CULT TV FLASHBACK: Dead of Night (1994-1997)

This year, Dead of Night: The Complete Series, was released on Blu-Ray by Vinegar Syndrome, and I just had the pleasure of falling into its unusual, low-budget and highly creative world. 

The title - Dead of Night -- may ring a bell. 

This low-budget, indie series was created by author Wayne Spitzer, with author Andy Kumpon back in the mid-1990s. They also star in the series as security guards Status (Spitzer) and AK (Kumpon), our protagonists.

What struck me immediately watching the first episode "Introductions," is that this show thrives in its analog universe, from the dawn of the CGI and Internet age. This is sturdy, old-school independent filmmaking.  Shot on location, well-lit, and with a flair for doing more with less.

Revisiting Dead of Night today is much like encountering a (wonderful) time-capsule. For instance, watching the splendidly-realized night-time scenes, you'll see visual "bleed" on the footage from bright lights in the frame, an artifact of video-recordings of the nineties. It's also a look I happen to love, and which grants Dead of Night a feel of almost documentary-type realism at times.

Dead of Night was shot in Spokane, Washington, and consisted, ultimately of twelve episodes (with an unfinished thirteenth one, "Tool," which has been completed for this blu-ray release), and here's just one more amazing thing about the Dead of Night story: The series aired on local television, on public access (Cox Cable Spokane), for three years.

What that means is that these young, ambitious, independent filmmakers didn't just make a low-budget, 80-minute movie by maxing out their credits cards, they constructed and developed a whole universe and mythology, week after week, on a wing and a prayer (and duct tape, as reported by Wayne Spitzer in a local news report of the era; below). 

In other words, the creators of Dead of Night made, essentially, 12 independent films, and on top of that, they got their series on TV, seen by millions.  

I love the enterprising, uncompromising, independent spirit of the series, and can see why for many fans, Dead of Night is absolute cult-TV nirvana. People can compare it to The X-Files, or Kolchak, or Twin Peaks, but the great thing about the show is that, ultimately, it is its own animal.

"Introductions," the first episode, commences with Status (Spitzer) meeting his new partner, AK (Kumpon), on his first night on the job as a new security officer for the Viktor Corporation. AK gives Status his badge, a gun, a walkie-talkie and a also friendly warning:

"Things out here happen a little differently." 

Immediately, Kumpon and Spitzer fall into an easy rapport with one another. Kumpon is affable and jocular, but with an edge that suggests he knows more than he is revealing to his new partner. Spitzer -- who is a great smoker on screen, by the way, and yes, that is harder than it looks -- is the newbie trying to figure things out, and the one a bit suspicious of his new environs.  

Did he just see a snake out there, in the dark, climbing a tree?

Status and AK work for the Viktor Corporation in Viktorville, a strange suburb with different sectors, and drive a squad car equipped with a high-tech "monitor," so denizens can contact them instantaneously when trouble arises. 

On his first night, Status receives a message on the monitor about a home intrusion. 

"Please hurry, there's someone in my house." 

This message leads the viewer into a tale about some unusual individuals, including an attractive woman, who appear to materialize and de-materialize out of our reality.  In some way, the laconic performances seem to flow well with the story-telling here. No explanations are given for the odd events in "Introductions," only the suggestion that we will learn more as the series develops. "Auld Lang Syne" plays on the soundtrack, and that's a song.about acquaintances not forgotten (even if they disappear from our sight?)  The choice of song heightens the eerie mood and contributes to the overall montage.

Sound quality is variable in some episodes, and yet it hardly matters, because Dead of Night develops and maintains an immersive spell, courtesy of an exquisite Carpenter-esque soundtrack, the ubiquitous falling snow, and the capable performances of the leads. The second episode, "Basilisk" finds Status and AK hunting a murderous giant serpent in Sector 8 with cattle prods, and there's the aura here of the characters descending into a nighttime, industrial underworld.  I like the lack of fakery in the choice of locations, and in the selection of shots. When it is freezing out, we see the characters cold breath exhaled, and back in the 1990s, you couldn't fake that effect.  You just know the actors are out at night, freezing, grinding through a long and arduous night shoot. 

This approach works well because on a low budget (as I can testify, as creator of The House Between and Abnormal Fixation), a good independent filmmaker must do more with suggestion, with tone, with mood, because the budget doesn't typically permit for more.

Watching Dead of Night, I see that approach playing out in the writing, the tantalizing revealing of one clue at a time, or on the dependence upon eerie location shots to carry whole passages of an episode.  It's the kind of low-budget filmmaking I admire, to be frank. A little goes a long way, and can carry huge weight.  

In "Introductions," an exploration of a creepy apartment gives us extreme-close-up shots of a clock, a wall-outlet, a cat, and then P.O.V. subjective shots of the interior terrain to establish both pace and a sense of space, geography.  Then we get in-camera-type effects to convey the slipping in and out of our reality.  It's rugged, analog filmmaking from a time when the opportunity simply did not exist to "fix things in post," or as is the case these days, with AI. 

But as the series develops, the special effects, the monsters and the story-telling all grow more elaborate and robust, and, finally, you can detect, this is how cult-TV obsessions (and fandoms) are made. With creators experimenting, finding what works, getting stronger, getting better, growing more effective, and leaning into their characters and themes.

If you want to check out a cult-TV series that is unique, experimental, edgy, sharp and fun at the same time, you can find it all here....in The Dead of Night.

Cult-TV Flashback: Mission: Impossible: "Encore"

"Encore" is one of the most audacious installments of the entire seven season run of Mission:Impossible (1966-1973). At times, the premise of this sixth season episode beggars beliefs, but at other times, the execution is so convincing that the audience buys the whole thing.

In "Encore," William Shatner guest stars as a gangster named Kroll who, nearly forty years earlier, committed the murder of a rival mobster, Danny Ryan. Kroll hid the body, and weapon used to kill him, but nobody knows where.  Accordingly, to this day, no one has been able to pin the murder on the powerful Kroll, or his partner, Stevens.  Worse, to maintain their "innocence," Kroll and Stevens have been murdering all the witnesses to the crimes, arranging accidents for them. Their latest victim is a little old lady in a hospital.  Kroll and Stevens blow up her room in the hospital to keep her from talking.

Enter the IMF. 

Jim Phelps (Peter Graves) hatches a plan to turn back the clock. Using a potent combination of make-up, medicine, and a studio lot, the IMF endeavors to make Kroll believe it is 1937 again, and have Kroll relive the crime -- the murder of Ryan -- that they wish to solve, and nab him for.  They hope, in the exact recreation on the lot of his home in Long Island, Kroll will make sure history happens twice, and show them where he intends to hide Ryan's body, and the gun,

In previous (and later) episodes of this stellar series, the IMF has tricked "marks" into believing they have been in comas, encountered ghosts, been cured of diseases, stranded on a desert island and other wild outcomes, in order to glean important information from them. In "Encore," however, the IMF must perfectly recreate an era half-a-century gone. If one detail is wrong, the plan fails.  If one example of modernity is seen, the mission fails. If Kroll makes it off the studio lot, the plan fails.

More than any of that, even, the team must convince an old man that he is young again, both in appearance and stamina. It's a tall order. They are asking not only his mind to sabotage his sense of reality, but his body to do the same.

Doug (Sam Elliott), in his final appearance on the seires uses medicine to temporarily stop the pain in Kroll's aged, bum knee, and provides him a latex mask of youth that will last, precisely, six hours.  

All the details must be perfect in the studio lot version of 1937, and at one point Jim Phelps sees an "extra" wearing 1970's style sun-glasses and rips them off his face abruptly.

Adding tension to "Encore," Kroll's partner, Stevens, is aware that he has been kidnapped, and on the look-out for him. So the IMF team must get Kroll to reveal the location of the body, and they have two deadlines. First is the six hour make-up duration. The second is the circling Stevens, getting ever closer to the movie lot.

A few things make this audacious episode work, and, finally, feel believable. The first is William Shatner's brilliant performance as Kroll. He doesn't let the gangster fall for the trick at first.  That would make him seem gullible, and an easy mark. Instead, as the IMF team walks the mobster through a series of "clues" that make 1937 seem real, Kroll relents, but a little at a time.  A great moment occurs mid-way through the story when Kroll hears a plane flying by overhead, from his apartment.  He looks up from his window, and sees a plane above.  Amazingly, it is a plane appropriate to the 1930's era.  In other words, it is not a flaw in the plane, it is part of the plan! Phelps has thought of everything, including stopping flyovers of modern planes, and providing for the flyover by the older plane.  This meticulous detail, one can see on Shatner's face, is the thing that sells the idea of Kroll time traveling back to 1937.  Who would possibly go the trouble of having an era-accurate plane fly overhead, apparently at random?

Only Jim Phelps, who apparently has a huge budget to run his intelligence ops, given what he pulls off in "Encore."  Think about it. There's the plane flyover. There are dozens of extras. There are 1930's era cars. There's the complete make-over of two city blocks on the studio lot. There are the perfectly timed tape recordings of 1937 baseball games for the radio, and more.

But it is the denouement of "Encore," perhaps, which makes the episode so memorable in this M:I canon.  Jim, Barney, Willy and Casey get the information they need, and evacuate the studio lot, along with the extras who have been cast as 1930's denizens. After fingering the spot where he hid the body, Kroll walks out into a deserted metropolitan street. In minutes it has gone from bustling metropolis to ghost town. This is revealed in a stunning pull-back.

Kroll begins to realize what happens, and starts running, to escape the lot. As he runs, the medicine Doug gave him wears off, and he starts to limp, hobbled again by old age.  Then, the make-up on his face begins to melt, and he is fully restored to old age, and to the present  At just that moment, Kroll's partner, Stevens, finds him, and both men realize, without saying a word, the "impossibility" of the trap that has snared them.  It's one of the most colorful and satisfying conclusions in the sixth season of Mission:Impossible.

"Encore" is a controversial episode of this series, because for some, it is really about mission or format creep near the end of the series' long run.  They see the episode as an example of the series running out of good ideas.  Most stories in the canon, after all, are grounded far more clearly in reality. The plots are usually based on playing the mark's assumptions against him  or herself, and therefore psychological in nature.  

By contrast, the plan in "Encore" is big, bold, brassy and wild.  But the 1930's details, and the great (and largely forgotten) Shatner performance make this "mission" an unforgettable hour.  I would argue this episode isn't representative of mission creep, rather some kind of go-for-broke example of creative inspiration.

Cult-TV Flashback: Freddy's Nightmares (1988)

In the late eighties -- due in large part to the success of Tales from the Darkside (1984-1988) and Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987-1994) -- genre television took off in syndication.  Syndicated series such as War of the Worlds (1987-1989), Friday the 13^th: The Series (1987 – 1990), and Monsters (1988 – 1990) all drew substantial attention and drew large fan bases.

Another TV series that arose in this era was a spin-off from the Nightmare on Elm Street movie franchise.  In 1988, New Line -- “The House that Freddy Built” -- produced two-seasons of a low-budget horror anthology fronted by none other than Freddy Krueger himself.  

That’s right: Robert Englund hosted Freddy’s Nightmares: A Nightmare on Elm Street: The Series (1988-1990) and the program ran for 44 hour-long episodes. Freddy’s Nightmares featured guest stars such as a pre-stardom Brad Pitt (“Black Tickets,”) Lar Park Lincoln, John Cameron Mitchell, Mariska Hargitay, Tim Russ, Sandahl Bergman, Dick Miller, George Lazenby, and Mary Crosby.

Series directors included horror movie luminaries including Tobe Hooper (“No More Mr. Nice Guy,”) Tom McLoughlin (“It’s a Miserable Life,”) Mick Garris (“Killer Instinct”), Dwight Little (“Do Dreams Bleed), William Malone (“Lucky Stiff,”) and Englund himself (“Cabin Fever,” “Monkey Dreams.”)

On paper, it certainly looked promising, and the series aired in 106 local markets. But the series experienced some growing pains over its first season. 

Freddy’s Nightmares’ changing cast of young actors looked inexperienced and diffident, the budget was so low that no good locations could be used (and one episode appears to have been shot in a hotel meeting room…), and the program was shot, badly, on ugly videotape.  The writing seemed rushed too, and lacked nuance.  The series had a lot of gore and a lot of sex in it, but very little in terms of ideas.

And Freddy -- who has continuing a long decline from being terrifying boogeyman to ringleader of a three ring circus – wasn’t well-served by the anthology, either.  He became overly-familiar, and familiarity is the enemy of good horror.

The pilot episode of the series, “No More Mr. Nice Guy” exemplifies the two-dimensional approach to Freddy’s world. 

Here, Freddy is portrayed not as a man who hides in shadows and hurts in children in dark corners, out of society’s view, but as Evil Incarnate.  

In other words, before his burning and resurrection as a spectral monster, Freddy is already monster, a fearsome immortal not afraid of anyone or anything.  As he is burned alive, Krueger quips” You missed a spot” and makes other ludicrous remarks that suggest he is not afraid of death, and in fact, mocking of those who kill him.

Although we know from the feature films that Don Thompson (John Saxon) captured Freddy (and ultimately had to release him), neither Saxon nor the character appear in this episode. Instead, Lt. Blocker (Ian Patrick Williams) is the arresting officer. 

That’s a change in continuity. 

As is the fact that several police officers speak openly of Freddy’s final resting place, even though in Dream Warriors, Thompson is the only person who possesses the knowledge that Freddy’s bones rest (though not in peace…) in an auto junkyard.

Worse than any of this, Freddy’s Nightmares is a disaster from a visual standpoint.  Freddy’s house is supposed to look menacing, but looks more like a red-and-green disco where someone’s smoke machine has malfunctioned. Another cost-saving measure: the two-half hour stories in each program often use the same two sets.

One of the key reasons why the Elm Street films proved so popular in the late 1980's involved the dazzling fusion of inventive dream ideas with amazing special effects.  Freddy’s dream world was always imagined with fantastic results in even the worst of the feature films.  The TV series completely betrays that legacy, and looks like an amateur production by comparison.

I wrote in Terror Television (1999) that Freddy’s Nightmares is my choice for the all-time worst horror TV series, and I stand by that assessment. The series had a duty to respect the King of Horror, Freddy Krueger, and it completely failed him (and Englund) at every turn.  I have never believed it was a coincidence that the movie series began to fare poorly at the box office starting in 1989…the era that Freddy’s Nightmares aired. I think the dumb, cheaply-produced syndicated series killed a lot of good will towards the gloved one.

Still, I’m a completist, and thirty years after it aired, I’d be very happy for an official DVD release of the series, and the opportunity to re-evaluate its merits.

Cult-TV Flashback: In Search of (1976 - 1982)

"This series presents information based in part on theory and conjecture. The producer's purpose is to suggest some possible explanations, but not necessarily the only ones, to the mysteries we will examine."

- opening narration/disclaimer from In Search of (1976-1982).

In the mid-1970's, the perplexing mysteries of the world were laid bare, dramatically, in the documentary-style, syndicated TV series, In Search of.  

This series from producer Alan Landsburg ran for six seasons, and was hosted by Star Trek's (1966-1969) Leonard Nimoy. Nimoy -- often seen on-screen in some very 1970's fashions -- expertly guided viewers through stories examining the Bermuda Triangle, Bigfoot, life after death, reincarnation, The Loch Ness Monster, the existence of Martians and much, much more. The series went in search for historic Dracula and the Lost Colony, explored the cases of individuals claiming to be psychic detectives, and even investigated the fate of the missing pilot, Amelia Earhart.

I wanted to believe.

Structurally this fifty-year old TV series cobbles together dramatic re-enactments of monster sightings with on-camera interviews of experts in various fields, and also, in some cases, it features beautiful natural photography. There's a travelogue aspect to the series. It is a way to see Greece, or Egypt, or the Pacific Northwest, for example.

In terms of dramatic re-enactments, the Bigfoot episode opens with a frightening, and well-shot dramatization of an attack on settlers by a family of Sasquatch, in an isolated log cabin. I remember seeing this creepy, unsettling sequence when the series first aired, and the POV images from the re-enactment have stayed with me to this day. In Search of is also my first memory of seeing the 1967 Patterson-Gimlin Bigfoot film. That footage is dissected in this episode, with fascinating results.

Leonard Nimoy's participation on In Search of provides one of the great strengths of the series' format as well. The actor's presence is a great coup for the produces because his persona is so inter-tangled with his most-famous rational and logical alter-ego: Mr. Spock. Thus every wild or weird theory presented on In Search of sounds tantalizingly plausible, or at leas possible. Nimoy's gravelly, intelligent voice makes every episode of the series a rich, aural delight.

Also, in fairness, In Search of garners tremendous respectability today, in our modern age of "fake news" with its many attempts to appear judicious and even-handed in its explorations. In The Loch Ness Monster episode, or example, a paleontologist notes on camera that he he believes no monster exists in the lake. He just flat out says it. Nessie doesn't exist! 

Similarly, in the episode featuring the Ogopogo Monster, a scientist notes on-screen that he finds it difficult to believe that a prehistoric monster could exist in a lake so small, and so young, geologically-speaking. 

So the episodes here may explore topics that some people consider absolute nonsense, but the way In Search of goes about its explorations suggests that it is interested in science, not phantasmagoria.

It is clear that the series wishes to foster interest in its controversial topics, but also clear that it doesn't ignore fact or evidence, to do so. One episode, about The Bermuda Triangle, opens with Nimoy's statement that mainstream science has determined there is no phenomenon impacting ships and planes in the Triangle. 

Then, however, following that disclaimer, the episode examines historical disappearances, and some first-person "encounters" int the Triangle. The creepiest (and most unforgettable) portion of the episode, however, involves a radio DJ who hosted a show on the topic of the Bermuda Triangle. During the radio show, a strange individual called in to the station, leaving a weird, inhuman-sounding message about the truth of the Triangle, and how it serves as the "aura" of our world. The actual recording is played during the episode and is so weird and unnerving that it captures the imagination, and more than that, spawns further interest in the mysteries of the world. 

In Search of''s episode about Astrology charts similarly even-handed territory. It opens with a question: "What strange influence does the moon have on the behavior of man?" Then, however, during the course of the investigation, the series finds time to feature an astronomer who says, in no uncertain terms that he feels Astrology is but an "an ancient religion" with no basis in fact. "Millions of people fall for Astrology," he says, right to the camera, "but I hope you do not." 

Again, the series is to be commended for never buying into the mysteries it investigates.

The episode "Pyramid Secrets" is also fascinating for the way it tackles the construction of Egyptian pyramids. The writing structure of the episode explores three ideas about the pyramids. One is that they are but elaborate tombs ("a central part n the quest for immortality.") The second is that they are "Earth Base One," ground zero for the colonization of Earth by ancient astronauts, and three, that the pyramids are some kind of "radio transmitter" or "energy generator." 

The more outrageous theories are debunked, however, by a scientist who says, quite simply, that mankind possessed the knowledge it needed, in antiquity, to construct the pyramids. They are, he says, a testament to man's ingenuity, not a supernatural or alien construct. Once more, the series explores theories, and, at the same time, provides a scientific explanation to counter the wilder ones. 

I would never vouch for any of these mysteries, or their wilder explanations. Like Mulder, I want to believe, but temperamentally I am more like Scully. I tend to be skeptical. For me, the great thing about In Search of is the fact that it approaches its weird mysteries with an open mind, and makes time, in virtually every episode, for scientists to make their case about why the mysteries are not valid.  

Today, In Search of has been remade twice (hosted in the early 2000's by Mitch Pileggi, and this year, by Zachary Quinto), but it is the original series that remains a pop culture touchstone for those of us who grew up in the 1970's. There were six seasons, In Search of books, and even a movie documentary. The third Star Trek movie was jokingly referred to as "In Search of Spock" before the official title was settled on: The Search for Spock.

My childhood self both loved and was terrified by In Search of. I felt afraid of the mysteries, as dramatized in the creepy re-enactments, but I also felt safe throughout, because Mr. Spock himself, was my guide through these tantalizing "conjectures." As an adult, revisiting the series has given me a newfound respect for it. I'm glad that there are so many scientists front-and-center on the series, willing to stand up and debunk the wildest, most unsubstantiated theories.  And at the same time, I like that the series still spurs my imagination about things that go bump in the night, and exist outside the things dreamed of in my philosophy.

Cult-TV Flashback: Ultraman (1966-1967): "The Blue Stone of Baraji"

Created by the legendary Eiji Tsuburaya of Godzilla fame, this early incarnation of Ultraman originally aired from July 1966 to April 1967 on the Tokyo Broadcasting System, and came to include some thirty-nine half-hour installments.

Set in the future world of the 1990s, Ultraman centers around the activities of the high-tech "Science Patrol" organization, particularly the branch operating in and around Japan.  

The Patrol roster consists of no-nonsense Captain Mura (Akiji Kobayashi), deputy commander Shin Hayata (Susumu Kurobe), and communications/radio specialist Fuji (Hiruko Sakurai), the group's only female. 

Providing comic relief (and occasionally breaking the fourth wall) is accident-prone engineer Ito (Masanari Nihei).  Also included in this stalwart group is the ubiquitous child mascot, Hoshino (Akhilde Tsuzawa), and Ito's occasional partner in mischief, Arashi (Sandayu Dokumamushi).

The members of the Science Patrol zip about, to and fro, in fancy, futuristic aircraft, and always adorn orange and white, Star Trek-like uniforms (but with ties) and air-force-styled helmets.  The Patrol's communicators -- worn on their chests -- forecast the communicator models of The Next Generation as many other reviewers have also pointed out.  In Ultraman, the commbadges are shaped like a star upon a rocket nose, and feature tiny antennae that activate when the device is in use. 

The job of the Science Patrol is to defend Japan, and indeed, other nations as well from rampaging monsters of extra-terrestrial origin.  These monsters are almost universally depicted by men in elaborate and creative monster suits, in the fashion of a Godzilla or Gamera film.

In the first episode of Ultraman, the Science Patrol is called into action to stop the dinosaur-like Bemlar, a colossal reptilian menace who can shoot heat rays from his mouth. 

While battling the beast, Hayata's airplane collides with the spherical alien craft belonging to another alien being called Ultraman, a law enforcement official from Nebula M78. 

Rather than let Hayata die from the accident, Ultraman shares his life force with the human, and grants Hayata the power to transform into Ultraman in times of crisis.  Hayata can usher in this transformation by utilizing a tube-like device known as a "beta capsule."  In various episodes, tension is wrought from Hayata's ownership (or loss) of the beta capsule. In one episode, he drops it off a roof accidentally and it lands on a ledge many feet below, where he must retrieve it.

But even the great Ultraman -- a red and silver costumed titan with glowing eyes -- is not invincible.  On his chest is a round power indicator.  When the indicator blinks, the light is a "warning" and should it go dark entirely, "Ultraman will never rise again." 

In other words, Ultraman can only fight the bad guys for a short time, or he will die.  This is another near-constant source of tension in the half-hour episodes, as prolonged battles drain Ultraman ever faster.

In various episodes of Series One, the Science Patrol and Ultraman are called upon to battle the monster or menace of the week.  And this is where the series really proves itself fun and infinitely imaginative.  The "monster of the week" may be universally taller than skyscrapers, but each one is highly individual and inventive in appearance, and boasts different capabilities or powers so as to challenge our hero. 

For instance, in the second episode, "Blast the Invaders," Ultraman must battle the bug-eyed Baltan aliens, who boast mammoth pincers for hands, and who can freeze their enemies in their tracks.  More uniquely, the alien Baltan can project visual decoys, so it is difficult to detect and kill the "real" alien. 

Another monster, in the third episode is called "Neronga" and he is -- at least for a while -- invisible.  These monsters are really great, and it is a lot of fun to start each episode and wonder what brand of monster is going to endanger the Earth this time.  It could be something from space, something long-buried beneath the Earth's surface, or even something living at the bottom of the sea.

Each episode of Ultraman usually begins with just such a threat or mystery emerging  from space.  In "The Ruffian from Outer Space," for instance, a group of Japanese school children find an unusual object fallen from the sky that can transform into any shape that someone wishes for.  The device is stolen (in a very droll, ingenious sequence)  by a criminal mastermind who wishes for it destroy everything. 

Before you know it, the device morphs into a giant monster, Gango, that appears to possess rotating satellite dishes for ears.  

In another episode, "Passport to Infinity," two meteors crash on Earth, and -- when fused together -- form a time and space warping leviathan.  Before the monster forms, the episode has a great deal of fun with the meteor's time and space twisting capabilities.  Ito runs up a staircase to nowhere, and two scientist find themselves unexpectedly walking on the ceiling of Science Patrol HQ.  Once formed, the strange, shell-like monster extends weaponry that transports attacking planes in flight from the air to the ground; and then does the opposite to a trio of tanks.

After the threat of the week is introduced each week, the Science Patrol attempts to stop the ensuing invasion, but the human technology proves ever ineffective.  In the last five or so minutes of each half-hour, Hayata finally realizes Ultraman is needed, and presses his beta capsule at the moment of highest drama. 

In short order, Ultraman appears and wrestles, then defeats the enemy.  Finally, in a regurgitation of the Superman premise, Hayata returns to his mild-mannered self and nobody in the Science Patrol realizes that Ultraman and Hayata are never seen together at the same time.

One impressive episode from the first Ultraman series is called "The Blue Stone of Baraji."  Here, the Science Patrol travels to the Middle East with an American patrol member, Adam Jeffers, to investigate an apparent meteor crash in the desert, near Afghanistan and Turkey.  The Science Patrol's jet goes down, however, after encountering a strange atmospheric disturbance, a ray of magnetic energy.

After surviving a harrowing crash landing, the Science Patrol is shocked to see a huge monster -- Antlar -- pulp their plane. 

Antlar looks like a giant terrestrial insect with a hard exo-skeleton, and his mandibles fire the very light/magnetic beam that brought the Patrol down in the first place.  

Seeking help and sanctuary, the Patrol members make their way to a lost city that stands in the shadow of Mount Ararat. 

There, a beautiful princess with the power of telepathy ("a gift of the Gods"), tells them of the city's long, storied history.  It was once a busy metropolis, the capitol of the desert, but soon traders began to disappear into the desert, victims of Antlar, the monster who has hidden beneath the sand for centuries.  The city survives only because Antlar is afraid of "Ultra" -- Ultraman, himself -- and the blue stone or "good luck charm" he once wielded.

When Antlar follows the patrol and lays siege to the ancient city, Hayata uses the beta capsule. Soon, Ultraman and Antlar duke it out, but Antlar's magnetic powers are too strong for Ultraman to resist.  The blue gem, finally, is the key to destroying Antlar, and it is removed from a stone statue of Ultraman in the city's temple.  When the gem is thrown at Antalr, the beast is finally destroyed.

With their job complete, the Science Patrol leaves the cityand the Princess says she prefers to keep the city lost, "far from wars and the like."

Intriguingly, this episode of Ultraman gives some nice back story about the super-sized hero from space.  It turns out Ultraman has come to Earth many times before his initial meeting with Hayata in episode one, "Ultra Operation Number One." 

In fact, he has been protecting this city from harm for generations, and there is that mysterious statue of Ultraman in the temple.  The statue and Ultraman's involvement in human affairs, protecting the city of Baraji, make the viewer aware that Ultraman and his enemies are not a new phenomenon, but rather part of the planet's very history...and even mythology.  It's a nice contextual touch that adds to the legend of the hero from another planet.

What is particularly enjoyable about "The Blue Stone of Baraji" is the shift in setting away from urban, futuristic Tokyo to the wide open desert.  This episode also includes a plane crash (rendered in miniature), an impressive giant monster, a lost city, and a pitched battle between evenly-matched titans.  I grew up with movies such as Godzilla, War of the Gargantuas and Rodan, among others, and Ultraman (called a "kaiju" in Japan) is a perfect, 23-minute extension of that world, featuring carefully-crafted miniatures (which are nonetheless instantly recognizable as miniatures), fantastic monster suits, and a lot of heart. 

For Joel, I know the thrill here is seeing Ultraman fight the monster of the week, and he often grows impatient with Hayata's perpetual dithering.  As soon as the monster appears, Joel is ready for Ultraman to beat it back to space.  But before that can happen, a few things are certain to occur first: hijinks with Ito, (who gives himself a black eye in one episode by falling out of his bunk bed), and Hoshino and Fuji invariably find themselves in need of rescuing.

The Ultraman format is repetitive and predictable, but also a hell of a lot of fun.  And that goes for the whole 1966-1967 series, really.  It's so good-hearted, thrilling and fantastic you just might find it impossible to resist.

Cult-TV Flashback: Knight Rider (1982 - 1986): "Goliath" (Parts I and II)

“Knight Rider…a shadowy flight into the dangerous world of a man who does not exist. Michael Knight, a young loner on a crusade to champion the cause of the innocent, the helpless, the powerless, in a world of criminals who operate above the law.”

-Knight Rider’s opening narration.

In Knight Rider’s (1982 – 1986) two-part episode, “Goliath,” Michael Knight (David Hasselhoff) challenges a villain who has the same face: Garthe Knight (also played Hasselhoff). 

The evil Knight, is son of the Knight Foundation’s philanthropist, Wilton, and in cahoots with his mother, Elizabeth (Barbara Rush) on a secret mission.

Specifically, Garthe and Elizabeth hope to steal the plans for K.I.T.T.’s “molecular bonded shell plating,” the very aspect of the advanced car that makes him so impervious to damage and attack. 

The evil duo plots to build a new vehicle, a giant, 22 ton semi-truck called “Goliath,” and -- once it is equipped with the shell plating -- penetrate a top secret base in the desert, one that possess dangerous missiles.

Michael and K.I.T.T. attempt to stop Garthe and his plans, but Garthe feels that Michael is a “living, breathing insult” to his existence, and plots to destroy him.

K.I.T.T. battles Goliath in a dangerous and ill-fated first engagement, but comes back strong for a second time…even as Garthe and Michael go head to head…

You just have to love a series in which cars and people alike possess evil doppelgangers or twins.  

Earlier in the week, I reviewed one of the episodes featuring K.I.T.T.'s nasty twin, K.A.R.R., but today I remember this epic two-parter, which establishes the goatee-wearing Garthe Knight as Michael’s “antithesis,” his twisted, evil reflection.

In the case of “Goliath,” there’s actually a good reason why Michael so closely resembles Garthe.  Garthe is the son of Wilton Knight and has been spending time in prison…three life sentences to be precise.  Michael’s face, you my recall, was reconstructed by the Knight Foundation in the pilot episode. We learn in this episode that the model for that surgery was…Garthe.  

That’s a good explanation, and it doesn’t rate as terribly unbelievable. Since Michael has Wilton’s last name, it makes sense, in some way, that he would also have the face of his benefactor’s beloved (if wayward…) son too. Michael is the son that Wilton wanted; Garthe is the one that he ended up with.

“Goliath” is structured so that a major battle recurs.  

At the end of part one, K.I.T.T. and Goliath play chicken, headed straight for one another on a desert road.  K.I.T.T. gets struck by heavily armored truck, and is damaged badly. “I’m afraid we zigged when we should have zagged,” he reports to Michael.  

Echoing the earlier confrontation, the finale of the second part features a rematch between the two vehicles (and their crack’d mirror drivers).  In this case, of course, K.I.T.T. is triumphant, utilizing a laser to pinpoint Goliath’s weak spot. The results of the duels (in both cases) are not unexpected, and yet they are well-orchestrated, and surprisingly suspenseful. I remember film and critics of the 1970s and 1980s complaining endlessly about the ubiquitous nature of car chases and car crashes back in the day, but today these clashes are welcome. For one thing, there's no C.G.I. And for another the stunts are beautifully executed and filmed.

Rationally,  of course, the audience knows Michael and K.I.T.T. will eventually carry the day, and yet when K.I.T.T. is knocked over on his side and left for dead in the desert, you feel it in your gut.

Just a car? No…he’s a driver (and a kid’s…) best friend.

The most intriguing moment of the whole two-part episode occurs following K.I.T.T.’s injury. He makes a heart-felt query to Michael: “Do you think it is possible I could cease to exist?” 

We  thus see the self-aware vehicle (personality) reckoning with the idea of his own mortality, and what that could mean.

The Garthe vs. Michael rivalry in "Goliath" is handled with flair, and good stunt doubles for the most part.  As Garthe, Hasselhoff actually seems to stand taller, and similarly, is a snazzier dresser.  Perhaps it’s just that director Winrich Kolbe picks good angles to show-case the villain, often featuring him in motion, or capturing his action from a slightly lowered (and therefore more imposing) angle.

I watched Knight Rider regularly when I was twelve and thirteen years old, so my affection for it is nostalgic (it brings back good memories), but also technical: I love K.I.T.T.  The best stories, I always felt, where those in which K.I.T.T. and Michael had to go up against a vehicle that rival ed K.I.T.T.’s strength.  Hence my focus this week on K.A.R.R. and Goliath. 

I’m pleased to say that today, “Goliath” retains its entertainment value, and comes off as…very well-assembled.

Cult-TV Flashback: The Sixth Sense (1972)

“You enter a strange room for the first time, yet you know you’ve been there before.  You dream about an event that happens some days later…A coincidence?  Maybe. But more than likely, it is extrasensory perception, a sixth sense that many scientists believe we all possess, but rarely use.”

-          From The Sixth Sense Press Kit, published in Senior Scholastic: “The Sixth Sense,” September 18, 1972, page 22).

-           

I am still troubled about the sad fate of The Sixth Sense, starring the late Gary Collins (1938-2012). After originally airing for two seasons on ABC in the early 1970's, this hour-long series was brutally cut-down to a half-hour length so as to be syndicated along with the episode catalog of Rod Serling’s Night Gallery. Mr. Serling even filmed new introductions in the famous black gallery for the re-crafted The Sixth Sense episodes. 

But The Sixth Sense’s “Night Gallery” stories, if you ever saw them, were always nonsensical, in part because they were trimmed down literally fifty-percent from their original running time.  It was this abbreviated, hacked-up The Sixth Sense that aired on The Sci Fi Channel in the 1990's, for instance. In 2007, Chiller ran episodes of The Sixth Sense, but I'm not certain if it was the chopped-up version, or the original.

Butchered in syndicated format, The Sixth Sense episodes are almost unwatchable. Characters appear without introduction or preamble, and allude to events that are no longer depicted.  Characters are alive in one scene and dead the next, with no explanation for how, why or when, their demise occurred. The series in this corrupted format is baffling and incoherent, to put it mildly.

This is a shame because fans and TV scholars are denied the chance to see the series as it was meant to be seen. By today's standards, some episodes may seem slow paced.  But -- like Sweet, Sweet Rachel -- the stories here are pretty intriguing and even visually dynamic.

I don’t mean to suggest The Sixth Sense is some kind of un-excavated genre masterpiece, only that it hasn’t been granted a hearing by genre fans in an un-corrupted form for over forty years.  No series deserves such a fate, frankly.

Imagine how well Star Trek would play cut down to a half-hour, or Kolchak, or Mission: Impossible.

Writer Anthony Lawrence originally created The Sixth Sense after the success of a 1971 TV movie titled Sweet, Sweet Rachel, which involved a parapsychology expert, Lucas Darrow (Alex Dreier) protecting a woman, Rachel (Stefanie Powers) from psychic assassins.  When the television movie proved successful in terms of ratings, ABC wanted a quick follow-up.  Lawrence and developer Stan Shpetner thus crafted The Sixth Sense, a series which would follow the adventures of another parapsychology expert, Dr. Michael Rhodes (Gary Collins). 

During every episode of The Sixth Sense the preternaturally patient and calm Dr. Rhodes would investigate a complex mystery featuring psychic overtones.  That case might involve astral projection (“Face of Ice”), premonitions (“If I Should Die Before I Wake,”) automatic writing (“I Do Not Belong to the Human World,”) aura photography (“The Man Who Died at Three and Nine”), witchcraft (“Witch, Witch, Burning Bright”), apparitions (“Echo of a Distant Scream”), spiritual possession (“With Affection, Jack the Ripper) cryogenics (“Once Upon a Chilling”) or even organ transplant (“The Eyes That Would Not Die.” Usually Rhodes solved the mystery at hand by working closely with a beautiful woman in jeopardy. 

This damsel-in-distress role was played, in various installments, by beloved genre actresses such as Mariette Hartley (“Eye of the Haunted”), Pamela Franklin (“I Did Not Mean to Slay Thee”), Stefanie Powers (“Echo of a Distant Scream”), Tiffany Bolling (“Witch, Witch, Burning Bright), Lucie Arnaz (“With This Ring I thee Kill), Mary Ann Mobley (“Shadow in the Well), Carol Lynley (“The House that Cried Murder) and Anne Archer (“Can a Dead Man Strike from Beyond the Grave?”)

And among those talents working behind-the-scenes on The Sixth Sense -- at least for a time -- were Gene Coon, Harlan Ellison and D.C. Fontana.  I had the opportunity to interview Ms. Fontana in 2001, and our conversation veered briefly to The Sixth Sense.  She recalled to me that in her opinion, developer Shpetner was difficult to work with because he had so many story dislikes:

“He didn’t like children.  He didn’t like women.  He didn’t like men…He didn’t like stories about sick people, or emotionally ill people.  He didn’t like stories about poor people.  He didn’t like stories about ethnic people.  Essentially it came down to us doing stories about rich white people who didn’t have any problems.  And that was a problem for me.”

Fontana’s tenure on the show was, perhaps not surprisingly, short-lived:  “I left one day, and Harlan Ellison left either the day before me or the day after me.  It all happened in fast succession, I can tell you that much…It’s too bad, because the potential for stories about extra sensory perception and abilities was great.”

The abundant flaws of The Sixth Sense are apparent today. For one thing, Dr. Rhodes always helped beautiful, young (25 – 35) white women, but never actively romanced any of them.  He just seemed to inhabit a white, upper-class world of beautiful, psychically gifted females. 

And secondly, as a character Rhodes was not permitted to grow or show much by way of passionate emotion. Collins’ performance on the series is actually kind of brilliant in a weird way, simultaneously minimalist and intense. 

But the writing never ascribes much by way of humor or personal life to the man.  As a lead character, Rhodes is certainly dedicated and helpful -- and physically capable – but we know precisely nothing about him save for his unwavering support for ESP and parapsychology studies. It would have been great if the series had more fully explored his background, including his childhood and the development of his abilities as a “sensitive.”

On the other hand, The Sixth Sense triumphed in two notable areas.  In the first, it features some great guest appearances by the likes of Joan Crawford (“Dear Joan: We Are Going to Scare You To Death”), William Shatner (“Can a Dead Man Strike from Beyond the Grave”), and Lee Majors (“With This Ring, I Thee Kill.”).  Today, it’s a thrill to see Cloris Leachman, Patty Duke, Sandra Dee, Henry Silva, June Allyson and Sharon Gless, among others, get menaced by strange paranormal “phenomena.”

Of more legitimate interest is the series’ second strength: jarring and disturbing visuals and special effects.  Some of the imagery in the series remains downright haunting.  In “The Heart that Wouldn’t Stay Buried” a man is attacked by the statue of a bird, and it’s a trippy moment.  In “Witness Within,” jump-cuts, slow-motion photography and a nice eerie blend of light and shadow make a nocturnal attack almost pulse-pounding.  Likewise, in “Lady, Lady, Take My Life,” an insufferable bureaucrat is murdered by a psychic “cathexis,  and the he screen goes blood red (with terror) as the poor man suffers twin aneurysms. 

In one of my favorite episodes, the bizarre “Once Upon a Chilling” a man’s spirit is projected outside of his cryogenic chamber and his spectral face is coated in dripping, cracked ice…an image which terrifies rather than informs.  In moments such as these you can sense a real imagination in the visual presentation of the stories.  If the stories were all up to snuff, and not so predictable in terms of character, The Sixth Sense would have been a contender.

Some of the more intriguing episodes in the series include the one starring Shatner and Anne Archer (“Can a Dead Man Strike from Beyond the Grave”), written by Gene Coon.  And “With this Ring I Thee Kill,” starring Lee Majors and Lucie Arnaz proves a weird call back to Faustian legends and stories. The episode featuring Joan Crawford (and directed by John Newland) is also memorable, since it pits the Hollywood legend against Mansonite cult member crazies.  

In spite of flaws, The Sixth Sense must be viewed as something of a pioneer in terms of horror television programming.  It is the first horror-oriented series, for instance, to feature continuing characters rather than an anthology format.  It pre-dates Kolchak: The Night Stalker (1974) by two years, in this regard.  Considering that place of importance in the horror genre, the series certainly merits a better fate than to be cut to ribbons and offered only in a corrupt format. 

Failures and all, The Sixth Sense deserves a full DVD/Blu-Ray release with all twenty-five episodes restored to original formatting.