that was almost universally cherished by any and all who discovered it.
 
In its original run, Leap came to its conclusion with the airing of “Mirror Image” on May 5, 1993, loosely bringing the saga of Sam Beckett and Al Calavicci to its close with some controversy: as fate would have it, the episode gave our faithful leaper the chance to go back and correct Al’s first romance, thereby setting in motion a series of temporal changes to the present.  Depending upon one’s interpretation of these events, the Quantum Leap Project may or may not even exist in what would’ve been Sam’s present (think “audience time”), and viewers learned that the good doctor was apparently in control of his leaps all along.  The episode ended with the reveal that Sam, in fact, never returned home.
 
Any bit of research will tell you that the ending as aired was likely not as originally intended by Bellisario and his team.  There’s been a healthy bit of suggestion that the hour was retooled somewhat due to the fact that NBC was dragging its feet over giving the program what would’ve been a sixth season renewal, likely to have been its last.  Recent reportage online even goes so far as to clarify that the original premise for a sixth season would’ve seen a happily married Al Calavicci stepped into the Imaging Chamber to pursue Sam finally physically into the past with the mission of finally bringing him back home … but, alas, it wasn’t meant to be.  “Mirror Image” was changed to serve as a series finale.
​

Well, it would appear that some of those elements have resurfaced as NBC has dropped back into the world of Quantum Leap with a not so much an all-new incarnation as it is a continuation of the original project.  Under the same name – but with much new ownership as well as creative management – the Imaging Chamber is up and running once more.  “July 13th, 1985” premiered on the Peacock Network on September 19th, 2022 … and – dare I say – this makeover was downright tepid.
 
Seriously: how do you screw up something so fondly assembled as was the original?
 
Well, it would appear that – first – you cast as assortment of actors almost market-tested to appeal to the widest demographic possible while leaving out any possible straight while males or any remotely normal people.  (I’m guessing there’s an episode about one characters’ preferred pronouns in the offing, by the looks of things.)  Next, you ignore the fact that what propelled so much audience interest from the original was the lovable friendship and chemistry displayed between the two leads and, instead, insert a heart-tugging dynamic between two lost lovers.  Oh, will they get together again … or won’t they?  (Why should I really care this early in the broadcast?)  Lastly, you open the show with a caper that gives the lead the chance to show his ’smarts’ when what audiences tuned in for was his ‘heart.’
 
Sigh.
 
Good grief.
 
It goes without saying that I found “July 13th” an incredible disappoint.  Actor Raymond Lee as Dr. Ben Song – arguably filling the biggest shoes in the entire Leap franchise – is so horribly out of his element here I can’t begin to imagine what producers saw in his audition … except, well, maybe his ethnicity?  His deadpan, uninterested delivery even suggests that even he may have no idea why he’s in this role, so maybe he’s underplaying everything in hopes that it’ll catch his agent’s attention?  While I’ll go so far as to agree that he and actress Caitlin Bassett (her character’s name is Addison Augustine, one that practically reeks of a scriptwriter’s invention) shared a nice moment before her beau leapt without explanation into the past, it was just that – a nice moment – and far too much weight was put into establishing a relationship that needed a bit more time fleshing out.
 
But no …
 
Based on the set-up of the episode, it’s pretty clear that this creative crew is playing the long game with their incarnation of Quantum Leap: Dr. Song has a secret as to why he went into the Imaging Chamber in the first place, and now that his mind has been customarily scrambled with a launch backward into history the team in his future will have to piece together a mystery that’ll likely be strung out over several episodes (if not seasons).  Instead of giving audiences a traditional serial, it looks like this one is leaning more toward the telenovel; and even the premiere’s closing moment suggests we have more cast to meet in the future than we do in the past.
 
Fans have long held out hope that a new incarnation of Leap would finally both bring Sam home – at minimum – and perhaps fix those developments somewhat displaced in the original’s finale.
 
I’ll admit that I didn’t have as many quibbles with how it all came to an end – I thought it right poetic – but I realize as is almost always my case I’m in the minority.  “July 13th” does suggest that there may be some tie-ins to the Al Calavicci character’s offspring (actor Dean Stockwell recently passed, so he’ll not be involved in this show).  I’d also read online that NBC has allegedly asked for Scott Bakula to not appear in the show (the actor recently stated on Instagram he was not involved), so once again the powers that be aren’t interested in giving the faithful what they want.
 
Bad move, NBC.
 
But we’ll see what history has in store for your new Leap.

​-- EZ

Despite what some in the industry may tell you, there really is no tried-and-true formula for crafting a film that will inevitably enjoy ‘cult status.’
 
Certainly, there are some pictures whose graphic sensibilities alone might cause a film to require a bit more time to be appreciated, thus going on to celebrity as it ages gracefully.  Also, there are subjects that resonate both in their time as well as find lives of their own with subsequent generations of moviegoers.  Of course, there are even talents – both at the beginning and ends of their respective careers – whose contributions to memorable characters or quotable scenes that tend to take on new meanings with folks who might find them years if not a decade or two later.  All of these factors could very well play into one picture being elevated to cult status … or honestly?  It could be none of the above.
 
That’s why I’ve always encountered my own challenge in explaining precisely why I think it is a particular motion picture may’ve gone on to a great afterlife; and such is the case with 1976’s Massacre At Central High.  At best, it’s a curious oddity – not necessarily topical for its day, though some might suggest its exploration of violence in school is better suited for today.  As a film, it isn’t all that good nor all the bad.  It certainly doesn’t boast any impressive or subversive performances, nor any cavalry of oddball characters.  But maybe – just maybe – it’s the respectable workmanship coupled with the fact that something like this could happen Anywhere, USA that compels those who seek out both forgotten and bygones products to sample its wares.
 
Like it or not, we’ve got a cult film on our hands!  So let’s consider school is in session!
 
(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 my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
​

From the film’s product packaging:
“When new student David arrives at Central High, he discovers that it is lorded over by a gang of bullies who rule the school through intimidation and violence.  David’s friend Mark encourages him to join this dominant clique, but instead David stands up for their victims, and the gang cripples him in retaliation.  Soon David begins taking steps to end their reign of terror permanently, setting in motion an explosive cycle of killing that may not end until no one is left to graduate!”
 
Writer/director Rene Daalder didn’t have much of a film pedigree when he was tasked by producer Harold Sobel to bring the silver screen nightmare to life.  Essentially, the superficial ideas at the heart of Massacre’s premise suggests that Sobel thought he was getting in the exploitation business: this cast of young and good-looking prospects would be put through their paces, and the script suggested that one-by-one they’d suffer some grisly endings once the school’s social structure went to hell in a handbasket … but therein lies the rub, as they say.  As conceived by Daalder, Massacre was clearly about more than just some customary bloodletting; and anyone involved should’ve seen from a mile away that this was going to explore more than just one lunatic’s growing bloodlust.
 
Indeed, Daalder’s script strongly suggests that this particular high school world lives in a vacuum.  Absolutely no time of any consequence is spent with any adult; while there may be a few seen here and there, those characters are little more than screen filler to give an air of authenticity to the captured proceedings.  What story there is remains an almost clinical exercise in securing authority: who has it, how can it be lost, and what happens in that vacuum when no one appears to be in charge.  Suffice it to say, this is a far cry from the usual teen-set high school melodramas – murders or not – and the director strived for something more to say about these journeys from adolescence to maturity.
 
David (as played by Derrel Maury) is a closet sociopath.  While we’re given no origin story for where his tendencies toward violence originated, it’s pretty clear that he’s been feeling his oats for quite some time now.  (There is a strong hint that he’s done this kind of thing before, as his pal Mark attests that he’s “helped him out” in the past.)  With each successive murder, we’re shown that he’s grown almost emotionless about his actions – in his eyes, they’re just a means to an end, and there’s nothing personal about it – but somehow he’s managed to keep it all together by running.
​

But with Massacre, David is introduced to something that stirs him to action: Mark and his gang of high school pals have been kinda/sorta terrorizing their classmates as just another part of their daily rituals.  They set the rules for the school parking lot: if you break them, then your car gets ‘marked’ or (worse) wrecked.  They call the shots in gym class, even if it means snapping towels or pulling a switchblade.  And if they return their library books late, they’re not going to pay any late fees.  You with me on this?  In educational terms, these are some real bad dudes.
 
While it’s not perfectly clear, I suspect these public displays of arrogance is what serves as the catalyst for David to become this secret ‘White Knight’ to the student body.  One by one, he carefully extracts a measure of lethal justice on these bullies; and, one by one, they go down, each a bit more painfully than the last.  Before you know it, Central High is free of oppression … but this is where Daalder’s script truly hits its stride.
 
In the absence of any totalitarianism, the oppressed now rise up and become the oppressors.  Each of these victims suddenly finds himself or herself wanting a piece of that power, and they’re willing to team-up and collaborate against their former friends in order to fill that hole in the pecking order created with David’s handiwork.  The former wallflowers, the pot crowd, the chubby loser, and the volunteer student librarian are all suddenly at odds with one another – instead of aligned against a common enemy – and, as one might guess, David’s none too happy with their newfound expression.  In fact, he’s about to turn the tables on them yet again, this time with an eye for eliminating anyone and everyone who gets in his way.
 
Unlike other films set in school, Massacre is unforgiving in its portrayal of the potential recklessness of these American youth.  Daalder creates a microcosm within our society, structures it with its own rules of conduct, and then shows the possible consequences of allowing a harmful status quo to propagate in ways unimagined.  It’s sometimes dark and sometimes chilling, but it never shirks away from the formula as prescribed.  Whether or not it’s an entirely accurate picture is unimportant as it’s these ideas that propel the narrative from the start to its closing scene.  On that front, it stays true to the school.
 
As to why the film has grown legs of its own?
 
As I suggested above, that’s a hard egg to crack.
 
While some might read my review and feel that Massacre revels in its own excesses, I don’t think that’s the case here.  The violence – while prevalent after the story’s set-up – never rises to the level of gratuitousness as is all-too-common in most exploitation features, especially ones featuring teens.  Sure, there’s a smattering of blood here and there – and there’s more than a single pair of breasts – but it’s all rendered with what I’d call an almost tasteful restraint.  Furthermore, there’s really no singular performance that stands out amongst the cast.  Though there are a few recognizable faces in there, they certainly don’t call attention to themselves.  Robert Carradine is so exceptional here as the ‘loner with a possible art fetish’ that it’s hard to believe he'd steal the show in Revenge Of The Nerds just a few years later; and Andrew Stevens makes for a great-looking bad boy in typical teenage fashion.
 
Still, I’m inclined to think that those who’ve both found and praised/promoted the picture have seen the value in its subversive message about high school culture.
​

As has been said, it is its own world.  Yes, your days in high school may one day be looked back on as ‘the best days of your life,’ but there’s also a darkness to living and learning amongst close quarters that’s occasionally compared to Hell itself.  There are cliques, jocks, bullies, prom queens, class clowns, and plastic people aplenty; and – for a time – they’re all wrapped up in their own measures of self-importance (and sometimes arrogance), but good intentions are missed.  It isn’t all good report cards and prom dances.  And there’s a true uncovering of social rituals that takes place in these years.  That and the hormones, the puberty, and the boys and girls blossoming in the way they do at that time …
 
Is it too much to suggest that maybe it drives you so mad you just wanna kill someone?
 
That’s precisely how massacres are started.
 
Massacre At Central High (1976) was produced by Evan.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the impressive Synapse Films.  As for the technical specifications?  Holy Moses!  Bear in mind that – while I’m not trained video expert – I thought that this High-definition 1090p remaster looks and sounds absolutely incredible.  Dare I say that independent films this old have never looked this good?!  Very nicely done.  As for the special features?  Besides the new mastering, the disk boasts some audio interviews with the cast and crew; an all-new ‘making of’ documentary titled Hell In The Hallways; theatrical trailers as well as TV and radio spots; and the usual stills gallery.  It’s a very good collection but I give my highest marks to the all-new documentary: the reflections are mostly fun, and their observations are definitely spirited, implying that a fun time was had to all.
 
Mildly Recommended.
 
At best, Massacre At Central High is at mid-1970’s oddity – a little film that could.  Somehow this curious little destructive version of Peyton Place has defied the odds, found an audience, and achieved cult status.  While some might suggest that it’s because the flick perfectly encapsulates the – snicker snicker – American high school experience (which is does not) – it’s success is likely owed to the fact that writer/director Daalder never lets any moss grow.  He keeps chucking event after event after event – with an idea after idea after idea – at a pretty relentless pace, never taking a breath to acknowledge the growing pile of bodies in the plot’s wake.  If he did – or if the audience did – little of this would make much narrative sense.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Synapse Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Massacre At Central High (1976) 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

Circle jerk = a situation in which a group of people engage in self-indulgent or self-gratifying behavior, especially by enforcing or reinforcing each other’s views or attitudes.
 
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away (snicker snicker) I attended a small private college in Anytown, USA.  In one of my several classes talking about film, a professor (who shall be nameless) took the occasion one day to wax on eloquently about “mankind’s claim” that Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey was not only the greatest Science Fiction film ever made but very well was considered the best film ever made.
 
Now, at this juncture in my cognitive development, I was a firm supporter of Citizen Kane’s rightful claim to that title.  Not one to keep silent, I spoke up, asking where it was written that 2001 was ever considered a greater accomplishment than Kane was … to which I got an earful.  Pushing back as politely as I could, I argued that I’d never heard of anyone making such an assessment, and – while I didn’t doubt the instructor had read or perhaps thought such a ranking possible – I wanted to know which experts felt that way so that I could go out and read their analysis.  Essentially what I was told was that 2001 was, clearly, the superior film because of its central message.
 
Get ready, folks.
 
I asked, “What is 2001’s central message?"
 
As you might guess, my professor laughed at me, and he did stop short of encouraging others to laugh.  (FYI: seriously, no one did.)  When he perhaps perceived he was a bit on an intellectual island at this point, he attempted to turn the class loose on me, instead asking them to tell me what they thought 2001’s central tenet was.  Fate can be cruel; and, alas, only a few had even seen the picture, but someone ventured a soft statement something like, “I think it’s about man’s place in the universe.”
 
To which I asked: “Which is what?  Go anywhere you want but don’t go to Europa?”
 
Again, my long-established standing on 2001: A Space Odyssey isn’t that it’s a bad film, as I’d be a fool to argue anything remotely close to that.  But when thinking about a story one has to begin from a point of shared understanding, the single greatest example of which is comprehending what the story is saying about its subject matter.  It shouldn’t just talk about an idea (or a series of ideas); it should definitively say something about it.  On some level, I think, every film must be relatable in that way.  Its message should be universal, otherwise its arguments appear like more time spent “in the weeds” than anything else.
 
This is where I’d argue that the Kubrick film heartily flirts with a wealth of great ideas – some big, some small – but never definitely hits the nail on anything particularly significant.  It’s a mental exercise meant to make its audience think about man, evolution, space, perhaps our existence, and maybe even our place in the universe; and, yes, maybe on some superficial level it might preach we should all exercise a bit more caution in what we do … but I’d still argue that its true meaning as intended by both Kubrick and co-scripter Arthur C. Clarke might be elusive and perhaps best left that way.  In the final estimation, it’s a film that can say practically anything you want it to say about its ideas, kinda/sorta leaving you – the audience – to cast the defining vote.
 
Any amount of reading will demonstrate that a great deal has been written about the film.  In fact, stop right now and do a Google search under the topic of ‘What does the film 2001’s ending mean?’, and you’ll get a flurry of results, many of which might explore any number of pet theories extrapolating the significance behind each and every frame of film Kubrick shot for the ground-breaking feature.  This is what I mean when I say that it can be about anything you want … and some would argue that’s the picture’s greatest strength.  While I won’t proclaim it a weakness, I will suggest that it’s led to more confusion than it should.
 
2001 came at the height of the counterculture movement in the U.S.  (I’m told this was a global phenomenon, but I still see it tied to America more than anywhere else.)  This was a period in history when “the greatest brains among us” were telling us that the long-established social norms were no longer good enough, that society needed to be upended and a new world order founded on – ahem – peace, love, and drugs should be established.  Well, how perfectly fitting that a film kinda/sorta loosely about overthrowing ‘the norms’ and ending with cinema’s longest drug trip sequence ever would be embraced by these revolutionary anarchists!
 
Supreme Caveat:
 
I said what I said; and, no, I’m not sorry.  No, I won’t take it back.  I don’t find 2001 accessible, and I see it more as an exercise for those who wish to undertake mental gymnastics than anything else.  And you know what?  There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.  I realize my opinion is controversial, but that’s why I’ve created a little something-something called ‘Warp Core Breach’ – it’s meant to blow things up, especially the status quo.
 
Keep in mind that just because I perhaps don’t find 2001 the best Science Fiction thing since sliced Soylent Green shouldn’t even imply for one nanosecond that I don’t believe you (or anyone) should see it.  As I’ve tried to be perfectly clear, the bulk of my hang-ups with it is that the journey ultimately means nothing to me on a personally level; so my failure to connect is my business and mine alone.  What I’m talking about here is that a film experience requiring crib notes is not my idea of entertainment: that’s education … and there’s a time and a place for that in life, too.  I simply prefer it in the classroom.

​-- EZ

​Regular readers to SciFiHistory.Net know that I will rarely – if ever – truly complain about a movie or an episode of anything.  A particular story may not be to my liking, but I’ve no fervent desire to ‘trash’ anything, nor insist that it has nothing of merit to other viewers.  My rating systems (99% of the time) ranges from Highest Recommendation Possible down to the paltry Not Really Recommended, which I give out after an awful lot of personal reflection.  I just try to find something – some nugget of joy – to seize and hold on to in any project, and that usually helps me rise to the occasion both critically and professionally.
 
Erm …
 
That said, I really (really really) had a difficult time with “The Dead Man” but only for some very specific reasons.
 
As I said in my review of the Night Gallery telefilm (found here), that 3-part feature was a pretty solid set-up for a series to follow, though I found the installments dipping in quality from the start to the finish.  Even though I had some quips and quarrels here and there with each chapter, I’d still argue that it was a stupendous (if only occasionally predictable) launch for a new incarnation of what Rod Serling did so well with The Twilight Zone … but – as always – buyer beware.
 
However, if you remove that telefilm from the equation and instead imagine “The Dead Man” as a first fully realized episode, then I’d not have a lot of faith in the longevity of any potential series.  In fact, I wouldn’t be all that likely to tune in next week, as they say.
 
The screenplay shows adapted (presumably by Serling) from a story by Fritz Leiber, Jr., a name I recognize but cannot presently place (nor has any immediate research helped).  A quick review of his profile on Wikipedia.org certainly suggests that the man was somewhat prolific – having penned stories in Fantasy, Horror, and Science Fiction – and he’s even attributed as being one of the ‘forefathers’ to swords and sorcery stories.  But “The Dead Man” as presented feels very much like it could’ve damn near been lifted from the pages of any 1950’s or 1960’s era Horror-themed comic book.  There were several popular imprints – Horror Comics, Eerie Comics, Tales From The Crypt, etc. – and I’ve read a handful of them in my spare time.  While they were good and typically quick reads, they also are very dated to the period, meaning that they don’t lend themselves very well to modernization.
 
That’s exactly the rub with “The Dead Man.”  Jeff Corey plays Dr. Miles Talmadge, a professional summoned to his collaborator’s home – Carl Betz as Dr. Max Redford – to witness what he’s kinda/sorta led to believe is a medical miracle.  Once inside, he’s asked to examine what appears to be the body of John Michael Fearing (played by actor Michael Blodgett) and diagnose his cause of death or pronounced illness.  However, as Talmadge achieves one diagnosis, there’s a sudden change to Fearing’s symptoms, leading him to deduce a different illness.  All of this happens until Redford awakens Fearing from his somewhat sleeping state, and we learn that the young man is capable of changing his appearance simply by post hypnotic suggestion … oh, and a series of knocks done by Redford off-camera.
 
This presents a quandary about which the two physicians engage in a series of debates, making the plot points of this “Dead Man” all choreographed in dialogue instead of organic plot developments.  We’re told the story, and we’re eventually led to understand that a fateful mistake – Redford’s own psychological shortcomings – cause Fearing’s accidental death … or do they?  Before you know it, we’re off to another round of – ahem – conversations which suggest the good-looking young man might not be dead, at which point the drama goes full melodrama in a bid to see him unearthed from his crypt by the woman who loves him.  As you can guess, she “raises” him from the dead with the proper post-hypnotic signal … and you can probably figure out what happens next.
 
Sigh.
 
Again, if storytellers have to literally tell me a story, then there’s far too much exposition for any of it to feel authentic.  That’s the biggest stumbling block to “Dead Man:” not a bit of it escapes artificial construction, meaning that we’ll all feel better after this commercial break anyway … so what’s all the fuss about?
​

Sadly, the second half of the two-part season opener – “The Housekeeper” – is an equally uninspired yarn, though it does provoke a few good chuckles at the expense of some fairly stereotypical creations.
 
Miss Wattle (played by Jeanette Nolan) is an aging spinster who’s still needing to work as a household maid to make end meet end.  In the opening segment, she’s called to her work agency and attached to an opening specifically because the client has requested – ahem – someone old, someone ‘ugly,’ and someone with no other prospects in life.  Granted, such a job description would likely result in a bevy of lawsuits today, but this was the 1970’s.  And it was TV!  So it’s perfectly acceptable!  Rude, yes.  But acceptable.
 
Because she’s perfectly fit for the task, Miss Wattle is dispatched where she meets the somewhat studious Cedric Acton (Larry Hagman), who reminds the older woman over and over again of just how perfect she is for his preferred qualifications.  As the story develops, his true mission slowly comes to light: it would seem that Acton’s wife, Carlotta (Suzy Parker), is actually not only the source of Cedric’s wealth but also all the troubles in his world!  He’s tapped into a kind of black magic apparently and wishes to use it to replace her consciousness with that of an eternally grateful Miss Wattle … only the dear old maid turns out to have designs all of her own once the deed is performed.
 
As I said above, viewers need to put aside some of the cultural issues with “The Housekeeper.”  While made in the 60’s/70’s, it definitely feels as though it was originally written much earlier.  (Unfortunately, IMDB.com’s citation is a bit unclear.)  There are some very obvious stereotypes of simpler times that won’t sit well with today’s audience; but if you can look past that there’s a perfectly charming (but paper thin) loose romantic comedy in there.  Granted, it doesn’t quite work out the way any of these characters intended, but that’s Serling’s narrative gift: he likes upending expectations in the last reel, and that he does here.
 
Though imperfect (and obvious dated), neither half of this first episode truly represented the best TV had to offer both in and out of Serling’s capable hands.  As this is my first foray into the world of Night Gallery, I’m hoping and praying that things start to look up with Episode Two … or I’m going to have miles and miles to go before I sleep …

​-- EZ

To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t allowed to watch Rod Serling’s Night Gallery in its original airing on U.S. television.
 
Simply put, I would’ve been too young for the subject matter.  Though I think I could’ve probably grasped the idea of what’s going on, it was a program that my parents understandably kept from me.  Besides, back then, I don’t recall our television time being as limited as perhaps parents do today (not speaking from experience, mind you); there just wasn’t a lot on in prime time that would’ve interested the youngest among us.
 
And because the show has often been saddled with a reputation of being merely ‘Rod Serling’s other foray,’ I think it was one that never quite had the opportunity to grow (as did other cult shows) in TV syndication.  As a consequence, it just never quite fell onto my radar, though I’m glad to see that it’s now getting a modern era makeover with the latest home video release from Kino Lorber.
 
Alas, I’d not been able to secure on via the usual distributor relationships, so I saved my pennies and recently picked up the show’s first season on home video all by my lonesome.  Having just unwrapped its pilot telefilm, I thought I’d make a few observations for folks who watch this space and might be interested in the dark pursuits.
 
(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 my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the series’ IMDB.com citation:
“Rod Serling presents tales of Horror illustrated in various paintings.”
 
For those unaware, Night Gallery was a late 1960’s / early 1970’s anthology that, largely, sprang from the mind of Rod Serling, the same TV genius who so lovingly crafted The Twilight Zone, which even today remains one of the benchmarks of quality programming.  For any number of reasons, the show never achieved anywhere near the level of popularity as Serling’s predecessor, but it certainly follows the same narrative structure – present a wildly speculative ‘what if’ scenario and cast some reputable guest stars to enjoy the ride – with a bit of a ‘surprise twist’ tied to the last moments.  Granted, the stories may not all work out this way, although I suspect most of them will adhere to that structure in some way, shape, or form.
 
Much like the Zone, Serling served as a narrator, one who would come out, spin some prescient wisdom, and then let the stories unfold as they would.  His segments arguably helped direct the audience to what was really important about the forthcoming yarn, and no matter the subject matter or the context you could rest assured that if anyone knew what he was talking about it would be Rod.  When he spoke, you paid attention … and you’d shortly learn what fools these characters were for not following suit.
 
The show was initially introduced via a 90+ minute telefilm.  Internally, this flick was broken up into (roughly) three 40-minute segments, each morality play with their own respective cast and crew.  Some big names of the era made guest appearances on the show, and why wouldn’t they?  Anyone who was anyone in Hollywood knew Serling’s credentials, and I suspect they were all happy to play – even if briefly – in this dark and twisted universe.
​

The first segment was titled “The Cemetery,” and here’s its description as provided by IMDB.com:
“A seemingly haunted painting drives a greedy man insane.”
 
Right out of the gate, Night Gallery kinda/sorta demonstrates the danger of its conception: this is exactly the kind of thing Rod Serling had done before.
 
Perhaps having achieved so many high marks with The Twilight Zone, the creator may’ve found himself painted a bit into a corner as “The Cemetery” gets planted firmly in the ground that he’d vastly already mined.  Serling’s prose here is quite good as it applies to the characters – Ossie Davis captures the perfunctory butler to an aging and decrepit recluse to great effect, and Roddy McDowall had long ago perfected such free-swinging swindlers.  The screenwriter gives them more than enough small moments to clearly establish their respective circumstances, and it’s quite clear in the early moments that these two couldn’t be at greater odds with one another if they tried.
 
If anything, McDowall (as Jeremy Evans) might be a bit long in the tooth here.  Serling kinda/sorta crafts the ‘black sheep’ to be a bit younger than what the actor is, but it’s easy to dismiss that grievance when the actor turns in such great work.  There’s never any doubt that he’s shown up on the scene to bilk his dying dad out of his fortune, and that’s precisely how the plot progresses.
 
What we may not have expected?
 
Well, it would appear that dear old dad’s paintings have taken on a life of their own: Jeremy begins to detect very small, very subtle changes in them; and these alterations imply that the patriarch might very well have opted to haunt not only his own house but to seek out vengeance against those who have wronged him in his time on Earth, meaning that our guest actor had best not turn his back on things that go bump in the night.
 
Still, it’s a set of circumstances that debatably ends up playing out likely as audiences could predict knowing Serling’s penchant for surprise endings.  What “The Cemetery” does (to some small effect) is it taps on yet another zinger – one I won’t spoil despite the fact that traditional spoiler rules have long since passed – directed at another culprit, one that maybe viewers weren’t expecting.  While it’s a solid first outing in this all-new universe, I hardly think it delivered the level of amazement all involved intended. 
​

From the episode’s IMDB.com citation:
“A rich blind woman gets a new pair of eyes that allow her to see for only one brief ironic moment.”
 
Again, today’s password is: irony.
 
The telefilm’s second installment – one simply titled “Eyes” – has a measure of TV distinction that bears mentioning: it was directed by none other than Steve Spielberg … and, might I say, he did a pretty impressive job with only 40 minutes?  Spielberg peppers this impressive yarn with some solid visual trickery, making great use of the set décor, his talents’ positioning, and several sequences of near darkness.  It’s an inspired take – one that easily rises above the first story – and rather compelling takes the audience aesthetically somewhere Serling’s The Twilight Zone hadn’t quite gone before.
 
Here, Serling’s script is also a vast improvement over the opening: he’s rather delicately fleshed out two main players – Barry Sullivan as Dr. Frank Heatherton and screen legend Joan Crawford as Claudia Menlo.  What he deftly reveals is that neither of these players is perfect, but the one who’ll likely emerge on top is the one who’s willing to play dirtiest of them all.  With a name like ‘Menlo’ (i.e. men are low, meaning subservient), Claudia easily bests the good doctor, but in customary Serling fashion Heatherton might get the last word after all.
 
But “Eyes” is a riveting installment of television because Spielberg went to some great lengths to make it something worth looking at deeply.  As I said, there are staging marks that underscore character traits; and then – as a director – he’s constantly reminding us precisely of what Claudia has missed her whole life, that being the sense of sight.  Naturally, we’re a bit aghast to learn just how far she’s willing to go even if it awards her a mere few hours to see things all of her own – just as is Dr. Heatherton – and that’s why I suggest you keep in mind that irony is the key here.  Though it’s been said before, Claudia truly confronts the “be careful what you wish for” moral of the story in the segment’s final moments.
 
Kudos to Serling and Spielberg for achieving such an incredible tale so very early in Night’s life.

Alas, not all that is green is good, and Night Gallery’s final saga I found a bit underwhelming … but first, the premise as provided by IMDB.com:
“An idyllic painting gives a Nazi war criminal in hiding some fleeting comfort.”
 
As I’ve often opined in this space: usually what keeps me from enjoying any story more than the next person is that – for whatever reason – the yarn’s internal logic fails me.  Of course, this could be the end result of my overthinking either a sequence or suggestion, but if I can’t quite grasp ‘the big why’ of a character’s motivation then I end up reeling a bit with the journey I take with him or her.
 
Such is the case with “Escape Route,” a minor potboiler that stems from a good idea but really stops short of making sense.
 
In case you’ve missed your history, it’s not impossible to suggest that there are countries in South America who secretly played host to some Nazi officers who managed to both escape the end of World War II and any other detection for several years in their chosen exile.  That’s essentially what Serling’s tale is here: actor Richard Kiley plays former SS-Gruppenfuhrer Helmut Arndt hiding out under the name of Josef Strobe.  One day, his growing paranoia over being followed by possible Israeli agents has him ducking into a museum, and the former torturer finds himself – for reasons never satisfactorily explained to this viewer – drawn to the painting of a faceless fisherman in a rowboat.
 
Now I hate to be found guilty yet again of overthinking a 40-minute episode, but why?  Why was Strobe particularly drawn to this painting?  Did it remind him of the simpler days of his youth?  Did it represent something so unmistakably tranquil that he couldn’t imagine living in any other place or circumstance?  Or perhaps – like Hitler himself was – did Strobe secretly harbor a wish to have been a famed painter?  While viewers might watch the segment and achieve their own measure of appreciation for the German’s fixation, I honestly just couldn’t ‘get’ it.  Yes, yes, yes: I know full well that he had grown somewhat weary of feeling like he was always ‘on the run,’ but as we were never adequately shown or suggested such a fate for the man I just didn’t quite buy that.
​
However, I think director Barry Shear rather impeccably staged one fascinating element of Serling’s script here: there’s a protracted sequence wherein Strobe shares a conversation through his hotel room wall with a neighboring prostitute, Gretchen (played by actress Norma Crane).  It’s rather brilliant set-up – both of their backs pressed to their respective walls – and the duality of who these two people are – both serving to make others happy yet being denied their own measure of happiness – is stunningly captured on film.  You may watch it and make less of it, but I thought it just vividly rendered.
 
Otherwise, I’d have to grade “Escape Route” as the weakest link in an otherwise interesting launch to Night Gallery.

​-- EZ

Good morning ... and Happy Monday, gentle readers!  Welcome to the start of a brand new week, and here's hoping you're getting off on the right foot today!

Now ...

Today's 'Because You Asked' is a little bit of what I call behind-the-scenes baseball.  It comes from a young(ish) reader who was introduced to the site a few years ago (believe it or not!) from a friend whose teacher used to read an occasional trivia blurb from the site, a little something-something to kinda get his students talking about films.  I won't put the question up directly -- I never do that -- but I'll paraphrase the focus: this reader wants to know why I spend so much time talking about older films and less emphasis on the newer ones.  It's a great question -- one I get, honestly, fairly regularly -- though not in the same format.  For example, I might get a question like "Hey, where is your She-Hulk coverage at?"  I'll reply, saying that I'm not watching She-Hulk, so why would I give it coverage?  Things like that.

But, yes, since you noticed, I do spend a lot of time talking about older films.  That's very true.

The simplest answer is that, frankly, I enjoy older films more than I do today's releases.  This isn't to say that older films are necessarily 'better,' but it is to acknowledge that -- for several reasons that relate to how stories are told -- I tend to fit in better with an older sensibility much better than I do today.  Modern Science Fiction films are heavy -- heavy -- in the effects department -- with gobs and gobs of CGI -- and I'm not a huge fan of it.  I understand why it's used so much; but I'd also argue that it's overused or -- even worse -- used poorly, and this ends up distracting me from enjoying the picture.

Also, if the latest and greatest releases playing either on the Boob Tube or at your corner cinema is what you're interested in, there are literally hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds of blogs that already cover those.  When you're a writer -- and you're trying to build both your own voice as well as your own audience -- it's hard to fit in when you're competing against so damn many others doing what you do.  While I might go out and see the latest SciFi flick and I might even do a review of it on my MainPage, these pieces I don't as heavily promote as I do my analysis of older features.  Again, it's hard to compete against a reviewer who has thousands of followers as well as a popular YouTube.com channel, so I leave that stuff to them.  They do it very very well, and I'd likely not have as much to add to that subject as they do.  So why compete?  Also, why settle for being second, third, or fourth place?  It just seems a bit self-defeating to this old brain.

Furthermore, I think my focus on evaluating films is a bit different from most.

As I've always said, I strive to find something of value to say about a motion picture.  Understanding that there can be an awful lot of garbage said about a film, I like knowing that I've taken a bit of time, put a bit of extra analysis in, and reached an assessment that has value to myself and my readers.  If watching an episode of a popular current TV show doesn't inspire me right away, I might mull it over for a day or two before penning a review.  Were I working for a major media outlet, I wouldn't be allowed that kind of time to reflect upon the specifics.  Achieving something of substance may not be an instant process: when I have, I go with it.  If I haven't, then I don't want to waste your time ... much less my time in struggling to come up with something to say.

Lastly, this is the same kind of thinking I apply to smaller films.  These may be releases that don't get all of the major publicity that the big stars demand, and these independent features do tend to both say something worth hearing, offer good performances, and establish a narrative or story worth investigating.  Just because these storytellers couldn't spend as much as Martin Scorsese or Steven Spielberg doesn't mean they're inferior in any way; they just have to find more affordable solutions to resolve their production challenges ... and I tend to find those efforts more interesting.

For example -- and I use this a lot -- Robert Downey Jr. and Jon Favreau were famous for saying whenever they came up to some production kerfuffle in making the Iron Man films: "Don't worry about it; we'll fix it in post-production."  They could say this because they have major bucks to spend along with an awful lot of expensive special effects to correct any errors they may have captured in making their story.  Smaller productions?  They don't have this luxury, meaning that they have to get it as close to perfect the first time.  If they don't, then they have to figure out a way to use what they did capture ... and it's these folks I have a great deal of respect for.  Their love of making something in the moment overrides the demands for money ... and that's how many of us out here in back-breaking reality live our everyday lives.  We can't simply spend someone else's money to fix it later ... so we work a bit harder today.

So you see, sure, I may have something to say about each and every SciFi and Fantasy and Horror release that comes out in theaters right now ... but those films are being covered every damn day somewhere else ... so I'll eventually get around to my thoughts on them.  In the meantime?

Meh.

I'd rather watch something older.

​-- EZ

Over the years, I've read a fair amount of commentary about issues of typecasting.

Essentially, there's been an argument made that Hollywood has historically exercised very little caution in selecting persons of a certain -- erm -- "type" to cast as the villain.  While some critics have diagnosed an undercurrent of racism in these casting decisions, I've often seen these choices as employing a certain mystique that, quite frankly, may not emanate from talent of certain backgrounds and ethnicity.  Yes, yes, yes: I realize at one level that might just be the point these academics are getting to, but I'm only trying to suggest -- as politely as I can -- that certain features lend themselves to perceived villainy.  It has nothing directly to do with skin color so much as it does the cut of a man's jaw, the intensity of the actor's glare, and the construction of his potential look on camera.  Again -- categorically -- it has nothing (for me, at least) to do with skin color; some faces just happen to 'snarl' better than others.

While this might make me unpopular with some folks, I think there was a time in Tinseltown that Henry Silva captured that look.  Yes, yes, and yes: I've seen his work in some softer roles.  He was quite good -- proving that the man could easily transcend any studio's tendency to showcase him only in certain roles -- but he always retained a toughness in everything I remember him starring in.  He wasn't any pushover.  He wasn't any lackey.  If and when the story needed something done, then movers and shakers like Silva were perfectly cast.

Naturally, I understand and appreciate the position of those who claim he was a talent shoehorned into specific roles.  I'm not arguing otherwise ... but I'm also man enough to point out that whenever given the chance Silva was damn good at playing the villain.  While he could impose a measure of menace whenever called upon, I'd also suggest those eyes could convey more than just conventional evil.  There was always something going on in those eyes.  His wheels were always turning.  While he could chew scenery with the best of them, he'd also elevate the heavy to the point of being dimensional ... and that's not something every actor could achieve.

While some might argue his genre credentials were light ... well, I'm just getting started.

1962's The Manchurian Candidate isn't a what I'd suggest is renowned as a Science Fiction project, and yet there's no mistaking the fact that the premise of both hypnosis and mind control fall smack dap into the middle of such favored territory.  For folks who might not have seen it, please do yourself a favor.  It's a masterful film directed by John Frankenheimer -- one I discovered way back in my college days -- and it's the kind of thing I'll watch whenever I find it on the TV dial.  It offers great performances across the board -- some of them might be a bit simply by today's standards -- and Silva has a fabulous presence in it, even with his slim screen time.

​Of course, that isn't his only contribution.

He made two appearances to television's The Outer Limits -- one in 1963 and again in 1964 in different roles -- and paid a visit to the popular Voyage To The Bottom Of The Sea, a franchise that hosted guest roles to many of the man's contemporaries.  He also stopped by for a guest role in 1966's Tarzan TV serial.  In 1969, he even enjoyed a guest stint on Mission: Impossible.  It wasn't until 1978 that he truly found Science Fiction with a visit to the SciFi/Comedy series Quark.

Perhaps his biggest contribution in all of SciFi, however, was and will remain his work as the infamous 'Killer Kane,' advisor to none other than the villainous 'Princess Ardala' aboard the motion picture and series pilot for Buck Rogers In The 25th Century.  Honestly, I've never read why he didn't reprise the role on the show -- Kane did come back for a few episodes; at this point, I can only imagine that he wanted to focus on his film work and opted for meatier prospects.

Still, I'd be remiss in my duties if I failed to mention that he voiced the character of 'Bane' for a few incarnations of Batman cartoons.  I've been a fan of the Batworld for all of my life, and I can't imagine anyone other than Henry Silva having the gumption to play a seminal creation that -- in the comic books, at least -- is the villain who finally broke The Bat.  How fitting.

There were a few more genre projects that followed, but it appears he retired from the business in 2001.

Alas, word reached my desk this morning that he's left us for other celestial pursuits.

Thoughts and prayers are extended to the friends, family, and fans of Mr. Silva.

​-- EZ

1994’s Timecop is one of those rare Science Fiction and Fantasy misfires.
 
Had everyone involved simply stuck to delivering even the bare minimum of formulaic conventions, then the finished product should’ve easily surpassed the sum of its parts.  You’ve got time travel.  You’ve got a good vs. evil story.  You’re got a reasonably charismatic young lead rounded out by a cadre of great-looking supporting players, many of which with solid histories on the big and small screen.  You’ve got a director with a track record in genre properties.  And you’ve got a learned and experienced production crew.
 
Yet, it’s a fairly middling ordeal through-and-through.
 
Peter Hyams directed the affair from a script provided by Mike Richardson and Mark Verheiden.  Richardson has gone on to producing such genre fare as Hellboy (2004), Alien Vs. Predator (2004), Hellboy 2: The Golden Army (2008), and Syfy’s popular Dark Matter and Resident Alien as well as Netflix’s The Umbrella Academy.  Verheiden – a name I’m familiar with more for his work in the comic book industry than anything else – has also found a measure of success as a producer with his attachment to Smallville, Syfy’s Battlestar Galactica, TNT’s Falling Skies, and Starz Network’s Ash Vs Evil Dead.  As for director Hyams?  Prior to Timecop, the man graced the silver screen with such entries as Capricorn One (1977), Outland (1981), and 2010: The Year We Make Contact (1984).
 
Still, all of this creative wattage failed to lift the great premise of a government agency policing time against those who would alter the past in order to affect the future (for their benefit) above the level of a TV-grade potboiler.  How did it all go wrong?
 
That answer lies in its execution.
 
Jean-Claude Van Damme was cast as lead Max Walker, the Time Enforcement Commission’s top agent.  In this role, he’s tasked with heading back into the years gone to nab suspects who’ve escaped into history for whatever nefarious purposes they intend.  At this point in his professional career, Van Damme was arguably looked at as a more affordable alternative to box office superstar Arnold Schwarzenegger but hadn’t quite yet found the same level of success in receipts.  His earlier genre projects – Cyborg (1989) and Universal Soldier (1992) – certain put him on the cultural map so far as fans of Science Fiction and Fantasy were concerned; but his true and loyal fan base was more aligned with his more sports-leaning athleticism.  Flicks like Bloodsport (1988), Kickboxer (1989), and Hard Target (1993) were tailored more directly to the man’s physical skills, and – like actor Sylvester Stallone did with his Rocky franchise – Van Damme established his screen credentials on his ability to best his foes in physical combat more than a show of wits.
 
As a consequence, I thought that there were bits and pieces of Timecop similarly fashioned to appeal more to Van Damme’s core audience than they were scripted as organic to this narrative.  Though others might pass them off as benign scenes thrown in maybe for their ‘cool factor’ or even a bit of comic relief, I found the emphasis on Walker’s high-kicking abilities and other various feats of strength more intrusive than anything else.  If you think of a film like a road trip, these were road bumps that any other driver would’ve avoided … but the production felt they were necessary to bolster the budding career of this young star.  In fact, it was almost as if producers were trying to say, “Wow, look what our guy can do!”

There was a time in my life when I just loved to use the word ‘abysmal.’  It’s one of those rare words that I think rather perfectly describes whatever it’s applied to, and I thank the wordmakers for crafting a description that’s ultimately fitting almost whenever it’s properly used.
 
So … I don’t think Timecop is an abysmal film, but I do think that in so many respects the folks involved just made some abysmal choices.  I don’t fault Van Damme or the producers for making these decisions, but – at the end of the day – we all live and die by whatever we choose to do.  I think modifying an obvious SciFi and Fantasy premise and the corresponding script to fit the athletic requirements of an actor’s audience is wrong unless it’s done fully for comic intent.  And no I don’t think these sequences were crafted for comedy, making them just ill-timed and atonal with the rest of the picture.  That’s the horse I rode in on, and that’s the horse I’m riding out on so far as Timecop is concerned.
 
That’s why I say it isn’t a bad film.  It’s just a complete misfire, one that was calculated that way.  As a franchise, I think it’s ripe for a makeover.  I’m aware of the short-lived TV spin-off as well as the sequel, but this is one possible tentpole prospect that could use a creative do-over.  If done right, then it could be grand.
 
This time, let’s leave the split kicks to Kobra Kai.

​-- EZ

Well, springtime has finally come to King’s Landing – in one cinematic sense of the word – and that’s allowed for a good number of these regal players to finally engage in one of Game Of Thrones signature acts: namely, they’re finally bumping uglies!
 
Yes, yes, yes.  It was only a matter of time, you know.  House Of The Dragon – like its predecessor – is on pay cable, and Thrones rather famously made use of some adults-only footage early in its run on HBO.  Honestly, I didn’t have as much an issue with it as some viewers seemingly did; sex acts without some kind of narrative relevance – think of it as just gratuitous – might be status quo for some broadcast and streaming entities, but I thought most of what was crafted in the expansive kings-and-queens franchise had more thematic purpose than I’ve seen elsewhere.  Granted, there are always exceptions, but I found most of it perfectly acceptable.
 
However, I think all of us knew going into this particular House that we were inevitably going to see more of the same, and “King Of The Narrow Sea” delivered the goods not so much in regal fashion as it did to – ahem – stir the pot.
 
Though it only took him four years (according to the dialogue), Prince Daemon Targaryen found himself back in the good graces of the king (though it didn’t last for long, did it?).  Returning to Kings Landing, he essentially prostrated himself to his older brother, pledging his commitment once again to the crown while surrendering his own newly earned title as well.  Applause, applause!  Bring out the wine!  It was a curious development – one I hadn’t foreseen in the slightest, expecting Daemon’s greater arc to follow the course of a magisterial rival – but it did allow for the somewhat randy uncle to make a move on his niece (and heir to the throne) Rhaenyra.
 
Certainly – it would seem – one way or another, this prince will have this kingdom!
 
While their quasi-coupling (and conscious uncoupling) may’ve come as a surprise to those not watching closely, it fit perfectly well within what House has kinda/sorta loosely established in its first three hours: there’s a smoldering chemistry to these two when they’re together.  (In fact, one might argue that’s the only real fire burning anywhere away from the show’s signature dragons.)  They’ve been sharing glances and moments alone, so I think their ‘relationship’ was always destined to be something deeper.  All I can say is that it came to a head much sooner than I expected it to, but it is what it is.  The fact that Daemon had pause when he did, ultimately refusing to go through with the – ahem – intimacy, could underscore that there’s more to him than meets the eye … but hasn’t that been the case with, perhaps, every character audiences have come to know since this franchise began?  Could this signal a full turnabout with him destined to be the show’s hero?  I guess – in that respect – only time will tell.  (Alas, I’m not familiar with the source material as are some who blog Science Fiction and Fantasy.)
​

What Daemon’s machinations did bring about was also more than a bit predictable: after being so roundly rejected by her dear uncle, Rhaenyra rushes back to the castle for a night of fun with Ser Criston Col, her royal guard.  Again, their attraction has been showing slowly across these few episodes; and I predict many in the audience saw this pairing coming as well.  She did personally select him to serve on the King’s guard, and she did spend some quality ‘away time’ with him in the forest.  Still, it was handled very nicely – with good taste – and you can bet precisely for those reasons it’ll set off a veritable firestorm of plot development as the season continues to unfold.  Anything with a silver lining always turns to crap at King’s Landing.  Always.
 
Not to be left out of the – ahem –spring fever, Queen Alicent finds herself summoned to her husband’s chambers for some royal intrigue of her own; and we’re shown a rather discomfited lady doing little more than lying beneath the man as he goes about his business.  It’s a rather proper portrait for the girl who kinda/sorta found herself silently and secretly manipulated (by her dear old dad, Otto Hightower) into the arms of the widowed king; clearly, she’s entered into this marriage out of some sense of familial responsibility and not over love.  Though we’ve all suspected as such, these moments confirmed all of our suspicions.  (And, for the record, I still think there’s something ‘up’ with Otto.  I’ve got my eye on you.)
 
All of this heavy petting aside, “King Of The Narrow Sea” was little more than a series of calculated developments, all that shifted the program’s focus in a different direction.
 
Where do I begin?
 
Daemon finds himself banished.  Again.  His beloved Mysaria’s back in the whoring business.  Again.  The King fires his Hand.  Alicent doesn’t know whom to trust.  And Rhaenerya’s fidelity remains a sticking point … but father has pledged her hand to another anyway.  Gone is all talk of war – likely a brief respite, mind you, knowing this franchise – and now these various pieces have been moved about the figurative chess board.  The hour’s pacing felt a bit off – at one point, I wondered if this was two different hours edited into one, resulting in a bit of clunkiness – but sometimes that happens when the focus shifts from action to drama, as it appears this one has.
 
Buckle up, kids.  It looks like the kingdom’s still in peril.

​-- EZ