Remembering the "Laredo" TV Series

Stars Brand, Brown, and Smith.

In contrast to the popular cowboy ballad "The Streets of Laredo," the streets depicted in this 1965-67 TV Western were pretty lively thanks to a trio of boisterous Texas Rangers. The series, which currently airs on GetTV, starred Neville Brand as gruff Reese Bennett, Peter Brown as the refined Chad Cooper, and William Smith as the muscular Joe Riley. Television veteran Philip Carey played their put-upon boss Captain Parmalee.

The original series pilot aired in 1965 as the last episode of the third season of The Virginian. In "We've Lost a Train," Trampas (Doug McClure) travels through Laredo to pick a bull in Mexico for Judge Garth. Along the way, he runs afoul of Reese, Chad, and Joe--but winds up helping them retrieve stolen money from a train. As often happens with pilots, the characters here differ slightly from the ones in the eventual Laredo series. Reese is less comical and Chad isn't the ladies man that he would become.

Brown, Doug McClure, Brand, and Smith on The Virginian.

The teleplay was written by Western scribe Borden Chase, who penned film classics such as Winchester '73 (1950), The Bend of the River (1952), and Man Without a Star (1955). Universal Studios padded the pilot with footage from another Virginian episode ("Ride a Dark Trail") and released it in Europe as a theatrical film called Backtrack.

The Laredo TV series debuted on NBC in September 1965. Its time slot, Thursday from 8:30 to 9:30, pitted it against some tough competition: Bewitched on ABC and My Three Sons on CBS. Still, Laredo found an audience with its easygoing mix of action and humor. The latter often involved Reese being manipulated by his colleagues. In various episodes, Chad and Joe convince Reese to get into a ring with a lively bull, go undercover to catch villainous French officers, and take over as "acting captain" when Parmalee is away.

The second season of Laredo added Dutch actor Robert Wolders, who joined the cast as rookie Ranger Erik Hunter. According to some sources, the rationale for a fourth Ranger was to lighten Brand's workload. Erik was a bit of dandy and surpassed Chad as the best-dressed Texas Ranger on television. In real life, Wolders married classic movie actress Merle Oberon in 1975--she was 25 years older than him--for the last four years of her life. He later lived with Audrey Hepburn for the last decade of her life.

Neville Brand as Reese Bennett.

Still, Laredo owes its success to the Gunga Din camaraderie of the three actors that played the original Rangers. Each of them brought something different to the show. Neville Brand was one of the most decorated soldiers of World War II. He carved an acting career as a tough guy in movies like D.O.A. (the villain's description of Brand's henchman: "He's not happy unless he gives pain. He likes to see blood.").  In his autobiography, Bruce Dern said of Neville Brand:   "(He was) the baddest guy I ever met in the business."

Peter Brown as Chad Cooper.

Peter Brown came to Laredo as a TV Western veteran. He played young deputy Johnny McKay to John Russell's marshal on four seasons of the half-hour series Lawman (1958-62). The show was one of the many Westerns produced by Warner Bros. at the time (others included Cheyenne, Maverick, and Sugarfoot). Between Lawman and Laredo, Brown starred opposite actresses Hayley Mills (Summer Magic), Ann-Margret (Kitten With a Whip), and Barbara Eden (Ride the Wild Surf). In the last film, he played a blonde surfer--apparently, the producers were concerned that the good-looking Brown would distract female viewers from the film's dark-haired star...Fabian.

William Smith as Joe Riley.

The least known of the three Laredo stars was William Smith, a former child actor, arm wrestler, and bodybuilder. Ironically, he was probably the most successful Laredo star after the series' cancellation, guest starring in over 90 television shows. On the silver screen, he often portrayed villains such as the motorcycle gang leader in 1971's Chrome and Hot Leather (which also featured Peter Brown). One of Smith's most memorable roles was as Clint Eastwood's bare-knuckle fight opponent in Any Which Way You Can (1980). It's interesting to note that Smith had a brief bare-knuckle bout against Mike Mazurki in the season one Laredo episode "Pride of the Rangers."

Carey as the put-upon Parmalee.

Finally, no review of Laredo would be complete without mentioning Phillip Carey, whose Captain Parmalee tried, to no avail, to keep Reese, Chad, and Joe in line. Carey made his film debut in the early 1950s and appeared in movies like Mister Roberts and Calamity Jane before entering television. Prior to playing Parmalee, he starred in the TV series Tales of the Bengal Lancers (1956-57) and in the title role in Philip Marlowe (1959-60). In 1979, long after Laredo, he made his debut on the daytime television drama One Life to Live, in which he portrayed Texas tycoon Asa Buchanan for the next 28 years.

NBC cancelled Laredo in 1967 after two seasons and 56 episodes. The network's decision to move the series to Friday nights at 10 P.M. likely contributed to the show's early demise. It still holds up nicely, a refreshing change from the traditional 1960s Westerns--although there are still plenty of shoot-outs and daring rescues. Laredo airs weekdays at 10:45 AM Eastern Time on GetTV.

The Movie-TV Connection Game (September 2016)

Ann Blyth and Bette Davis.

You know how this works: Given a pair or trio of films or performers, your task is to find the common connection. It could be anything--two stars who acted in the same movie, two movies that share a common theme, etc. As always, don't answer all the questions so others can play, too. There is a single best answer for each question.

1. Robert Wagner, Burt Lancaster, James Stewart, and Karen Black.

2. The TV series Bewitched and the 1968 movie The Planet of the Apes.

3. Saboteur and Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins.

4. Rex Ingram and Burl Ives.

5. The Fred Astaire film Top Hat and The Bullwinkle Show TV series.

6. Gene Kelly and Esther Williams.

7. Ingrid Bergman and Miriam Hopkins.

8. Johnny Weissmuller and Sonja Henie (another easy one!).

9. Kurt Russell and Don Johnson.

10. Raymond Massey and Dennis Weaver.

11. Ann Blyth and Bette Davis.

12. The political drama The Best Man and the Jerry Lewis comedy Visit to a Small Planet.

13. The Island at the Top of the World and Pinocchio (besides the fact that both were made by Disney).

14. The Beatles and David Hedison.

15. Vivien Leigh and Noel Neill.

Love Fights Hate in "The Night of the Hunter"

In addition to a gallery of memorable performances, actor Charles Laughton’s cinematic legacy includes one fling with directing—but oh what a fling it is! The Night of the Hunter is a haunting, poetic film that explores themes ranging from the battle between good and evil to the propensity of Nature to protect the innocent. The film also provides Robert Mitchum with his best role as Harry Powell, evil incarnate disguised as a preacher (what makes the character even more chilling is that Harry believes he has a special relationship with the Almighty).

Harry's hand of hate.

The film’s opening is pure Hitchcock, with a group of frolicking kids discovering a corpse in a cellar. In the next scene, we see Harry Powell driving down the countryside, talking to himself about the “six…twelve widows” he has murdered. When Harry is arrested—for car theft—he becomes the cell mate of Ben Harper (Peter Graves). Harper stole $10,000 and accidentally killed a man. However, before he was arrested, he disposed of the money with his two children, John (who’s about 11) and his younger sister Pearl. Harper makes his children swear to never divulge the hidden location of the money, not even to their mother (“You’ve got common sense; she ain’t.”).

Harry confronts young John.

The lure of $10,000 (a lot of money during the Depression) appeals greatly to Harry. Upon his release from prison, he looks up the pretty young widow Willa Harper (Shelley Winters). But young John (Billy Chapin) takes an instant dislike to the new preacher wooing the mother; it’s as if only the innocence of childhood can recognize the true nature of evil. John tries to protect his family, but when tragedy strikes, he and Pearl flee with Harry in pursuit.

The Night of the Hunter is a virtual textbook on filmmaking, with sound and image blended effortlessly to create mood. Harry’s entrances in the film are accompanied by a jarring, foreboding piece of music. Even more disturbing is when we hear Harry before we see him. In one scene, his singing filters into the children’s bedroom as he waits patiently outside the front gate (almost like a predator lurking for its prey).

Laughton’s striking use of shadows and silhouettes recall the Expressionistic German films of the 1920s (e.g., The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari). I suspect much of the credit for the brilliant lighting belongs to cinematographer Stanley Cortez, a skilled craftsman who labored in routine films except for this one and Orson Welles’ The Magnificent Ambersons.

One of Stanley Cortez's haunting images.

Billy Chapin with Lillian Gish.

As Harry Powell, Mitchum gives the performance of a lifetime. With “love” tattooed on one hand and “hate” on the other, he describes the struggle between them in one of the famous scenes in film history. To complement Mitchum’s performance, Lillian Gish brings quiet strength to her role as his eventual adversary. Just as the animals watch over the children as they drift down the river in a boat, Gish’s Mrs. Cooper guards the children (almost as if she personifies Mother Nature). At one point in the film, she even says: “I’m a strong tree with many branches for many birds.”

Since Charles Laughton never directed another picture, it’s hard to gauge how much of Night of the Hunter was his vision. Screenwriter James Agee, already a renowned film critic, went on to win a Pulitzer Prize for fiction. But for all their talent, neither Agee, Cortez, nor Mitchum made another movie to rival this one. So either it was sheer luck that all the talents gelled so wonderfully on The Night of the Hunter or Laughton provided the guidance to make it work. I tend to believe the credit belongs to Mr. Laughton.

Mission: Impossible - "The Town" (S2 E21)

Jim Phelps (Peter Graves) stops at a gas station in the small California town of Woodfield. The radiator in Jim's big blue convertible is overheating, so he heads toward a nearby drugstore while the gas station attendant tends to his car. As he's chatting with the pleasant girl behind the soda fountain, a young couple walks in and asks for a prescription.

On the way out of the drugstore, the woman trips and a gun emitting blue smoke dumps of a bag. After everyone gets safely out of the drugstore, Jim tries to quietly leave town--but he's detained. 

The sheriff takes Jim to a town meeting presided over by Doc (Will Geer), the local physician. This is no ordinary town meeting, though, as it turns out that the residents of Woodfield are all spies. Jim learns that the young couple have been sent on an assassination mission to Los Angeles.

In Doc's office, he administers a dose of curare to Jim to replicate the symptoms of a stroke. Doc's intent is to gradually increase the dosage until Jim dies. Meanwhile, Rollin, who has been waiting for Jim at a lodge, goes looking for his friend. He arrives in Woodfield--much to everyone's surprise--and sees Jim's car.

Doc tells Rollin that Jim has had a series of strokes and can't be moved. Rollin senses something is amiss and confirms it when he realizes Jim is trying to communicate with him by blinking his eyelids. Rollin calls "Mrs. Phelps" and tells her the bad news about Jim. He recommends she get someone to drive her to Woodfield. He also asks who will take care of "Little Willie" while she's gone. 

Cinnamon (Barbara Bain) and Barney (Greg Morris) arrive in Woodfield first, followed by Willie (Peter Lupus) in the guise of a truck driver. Willie fakes an arm injury to get into Doc's office. Rollin knocks out Doc while...

Cinnamon drugs the nurse. Using Morse code, Jim tells his IMF team about the plan to kill a foreign scientist at a convention in L.A. Rollin hatches a plan to stop it and prevent Woodfield residents from further espionage and assassinations. 

What would a Mission" Impossible episode be without a cool Rollin Hand disguise? Thus, Rollin and Cinnamon use materials in the medical office to make a mask of Doc's face. But will Rollin be able to pull off the deception? Can the young assassins in L.A. be stopped in time? And how will the IMF team escape from a town in which everyone will try to kill them?

Broadcast in 1968, this is one of the best--and one of the most different--episodes of Mission: Impossible. It may have been the first to omit the traditional prologue in which Mr. Phelps or Mr. Briggs receive their mission from a tape that self-destructs in five seconds. Instead, this episode's opening scenes could be right out of Thornton Wilder's Our Town with the small town gas station, the cute soda fountain girl, and the young photogenic couple. But, in a matter of minutes, this slice of Americana is turned upside town when we learn this is a town of spies.

Veteran TV director Michael O' Herlihy (brother of actor Dan O' Herlihy) uses the most cant angles this side of Batman to portray a state of unease until Rollin's arrival. Writer Sy Salkowitz injects some wonderfully dark humor, especially with a scene in which town residents are trained how to drown someone and make it look like an accident (be sure to break a finger so it will appear as if the victim tried to break his fall in the tub).

Finally, if you're going to cast someone as a kindly small town doctor who is actually a spy ring leader, you can't do better than Will Geer (after all, he was Grandpa Walton!). 

A first-rate episode from start to finish, "The Town" is further evidence that Mission: Impossible was one of the best television series of the 1960s and 1970s.

The Competition: Will Love Capture the Biggest Prize?

When we first meet Paul Dietrich, the driven pianist has placed a disappointing third in a minor Midwestern competition. Despite his proud father's support, Paul (Richard Dreyfuss) considers ditching his concert pianist dream for a job in the Chicago public school system. However, when he earns an invite to the prestigious Arabella Hillman Competition--the "Super Bowl" of his field--he decides to go for it one last time.

Richard Dreyfuss and Amy Irving in The Competition.

Paul encounters nothing but distractions when he arrives for the event in San Francisco. His mother finally reveals what Paul already knew, but refused to acknowledge. His father, who is still working to support his unemployed son, faces serious health issues. The competition is also unexpectedly delayed when the teacher of a young Russian pianist defects to the U.S.

The most significant distraction, though, is the presence of Heidi Joan Schoonover (Amy Irving). The talented and pretty pianist has harbored "an itch" for Paul since they met two years earlier. Paul tries to ignore her...but the attraction is definitely mutual.

I've been in the mood to revisit The Competition (1980) ever since I saw Amy Irving in Crossing Delancey (1988) last year. Thus, I was delighted when it appeared on cable recently. I think one's appreciation for the film hinges on the two leads and the lengthy musical passages.

Heidi plays a Prokofiev composition.

As in several of her early movies (e.g., The Fury, Yentl), Amy Irving exudes a winning mix of vulnerability and strength. If that sounds like an oxymoron, it's a testament to Irving's ability to find depths in her character even   when--as in The Competition--the script hasn't fleshed them out fully. Initially, Heidi seems unfocused as she copes with Paul's inconsistent attitude toward her. Yet, when it comes time to play in the competition, she takes charge and unleashes her passion and precision on the keyboard. We gradually realize that, despite Paul's outward appearance of control, that Heidi is by far the stronger of the two--both emotionally and in terms of talent.

Paul conducts the orchestra in one of
the film's best scenes.

Richard Dreyfuss faces more of an acting challenge, if only because Paul is at times downright unlikable and obnoxious. It's fortunate that Dreyfuss can counter his on-screen abrasiveness with an inner endearing quality that peaks through now and then. It has saved him in numerous portrayals of obsessive characters in films like Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977), The Goodbye Girl (1977), and, most notably, Once Around (1991) in which he pushes the limits with his brash, overbearing salesman.

For some viewers, though, The Competition is all about the music. Lalo Schifrin, the composer who gave us the Mission: Impossible theme, does a remarkable job of condensing the classical works of Chopin, Brahms, and Beethoven. He also adds a memorable love theme (though I'm not especially fond of the lyrics sung over the closing credits). The song earned Schifrin and lyricist Will Jennings an Oscar nomination. (The film also received a nomination for editing.)

The Competition is not altogether successful in its attempt to combine romance with a portrait of an obsessive artist. Yet, if it misses the mark occasionally (I would have nixed the Russian defector subplot), it still holds one's attention with the performances, the music, and the lovingly-filmed San Francisco locales. One still wishes, though, that the whole movie could have been as good as the climatic scene between Heidi and Paul, in which the latter confesses with stark honesty that he never thought she could play better than him.

Different Kinds of Heroes: "A Distant Trumpet" and "Four Feathers"

A Distant Trumpet (1964). I recognize that Troy Donahue's thespian skills were limited. Yet, in the right role--such as one of the naive lovers in A Summer Place--he performed more than satisfactorily. As I've noted before, Warner Bros. didn't do Troy any favors by typecasting him as a wholesome, contemporary good guy. Yet, when he got the rare change-of-pace role, he didn't always succeed. He was creepily effective as a subtle psycho in My Blood Runs Cold, but he seems totally out of place in the Raoul Walsh Western A Distant Trumpet. Is it just me or does a Troy Donahue-Raoul Walsh film sound like an oxymoron?

A lobby card with Troy Donahue and Suzanne Pleshette.

Donahue plays Lieutenant Matthew Hazard, a recent West Point graduate, who has been sent to Fort Delivery in the Arizona Territory. The local Apaches, led by a their charismatic leader War Eagle, have "jumped" the reservation and threaten to start war with the Cavalry. The young officer finds the military installation manned by sloppy troops. He soon whips them into shape. He also makes an instant connection with pretty Kitty Mainwarring (Suzanne Pleshette). Unfortunately, she is married to another officer and--to everyone's surprise--Matt's Eastern girlfriend Laura (Diane McBain) shows up at the fort.

I was looking forward to Suzanne and Diane engaging in a good old catfight over Troy. Alas, everyone remains stiff and proper. That leads to the major problem with A Distant Trumpet: It takes itself too seriously. With this cast, Walsh (directing his final film) should have thrown in the towel, injected some humor, and concentrated on producing an entertaining film. Instead, he gives us a poor man's Broken Arrow without the script and actors that gave that 1950 classic emotional heft.

A Distant Trumpet is not a total waste of time. Max Steiner delivers another convincing score and Claude Akins makes a strong impression in a small role as a "businessman" running a mobile brothel.

John Clements and June Duprez.

The Four Feathers (1939). The best adaptation of A.E. Mason's grand old adventure novel remains the 1939 version directed by Zoltan Korda. Set mostly in Sudan in 1895, Four Feathers balances several impressive action sequences with an appealing tale of personal courage.

We first meet the film's protagonist, Harry Faversham, as a young boy surrounded by military traditions and old soldiers who recount their exaggerated exploits. Harry has no taste for the Army, however--even though he grows up to become a British officer. When he learns of his regiment's deployment to fight the Mahdist Sudanese, Harry resigns his commission. His three closest friends, all fellow officers, perceive his decision as an act of cowardice. They each send him a white feather attached to their calling cards. When Harry turns to his fiancee for support, she offers none. Knowing that she must think him a coward, too, he plucks a white feather from her fan--hence, the the four feathers of the title.

I find it interesting that Harry's fiancee and friends are so quick to brand him a coward when it's clear that he has never embraced the military life. I almost wish that he had stood his ground and rejected the urge to prove his courage. Of course, that would have been a very different film indeed. Four Feathers is first and foremost an impressively crafted, exciting tale of derring-do in the tradition of Beau Geste and Gunga Din. It differs from those pictures in that it's more of a star vehicle than an ensemble piece.

That star is John Clements, whose performance as Harry Faversham was one of only 30 acting credits for the silver screen. He spent most of his career on the British stage, as a performer, a producer, and a playwright. His work in the theatre earned him a knighthood in 1968. It's a shame he didn't make more movies as a leading man. He's quite convincing as Faversham, conveying his character's inner turmoil, resilience, and ingenuity.

There have been numerous other versions of The Four Feathers. Richard Arlen and William Powell starred in a 1929 silent version. Storm Over the Nile (1955) was a B-movie version with a young Laurence Harvey (though Anthony Steel played Faversham). Beau Bridges played the lead in a decent 1978 made-for-TV adaptation. The worst version to date has to be the ludicrous 2002 Four Feathers with Heath Ledger as Harry and a horribly miscast Kate Hudson.

Project X: A Bit of Mission: Impossible, a Pinch of Forbidden Planet, and a Dash of Jonny Quest

Chris George as Hagan Arnold.

One of William Castle's final films as a director, the seldom-shown Project X is a science fiction film brimming with innovative ideas--perhaps too many.

Set in 2118, it has a team of scientists trying to retrieve a forgotten secret from deep inside the mind of government agent Hagan Arnold (Christopher George). As a safety precaution prior to taking on an important mission, Arnold was injected with a drug that would erase his memory if tortured by the enemy (extreme pain activates it). The problem is that, shortly before he lost his memory, Arnold reported that Sino-Asia had developed a weapon that would destroy "the West" in fourteen days. But only Arnold knows what the weapon is and it's locked away in the bowels of his brain!

Greta Baldwin in the "kinery"--where
they turn milk into pills.

To stimulate him into remembering, the scientists provide Hagan with a "matrix"--a false identity complete with memories. They place him in an "anxious environment" by making him a bank robber in the 1960s hiding out with his cronies at an isolated house in the country. Every night, they affix electrodes to his brain and "watch" his subconscious memories, trying to gain information. Meanwhile, there's a mysterious man (Monte Markham) in the woods who's spying on Hagan and a pretty blonde at the nearby "kinery" that quickly befriends the amnesiac spy.

I originally saw Project X on network TV in the early 1970s. My memories of it turned out to be a little false as well. I recalled solely the portion of the plot in which the scientists create the fictional world for Hagan--a trick employed effectively in multiple episodes of TV's Mission: Impossible as well as the excellent James Garner outing 36 Hours (1964). But, as it progresses, Project X takes several unusual turns, even unleashing a sort of id monster reminiscent of Forbidden Planet near the climax. Best of all, the "secret weapon"--when revealed--turns to be a diabolically ingenious one.

A Hanna-Barbera scene.

Unfortunately, a protracted running time, a low budget, and an overabundance of bright ideas keep Project X from standing alongside superior late 1960s sci fi efforts like The Power and The Forbin Project. Certainly, director William Castle deserves kudos for taking an out-of-the-box approach to keeping the production costs reasonable. He employed animation studio Hanna-Barbera to design some of the sequences visualizing Hagan's memories. Thus, in lieu of using miniature models to represent an underwater prison, we get an animated sequence. Sometimes, this works amazingly well and other times...well...it looks like a scene out of Jonny Quest (which it was in one sequence).

Henry Jones admires a brain.

The screenplay was adapted from two novels by Leslie P. Davies: The Artificial Man (1965) and Psychogeist (1966). Another Davies novel, The Alien (1968), served as the basis for the 1972 thriller The Groundstar Conspiracy, which also features a central character with amnesia.

I haven't read Davies' books, but hope his plots are tighter than Project X. Honestly, I can't imagine that any security team would be as inept as the one that guards Hagan. First, they don't re-route the telephone, thereby allowing a potential enemy agent to call Hagan--twice. Then, they let Hagan wander off from the house on his own and interact with a contemporary woman (which should have destroyed the illusion of the 1960s). These are mistakes that the IMF would never make!

Still, despite its flaws, Project X remains a sporadically interesting sci fi feature. And, as mentioned earlier, the enemy's plan to destroy Western Civilization is a decidedly clever one.

Republicans vs. Democrats in a Disney Musical?

Walter Brennan as Grandpa Bower.

You could call it the Mary Poppins Syndrome. That's the "disease" that convinced Walt Disney Studios that it could harvest box office gold with lavish, lengthy family musicals. The result was a trio of flops: The Happiest Millionaire (1967); The One and Only, Genuine, Original Family Band (1968); Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971), the most blatantly Poppinsesque. None of these ambitious endeavors have improved with age, though I know a handful of fans who champion Millionaire and Broomsticks. Perhaps, someone will come to the defense of the film we're reviewing today.

The One and Only, Genuine, Original Family Band (hence referred to as Family Band) starts out well enough with an introduction to the Bower family, which consists of Calvin, Katie, their nine children, and Calvin's father. Grandpa (Walter Brennan) wants to get the musical family to St. Louis to perform at the Democratic Convention in 1888. In fact, he has even written a song about President Grover Cleveland ("Let's Put It Over with Grover"). 

Lesley Ann sings about love.

Meanwhile, the eldest daughter, Alice (Lesley Ann Warren) is preparing to meet her pen pal boyfriend Joe (John Davidson). Joe is a stout Republican, so he and Grandpa butt heads almost immediately when they meet. Joe sings a rousing song about Dakota (which still awaits statehood) and pretty soon the whole family is moving there. Other than a desire to be near their daughter, I couldn't fathom why Calvin and Katie would want to move their brood.

Once in Dakota, it's a battle royale between the town's Republicans and Democrats--with Alice caught in the middle between Grandpa and Joe. There are more forgettable songs and, after what seems like a very long time, the plot climaxes with the town's residents learning the outcome of the election between Cleveland and Benjamin Harrison. (It's actually a fascinating piece of political history, since Cleveland won the popular vote, but lost the election because Harrison had more electoral votes. Moreover, Cleveland later became the only U.S. president to return to office for a second term after a defeat.) 

John Davidson at age 27.

I'm not sure why the Disney Studios thought a musical built around politics and a bland romance between two young adults would appeal to children. Brothers Richard and Robert Sherman composed some unforgettable songs during their tenure at Disney. However, their score for Family Band may very well be their worst. The only highlights are a decent solo number by Lesley Ann Warren ("The Happiest Girl Alive") and a pleasant duet between John Davidson and her ("Bout Time"). This was the second teaming of the two, following The Happiest Millionaire.

Janet Blair and Buddy Ebsen.

Walter Brennan, who excelled in supporting roles during his long career, gets thrust into the lead role and struggles to carry the film. Buddy Ebsen and Janet Blair are sadly wasted. If the latter's name doesn't sound familiar, then check out her excellent performance in the creepy 1962 witchcraft classic Night of the Eagle (aka Burn, Witch, Burn). She also once played Peter Pan in a local theatre production with Vincent Price as Captain Hook (would have loved to have seen that!).

According to some sources, the original cut of Family Band was 156 minutes. It was edited to 110 minutes for its theatrical release. Songs by Buddy Ebsen and Janet Blair were left on the cutting room floor.

Goldie with John Davidson.

It's interesting to note that Family Band co-stars Kurt Russell as one of the Bower kids and Goldie Jeanne Hawn (as she was billed) as another girl romanced by Davidson. Sixteen years later, Russell and Hawn reconnected when they starred in Swing Shift. They have been together ever since and have a son named Wyatt.

Finally, in July 2015, I interviewed Pamelyn Ferdin--who played little Laura Bower. I should have asked her about Family Band, but instead I focused on her more notable roles in the Peanuts specials (as Lucy), the Clint Eastwood Western The Beguiled (1971), and on the original Star Trek TV series.

The Big Clock: Man Against Time

What would you do if you were asked to track down a suspected murderer and your quarry was...you?

That's the dandy premise behind The Big Clock, a smart 1948 suspense film sometimes misclassified as a film noir. Ray Milland stars as the protagonist, who explains his predicament via voiceover in the opening scene and then flashes back to 36 hours earlier.

Ray Milland as George Stroud.

George Stroud (Milland) works at Crimeways, one of many magazines published by ruthless media magnate Earl Janoth (Charles Laughton). Stroud, who specializes in finding criminals on the run, is looking forward to his honeymoon. It's a bit overdue considering he and his wife (Maureen O'Sullivan) have a five-year-old son. When Janoth directs him to cancel his vacation plans and personally cover a story, Stroud quits his high-pressure job. That evening he meets Pauline, a pretty blonde (Rita Johnson) who turns out to be one of Janoth's disenchanted mistresses.

Instead of meeting his family at the train depot, Stroud commiserates with Pauline. They visit several bars, stop at an antique shop, and wind up at her apartment. She nudges a tipsy Stroud out the side door when Janoth arrives unexpectedly. When Pauline berates Janoth during an argument, he flies into a rage and kills her.

Janoth turns to Steve Hagen (George Macready), his second-in-command, who covers up the crime. The only problem is that Janoth saw a man standing in the shadows outside Pauline's apartment door. He and Macready decide to pin the murder on the mysterious stranger...assuming they can find him. And who better to track down a suspected killer than George Stroud?

Laughton and mustache.

While there is much to like in The Big Clock, uneven performances and a lack of attention to detail hamper it to some extent. Charles Laughton, who can be a very fine actor, makes Janoth into a one-dimensional monster. When he strokes his mustache with one finger, it's oddly reminiscent of an intentionally overplayed vaudeville villain. Ray Milland fares better as the hero, but I'd expect a crime journalist to show more intelligence when it comes to investigating a murder scene. When Stroud returns to Pauline's apartment, he picks up a clock--thereby marking it with his fingerprints (and yes, fingerprints were admissible as evidence in U.S. courts as early as 1911).

The standouts in the cast are Rita Johnson as Janoth's mistress and Harry Morgan as a masseuse who doubles as a killer. Morgan doesn't have a line of dialogue, but lurks creepily in the background as Stroud and his team conduct inquiries. I was expecting an exciting confrontation when he encounters Stroud inside the "clock room" of the Janoth building. Alas, one punch knocks Morgan's character down some stairs and he never appears again.

Note Harry Morgan lurking between Macready and Milland.

Ray Milland and Rita Johnson.

As for Rita Johnson, she appeared in many classic films (Here Comes Mr. Jordan, The Major and the Minor), but usually in secondary roles. She turns Pauline into a bright, likable character who flirts sweetly with Stroud and then verbally attacks Janoth aggressively. In real life, Rita Johnson suffered a brain injury in 1948 that caused lapses of memory and partial paralysis. The official story was that a large hair dryer had fallen on her in her apartment. However, she had other bruises on her body that led to speculation that she may have been beaten. After her brain surgery, she only appeared in a handful of films. She died in 1965 at age 52. Click here to read an article about her alleged accident.

Milland inside the big clock.

Director John Farrow, husband of Maureen O'Sullivan, directs with a sure hand and emphasizes the importance of time, but he adds little stylistically. His opening tracking shot from the outside to the inside of the Janoth building recalls Roy William Neill's earlier Black Angel (1946). The interior of the big clock, the film's most interesting set, is barely used. John Seitz's black-and-white cinematography is crisp as always. He worked on several famous noirs (e.g., Double Indemnity, This Gun for Hire), which I assume is why some critics consider The Big Clock to be a film noir. Thematically, though, it doesn't fit in that genre (now it might be different if Stroud had been unfaithful to his wife).

Sean Young and Kevin Costner.

Kevin Costner and Gene Hackman starred in an above-average 1987 remake called No Way Out. Costner played an unmarried Naval officer who began an affair with an attractive young woman (Sean Young), who was also mistress to the Secretary of Defense (Hackman). After Hackman's politician murders his mistress, he accuses her "other lover" and recruits Costner to find the alleged killer.

Five Swimming Pools in Classic Movies

Even by day, it's a creepy pool.

1.  Taste of Fear (aka Scream of Fear) - The creepiest swimming pool on film is not the one from Cat People (see below). No, it gets edged out by the dark, dank pool in this excellent 1961 Hammer suspense film. Susan Strasberg plays the film's wheelchair-bound protagonist, who seems obsessed with the murky waters after returning home following a ten-year absence. In one of the best scenes, she imagines seeing her father's corpse in a room opposite the pool and, consumed with fright, falls helplessly into the shadowy water.

Poor Jane Randolph!

2.  Cat People - The most famous swimming pool scene is undoubtedly Jane Randolph's nearly fatal dip in Jacques Tourneur's chilling 1942 classic. She plays Alice, a young woman who goes for a late night dip in the basement of her apartment building. Alas, she is unaware that she has been followed by a jealous wife who can transform into a panther. As Alice treads alone in the water, dark shadows drift across the walls, followed by a panther's growls and a fleeting silhouette of a large stalking cat. Good stuff!

Burt Lancaster looks concerned.

3.  The Swimmer - On an afternoon in suburban Connecticut, middle-aged Ned Merrill (Burt Lancaster), still looking fit in swimming trunks, decides to "swim his way home" by navigating through a series of neighbors' pools. There were plenty of unusual films in the late 1960s, but The Swimmer is one of the oddest--a sort of esoteric version of Ingmar Bergman's Wild Strawberries courtesy of Frank and Eleanor Perry (David and Lisa). Still, it's critically praised in some quarters and can count film critics Roger Ebert and Vincent Canby among its fans.

4.  The Dragon Murder Case - The best adaptation of a Philo Vance detective novel, this 1934 mystery begins with a wealthy playboy disappearing after a night-time dive into a natural lake called the Dragon Pool. When he fails to turn up after a day, the police drain the pool and discover claw marks on the sandy bottom. Later, Philo Vance discovers the dead body in a "glacial pot-hole" on another part of the estate. The victim's mangled body is covered with large claw marks--as if he had been ripped open by a dragon.

Esther Williams in a flaming pool.

5.  Bathing Beauty - There had to be an Esther Williams movie on this list, right? We opted for one of her first major roles in this 1944 musical comedy with Red Skelton. The huge swimming pool is pretty impressive, with white steps and backlit columns in the background and a barrage of ladies dressed in pink, yellow, purple, black, and shimmering white (that'd be Esther!).

5.  The Thrill of It All - Yes, there is a tie for the last spot because we felt compelled to include this sparkling 1963 Doris Day-James Garner comedy. Doris plays a housewife who unexpectedly becomes the TV spokesperson for the Happy Soap Company. Inevitably, several boxes of the product are kicked into the pool and eventually transform into a giant cloud of foamy bubbles--leading to one of the film's best known scenes.

George Plimpton: Acting with The Duke, Swinging on a Trapeze, and Playing Quarterback!

Plimpton and Joe Schmidt.

It’s embarrassing now to admit that I didn’t know much about George Plimpton when I started watching his TV specials at age 14. I knew he had written the nonfiction book Paper Lion, in which he went “undercover” as a rookie quarterback on the Detroit Lions football team. And I knew a 1968 movie had been made from Paper Lion starring Alan Alda as Plimpton. That was pretty much the extent of my knowledge about him when I watched the first of his six TV specials.

The premise of the Plimpton! TV specials was the same one the writer had explored in Paper Lion (and even earlier in his career): How would an average person fare in a “glamorous” profession? His first special premiered on ABC in 1970 and was subtitled “Shoot-out at Rio Lobo.” It traces Plimpton’s experience as an extra (billed as the “4th Gunman”) in the Howard Hawks Western Rio Lobo, which starred John Wayne.

Plimpton with John Wayne.

There’s a lot of humor in this behind-the-scenes documentary of life on a movie set as George spends much of the episode rehearsing his only line of dialogue. As he stands behind Wayne, he points his rifle at a lawman and utters: “This here’s your warrant, mister.” However, when it’s time to shoot the scene, director Howard Hawks walks over to Plimpton and tells him to change the line to: “I got a warrant right here, Sheriff.” The befuddled actor jokes that he spent a week rehearsing his line--but he still manages to speak the new one with appropriate menace. He then reacts convincingly when John Wayne “pops” him in the head with a rifle.

His big scene, though, is supposed to be when John Wayne shoots him. In preparation, Plimpton seeks advice from the stunt men on the set (one of them recommends that he die with his eyes open). However, when the time comes for his death scene, Plimpton is rigged to a harness that will pull him back into the saloon wall. He also learns that Jorge Rivero’s character will kill him instead of Wayne. When Henry fires, Plimpton is jerked back against the wall. It's a great effect—but, alas, leaves George no time for any acting during his “big death scene.”

In the other Plimpton! specials produced by David L. Wolper, George photographs elephants in Africa, tries his hand as a stand-up comic, and drives a race car. My two favorites, though, have George return as a quarterback (this time with the Colts) and train as a trapeze artist. The latter special is a fascinating examination of the strength and agility required to work on the trapeze. Plimpton prepares for weeks to perform what most of us would consider a simple trapeze move--“simple” only in comparison to the amazing feats we see high-wire artists routinely perform with ease.

In “The Great Quarterback Sneak,” Plimpton goes back to the football field. The difference this time is that everyone knows who he is. In Paper Lion, only the coaches knew that Plimpton was a journalist. Plimpton’s one regret from that experience was that the National Football League did not allow him to play in a pre-season game. In his TV special, Plimpton gets the opportunity to get on the field—even if it is during halftime—and run a few plays against his “former” team: the Detroit Lions. I don’t remember how Plimpton fared, but I suspect his success, if any, was modest.

George Plimpton--everyman.

In his obituary on George Plimpton, Bill Curry, who was the Colts center when Plimpton played, recalls some details not in the TV special: “(On) day one, he shocked us by requesting to get into the ‘nutcracker’ drill as a ball carrier. Now, the ‘nutcracker’ is one blocker, one tackler, and one runner. It is the most primitive, violent one-on-one drill in football. Well, when (linebacker) Ray May planted George head first in the dirt on his first carry, the ball went one way and George's right thumb went the other. "Dear Gawd, look at this!" he exclaimed as the injured digit dangled uselessly. We all assumed our little television experiment was over. We did not know George Plimpton. That afternoon, he was back in pads, taking snaps with the other quarterbacks.”

The Plimpton! TV specials are entertaining, insightful, and funny. Yes, it’s amusing to watch an “ordinary guy” try to do the things that only extraordinary people can do. But these shows also serve as a testament to a tough-minded journalist that was willing to take some risks to satisfy his own curiosity—and who was modest enough to share his experiences with the world. George Plimpton didn’t mind if we chuckled at his experiences even if he took them seriously.

The Movie-TV Connection Game (August 2016)

The rules are simple: Given a pair or trio of films or performers, your task is to find the common connection. It could be anything--two stars who acted in the same movie, two movies that share a common theme, etc. As always, don't answer all the questions so others can play, too. There is a single best answer for each question.

1. The films Trapped (1973) and Miracle on 34th Street (1947).

2. Humphrey Bogart and Elliott Gould.

3. The films Blue Thunder and Cross Creek.

4. Dr. Strangelove and Blazing Saddles.

5. Paper Lion and Rio Lobo.

6. Creepers (1985) and Phenomena (1985).

7. The TV series Mr. Ed and the film The Fountainhead.

8. Rosalind Russell and Jack Lemon.

9. The film Macon County Line and the TV series The Beverly Hillbillies.

10. The TV series Captain Kangaroo and Bette Davis (this one may be tough!).

11. The TV series The Beverly Hillbillies and the Abbott & Costello movie Jack and the Beanstalk.

12. Hayley Mills and Bette Davis.

13. Frank Langella and Bill Murray (another potential toughie).

14. Elizabeth Taylor and Susan Sarandon.

15. Jeff Goldblum and Michael Rennie.

The Olympics in Classic Movies

Jesse Owens in Olympia.

Documentaries, fact-based dramas, and fictitious tales of inspiring athletic feats have revolved around the greatest event in international sports. 

Leni Riefenstahl’s controversial Olympia (1936), a vivid record of the 1936 Berlin games, remains a powerful tribute to the athletes and the spirit of the games--all this despite an underlying theme praising Nazism. Kon Ichikawa’s mesmerizing Tokyo Olympiad (1966) was trimmed from 170 minutes to 93 for its U.S. release, though the shortened version still included the dynamic volleyball match between the women of Japan and the Soviet Union. Visions of Eight (1973) featured segments by eight international directors (including Ichikawa again). Most critics found it disappointing, except for John Schlesinger’s dramatic feature on the grueling marathon. 

Film biographies of inspirational Olympians have been devoted to athletes such as: decathlete Bob Mathias (The Bob Mathias Story); track star Wilma Rudolph (Wilma); the 1980 U.S. hockey team (Miracle on Ice and Miracle); gymnast Nadia Comaneci (Nadia); ice skater Oksana Baiul (A Promise Kept: The Oksana Baiul Story); and runners Billy Mills (Running Brave), Jesse Owens (The Jesse Owens Story), and Gail Devers (Run for the Dream: The Gail Devers Story).  

The 1976 TV-movie 21 Hours at Munich recreated the tragic terrorist killings that cast a dark cloud over the 1972 Olympics. Another TV-movie, The First Olympics : Athens 1896 (1984), chronicled the events that led up to the first modern-day games. It Happened in Athens (1962) offered a fictitious view of the same events, placing special emphasis on Jayne Mansfield as an actress who agrees to marry the winner of the marathon. 

Jim Hutton and Cary Grant.

Earl Derr Bigger’s proverb-quoting detective Charlie Chan uncovered a murder plot at the Berlin Games in 1937’s Charlie Chan at the Olympics. Charlie’s No. 1 son (Keye Luke) was even a member of the U.S. swimming team. Jim Hutton played an Olympic walker in the 1966 romantic comedy Walk, Don’t Run, which found him in overcrowded Tokyo sharing an apartment with Samantha Eggar and matchmaker Cary Grant. A 90-pound weakling sent off for a weight-lifting program and grew up to be a muscular Olympic hammer-thrower in 1956’s charming British film Wee Geordie. The Golden Moment: An Olympic Love Story (1980) found an American decathlete (David Keith) falling in love with a Russian gymnast (Stephanie Zimbalist) at the 1980 Moscow Games , which the U.S. boycotted after this TV-movie was made. The 1978 Special Oylmpics was a heartwarming story of a mentally retarded youngster who finds fulfillment playing sports and enters the Special Olympics.  

Here's a list of films about the Olympics (or which feature the Games prominently in the plots):

Million Dollar Legs (1932)
Olympia (1936)
One in a Million (1936)
Charlie Chan at the Olympics (1937)
Jim Thorpe: All American (aka Man of Bronze) (1951)
The Bob Mathias Story (aka The Flaming Torch) (1954)
Wee Geordie (aka Geordie) (1956)
It Happened in Athens (1962)
Tokyo Olympiad (1966)
Walk, Don’t Run (1966)
Downhill Racer (1969
The Games (1970)
Visions of Eight (1973)
21 Hours at Munich (1976 TVM)
The Loneliest Runner (1976 TVM)
Wilma (1977)
Special Olympics (aka A Special Kind of Love) (1978 TVM)
Animalympics (1979)
The Top of the Hill (1980 TVM)
On Thin Ice: The Tai Babilonia Story (1990 TVM)
Swan Song (1980 TVM)
The Golden Moment: An Olympic Love Story (1980)

Chariots of Fire (1981)
Miracle on Ice (1981 TVM)
Personal Best (1982)
Running Brave (1983)
Nadia (1984 TVM)
The Jesse Owens Story (1984 TVM)
The First Olympics: Athens 1896 (1984 TVM)
Going for the Gold: The Bill Johnson Story (1985 TVM)
16 Days of Glory (1986)
Reach for the Sky (1991)
Alex (1993)
A Promise Kept: The Oksana Baiul Story (1994 TVM)
A Brother's Promise: The Dan Jansen Story (1996 TVM)
Run for the Dream:  The Gail Devers Story (1996 TVM)
Prefontaine (1997)
Without Limits (1998)

Reprinted with the authors' permission from the Encyclopedia of Film Themes, Settings and Series.

Gene Rayburn and "The Match Game"

Gene Rayburn and his telescoping mike.

The latest revival of The Match Game--this time as a summer TV series hosted by Alec Baldwin--comes 54 years after the debut of the original. Frank Wayne, who later executive produced The Price Is Right for many years, created The Match Game for Mark Goodson/Bill Todman Productions. It premiered on NBC as a daytime quiz show in 1962 (it aired at 4:00 where I lived).

The show's format was simple. There were two teams, each consisting of two celebrities and one contestant. Teammates tried to match each other's answers to a fill-in-the-blank statement like: "John gave Mary a shiny new ____ for her birthday." A team earned 25 points if two teammates had a match and 50 points if all three had the same answer. The first team to score 100 points won the game.

The winning team then played "audience match," in which they won money for matching answers given by the studio audience in an earlier survey. This part of The Match Game was very similar to the later (even more successful) game show, The Family Feud.

The original version with Gene flanked by two celebrities.

Gene Rayburn hosted The Match Game and it was his personality, along the humorous and later risque questions, that made the quiz show a hit. Rayburn had worked in radio, television, and theater since the 1940s. He began as a page at NBC and attended its "announcer's school" before serving in the Army as a pilot during World War II. After the war, he found success on WNEW radio in New York City, teaming with Dee Finch on the show Rayburn and Finch. During this time, Rayburn popularized the novelty hit The Hop Scotch Polka and even received a co-composer credit with Carl Sigman and William Whitlock (the origin of this song could be the subject of an entire post.)

When The Tonight Show was launched with Steve Allen as the host in 1954, Gene Rayburn became the announcer and Allen's second banana (even appearing in skits). Rayburn's national exposure sealed his fame in the entertainment business and he subsequently guest-starred in TV series (Robert Montgomery Presents, The Love Boat), hosted several games shows, and even replaced Dick Van Dyke in Bye, Bye Birdie on Broadway.

Yet, Gene Rayburn is best remembered for The Match Game. The popular quiz show had a good run on NBC from 1962 to 1969. However, it might have been forgotten if not for the CBS revival, intially dubbed Match Game '73, that first appeared in--you guessed it--1973. The number of celebrities was expanded to six and the format was tweaked so that two contestants competed against each other by trying to match answers with the six-member panel. In addition to more celebrities, the naughtiness also increased, with questions such as: "You could tell by the way she was dressed that she was a ________" (the most common celebrity answers were "swinger" and "hooker").

Gene joking with Joan Collins, Richard Dawson, and _____.

Regular panelists on the new Match Game included Richard Dawson, Charles Nelson Reilly, and Brett Somers (who was recommended by her husband Jack Klugman). Other celebrities that appeared frequently were: Betty White, Dick Martin, MacLean Stevenson, Elaine Joyce, Marcia Wallace, Fannie Flagg, Gary Burghoff, Bert Convy, and Joyce Bulifant.

A syndicated nighttime version called March Game PM, also hosted by Rayburn, aired from 1975-1981. And when CBS canceled the daytime version in 1978, it continued in syndication for another three years. There have been various revivals over the years. The format has also been exported to other countries under the title Blankety Blanks (in Australia, for example, it was called Graham Kennedy's Blankety Blanks).

When TV Guide ranked the Top 60 Game Shows of All Time in 2013, The Match Game came in at No. 4, right behind Jeopardy, Wheel of Fortune, and Family Feud. And when TIME Magazine listed the 15 Best Game Show Hosts, who was it in the No. 4 slot following Bob Barker, Groucho Marx, and Gary Moore? That's an easy match: Gene Rayburn.