Kolchak Blogging: "Horror in the Heights" (December 20, 1974)

On December 20, 1974, the short-lived ABC supernatural TV series, Kolchak: The Night Stalker aired one of its creepiest and most memorable installments.

In "Horror in the Heights," our Watergate-Era, crusading investigative reporter, Carl Kolchak (Darren McGavin) combats a devilish creature who can appear to an unwary victim as that person's most trusted friend or relative.

Penned by Jimmy Sangster (The Horror of Frankenstein [1970], Fear in the Night [1972]), "Horror in the Heights" specifically concerns a mythical Indian beast called a "Rakshasa" preying on Jewish senior citizens in Roosevelt Heights, a section of Chicago that Kolchak (Darren McGavin) reports doesn't "appear in the city guidebook." That's probably so because municipal authorities don't want to draw attention to the poverty-ridden slum. It's a place, in the INS reporter's words, where "fixed incomes" battle "galloping inflation."

Lately, there have been a rash of deaths in the Heights, and the non-plussed police officers blame hungry rats for the corpses -- stripped of skin -- that seem to be popping up at an alarming rate. Senior citizen Harry Starman (Phil Silvers) has a different opinion, however. He believes that the owner of a local Indian Restaurant is actually a Nazi, and that this foreigner is behind the killings of the elderly locals. As his evidence Harry shows Kolchak the swastika graffiti painted all over the Heights, and particularly in the Hindu's backyard.

What Kolchak discovers, however, is that the Swastika is actually a Hindu symbol, one often deployed to "ward off evil spirits." And it isn't the rats doing the killing either, but rather the demonic Rakshasa or "flesh-eater."

Far from being a Nazi, the old Hindu has devoted sixty years of his life to hunting the Rakshasas, beasts who "send emissaries into the living world" to see if the time is ripe for a re-appearance.

And when, precisely is the time ripe for the Rakshasa's return? The old Indian confides in Kolchak that it will be an epoch of "mistrust," "moral decline" and "decadence."

In other words...now.

The only weapon that can destroy a Rakshasa is a crossbow loaded with steel bolts, but the Hindu warns Kolchak that the Rakshasa is fiendishly clever...that it can appear to its enemy in the guise of a person most trusted and most beloved.

Kolchak isn't certain he believes all this, but then-- in darkest night -- he spots his dear friend, elderly Miss Emily, alone in the dark before him. Kolchak tells her not to approach, but she reaches out for him gently, saying that she's frightened...

Like the best episodes of this exquisite old horror series, there's a seedy, twilight, slightly unhinged aura to "Horror in the Heights." Early in the episode, for instance, an old Jewish man named Buck is confronted by the Rakshasa after playing an illicit game of poker on Friday night. Gambling on Friday is against Hebrew edict, and the Rakshasa takes the form of Buck's guilt: as his disapproving rabbi. Caught in the act, the repentant old man confesses to his rabbi, and the beast...takes him.

In a clever composition, the monster appears as the smiling rabbi when Buck's back is to the camera. But when Buck's front is facing the camera (in the reverse angle...) we see the back of an inhuman, hulking creature...moving into an embrace of death.

Another creepy scene involves a sweet, bickering, elderly couple taking a detour through a dark alley by nightfall, and encountering the Rakshasa. The camera goes wobbly in an immediacy-provoking first-person subjective shot, and the blighted urban location is convincing...and menacing.

The underlying theme of the show is that, in modern society, the elderly are preyed upon by all sorts of "monsters." In real life, those monsters are called poverty or crime. In the twilight world of Kolchak, the monster is a Rakshasa, a living embodiment of an old man's fear that he doesn't know "who to trust" in a world that has passed him by. Kolchak and his boss, Vincenzo, argue about the reliability of Harry's beliefs and Kolchak points out that "Old doesn't have to be synonymous with senility."

Old Age is an issue also affecting the Hindu Rakshasa hunter, who has grown so infirm that he can no longer complete his life's work: destroying the monster. He says to Kolchak, in a line I love (and I'm afraid that we will all eventually relate to, over the years): "I never thought I would be old, but look at me now..."

Kolchak: The Night Stalker often trades in ethnic myth and lore (Native American, last week), and "Horror of the Heights" is no exception to that rule. There's some nice misdirection in the use of the Swastika, a symbol which has come to be associated with Nazis, hate-crime, racism and anti-Semitism. Here, the symbol -- in a Hindu incarnation -- represents the "Sun" and "grounded-ness." 

Similarly, the episode gets the ghoulish details of the Rakshasa mythology right: According to Wikipedia, "Rakshasas are notorious for disturbing sacrifices, desecrating graves, harassing priests, possessing human beings, and so on. Their fingernails are venomous, and they feed on human flesh and spoiled food. They are shape-changers, illusionists, and magicians."

Kolchak: The Night Stalker often made for rewarding viewing not merely because of the scary scenarios, or the seedy texture, but because of the colorful performances and overarching sense of gallows or black humor. That trait is in evidence here, too. Phil Silvers is terrific as the frightened Harry Starman, and there's a scene involving an obnoxious exterminator who eats a sandwich while spraying toxic chemicals on a yard. And Kolchak's interview of a bored waiter at the Indian Restaurant is droll to say the least.

Finally, "Horror in the Heights" ends in the manner of all truly chilling campfire stories; by explicitly reminding us that the terror is still out there. As Kolchak dictates the tale of the Rakshasa and Roosevelt Heights into his tape recorder, he looks up -- almost at us -- and reminds travelers to be wary should they ever be walking alone at night on a "lonely country road"... and happen to see their "favorite aunt" coming towards them in the moonlight.

Next week: "Mr. R.I.N.G."

Kolchak Blogging: "The Energy Eater" (December 13, 1974)

Kolchak (Darren McGavin) attends a new hospital opening on the Lakeshore, only to learn at the dedication that the facility has been plagued by power surges and outages, and even patient deaths.

Carl looks into the mystery and realizes there is some dark energy, or power working in the hospital, possibly due to the fact that it is built on a geothermal fault. Kolchak also learns that several Native American construction workers left the premises during the building of the hospital, apparently spooked by something. He visits the former foreman, Jim Elkhorn (William Smith), a Lothario who tells Kolchak about the legend of Matchemonedo, an ancient myth, and perhaps God.

Carl learns from the recounting of the legend that Matchemonedo cannot survive in the cold. And to exorcise the hospital, he applies cold to a crack in the hospital floor, repelling the legend and forcing back into hibernation.  In the end, the hospital is closed, to be rebuild near a cold lake.

"The Energy Eater," while forecasting some story elements of The Manitou (1978), is nonetheless one of the weakest episodes of Kolchak: The Night Stalker (1974-1975). 

The episode is poorly paced and deadly dull. Specifically, there are long spells in this segment wherein Kolchak is simply exploring/investigating the underbelly of the hospital, walking about alone. The great joy in this series typically involves the colorful character's "fly in the ointment" interaction with useless authority, or government and law enforcement officials. But in these suspense-less, slow moments, the series feels largely lobotomized, or toothless. Carl's appeal is that he is an every man -- and terrified of monsters, as we would be. He is a truth-seeker, seeing through PR, conspiracies, and double-talk.  If Kolchak isn't talking and pushing back against lies and bluster, there is little compelling reason to watch.

And it's a shame, because the episode, in theory, should work beautifully. Jim Elkhorn is a fun character, always on the make, looking for the next woman to bed...while forgetting Kolchak's first name. And Joyce Jillson plays an acerbic nurse who deadpans some funny lines of dialogue ("Of course people are dying...this is a hospital.")  These two individuals are fun quasi-allies for Kolchak, and the setting -- the most "modern medical facility in existence" -- should provide plenty of interest, and opportunity.

Perhaps it is the unseen, non-corporeal nature of the monster this week that scuttles the episode. The energy eater is an unseen force mostly, even though he "impresses" his creepy image on an x-ray.  But there is just no sense of presence, malevolence, personality or character for this monster-of-the-week, making him a dud. 

And the climax is poorly staged, basically consisting of just Darren McGavin in a hallway, alone, spraying a crack-in-the-floor with a fire extinguisher. The word underwhelming does not begin to describe the climax, or the nature of this week's threat.  It's all incredibly weak.  

Still, Miss Emily gets a nice scene at the INS, passionately arguing the importance of the senior citizen set.

Next week, one of the best Kolchak stories: "Horror in the Heights."

Kolchak Blogging: "The Spanish Moss Murders" (December 6, 1974)

In “The Spanish Moss Murders by Al Friedman and David Chase, it is nearly July 4^th.  In Chicago, however, there is little reason to celebrate, as a series of mysterious murders plague the city. Each of the victims, from a lovely sleep research center assistant to the celebrated chef at the ritzy Chez Voltaire, is found with a crushed torso and covered in a leafy substance: Spanish Moss.

Kolchak (Darren McGavin) investigates and determines that the brutal crimes stem from Louisiana legend, from the old Cajun myth of “Pere Malfait,” a local boogeyman and “Bad Father.”

Kolchak immerses himself in the details of the old legend, including the fashioning of a weapon to stop the beast: a spear made from authentic bayou gumwood. 

He then faces off against Pere Malfait in the dark sewers.

Although the monster of the week (again) doesn’t bear close inspection in 2018, “The Spanish Moss Murders” has nonetheless always been one of my favorite installments of Kolchak: The Night Stalker (1974-1975). 

In part this is because the photography of the monster is quite powerful at points. The suit isn't great, but there are moments in the climactic sewer fight that nonetheless prove powerful.

Also, I enjoy the nature of the monster itself.  This swamp being -- from what I can determine, anyway -- was created just for the TV series, and therefore is not actually a local legend. That’s disappointing.  However, what I find tantalizing about the monster this week is that Pere Melfait is manifested from the dreams (or nightmares) of a man who has been in a constant state of REM sleep.  In other words, the monster is matter, made from a troubled mind.

There are many legends of regional swamp monsters (see: The Legend of Boggy Creek), so even the fact that Pere Malfait is not a real legend, doesn’t prove terribly troublesome in terms of the episode’s effectiveness.  The key idea here is that a man, afraid of his nighttime bogeyman, actually creates that boogeyman in the flesh. He creates what he fears. This is an idea that has had significant currency in horror movies and TV films in the last several decades.  From Freddy in A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), to Augustus Cole in The X-Files episode “Sleepless,” to the very premise of the (short-lived) horror series Sleepwalkers, all such stories, including this one, tie the “realm” of REM sleep to the manifestation of consensus reality monsters.

The resolution to the mystery here is gathering information. And since Kolchak is a journalist, this is perfect. When Kolchak learns the myth of Pere Malfait, he also learns how to destroy the beast.  If the beast is manifested from a story, then it can also be killed by the resolution of that story; by the method used in that story. In some sense, tales like the one depicted seem to be about our ability to impose both chaos and order over our reality.  We can generate in the flesh monsters that terrify us, but we can also using the same mind, find ways to overcome that terror. I am reminded of Rod Serling’s definition of The Twilight Zone.  It includes “the pit of man’s fears” and “the summit of his knowledge.”  Both those places are housed in the conscious, and unconscious mind.

Perhaps this episode works so well, too, because of the “bedtime” story aspect.  Bedtime stories are frequently terrifying, and the idea of a bedtime story made real captures our sense of irrational, childhood fears. When we go sleep, even as adults, we are vulnerable, susceptible to things that, in waking consciousness, have no real power over us.

This episode is also particularly well-cast, with Severn Darden playing the fussy, unimaginative sleep scientist who doesn’t realize what terrors his work has wrought, and Keenan Wynn as the police authority of the week.  Wynn’s detective, Captain Siska, is particularly funny in this episode as -- in perfect 70’s fashion -- he has been to “Group Therapy” to control his anger.  He even says to Kolchak, “I’m okay, you’re okay.” 

But after a few hours of contending with Kolchak’s wild theories and aggressive investigation, the poor captain relapses into outright, out-of-control rage.  You can’t really blame him.

Next week: “The Energy Eater.”

Kolchak Blogging: "Bad Medicine" (November 29, 1974)

In "Bad Medicine" two wealthy old Chicago socialites are murdered, their extravagant gems stolen right out from under their corpses.  Naturally, Kolchak (Darren McGavin) investigates the crimes. He soon learns of a Native American legend, the Diablero, and suspects that the supernatural being may be stalking Chicago.

Kolchak explores Native American lore to help find a way to stop the sorcerer, an individual who can "transmute" himself, transforming into an animal such as a crow or a wolf.  According to legend, the Diablero is also gathering a fortune in gems, to pay off an eternal curse.  He is able to hold his victims in an unbreakable trance.

Kolchak learns that the Diablero's power rests in his eyes, and that if he sees his reflection, he will be destroyed. Now he just must find where the monster is hiding...

Although "Bad Medicine" treads into some typical cliches of Native American lore on TV (namely the portrayal of such individuals by non-Native Americans), it is nonetheless a fun and worthwhile episode of Kolchak: The Night Stalker (1974-1975).  

Richard Kiel -- Jaws of The Spy Who Loved Me (1977), Moonraker (1979) -- portrays the monster of the week, a diabolical sorcerer preying on Chicago's wealthy. Kiel's physicality makes him effective in the role, even though he is not relegated to shadows or darkness.  In other words, he isn't frightening, but he is creepy.

Two scenes mark this episode as especially noteworthy. 

The first is Kolchak's attempt to break into a gem auction populated by the rich. He fakes his way in to the society event, and then pretends to speak the language of the haves-and-have mores.  He is also, amusingly, described as one of the "Hoboken Kolchaks."  That's not a high-class sounding lineage, according to this New Jerseyite.

The second scene is one closer to the climax, and which perfectly encapsulates Carl's character. He travels alone to Champion Towers, the high ground taken as sanctuary by the Diablero. Kolchak has brought with him a small, hand-held mirror to use to stop the supernatural being.  As he approaches the monster, however, he clumsily drops the mirror and it shatters on the floor. Now he has no weapon, and he has signaled his opponent to his presence in his lair. Kolchak is -- as usual -- left to improvise, while experiencing stark, raving terror, as well. Fortunately, Kolchak runs across the accouterments of a bathroom, including a mirror, in the level under construction, and is able to yield a shard of it against the Diablero.

In 2018, the special effects, make-up, and even general pacing of these 1974 episodes render them largely non-scary, and most non-suspenseful. However, the humor and the humanity of Kolchak still shine through.  The narratives may leave much to be desired by today's standards, but the idiosyncratic nature of the writing and acting make each installment a treat.

Next week: "The Spanish Moss Murders."

Kolchak Blogging: "The Devil's Platform" (November 15, 1974)

In "The Devil's Platform," Kolchak (Darren McGavin) follows with great interest a senatorial election in Illinois. 

A candidate named Robert Palmer (Tom Skerritt), has risen from obscurity to challenge the incumbent, Senator Talbot. On the day of Kolchak's interview with the rising star, one of his campaign officials dies in a freak elevator accident. A fierce canine is spotted at the scene.

That's not the end of the election season body count, either. Soon, Talbot dies in a car crash, and the canine is also witnessed there.  Talbot's death makes Palmer's rise to the senate all-but-guaranteed. 

Kolchak soon learns why these deaths have occurred: Senator Palmer, with his wife's (Ellen Weston) knowledge, has made a blood pact with Satan, the Prince of Darkness. The Devil has gifted him with the power to turn into a canine (hell hound?) to help him rise to power.

Palmer attempts to tempt Kolchak into a similar pact with the Devil, promising him a Pulitzer, and cushy job in New York.

"Politics makes strange bedfellows," Kolchak reports (in a line probably adapted from Shakespeare's The Tempest) at the start of "The Devil's Platform."  

That observation (and warning...) makes for a wicked and fun episode of Kolchak: The Night Stalker that connects contemporary partisan politics to pure evil. 

Again, one must remember that the series aired at the time of the Watergate Scandal in American politics, so it is likely no coincidence that this episode ties the supernatural to political scandal.  Even in the mainstream press, journalists were likening Nixon's White House to a horror film, suggesting that the first family's domicile needed an exorcism to rid it of the evil inhabiting it. This episode treads more deeply into the politics/supernatural evil conceit popular at the time.

Tom Skerritt, later a star of Alien (1979) and Picket Fences (1992 - 1996) is the face of evil in this tale, a man who has sacrificed his immortal soul for power on this mortal coil. One of the most fascinating scenes in the episode finds Palmer and his wife debating about whether he can undo the deal, since it doesn't seem to be going well for him.  

Alas, deals with the devil don't typically feature an escape clause.

The droll nature of this episode makes "The Devil's Platform" feel a bit smarter and mature than some other episodes of this nearly forty-five year old series. All the jokes take on a deeper meaning if one possesses any cynicism whatsoever about American politics. When some extreme candidates win their races, the only rational explanation seems, even today, that the politician in question has made a deal with the Devil.  

The episode also seems aware of the pitfalls of populism. Kolchak calls Palmer the "great white hope of the blue collar" voter,  and in real life we know too well especially today, the pitfalls of that kind of populism.

This episode also succeeds because of its brief but powerful insights into Kolchak's "insatiable desires."  It seems that our beloved Kolchak dreams of winning a Pulitzer Prize, and getting a job in New York with a big, well-established paper (likely The New York Times). He doesn't want wealth, or power. He wants a bigger audience.  This is perfect. Kolchak wants respectability and to tell his stories, with less impediments.

Of course, in the end, Kolchak is not tempted to make a deal with the Devil to see his dreams come true.

Next week: "Bad Medicine."

Kolchak Blogging: "Firefall" (November 8, 1974)

In “Firefall,” Kolchak (Darren McGavin) follows the unusual case of a local symphony conduct, Ryder Bond (Fred Beir), who seems to be the culprit in a series of arson murders.

On further examination, however, the journalist realizes that the murders may actually be a result of spontaneous combustion, or some supernatural attack. Digging deeper, Kolchak learns that a gangster’s death at a local arcade some time earlier may be the key fact explaining the crimes.  When the gangster, Markoff, died, his spirit became a “doppelganger" and began to murder the friends of Bond, in an effort to take over his life. He has selected Bond as his target because his life-long love of the symphony.

Now, alas, the doppelganger is out to kill Kolchak, a task that can only be accomplished outside of a church, and if Kolchak falls asleep. Kolchak seeks the help of a gypsy fortune teller, Marie (Madlyn Rhue), to help him destroy the terrifying doppelganger. He learns that he must take the doppelganger’s corpse to the place of its death, if he wishes to vanquish this foe.

“Firefall” is the best Kolchak: The Night Stalker (1974-1974) episode since “The Zombie,” which is unusual since the monster of the week, a vengeful spirit, is less colorful, perhaps, than a vampire, a werewolf, an alien, or Jack the Ripper. The episode fits the same formula that viewers will detect in all the episodes, from the hostile authority figures (usually police officers) to the local “color” that is on-the-take, here Rhue’s amusing gypsy.  And yet the story works well, for two reasons, primarily.

First, the doppelganger is legitimately scary. There is a scene here in which the spirit peeks inside at Kolchak and Bond through a church window, smiling malevolently. There is a sense from the monster’s expression that he is feeling tremendous joy from torturing Kolchak and Bond. This villain is downright sinister.

Secondly, Kolchak must solve this case without sleeping. While it’s true that all the “stories” on the series eventually come to involve Kolchak himself, since he is the one to slay the monsters, in this case the monster actually targets the news man and makes his life miserable. Kolchak grows exhausted, but knows if he closes his eyes, it is curtains for him.  Worse, he has no real allies. His friends in the INS office never believe his crazy stories, and Marie just wants Kolchak’s money. As she tells him acerbically: “It’s just terrible to be broke and be superstitious at the same time.”

So, in addition to being alone in his quest, Kolchak must battle his own exhaustion as well as the monster of the week. The episode’s finale finds him finally letting down and falling asleep…in the back of a police car as he is hauled off to jail for arson himself.  I would love to know how Kolchak evaded this charge, since he is directly responsible for the fire that destroys the arcade. And speaking of that arcade, as a fan of vintage games, it is a pleasure to watch this episode and see the pinball machines and other attractions at an arcade in America, circa 1974.

The special effects this week depicting the doppelganger's spectral form are about as weak as we've come to expect from the series, but somehow don't take away from the urgency of the narrative.

Finally, “Firefall” seems to take on a slightly Columbo-esque bent this week, as Kolchak develops a closer-than-usual, bicker-some relationship with the would-be victim of the monster, the haughty Bond. In both situations, a crumpled, slightly biarre (but brilliant) character, digs for the truth while hunting the perpetrator of a crime.

Next week: “The Devil’s Platform.”

Kolchak Blogging: "The Werewolf" (November 1, 1974)

In “The Werewolf,” Kolchak (Darren McGavin) is asked, at the last second, to replace Vincenzo (Simon Oakland) on an assignment aboard a cruise ship, the Hanover.  The Hanover is an old ship about to undertake its final voyage, and it is now housing a swinging singles cruise.

Kolchak boards the ship and befriends some swinging singles, including the movie-loving Paula Griffin (Nita Talbot).  As he gathers stories about the ship and its passengers, a new threat emerges. A NATO officer named Bernhardt Stieglitz (Eric Braeden) is grappling with lycanthropy.  As the full moon rises, he transforms into a murderous werewolf, just as he did in Montana, when he murdered an unsuspecting family.

With werewolf murders proliferating on the Hanover, Kolchak consults Paula about the only way to kill a werewolf. He soon realizes he must melt the buttons on the captain’s (Henry Jones) dress uniform to fashion silver bullets. 

Once the bullets are fashion, Kolchak must stalk the decks of the Hanover to find his supernatural quarry.

“The Werewolf” is a fun episode of Kolchak: The Night Stalker (1974-1975), though by this point the episode formula has “hardened” so that there are few surprises. Similarly, the monster costume for the titular werewolf is terrible, and does not bear close scrutiny.

The format or formula for stories on this series is well-established at this point. Kolchak ends up in some setting while reporting a story where he discovers that a supernatural or paranormal monster is involved, but runs smack up against the stonewalling forces of authority, who attempt to cover-up the truth, and keep it hidden from the public. Kolchak clashes with these forces of the Establishment, and then must take matters into his own hands, eliminating the monster himself. Throw in some witty repartee and sparring between Kolchak and Vincenzo, and you’ve got a recipe that repeats throughout the program.

The “swinging singles” context gives “The Werewolf” a sense of fun, as Kolchak must room with a ‘70s swinger played by Dick Gautier who persistently refers to him as part of the “fifth column,” rather than “the fourth estate.” Paula is also a fun character, and proves a worthy and resourceful ally for Kolchak. But like Faye in last week’s episode, she doesn’t recur in the series, despite the fact that there is strong chemistry between Paula and Kolchak.

Our stone-walling figure of the week is Henry Jones’ ship’s captain, who uses Maritime Laws to foil and block Kolchak at every turn. The episode’s best moment involves Kolchak’s decision to make silver bullets from the captain’s dress uniform, an act which doesn’t endear him to the officer.

Intriguingly, Stieglitz is a tragic character. He suffers from claustrophobia, dizziness, and nightmares. He is a sick man, not an intentional murderer, and yet the episode treats him with literally no sympathy, or empathy. So far, we have met homicidal murderers (“The Ripper,”) aliens who kill to return home (“They Have Been, They Are, They Will Be”) and blood-suckers (“The Vampire.”)  The werewolf here seems to be the most innocent, or at least not directly culpable of this rogue’s gallery.

The confrontations between the ship’s crew and the werewolf in the episode are laughable by today’s standards. There are a lot of acrobatics as people get thrown around, but not much in terms of scratches, bruises or bites. It’s very “G” rated, and very cartoonish.  

And the monster looks terribly fake.  

Also, there are some focus problems in the photography this week, with Carl being out of focus in the foreground of a shot for several seconds. The poor quality of the make-up and camera-work contribute to the idea that this is a series flying-by-the-seat-of-its-pants.

Next week: “Firefall.”

Kolchak Blogging: "The Vampire" (October 4, 1974)

In “The Vampire,” an old friend of Kolchak’s (Darren McGavin), James “Swede” Brightowsky (Larry Storch) visits Chicago’s INS office and tells Carl about a series of vampire-like killings in Las Vegas.  This piques his interest, and when Kolchak is assigned to interview a Far Eastern transcendental guru in Los Angeles, he makes some side-trips to Las Vegas.

When Vincenzo (Simon Oakland) demands the story about the guru, Kolchak gets a former bush-league journalist-turned-real estate agent, Fay Krueger (Kathleen Nolan) to write it, while he investigates the vampire. In this case, the vampire is a woman, Catherine Rawlins (Suanne Charny), a former show-girl who is now using her job as a call-girl to claim victims.

Although the local police detective working the case, Lt. Mateo (William Daniels) grows enraged with Kolchak’s insistence that a vampire is responsible for the body count. But Carl tracks Catherine down to her baronial estate in the Hollywood hills and plans to drive a stake through her heart.

Relatively early in the series run, Kolchak returns to a rerun monster: the vampire. Here, the “night stalking” takes the journalist back to the very haunts where he killed another vampire, Janos Skorzeny (in the popular TV movie, The Night Stalker).   The story is not particularly memorable in terms of the details, but “The Vampire,” like many episodes of the series, features a lurid, sleazy quality that separates it from most of the homogenized programming of the series’ era.

Here, the vampire is a showgirl turned hooker turned vampire, which is a descent from dreams to nightmares, if I’ve ever witnessed one. In some way, it’s a commentary on Hollywood, Los Angeles, and Las Vegas. These are all places of enormous wealth, and also enormous vice. People like Catherine Rawlins go from pursuing a job in the entertainment industry to using their bodies to satisfy vices. Eventually, they become a bottom-feeding vampire, eking out a meager existence on the periphery, as a vampire.

As we have seen before, the supporting cast can make or break an episode. William Daniels -- the voice of KITT on Knight Rider (1983-1988) -- is Kolchak’s police detective foil this week, Mateo. Daniels is great at playing a slow-boil, and one can practically see the rage taking over his face, a step-at-a-time, as he contends with Kolchak’s wild theories. Kathleen Nolan is also great as Faye Krueger, a real estate agent who traveled west to pursue her dreams of wealth. In her previous life, she was a small-time journalist in North Carolina. Here, Kolchak teams up with Faye to write the article for Vincenzo that he doesn’t have time to write, but Faye sprinkles her news story with the architectural details one might expect of someone trying to sell houses.  Mateo and Faye add a lot of quirky humor to the story, and elevate “The Vampire” above its familiar monster of the week.

Perhaps the biggest disappointment in the casting is that Larry Storch only gets one scene as Kolchak’s slick friend, Swede, and doesn’t play a larger role in the overall adventure.  Storch, of course, would soon have his own supernatural investigations to handle on the Filmation Saturday morning series, The Ghost Busters (1975).

One weird note about “The Vampire:” the episode culminates with Kolchak burning a giant cross on the equivalent of the vampire’s lawn. That’s a loaded image, historically-speaking.  Though it makes a powerful visual, the story doesn’t really merit the use of such a racially-coded visual.

Next week: “The Werewolf.”

Kolchak Blogging: "They Have Been, They Are, They Will Be" (September 27, 1974)

As the World Series begins, Kolchak (Darren McGavin) is drawn into an investigation of several animal deaths at the Lincoln Park Zoo, as well as the unusual theft of two tons of led ingots from a local warehouse, one owned by Raydyne Electronics.

The story leads Kolchak to a resident on Mariposa Way, Mr.Brindle (Dick Van Patten), who complains about a foul-smelling substance on his lawn, which he believes the local government left there.

All these incidents relate to an extra-terrestrial incursion on Earth by apparently-invisible aliens. They have been eating the bone marrows of the zoo animals, and leaving the strange black muck behind, which Kolchak surmises is an alien digestive secretion.

Kolchak tracks the aliens to their flying saucer.

In inescapable cheapness hangs over “They Have Been, They Are, They Will Be,” an early episode (sometimes known by the alternate title of “U.F.O.”) that qualifies as Kolchak: The Night Stalker’s (1974-1975) most disappointing installment.

The visiting aliens are invisible (a cheap expedient), and so there is no visible monster-of-the-week to speak of. The episode’s last act reveals the alien saucer, and it’s a silver-plated jalopy, too, a chintzy vehicle that fails utterly to capture any sense of mystery, wonder, majesty or terror about the beings that have arrived on our world.

There are a lot of fireworks, stunts, and slow-motion photography in this “They Have Been, They Are, They Will Be,” and yet none of these bells-and-whistles do anything constructive. They only slow down the narrative. 

Basically, Kolchak puts all the disparate pieces together, and recounts (a fascinating) summation about “a traveler who has a break down, and stops for a bite to eat” on Earth, but the individual pieces involving led, hydrochloric acid, and bone marrow, don’t amount to much, individually-speaking, or together. There is some interesting discussion of “Wormwood” and the fact that there is no existing U.S. government agency dedicated to the study of UFOs, but not much else of interest occurs. An X-Files (1993-2002) episode in the 1990’s, intriguingly includes some of the same elements. “Fearful Symmetry” from the second season also features zoo animals, invisibility, and aliens.

The high-points of “They Have Been, They Are, They Will Be” are all non-genre related. Dick Van Patten puts in a great guest-appearance as an argumentative Chicago-an, dealing with an unwanted mess in his yard. Gordy the Ghoul is also back, running his illegal gambling pools from the city morgue, and acerbic, gravelly-voiced James Gregory plays Quill, the stone-walling police captain of the week. Gregory is suitably caustic and condescending to Kolchak, warning hi that “responsible journalists” risk “losing credibility” when reporting on a story-like this one.

The episode’s best moment involves the repartee between Kolchak and Vincenzo (Simon Oakland). Vincenzo of the “cast-iron” stomach is tested mightily, eating his gourmet dinner, as Kolchak goes over the nauseating tales of eaten bone marrow and the black excrement consisting of the marrow and hydrochloric acid.

It’s intriguing that Kolchak: The Night Stalker typically exceeds in sharp language, and crafting distinctive, memorable characters, even when the horror (or in this case, sci-fi…) aspects fail egregiously. That’s the case in this episode, and some of the scenes featuring the invisible extra-terrestrial border on the ridiculous.

Next week: “The Vampire.”

Kolchak Blogging: "The Zombie" (September 20, 1974)

During an investigation of the murder of several mobsters, Kolchak (Darren McGavin) learns that the victims had their spines snapped by the murderer, one with chicken blood on his person.  Looking into the case further, Kolchak learns that Francois Edmunds, a Haitian, was shot and murdered by the mob. He has returned from the grave to murder those responsible for his death. He is now a zombie, controlled by a zombie master, who leaves his earthen bed each night, and targets those who ended his life.

A frightened Kolchak plots to stop the zombie massacre. He tracks the zombie’s home to a junk yard, and there – armed with a sewing needle, threat, white candles, and salt, plans to sew the monster’s mouth shut and end the horrifying killing spree

If I could only recommend one episode of Kolchak: The Night Stalker (1974-1975) to a friend, it would be this episode, “The Zombie,” which is suspenseful, but also serves as a perfect time capsule of the mid-1970’s. Lest we forget it, Kolchak, The Night Stalker aired in the era of "hero" journalists like Woodward and Bernstein, right after the Watergate Scandal. Embedded in the series' DNA is the then-popular belief that one man can fight City Hall; that one man can make a difference. In the series, Kolchak is always battling corrupt cops or politicians and trying (and often failing...) to get the truth out to the people. This was before the age of a corporate news business and compliant "talking points" media. Kolchak -- for all his failures as a human being -- is a sterling journalist and a paragon of virtue in the sense that he always follows a story...no matter where it takes him. Unlike today’s media, which is more interested n ratings than the truth, he isn’t afraid to speak truth to power.

"The Zombie" reveals this "man against City Hall" aesthetic in spades. While investigating a gangland "syndicate" killing, Kolchak begins to suspect that a Mamalois, a voodoo priestess, has activated a zombie to kill the mobsters who put out a hit on her grandson, Haitian Francois Edmonds. Kolchak works every angle of the case, which allows him to consult the series' colorful recurring cast members, like John Fiedler's on-the-take "Gordy the Ghoul," an enthusiastic informant who works in City Morgue. The case also puts Kolchak in direct opposition with police captain Leo Winwood (Charles Aidman), who has a dark involvement with the mob case. In voice-over, Kolchak describes his relationship with Winwood as "long and bloody; like the Crusades...only without the chivalry."

One of the episode's best moment involves Kolchak putting Captain Winwood on the spot while he conducts an official press briefing (a ritual Kolchak derides as "a foolish game.") The Helen Thomas or Sam Donaldson of his day, Kolchak pummels the evasive Winwood with facts until the dishonest police captain threatens to have him expelled. Why our White House Press couldn't push Sarah Huckabee Sanders this way is beyond me. A liar in the service of power needs to be called out, regularly.

Another aspect of the episode involves Kolchak tangling with Monique Marmelstein, the new partner Vincenzo has assigned him. Monique is a pudgy, annoying presence who got her job at INS through what she calls "nespotism" (but she means nepotism.) Just as the Winwood character is found to be corrupt; so does Kolchak here find corruption in his INS office. It turns out Monique's uncle is a powerful figure in local politics, so Vincenzo has no choice but to accommodate her on his staff. At a police shoot-out, however, Kolchak finds an inventive way to keep Monique out of his way: the always loquacious Kolchak jaw-bones Monique into hiding in the trunk of his car; and then locks her in. Not very nice. But undeniably effective.

The political undercurrents of Kolchak and the pervasive context of Watergate are always fascinating elements of the series, but as a horror fan I admire "The Zombie" for its spine-tingling denouement. Convinced that a zombie is being resurrected nightly for revenge killings, Kolchak researches the ways to kill it. He discovers that zombies often rest in the "places of the dead" (mortuaries, graveyards, etc.) and that to kill one he must pour salt into the mouth, and then use needle and thread to sew the lips "very tightly" together. However, that mode of execution only works if the zombie is dormant. If awake, the undead can be killed by strangulation. But ever try strangling a zombie before?

Kolchak finds his living-dead quarry at an unconventional "place of the dead," an auto junkyard (where cars go to die.). In particular, Kolchak happens across the zombie in a wrecked funeral hearse. We watch with mounting suspense as Kolchak crawls in through the back of the hearse and methodically pours salt into the zombie's mouth. He slowly takes out the needle and is about to begin sewing the lips shut when...

...the zombie's eyes open and Kolchak - terrified - shrieks and hightails it out of the hearse.

I have to admit, this is one of the things I absolutely love about this character. So often in horror movies and television lately, characters face extreme situations (like vampires, zombies and werewolves) with a bit too much composure and acceptance for my taste. In keeping with Kolchak's 1970s-vibe and "everyman" nature, the character is foolhardy, but when faced with a monster, pretty damn terrified. Upon seeing the zombie awake, Kolchak turns tail and runs like hell. "Suspension of disbelief" is important in horror and science fiction, and if the characters don't respond in a truthful manner to the strange events around them, I found suspension of disbelief is lost. A lot of movies and TV shows today can't be bothered to actually generate suspense or have characters react in a realistic way. But Kolchak is a dogged everyman, and reacts how you or I might.

So Kolchak turns tail and runs through the junkyard, the white-eyed zombie hot on his heels. With a degree of ingenuity and on the fly, Kolchak manages to trick the lunging zombie into a noose, hence the necessary strangulation of the creature. But the point is that it all looks very unplanned, very spontaneous, and therefore very human. Kolchak: The Night Stalker did things in this fashion all the time, and the audience found itself rooting for the little guy not just as he battled City Hall, but as he battled terrifying monsters too (or more appropriately, a different kind of monster than he found ensconced in the hallways of power).

Of course, the very nature of episodic television assures that the protagonist survives his or her travails week-to-week, but the very fallible nature of this particular protagonist actually makes the viewer forget such convention and hold on tight to that critical suspension of disbelief. Carl has heart, but he's hapless and -- like most of us -- not exactly courageous in the face of the unknown. That's why I love the guy; he's us.

With its roving night-time camera, hand-held moments promoting immediacy, staccato character banter, sharp writing and unforgettably individual protagonist, Kolchak: The Night Stalker is really a shining jewel in genre television's crown. It's a one-of-a-kind production, and "The Zombie" reveals why. It moves effortlessly from comedy to social commentary, to monsters-on-the-loose with utter confidence, not to mention an overwhelming sense of charm and fun.

Next Week: “They Have Been, They Are, They Will Be.”

Cult-TV Blogging: Kolchak: The Night Stalker: "The Ripper" (September 13, 1974)

From May 25 to June 2^nd 1974, Chicago is terrorized by a brutal murderer of women. A stripper and masseuse are among the victims.

Idiosyncratic INS reporter Carl Kolchak (Darren McGavin) itches to investigate the ripper-style homicides, but has been tasked by his boss, Tony Vincenzo (Simon Oakland) with a different assignment. Kolchak has been ordered to fill in for the vacationing Miss Emily, and answer her “Dear Emily” letters.

Worse, a journalistic competitor, Jane Plum (Beatrice Colen) is reporting on the ripper crimes.

Kolchak disobeys Tony’s orders and begins to investigate the shadowy killer who seems to evade police (and bullet-fire) with ease. 

He soon realizes that over seventy women have been killed in the last 80 years, all over the world.  

They have all been murdered in the exact fashion of the Chicago deaths. Even more disturbingly, they trace their origin to Jack the Ripper, in London.

Oddly enough, Kolchak is able to determine the Ripper’s hide-out from a Dear Emily letter he remembers reading...

The first regular hour-long episode of Kolchak: The Night Stalker (1974 – 1975) is a bit of a disappointment, in part due to the nature of its titular monster.  

The Ripper is a shadowy figure with a cane and cape, who leaps across city roofs like a superhero, evades bullets easily, and isn’t seen to vet any bloody handiwork.  I understand that TV of the 1970’s could not show extreme -- or even moderate -- violence, but this monster comes across, at least visually, as toothless. Energetic, for certain, but toothless.  He’s a running, fighting, indestructible force, but not at all scary. He throws police men and innocent bystanders around, but is never seen to stab or cut, or or gut anyone.

Still, in some way, “The Ripper” is an important influence in TV history, not for re-telling yet another variation of the Jack the Ripper tale, but for anticipating the idea of a killer who lives for decades, and reappears in modern times after a long absence. This facet of the killer forecasts the Tooms monster-of-the-week on The X-Files (1993-2002), though both “Squeeze” and “Tooms” are, frankly, superior to “The Ripper” both in terms of writing and execution. 

In terms of a Jack the Ripper story, Kolchak: The Night Stalker,  in 1974 ,was a late comer to the party. Boris Karloff’s Thriller in 1961 (“Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper,”), The Sixth Sense in 1972 (“With Affection, Jack the Ripper”) and even Star Trek in 1967 (“Wolf in the Fold”) had already featured the murderer, and some supernatural or paranormal element.

Where “The Ripper” shines is in the arena where the series always proves remarkable, frankly: in diagramming the sleaze of the 1970’s urban government and bureaucracy. 

For lack of a better term, one might conclude that Kolchak is reckoning with “The Swamp” as he hunts his monsters, though resolutely unable to drain it. 

Instead, Kolchak must, well, negotiate the swamp.  Watching him do so, week after week, is one of the continual joys of this forty-four year-old series. In “The Ripper,” Kolchak attends a police press conference where he is stonewalled with euphemisms and lies that obfuscate the truth. Sarah Huckabee Sanders would be proud at the way that Captain Warren (Ken Lynch) manages to stand in front of a podium, and provide non-answers to every single question that the public has the right to know the answers about. He denies facts, and spins lies with the best of them. But Kolchak's skills for pushing and prodding, for needling,  are incomparable.

Many weeks on the series, we will see Kolchak bribe civil servants, flatter obsequious gatekeepers, and grapple with politicians and policemen who want to keep him -- and the people -- in the dark.  The quality that makes Kolchak (and indeed, many journalists) so admirable is the fact that he knows what his job is.  

It's reporting the truth, so people will be informed.

His duty is to follow the facts, wherever they lead.  

The spin-artists, liars, and mouthpieces for entrenched power, have forgotten that it is their job to serve the public, not their masters. “The Ripper” diagrams this aspect of Kolchak’s character, and professional life brilliantly.  He speaks truth to Power. And the Powers that be hate him for it.

I also enjoy how the series makes Kolchak a reluctant hero, when it comes to battling monsters not of human nature. Here, he scares himself while in the Ripper’s house, and shrieks with terror. Kolchak is a hero, but not a traditional one. He is brave, but also very fallible, and human. When he faces monsters, it is usually with a keen sense of not just responsibility, but terror.  There's no joy or satisfaction hunting monsters in the dark.  The satisfaction comes from discovering (and at least attempting to...) report the truth about them.

Next week, a look at perhaps the greatest episode of the series: “The Zombie.”