Lucy is in the limelight in this exciting change-of-pace episode that finds her playing the midget moll to a minor league felon in a grade-B homage to BONNIE AND CLYDE. It's an entertaining one-off episode that does nothing to forward the larger family saga, and in that way is strikingly similar to "Winds of Vengeance," an earlier episode that also featured Ewing women being terrorized by scruffy, lowborn Texans.
The show opens with Bobby taking a dive into the pool and reliving his MAN FROM ATLANTIS glories, while Lucy sulkily plucks a guitar, an interest not hinted at hitherto. Lucy's birthday party is coming up and bored busybodies Miss Ellie and Sue Ellen are planning it out, inviting their influential friends and a jazz combo that Lucy is too young to appreciate (she wants rock band The Coffins, but is outvoted).
Just how old is Lucy, anyway? No mention is made of her age. Since she's driving, one assumes her Sweet Sixteen came and went along with her virginity to that rascal Ray Krebbs. But since nothing is said of her graduating high school or being emancipated and thus free to go as she pleases, she must not yet be turning eighteen. So this must be her seventeenth birthday, an awkward age between childhood and adulthood, which is not to excuse her bratty behavior. Jock spoiled Lucy and she's accustomed to and feels entitled to always get her way, so one can sympathize with her overreaction when her request that her Mom be invited was denied out of hand by Emperor Jock: Valene is verboten, thus saith Jock. So Lucy grabs her guitar and runs away from home, and later hitchhikes, a doubly dangerous decision that anyone who has watched 1970's TV movies and "very special episodes" knows will end badly.
Enter Greg Evigan as Willie Guest, driving a tricked-out, fur-lined custom van that could have been driven off the set of CHICO AND THE MAN. No swindle is too small for Willie, as he skims a few bucks off Lucy's breakfast check. Meanwhile, J.R., knowing it was Lucy who lifted his car, credit card, and cash, nonetheless reports the theft. When Lucy, sitting in the restaurant, sees Ewing 3 surrounded by police, slips out the back door and hitchhikes a ride from Evigan. And thus another plight befalls a Ewing woman that can be traced to and charged to J.R.'s account of infidelity and infamy.
The story takes a silly turn when Willie sees a sign for a saloon's talent contest and coerces Lucy into performing, thus a scene of Charlene Tilton warbling a song. I cynically suspected her agent snuck a one-song-per-season clause into Tilton's contract. The scene didn't fit the Bonnie and Clyde storyline, except as a contrivance to give Tilton's singing a showcase.
The highlight of the episode was guest star Greg Evigan, who just a few weeks earlier had appeared in the pilot movie for his 1979-81 series B.J. AND THE BEAR. Evigan evokes B.J. with the many driving scenes and establishing shots of long open roads and wide country. The New Joisey accent and easy laugh that would make him so likeable on his series is effectively skewed here, his laughter maniacal, his fury flashing. Evigan displayed an impressive dark side and proved he could play the bad guy.
Bobby's heroic role in retrieving the pint-sized prodigal stirred up memories of THE FUGITIVE and Lt. Gerard, who was always a couple steps behind the elusive Richard Kimble. But instead of a badge Bobby flashes Ben Franklins, i.e. hundred dollar bills, which he dispenses liberally (perhaps a habit from his days spreading around the B's). It did stretch credulity that Bobby had pull with police forces of faraway cities, and could be in the front line of an armed hostage negotiation, but then again the Ewing influence in the Lone Star State is not to be underestimated.
For example, in a "meanwhile, back at the ranch" scene, where the family is celebrating Lucy's birthday without her, Jock brags about his outsized influence, how Ewing money can buy a congressman's endorsement for a senator who "does what he's told." Every episode convinces me further that Jock is the real villain of the piece, a Machiavellian mastermind who likely never even heard of Machiavelli. Bouncing on Jock's knees, J.R. and Bobby came honestly by their situational ethics and unwavering trust in the leverage of lucre.
The birthday party scene was filmed on a rainy afternoon, and when I saw Lucy's high-stacked cake I feared a "MacArthur Park" moment with "sweet green icing flowing down," but I should have known director Barry Crane wouldn't stoop to that. Crane is a veteran director of MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE and MANNIX, and that experience is evident as he handles deftly the detective drama of Bobby following the clues to close the gap between he and Lucy.
When all ends well, we're left with some insights into the characters. Jock's a jerk and J.R.'s a rat, but we knew that. Bobby proves he is ready to lay down his life for Lucy, and his love and loyalty to family is underscored and stands in stark contrast to J.R.'s reporting her to the police. In his brief scene, we see Ray really cares about Lucy, but also has the wisdom not to upset the delicate equilibrium of the Ewing home.
As for Lucy, we see her beginning to reap the whirlwind sown by her overindulgent family. She had some scary moments with Willie, but like Patty Hearst chose to stay even when opportunities to escape presented themselves. Lucy's being drawn to bad boys was foreshadowed in the previous episode where she half-jokingly asked if she could visit the Home for Wayward Boys. She's the proverbial moth drawn to the flame, loving the danger and the excitement and willfully running the risk of getting burned. Here's hoping a valuable lesson was learned, though continuity of character development hasn't yet been a series strong point.
The show opens with Bobby taking a dive into the pool and reliving his MAN FROM ATLANTIS glories, while Lucy sulkily plucks a guitar, an interest not hinted at hitherto. Lucy's birthday party is coming up and bored busybodies Miss Ellie and Sue Ellen are planning it out, inviting their influential friends and a jazz combo that Lucy is too young to appreciate (she wants rock band The Coffins, but is outvoted).
Just how old is Lucy, anyway? No mention is made of her age. Since she's driving, one assumes her Sweet Sixteen came and went along with her virginity to that rascal Ray Krebbs. But since nothing is said of her graduating high school or being emancipated and thus free to go as she pleases, she must not yet be turning eighteen. So this must be her seventeenth birthday, an awkward age between childhood and adulthood, which is not to excuse her bratty behavior. Jock spoiled Lucy and she's accustomed to and feels entitled to always get her way, so one can sympathize with her overreaction when her request that her Mom be invited was denied out of hand by Emperor Jock: Valene is verboten, thus saith Jock. So Lucy grabs her guitar and runs away from home, and later hitchhikes, a doubly dangerous decision that anyone who has watched 1970's TV movies and "very special episodes" knows will end badly.
Enter Greg Evigan as Willie Guest, driving a tricked-out, fur-lined custom van that could have been driven off the set of CHICO AND THE MAN. No swindle is too small for Willie, as he skims a few bucks off Lucy's breakfast check. Meanwhile, J.R., knowing it was Lucy who lifted his car, credit card, and cash, nonetheless reports the theft. When Lucy, sitting in the restaurant, sees Ewing 3 surrounded by police, slips out the back door and hitchhikes a ride from Evigan. And thus another plight befalls a Ewing woman that can be traced to and charged to J.R.'s account of infidelity and infamy.
The story takes a silly turn when Willie sees a sign for a saloon's talent contest and coerces Lucy into performing, thus a scene of Charlene Tilton warbling a song. I cynically suspected her agent snuck a one-song-per-season clause into Tilton's contract. The scene didn't fit the Bonnie and Clyde storyline, except as a contrivance to give Tilton's singing a showcase.
The highlight of the episode was guest star Greg Evigan, who just a few weeks earlier had appeared in the pilot movie for his 1979-81 series B.J. AND THE BEAR. Evigan evokes B.J. with the many driving scenes and establishing shots of long open roads and wide country. The New Joisey accent and easy laugh that would make him so likeable on his series is effectively skewed here, his laughter maniacal, his fury flashing. Evigan displayed an impressive dark side and proved he could play the bad guy.
Bobby's heroic role in retrieving the pint-sized prodigal stirred up memories of THE FUGITIVE and Lt. Gerard, who was always a couple steps behind the elusive Richard Kimble. But instead of a badge Bobby flashes Ben Franklins, i.e. hundred dollar bills, which he dispenses liberally (perhaps a habit from his days spreading around the B's). It did stretch credulity that Bobby had pull with police forces of faraway cities, and could be in the front line of an armed hostage negotiation, but then again the Ewing influence in the Lone Star State is not to be underestimated.
For example, in a "meanwhile, back at the ranch" scene, where the family is celebrating Lucy's birthday without her, Jock brags about his outsized influence, how Ewing money can buy a congressman's endorsement for a senator who "does what he's told." Every episode convinces me further that Jock is the real villain of the piece, a Machiavellian mastermind who likely never even heard of Machiavelli. Bouncing on Jock's knees, J.R. and Bobby came honestly by their situational ethics and unwavering trust in the leverage of lucre.
The birthday party scene was filmed on a rainy afternoon, and when I saw Lucy's high-stacked cake I feared a "MacArthur Park" moment with "sweet green icing flowing down," but I should have known director Barry Crane wouldn't stoop to that. Crane is a veteran director of MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE and MANNIX, and that experience is evident as he handles deftly the detective drama of Bobby following the clues to close the gap between he and Lucy.
When all ends well, we're left with some insights into the characters. Jock's a jerk and J.R.'s a rat, but we knew that. Bobby proves he is ready to lay down his life for Lucy, and his love and loyalty to family is underscored and stands in stark contrast to J.R.'s reporting her to the police. In his brief scene, we see Ray really cares about Lucy, but also has the wisdom not to upset the delicate equilibrium of the Ewing home.
As for Lucy, we see her beginning to reap the whirlwind sown by her overindulgent family. She had some scary moments with Willie, but like Patty Hearst chose to stay even when opportunities to escape presented themselves. Lucy's being drawn to bad boys was foreshadowed in the previous episode where she half-jokingly asked if she could visit the Home for Wayward Boys. She's the proverbial moth drawn to the flame, loving the danger and the excitement and willfully running the risk of getting burned. Here's hoping a valuable lesson was learned, though continuity of character development hasn't yet been a series strong point.
