mt9045 Reviews

My Three Sons: Countdown (1960) Season 1, Episode 4

Perhaps my favorite episode

[10/10 · 30 January 2023]

While it's hard to think of a substandard episode from season one, whenever I want to recommend this series to anybody, this is the one I suggest they sample to see how wonderful a TV show can be. From the beginning to the twist ending, through the wonderful (uncredited) NASA play-by-play by Don Fedderson veteran Paul Frees (six seasons of THE MILLIONAIRE as The Millionaire John Beresford Tipton), the perfect familiar versimilitude of the family of brothers, father, grandfather and dog, I can't imagine anything more pleasurable to experience. (My other favorite from this first season is the suspenseful season-ending "Fire Watch." And even now, I'm rembering others which stand out, making me a liar to pinpoint just one as my only "favorite.")

All of this quality is made more starkly obvious having waded through the last several seasons of the series in syndication to get to the point where the episodes begin over at season one, despite the show remaining under the series' best writer, George Tibbles' control through the end. (Of course, by then, he'd lost Mike, Robbie, Sally, Sudsy, Hank, the show's heart, Bub by attrition, and except for several small token appearances, Chip, as chess pieces, leaving him and Fred MacMurray with three wives, a stepson, a stepdaughter, an unlikable uncle, and three non-speaking triplets as the series nominal eponymous characters, so you really can't blame him that by season 12, the show had totally run out of gas.)

So, as a rule of thumb, if the episode is in black and white, you're watching one of the good ones. And this one is the best.

Peacemaker (2022– )

Credit where it's due

[3/10 · 14 January 2022]

As repulsive as SUICIDE SQUAD, but that was expected. What I did not expect was that absolutely no creator credit was given to the men who created The Peacemaker in 1966 for Charlton (not DC) Comics. So even that backhanded credit ("characters created for DC Comics") is completely incorrect. The character--an actual hero, and not the deranged murderer seen here--was written by Joe Gill and drawn by Pat Boyette, who were not mentioned in thw credits for the movie and are similarly dissed in the TV series. I have no idea why Warner Bros. Is unwilling to spell this out, as both men are long dead.

Stagecoach West (1960–1961)

Two series in one

[9/10 · 6 April 2015]

I've got no quarrel with the qualitative assessments here, but I do have to clarify a couple of things. First of all, STAGECOACH WEST and WAGON TRAIN had almost nothing in common, despite the presence of wagon wheels on both shows. One (STAGECOACH) spotlighted single stories of the heroes' interaction with one of the passengers on the stagecoach, while the other featured multiple stories of the many occupants of the wagons that made the cross-country journey. The stagecoach ride was short and almost never shown in its entirety, while the days-long journeys on WAGON TRAIN usually started and ended the episodes.

The other clarification is that, due to the series' structure (a 38-39 episode season, one-hour episodes), the length of production of each episode made it impractical to feature both Wayne Rogers and Robert Bray in every episode. (Again, this was another difference between the two; meantime, WAGON TRAIN solved this by having multiple leads--Ward Bond, Robert Horton, Robert Fuller--who often would share episodes.) Using the MAVERICK paradigm, most STAGECOACH WEST episodes just featured one or the other, with infrequent instances when both (not to mention Richard Eyer) were involved. The Rogers episodes involved him as more of a roving gunfighter-defender usually set in destination cities (more like WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE), while the Bray episodes were more homespun (like THE RIFLEMAN), set around the town where the stagecoach line was based. In other words, the partners were not interchangeable, just as Bret and Bart (or Beau and Bart, or even Brent and Bart) were usually given stories playing to their strengths, so, in essence, you got two different series under an umbrella title, even more similar to the much later NAME OF THE GAME.

The marshal thing seems to come and go; I'm not sure if Luke and Simon were deputized in mid-series or not, but I've seen episodes in which it would have been natural for one or the other to flash a badge, and they did not. (The consequences of viewing them randomly...)

One other thing: while it's historically interesting to see Wayne Rogers more than a decade before M*A*S*H (and Bray several years prior to becoming Corey Stuart on LASSIE), what's more interesting is how little Rogers changed between his series. In fact, you can hear Trapper John Alabama-tinged line readings in almost every episode of STAGECOACH WEST, (quite unlike Alan Alda, whose acting changed quite a bit in the same decade prior to M*A*S*H; see his episode of BILKO, for example), just as you knew what you were getting when Rogers later portrayed Jake Axminster and Dr. Charley Michaels. And even in his eighties, Rogers looks like he could still play Luke Perry.

Stagecoach West (1960–1961)

Two series in one

[9/10 · 5 April 2015]

I've got no quarrel with the qualitative assessments here, but I do have to clarify a couple of things. First of all, STAGECOACH WEST and WAGON TRAIN had almost nothing in common, despite the presence of wagon wheels on both shows. One (STAGECOACH) spotlighted single stories of the heroes' interaction with one of the passengers on the stagecoach, while the other featured multiple stories of the many occupants of the wagons that made the cross-country journey. The stagecoach ride was short and almost never shown in its entirety, while the days-long journeys on WAGON TRAIN usually started and ended the episodes.

The other clarification is that, due to the series' structure (a 38-39 episode season, one-hour episodes), the length of production of each episode made it impractical to feature both Wayne Rogers and Robert Bray in every episode. (Again, this was another difference between the two; meantime, WAGON TRAIN solved this by having multiple leads--Ward Bond, Robert Horton, Robert Fuller--who often would share episodes.) Using the MAVERICK paradigm, most STAGECOACH WEST episodes just featured one or the other, with infrequent instances when both (not to mention Richard Eyer) were involved. The Rogers episodes involved him as more of a roving gunfighter-defender usually set in destination cities (more like WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE), while the Bray episodes were more homespun (like THE RIFLEMAN), set around the town where the stagecoach line was based. In other words, the partners were not interchangeable, just as Bret and Bart (or Beau and Bart, or even Brent and Bart) were usually given stories playing to their strengths, so, in essence, you got two different series under an umbrella title, even more similar to the much later NAME OF THE GAME.

The marshal thing seems to come and go; I'm not sure if Luke and Simon were deputized in mid-series or not, but I've seen episodes in which it would have been natural for one or the other to flash a badge, and they did not. (The consequences of viewing them randomly...)

One other thing: while it's historically interesting to see Wayne Rogers more than a decade before M*A*S*H (and Bray several years prior to becoming Corey Stuart on LASSIE), what's more interesting is how little Rogers changed between his series. In fact, you can hear Trapper John Alabama-tinged line readings in almost every episode of STAGECOACH WEST, (quite unlike Alan Alda, whose acting changed quite a bit in the same decade prior to M*A*S*H; see his episode of BILKO, for example), just as you knew what you were getting when Rogers later portrayed Jake Axminster and Dr. Charley Michaels. And even in his eighties, Rogers looks like he could still play Luke Perry.

The Shaggy Dog (1959)

A bit more context

[5/10 · 8 March 2006]

Up to the point of this movie, the Disney Studio had had plenty of experience in live-action film production, but it was chiefly in the UK, where they used the considerable debt-credit that England had run up during the war years to produce things as Treasue Island and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Their initial foray into U.S. live-action production was Davy Crockett on Disneyland, the Mickey Mouse Club's TV serials, and then Zorro, followed by several mini-series on Walt Disney Presents (Texas John Slaughter, Elfego Baca, Swamp Fox). The Shaggy Dog was initially planned as a TV series to follow Zorro as something independent from the weekly Disney hour. You can see vestiges of TV production in almost every aspect of this film, from the post-production foley work on entire scenes to the subdued performance of Kirk (largely reprising his Joe Hardy role from the Hardy Boys serials) and MacMurray's scenery chewing. Not that either of these things were unusual in family movies of the time, but we tend to be more forgiving of them on old TV. (The book the concept originated in was written by Felix Salten, who created Bambi and Perri, a couple of Disney animal characters who did pretty well for themselves.)

The Shaggy Dog was one of the first movies I saw as a child and I've always held a great affection for it, even while recognizing all of its flaws. The concept here is what I liked, and I believe, had the same cast (remember, this is the year before Fred MacMurray and Tim Considine were cast in My Three Sons) starred in a TV series based on the concept, we'd now be looking back fondly on another TV classic of the golden years rather than a rather middling Disney comedy. I still feel that it might work better as a Disney Channel series than a movie starring Tim Allen; part of the reason I liked the original is because the star was a kid only a couple of years older than me. What I don't need in a new Shaggy Dog film is even PG humor, and without it these days, there isn't much of a market for it in theaters (or even as a series on any of the major networks). It's a kids' super-hero concept that requires a kids' venue, and, sadly, that isn't the big screen. Perhaps, however, if the film does well, someone in the studio will realize that it would work better on a weekly basis...about fifty years late.

The Lone Ranger (2003 TV Movie)

A genuine travesty

[15 August 2003]

When I read the promotional statements about the new proposed Lone Ranger series on the WB, I was immediately set to wondering how in the world they'd do the teen-aged version of someone whose entire identity was based upon the idea of having none, subjugating his own individuality for a grander idea of becoming the embodiment of western justice and lawfulness. Quite obviously the answer was to screw the entirety of the original and go with a repulsive hybrid which retained virtually nothing but the name.

In principle, remakes of classic characters can be accomplished without totally trashing everything that was good about the original and necessary for those who remember the original (the single reason I can imagine it makes any sense to do it in the first place) to accept the revision. The WB execs, however, wouldn't know about this, and have shown in every case that they (or their hired contractors) know more than the characters' originators. Thus, we get a semi-powerless, uncostumed Clark Kent who may never become Superman at all (the acceptance of which by the TV public resulting in all the awful reworkings of other characters to follow), we get Birds of Prey who bear only superficial resemblance to the comic book they came from (with disastrous results), and we get a Tarzan set in New York played by a blond underwear model. Thus it is no surprise that they attempted to update the Lone Ranger a la "Young Guns," applying wildly inappropriate casting, characterization, costuming, dialogue, music, and approach to something that needed alteration only in tone and the storyline sophistication to elevate it from its juvenile entertainment roots. Luckily, I've already forgotten everything about it that I can, though I fear some aspects will haunt my nightmares for years to come.

About the only aspect of the basic concept of the Lone Ranger that had any need to be altered was the reason for wearing the mask, which was glossed over by the TV series, and seemed only to serve as a plot complication in which someone would have to be convinced that he was not an outlaw despite the costume. The revisions here were complete, and inane, and the mask only served here to make the poor actor look like a complete idiot. The less said about everything else, the better.

The single reason I write this is to clear up the mistaken assertion of another reviewer here. The Lone Ranger's costume and likeness are owned by Golden Books Inc., who were responsible for this production as copyright holder; they could have used whatever aspects of the original they wanted, including the costume, civilian name, story elements, et al. Clayton Moore owned NOTHING involved with the Lone Ranger, and in fact was enjoined by the copyright owners of the time (Mattel, I believe, circa 1981) of the release of the prior travesty of the character ("Legend of the Lone Ranger" starring the "immortal" Klinton Spilsbury, redubbed by James Keach) from wearing either the tunic or mask of the Lone Ranger in the public appearances he'd been making for decades, because they would "confuse the public." They later relented, but Moore never owned any of it and has nothing to do with anything apart from surely rolling in his grave. Similarly, Rossini's "William Tell Overture" is public domain, and free for anyone to use. So each of the awful choices made by the producers were freely made and totally their fault.

There are no excuses except the hubris possessed by virtually every producer who has ever come near a camera in the history of film, combined with the presumption that the original idea they've been charged with retelling is either hopelessly out of date, misconceived, or somehow flawed--because it would "obviously" still be in production if none of these were true. What makes me saddest of all is that I cannot think of a single instance in the dozens of recent examples where the revived result was superior in any way to the original, except in terms of the amount of money thrown at it. Perhaps, someday, there will be one. It would be a happy, and very welcome, surprise.

Goin' All the Way! (1981)

The wrong Miller

[15 August 2003]

Be advised that anyone seeking out this low-budget teen sex comedy for an early appearance by Sherry Miller of "E.N.G" and "Queer As Folk" fame will be disappointed. The Sherrie Miller of this film is a completely separate person, a brunette who bears no resemblance whatsoever to the more famous Miller. Indeed, about the only interesting thing about this film is an early appearance by Eileen Davidson, though I doubt she lists it on her resume anymore.