The Five Best Coronet Blue Episodes

Series star Frank Converse.

A former Cafe contributor wrote about Larry Cohen's cult TV series Coronet Blue back in 2009. The show's premise is brilliantly simple: a young man awakens in New York Harbor with no memory--except for the two words "coronet blue." Taking the name Michael Alden, he spends the next 13 episodes trying to unravel the meaning of that phrase, which holds the key to his identity.

Made in 1965, Coronet Blue sat on the shelf until CBS decided to "burn it off" in the summer of 1967. The network held the show in such little regard that the final two episodes were never aired. Still, it acquired a cult following over the years (as did the catchy title song, where you can hear on our YouTube Channel). Finally, in 2017, Kino Lorber released the entire series on DVD.

It was grand fun to watch it again and to see a very young Frank Converse as Alden. It inspired the Cafe staff to take this opportunity to list our five favorite episodes. By the way, the DVD set includes an interview with series creator Larry Cohen, in which he explains the ultimate meaning of "Coronet Blue" (you can google the answer, too).

1. The Assassins - Michael answers a mysterious classified ad and meets a couple who claim to be his parents. They welcome him lovingly back into the family--and reintroduce him to his fiancee! But are they his parents? And if not, what do they want with him? This absorbing episode reminds me of a later classic episode from Patrick McGoohan's The Prisoner called "The Chimes of Big Ben." Actually, there are a lot of similarities between Coronet Blue and The Prisoner.

Frank Converse and Brian Bedford.

2.  A Dozen Demons - Surviving an assassination attempt on his life, Michael awakens in a monastery in New York City. He's befriended by a young man training to become a monk (series semi-regular Brian Bedford). When the men notice Michael's uncanny resemblance to St. Anthony in a stained glass window, they set out to find the artist. The opening scenes in the monastery are the highlight of this episode, which also features Donald Moffat as a rector. Moffat was one of many fine British actors that appeared on the series, along with Susan Hampshire, Denholm Elliott, and Juliet Mills.

Juliet Mills and Converse.

3.  Man Running - After saving a political figure from an assassination attempt, Michael attempts to reunite him with the daughter he hasn't seen in years. Michael finds the daughter (Juliet Mills), but then his house guest suddenly disappears. Like the best Coronet Blue episodes, this one keeps the viewer guessing as to which characters are good and which are bad. Juliet Mills gives a very appealing performance; it's too bad her film career never equaled that of sister Hayley. Juliet is delightful opposite Jack Lemmon in Billy Wilder's Avanti! (1972).

4.  Tomoyo - Michael recognizes an Asian woman from his past, but she claims to have never met him. Seeking to learn more about her, Michael enrolls in a karate class and quickly makes an enemy with one of the black belt instructors. Appearing long before Kung Fu or even Longstreet, this episode offers an engrossing look into martial arts. This was one of the episodes never shown on CBS.

Susan Hampshire.

5.  A Time to Be Born - The first episode sets up the premise concisely and provides viewers with the most tangible clues into Michael's real identity. We see him pre-amnesia in the opening scene before he's beaten up and tossed into the harbor. After a long hospital recovery, he assumes the name Michael Alden and sets out to discover what happened to him. A potential clue leads him to a young socialite (Susan Hampshire), whose father may hold the key to Michael's identity.

Here's a two-minute scene from the episode with Juliet Mills from the Cafe's YouTube Channel:

Cult Movie Theatre: Q--The Winged Serpent

It's Quetzalcoatl!

A window washer is beheaded. A half-naked sunbather is snatched from a skyscraper's rooftop. Yes, there's a giant winged serpent on the loose in New York City. Well, technically, it's an Aztec god called Quetzalcoatl and it's also indirectly responsible for a recent spate of human sacrifices.

While the police try to solve these grisly crimes, a small-time crook named Jimmy Quinn (Michael Moriarty) tries to avoid getting killed by more conventional means. During a botched diamond robbery, Jimmy winds up with all the jewels...only to promptly lose them when a car hits him while crossing the street. Now, he has a bum leg and a gang of angry criminals on his trail.

Michael Moriarty as Jimmy Quinn.

Jimmy eventually seeks safety inside the Chrysler Building, hiding among the steel beams under the spire. To his amazement, he finds a giant nest with a humongous egg. Initially, Jimmy doesn't understand the significance of his discovery. But when he does, he decides that he can turn his knowledge into a tidy profit. City authorities want to stop Quetzalcoatl before it kills again, So, why not sell that information to them...and get his criminal record wiped clean in the bargain?

Candy Clark as Jimmy's girlfriend.

Independent film auteur Larry Cohen made a number of clever, low-budget, socially-conscious movies in the 1970s and 1980s. His most famous is probably It's Alive (1974), which somehow succeeds as both a horror tale about a killer baby and the story of an innocent child trying to survive in a scary world of "normal" people. In Q, Cohen's traditional would-be heroes are the cops played by David Carradine and Richard Roundtree. Not only are they boring characters, they are also ineffectual when it comes to finding Quetzalcoatl.

The survival of the city's denizens is left to a hustler with limited smarts who can play a little piano. Jimmy Quinn doesn't have much going for him beyond a very tolerant girlfriend (wonderfully played by Candy Clark). Of course, even she decides she's had enough when she learns of Jimmy's extortion plan.

It can be difficult to cast anti-heroes, but Cohen was fortunate to get Michael Moriarty to play Jimmy. The actor was in high demand for much of the 1970s, appearing in prestigious roles in Bang the Drum Slowly, The Glass Menagerie (for which he won an Emmy), and Who'll Stop the Rain. His performance works in Q because he doesn't try to make Jimmy a likable rascal. Moriarty's protagonist is greedy, selfish, and dense. And that is what separates Q from dozens of other big monster movies.

Battling the winged serpent.

Due to budget reasons, Cohen limits the appearances of Quetzalcoatl, saving most of the winged serpent footage for the climax. While the serpent looks somewhat rubbery, the stop-motion animation is pretty impressive. David Allen, one of the lead animators, became an acclaimed special effects wizard. He worked on big budget films like Willow (1988) as well as TV commercials (his most famous one featured King Kong and a Volkswagen).

Larry Cohen and Michael Mortiarty teamed up for three additional movies. The most interesting one was The Stuff, a satire about a delicious gooey substance that turns people to zombies that crave more stuff.

As James Brown Sings: It's Hard to be the Boss in "Black Caesar"

Versatile directors always intrigue me. Michael Curtiz excelled at contemporary drama (Casablanca), costume adventures (The Adventures of Robin Hood), and musicals (White Christmas). Robert Wise gave us The Day the Earth Stood Still, West Side Story, and The Haunting. This prelude brings us to Larry Cohen, the creative force behind It's Alive, The Private Files of J. Edgar Hoover, Phone Booth (writer only)...and Black Caesar. A low-budget auteur, Cohen proved adept at injecting a fresh point of view into traditional genres. Black Caesar, his Blaxploitation riff on the 1930s gangster film, is a perfect example--and a surprisingly well-made film.

Fred Williamson as Tommy Gibbs.

Loosely based on the Edward G. Robinson classic Little Caesar (1931), Black Caesar chronicles the rise of Tommy Gibbs (Fred Williamson) from teenage hoodlum to Mafia-backed kingpin. Gibbs' story begins in the mid-1960s with a run-in with a crooked cop. That experience lands Gibbs in prison, but provides him with knowledge that he'll exploit years later--when he steals account ledgers incriminating powerful men in New York City.

On release from prison, Gibbs assassinates a Mafia target for "free" to gain an introduction to Cardoza, a local mob leader. Gibbs convinces Cardoza to let run him run a small unprofitable neighborhood in Harlem--which Gibbs quickly transforms into a money-making empire. From there, the nouveau gangster expands his business to the West Coast and sets his sites on replacing Cardoza. Concurrently, the Mafia and the city's crooked district attorney begin to realize that Gibbs is a threat that must be eliminated.

There's nothing new about the plot to Black Caesar. However, Cohen freshens it by creating a three-dimensional anti-hero and infusing interesting touches throughout the film. There is no doubt that Gibbs is a ruthless killer, but he greatly values friends and family. He takes his marriage vows seriously, staying faithful to his wife (at least, until after she cheats on him). I found that to be a refreshing change from many movie gangsters who think nothing of keeping a mistress while posing as a caring husband and father. Furthermore, Gibbs' love of his wife and best friend causes him to spare their lives when he learns that the rumors of their affair are true. Gibbs realizes his decision will cause him to lose face, but he weighs the alternatives and allows his genuine affection for the two to drive his actions.

Of course, a well-written character means nothing without the right actor to inhabit the role. For me, the biggest surprise in Black Caesar is the excellent performance by Fred Williamson. A former football player for the Oakland Raiders and Kansas City Chiefs, Williamson had only appeared in four movies and an episode of the TV series M*A*S*H. Yet, he captures the swagger, intensity, and anger that propel his character. He makes sure we know Gibbs isn't interested in just making money--he wants to be at the top of the world looking down at the people that looked down on him as a youth. In Williamson's best scene, Gibbs informs his mother that he has bought her the high-rise apartment where she works as a maid. He's totally unprepared for her less-than-enthusiastic reaction and his face changes from joy to disappointment to repressed anger in a matter of seconds.

The James Brown soundtrack.

Cohen gives Black Caesar a smooth urban feel by visually capturing life on the streets. Theater marquees, pawn shops, and street people seem to inhabit every frame. (As a result, the film goes flat when it shifts briefly to the West Coast scenes.) James Brown's funk-driven soundtrack--especially his song "The Boss"--contributes significantly to the hip vibe.

When Black Caesar chalked up solid box office numbers in 1973, American International Pictures pushed Cohen to make a sequel. The challenge was that Cohen had begun work on his horror thriller It's Alive and Williamson was making That Man Bolt. Still, the ever-innovative Cohen shot footage on weekends and used a stand-in for Williamson where possible. The result was Hell Up in Harlem (also 1973), a follow-up that starts with the final five minutes of Black Caesar. It lacks the spark of the original, but Williamson is still good as Gibbs. Cohen rejected James Brown's sequel soundtrack and hired Edwin Starr, best known for his hit song "War." Starr's score, like Hell Up in Harlem as a whole, is perfunctory at best.

Williamson at age 74.

Almost four decades after their collaborations, Cohen and Williamson remain active in the entertainment industry. In 2009, Cohen wrote the Canadian thriller Messages Deleted and Williamson appeared in Zombie Apocalypse: Redemption. And just this evening, I saw Fred Williamson in a TV spot for the Wounded Warriors Project. Apparently, it's true...old (movie) gangsters never die.

Blaxploitation Films: An Overview of the African American Urban Action Genre of the 1970s

Richard Roundtree as Shaft.

The term “Blaxploitation" was coined in the early 1970s to describe a genre of low-budget, action pictures that featured mostly American African actors and typically played in urban neighborhood theaters.  Some critics considered these movies offensive, charging that their African Americans protagonists were poorly-developed stereotypes. Indeed, Blaxplotation "heroes" were often private eyes, gangsters, and drug dealers that were violent, sexually insatiable, and defiant of authority. Those traits were certainly nothing new in 1970s cinema--Dirty Harry's Inspector Callahan was more violent than the private eye hero in Shaft and James Bond was more promiscuous. What made Shaft unique was that its protagonist was a black man and--at a time when the only African American movie star was Sidney Poitier--that was a game-changer.

The mainstream success of Blaxploitation pictures like Cotton Comes to Harlem (1970) and Shaft (1971) spawned dozens of urban action films from 1971 to 1976. Richard Roundtree, who exuded cool as John Shaft in three films, became the genre's first star, but others quickly followed: former football player Fred Williamson; feisty Pam Grier; and, to a lesser degree, Tamara Dobson (Cleopatra Jones), karate champion Jim Kelly (Black Belt Jones), and Bernie Casey (Hit Man).

The majority of Blaxploitation films were aimed to simply entertain. They were, after all, "exploitation films," defined in The Film Encyclopedia as movies "made with little or no attention to quality or artistic merit but with an eye to a quick profit, usually via high-pressure sales and promotion techniques emphasizing some sensational aspect of the product." Still, the Blaxploitation genre made a lasting impact on the film industry by spotlighting African American actors, indirectly promoting female empowerment, and producing memorable film soundtracks.  

Williamson in Black Caesar.

Actors like Richard Pryor, Godfrey Cambridge, and William Marshall had established solid credentials in the entertainment industry well before the start of Blaxploitation films. However, their careers got a substantial boost when they landed starring roles in The Mack (Pryor), Cotton Comes to Harlem (Cambridge), and Blacula (Marshall). Jim Brown was already a leading man, but the box office hits Slaughter, Black Gunn, and Three the Hard Way made him a bona fide genre superstar. And, as mentioned earlier, the Blaxploitation genre created its own stars in Richard Roundtree, Fred Williamson, Bernie Casey, and Pam Grier--all of whom went on to long careers in film and television.

Pam Grier as Foxy Brown.

Quentin Tarantino has suggested that Pam Grier was Hollywood's first female action star. It's hard to disagree, given her body of work in action films like Coffy, Foxy Brown, and Friday Foster. Combining toughness, sexuality, and female empowerment, Grier dominated the male characters in her films. Even when she became their victim briefly, as in Foxy Brown, she retaliated with a vengeance.

When The Washington Times compiled a list of the Top 10 Female Action Stars earlier this year, Pam Grier ranked #9. Except for Linda Hamilton in Terminator (1991) and Sigourney Weaver in Alien (1979), every other actress listed is from a film made in 2001 or later. Thus, Grier was breaking ground for female action stars that wouldn't be plowed for two more decades--an impressive achievement.

Blaxploitation films also broke ground with urban soundtracks composed by well-known musicians such as Isaac Hayes, Curtis Mayfield, and James Brown. Hayes scored a No. 1 Billboard hit with "Theme from Shaft," which also earned an Academy Award for Best Song. His Shaft soundtrack was so popular that Hayes was cast in the lead role in his own Blaxploitation film, Truck Turner (he also composed its soundtrack). Still, music critics generally regard Curtis Mayfield's Superfly soundtrack as the best for a Blaxploitation film. In fact, the success of Mayfield's No. 4 single, "Freddie's Dead"--which was released before Superfly--may have contributed to the film's success. James Brown's soundtrack for Black Caesar is considered one of his strongest albums.

William Marshall in Blacula.

Speaking of Black Caesar, it's one of several Blaxploitation films with interesting origins. Writer-director Larry Cohen (It's Alive) based Black Caesar  loosely on the 1931 gangster film Little Caesar. The 1972 film Hit Man was a remake of the Michael Caine thriller Get Carter. Black Mama, White Mama appears to be a loose remake of The Defiant Ones. The mainstream success of Blacula (which featured a fine lead performance from William Marshall) spawned other horror films: Blackenstein; Dr. Black, Mr. Hyde; Sugar Hill (about zombies); and the sequel Scream, Blacula, Scream.

This month, the Classic Film & TV Cafe pays homage to the Blaxploitation films--the African American urban action films of the 1970s. Yes, they were violent exploitation films and lasted for just a few years. Yet, they remain an important part of American cinema history and warrant a closer look.

31 Days of Halloween: Child Rearing Rears its Ugly Head in Larry Cohen's It's Alive

Expectant mother Lenore awakens her husband, Frank, early in the morning. The excited couple gather their things and head to the hospital. Already with child, Frank is relaxed and confident. He even calms down another father-to-be, agitated with the cigarette and gumball machines. This all changes, however, when Frank witnesses one of the doctors, bloody, staggering out of the maternity ward and subsequently collapsing.

So begins Larry Cohen's 1974 horror flick, It's Alive. Cohen began his career as a TV writer, even creating the cult sci-fi series, The Invaders. After writing and directing a few blaxploitation films, including the popular Black Caesar (1973) with Fred Williamson, the filmmaker released his first movie of the horror persuasion. Cohen created dynamic characters in his movies and could make them seem like real people who are often forced into seemingly impossible situations. He wonderfully captures the anxiety and excitement of a pregnant woman going into labor at the beginning of It's Alive. Even if a viewer has never had such an experience, he/she can relate to what these characters are feeling. This makes it so much more meaningful and intense when the couple learns that their baby is mutated, a vicious beast that attacks when threatened.

Another Cohen trademark is taking the absurd and presenting it with a straight face. Cohen's films are low budget B-productions, but rarely come across as hammy. They may be tongue-in-cheek, but the films typically do not feel like the director is insincere. In his movie, God Told Me To (aka Demon), released in 1976, a cop is investigating murders committed by random people, all of whom claim, "God told me to." The Stuff (1985) is about an otherworldly substance that people find irresistible and delicious, unaware that it's actually a parasitic entity (the film's tagline was "Are you eating it... or is it eating you?"). Cohen inserts these silly B-movie plots into a world the audience feels it knows, making his films more enjoyable and, in the case of It's Alive, more terrifying.

Never one to shy away from satire, Cohen targets the media in It's Alive. Following the baby's birth and initial assault on the doctors, the police scan the hospital for the monstrous infant. Before Frank can even make it home, he hears a report on the radio concerning the attack, and he and his wife are both named. The media becomes obsessed, and reporters constantly harass the couple, leading to Frank's dismissal from his job in public relations. Frank is even asked to allow scientists the opportunity to study the baby, should it be taken alive. This is the film's best scene, as Frank essentially explains the movie's title (obviously a line taken from the cinematic version of Frankenstein). He states that he thought Frankenstein was the monster and did not realize that it was the name of the doctor until he read the book. People mixed the identities of the creator and the monster, much like the paparazzi's fixation on the mutant baby but treating the parents as freaks. This concept is perhaps more horrifying than the film's monster.

Throughout the film, Cohen plays with the idea of a monster in the form of something innocent. The baby hides inside a milk truck, but prefers the milkman over the milk. It also takes refuge in a school, playing with toys and killing the police officers who believe they have it cornered. Somehow the baby makes it home in a terrific and suspenseful sequence, as Frank realizes that all the milk and packaged meat is missing from the house. The film ends with an inevitable confrontation, showcasing a marvelous performance by John P. Ryan as Frank. The movie avoids a typical horror film ending, with a feeling of relief or a final shock. It's bittersweet, almost as if it were a drama (which, in many respects, it is).

Unfortunately for pregnant couples, mutant babies continued being spawned in the sequels, It Lives Again (1978) and It's Alive III: Island of the Alive (1987), both written and directed by Cohen. A remake starring Bijou Phillips was recently made. It is set for release straight-to-DVD tomorrow, Oct. 6th.

Coronet Blue -- Where You From and What You Done?

If you were a tween or a teenager during the summer of 1967 you may have become enthralled with the short-lived replacement television series "Coronet Blue", which ran on CBS from May 29, 1967 to September 4, 1967. After airing 11 of 13 episodes originally scheduled, the show was abruptly canceled by CBS without divulging the secret that was at the core of the plot. It was many years before this mystery was resolved.

In 1965 CBS ordered 22 episodes of the series for its 1965 -- 66 fall schedule. During that time James Aubrey was fired as president of CBS and those who replaced him took the opportunity to put their own stamp on the network, and in the schedule shuffling that followed "Coronet Blue" was left without a timeslot. However, filming began on the series in the spring of 1965 and by the end of July 13 episodes were ready for broadcast. The producers hoped that CBS would insert "Coronet Blue" into its 1966 -- 67 schedule, instead of using it as a midseason replacement in January 1966; but "Coronet Blue" wouldn't appear on national television until the summer of 1967, two years after filming had been completed.

In the pilot episode, Frank Converse portrays a young man who is attacked aboard a luxury liner and tossed overboard. He is rescued, but with no memory of his past except for the words, "coronet blue". He is taken to a hospital for treatment of his memory loss, where he adopts the name Michael Alden, and sets out to determine the truth about his identity. In each episode Michael travels around the country searching for clues to his past, interacting with different people and becoming involved in their various personal crises. The show's debut on May 29, 1967 was greeted by mostly negative reviews, although to the surprise of producers and critics alike it became popular with viewers. Nevertheless the last show ran on September 4, 1967 without any sort of conclusion. It had been preempted several times and only 11 of 13 episodes were aired.

Fans irked by the abrupt ending without resolution clamored for new episodes that would solve the mystery of Michael's identity. But even if CBS had wanted to resurrect the series, it couldn't; Frank Converse had accepted the lead role in ABC's NYPD.

In subsequent interviews given by series creator Larry Cohen and star Frank Converse it was learned that the words " coronet blue" had no meaning whatsoever. But the speculation about Michael's real identity continued until 2003. In an article in the New York Times about Larry Cohen, critic Elvis Mitchell revealed that Michael was in fact a Russian agent who had been sent to the United States to participate in espionage operations. When it was learned that he had decided to defect to America he became the target of assassins.

In spite of being trashed by critics, the series somehow touched a chord in many younger viewers, and today "Coronet Blue" has attained somewhat of a cult status. Those viewers, now in their 50s, most vividly remember its theme song performed by Lenny Welch.

Three Not So Magnificent "Seven" Sequels

Recently, TCM ran a Magnificent Seven film festival beginning with John Sturges’ classic 1960 Western and was followed by the three sequels released between 1966 and 1972. Let me say upfront that The Magnificent Seven is one of my favorite Westerns…and also one of the finest adaptations of a foreign-language film. The brilliant premise—a poor Mexican village hires seven gunfighters to protect it from a marauding outlaw—was lifted intact from Akira Kurosawa’s stunning (though lengthy) The Seven Samurai. But Sturges and company make The Magnificent Seven memorable on its own merits, with a cast peppered with upcoming stars, a splendid villain played by Eli Wallach, and one of the most instantly-recognizable music scores in cinema history.

How could it all go so wrong in the three sequels? Return of the Seven, penned by the prolific Larry Cohen (e.g., It’s Alive), pretty much rehashes the first film. At least, Yul Brynner lends it some class by reprising his role as Chris Adams, the leader of the Seven. But part of the problem with doing a sequel is that four of the Seven died in the first picture, those played Robert Vaughn, James Coburn, Charles Bronson, and Brad Dexter (three of these four evolving into big-time film or TV stars). And, instead of Steve McQueen and Horst Buchholz as the remaining two Seven members, we get Robert Fuller (likable, but with little to do) as Vin and Julian Mateos (who?) as Chico. The plot has Chico taken captive by a powerful rancher who is “borrowing” villagers to a build a church to honor his dead sons. That’s kinda interesting, but it never gels. Instead, Chris and Vin recruit some new gunfighters (getting two from a local jail), rescue Chico, and engage into a big shootout. Even the reliable Warren Oates can’t do anything with a watered-down variation of Bronson’s character.

Despite George Kennedy replacing Yul Brynner as Chris, Guns of the Magnificent Seven is a marginal upgrade. Kennedy doesn’t wear Brynner’s all-black outfit (which seems a might hot in the desert anyway), but he does smoke cigars and keep his cohorts in line. His mission is to rescue a revolutionary leader being held prisoner in a well-guarded fortress. Beyond Chris, there’s no attempt to tie in characters from the previous films, so it’s pretty much an all-new Seven circa B-list actors: Monte Markham, a pleasant TV vet is almost too low-key in the McQueen-like role; the always reliable James Whitman is pretty good as a knife-throwing elderly gent (Coburn also favored knives in the original); and Joe Don Baker is over-the-top in a role that makes Vaughn’s intense gunslinger look laid back.

The Magnificent Seven Ride! is pretty much a sequel in name only and not nearly as exciting as the exclamation point would lead you to believe. Lee Van Cleef plays Chris, but you’d never know it was the same character. He’s a marshal now, married to Mariette Hartley, and smokes a pipe instead of a cigar (you know, like the pipe Lee smoked in his other Westerns). The plot begins as a revenge tale, then winds up with Chris deciding to protect a village of women from a nasty bandito. Since he needs some help, he goes to a nearby prison and picks up five convicts to go along with the author-turned-gunfighter who’s writing his biography! It’s a sloppy affair, as evidenced by the lightning speed with which Chris takes up with Stefanie Powers’ young widow after the violent death of his wife.

In summary, the Seven probably should have stayed home after the first film. That said, I will admit that the sequels all excelled in one area: Each of them featured a great musical score. The original one composed by Elmer Bernstein.