Cult-TV Theme Watch: Telephones

According to Wikipedia, the telephone is one of the most “common appliances in the developed world.”  The ubiquitous device was developed by Alexander Graham Bell in the mid-1870s, and he surely could not have predicted that it would play a major role in cult films and classic television, mainly in the horror genre.

But that’s exactly what’s happened to the telephone, which -- along with the television set -- was recently selected as the next household “appliance” to become obsolete, specifically meaning land lines, I suppose. 

In cult-tv history, the telephone has been a critical ingredient in many stories.  In the opening narration to the episode “Bad Connection,” Ghost Story/Circle of Fear (1972) host Sebastian Cabot (as Winston Essex) pontificated about the nature of the telephone, and how it allows us to “connect” to someone of our choosing.  But what happens, Cabot asks, when someone “reaches” out to touch us, someone not of our choosing?

That notion has been the core conceit of probably over a dozen programs in cult-tv history.  Rod Serling’s The Twilight Zone used the telephone as a major plot device in a number of its episodes.  In “Long Distance Call (1961),” for instance, a dead grandma kept telephoning her grandson, played by Bill Mumy, trying to get him to join her on “the other side,” much to the dismay of his parents.  And in “Night Call,” an old woman (Gladys Cooper) begins to receive strange phone calls in blackest night, only to learn (too late…) that the spooky caller is actually her dead husband, and that the phone lines have fallen onto his grave, thereby making a “connection” with the after life.

The notorious Talky Tina also used the telephone to torment Telly Savalas in The Twilight Zone’s “Living Doll," and in the fifth season entry, “Ring-a-Ding Girl,” a phantom phone call from a possibly alternate universe changed the fate of many people in a small town, including actress Bunny Blake (Maggie McNamara).

The aforementioned Ghost Story tale, “Bad Connection,” proved a variation on the “Night Call” format, only in this case, a secretary and widow portrayed by Karen Black was contacted from beyond the grave by her dead husband. In this case, the dead veteran used the phone – even when it was unplugged – to warn his wife that “death was coming” on the eve of her new marriage.

In the 1980s syndicated anthology, Tales from the Darkside, Jean Marsh was repeatedly hounded by a telephone from Hell in “Answer Me.”  There,  Marsh played a budding actress who needed her beauty sleep, but found it constantly interrupted by a ringing telephone in the next apartment.  She finally found out that the phone itself seemed to be alive, and in one shocking (and giggle-provoking...) moment, the episode treated us to the telephone’s point of view as it raced across the floor and began choking the poor actress with its cord.  In this case, the story focused on the idea that a modern convenience was actually a terrible inconvenience, a technological hassle and irritant.

As late as 2004, the telephone was still being used as an entry-point into genre stories about “crossed wires.”  In Smallville’s third season story, “Crisis,” Clark Kent (Tom Welling) receives a desperate phone call from Lana Lang (Kristin Kreuk), just as she is being murdered.  Clark learns the phone call is not from the present, however, but the future, and must therefore prevent the murder from occurring.

Over the years, various television programs not of a horror stripe have also been associated with the telephone.  Everyone remembers the famous Batphone Commissioner Gordon (Neil Hamilton) always utilized to notify Batman (Adam West) any time a new criminal made his or her presence known in Gotham City.  And the most famous gadget of Control Agent 86, Maxwell Smart (Don Adams) was surely his handy shoe telephone, on Get Smart.

My personal favorite use of telephones in cult television history, however, comes from Mystery Science Theater 3000 in 1996.  In one installment of the Comedy Central series, Mike and the Bots are forced to endure a very strange short film called Once Upon a Honeymoon (1956), which focuses, oddly, on the marketing of colored telephones (to blend in with kitschy 1950s décor...)   After the movie is over, Mike, Gypsy, Crow and Servo stage their own version of the film using an ocelot phone (!) and an easy bake oven phone.  It’s damn weird, but also a funny reminder that telephone have been a constant presence in our lives now for several generations.

The Cult-TV Faces of: The Telephone

Identified by Jose: Constance Ford in Alfred Hitchcock Presents: "The Creeper."

Identified by Brian: The Twilight Zone: "Long Distance Call."

Identified by Brian: The Twilight Zone: Telly Savalas in "Living Doll."

Identified by Brian: The Twilight Zone: "Night Call."

Identified by Brian: The Twilight Zone: "Ring a Ding Girl."

Identified by Brian: Get Smart.

Identified by Brian: Batman

Identified by Brian: The Prisoner: "Arrival"

9

Identified by Jose: Jean Marsh in Tales from the Darskide: "Answer Me."

Identified by Brian: Star Trek: The Next Generation: "The Royale."

12

Identified by Brian: The X-Files: "A Christmas Carol"

                   

Identified by Brian: MST3K: "Once Upon a Honeymoon."

15

Identified by Chris G.: Lost: "Pilot (Part I)," featuring Boone (Ian Somerhalder).

Identified by Todd: Supernatural: "Long Distance Call."

Television and Cinema Verities # 27

“It’s interesting – there’s a whole ‘boomer’ generation…I meet them all the time; people come up to me and say ‘There was a film when I was growing up that really got to me’, and I’d say that I know which one it was – Logan’s Run. But then I asked them to define why. What was it about the film? The sense of having to give it all up before you’d even got started? The hedonistic society? You had everything. I guess it’s a bit of everything, you know…?”

 - 2008 Den of Geek Interview with Logan's Run (1976) star, Michael York

Cult-TV Blogging: Ghost Story/Circle of Fear: "The Summer House" (October 13, 1976)

In Ghost Story’s “The Summer House” written by Seeleg Lester and directed by Leo Penn, Martha Alcott (Carolyn Jones) drives to her summer house by a lake.  Martha has (apparently...) traveled there ahead of her husband, Andrew (Steve Forrest), and yet everyone in the small nearby town insists that Mr. Alcott has already been there. 

Soon, Martha experiences a premonition in which she argues with her husband over his infidelity, and then pushes him into a well down in the summer house’s basement.

But is it really a premonition? 

Or is it actually a memory? 

And why is the house forcing Martha to relive or (possibly imagine) this violent confrontation?  Is the house, as Martha suspects, a diabolical, conscious entity?

Our host at scenic Mansfield House, Winston Essex (Sebastian Cabot) begins this episode by describing the terror a person must feel when trapped in a time warp, an extended moment of “suspended time.” 

Sadly, the viewer can relate to this terror perfectly because “The Summer House” is dull and repetitive, and seems to go on forever, thus trapping all of us in a 50-minute bubble of suspended time. 

In this thoroughly undistinguished installment of the early-1970s horror anthology we are treated to endless scenes of Carolyn Jones opening her house for the summer, buying groceries from a local store, vacuuming the carpets, carrying towels to a linen closet, changing a fuse in the fuse box, and flirting with a neighbor, Charlie (William Windom).  There’s a narrative here, to be certain, but it is choked inside moment after moment of pure tedium.

Slow-paced and lethargic, “The Summer House,” -- much like the previous worst entry, “The Concrete Captain” --  is one of those Ghost Story installments that might have thrived at thirty minutes.  But at an hour length, the story is egregiously padded, so that moments pass…and absolutely nothing of interest occurs.

Worse, the concepts underlining the “The Summer House” are incredibly muddled.  Is the story taking place in the past, with Martha imagining the coming death of her husband?  Is the story taking place after the death of her husband, but Martha doesn’t remember it, at least consciously?  And why is the evil house forcing Martha to endure this vision over and over? It’s both difficult to follow and nonsensical, if that’s possible.

Finally, if the house is an evil entity, Martha -- who suspects this to be true – never does the obvious thing.  She never gets out of the darned house and says goodbye to it.  She should pack up and leave and never come back.  But instead she just keeps coming back, a willing victim.  The episode never gets over that huge hurdle in believability.  Even if the house is supernatural, Martha can still depart and never look back.

But probably the worst aspect of “The Summer House” is simply that an external supernatural threat is all-but named (a malevolent, conscious summer house…) when the episode should instead be an exploration of Martha’s internal struggle: guilt over the murder of her husband.

Which hasn’t happened yet. Or is going to happen. Or might happen.


Despite the confusing plot-line, I must acknowledge that many of the visuals in the episode remain stunning.  Every scene set in the basement proves unsettling. The well stands at the bottom of a very long, very narrow staircase, and director Penn makes good use of shadows.  Furthermore, he frequently deploys tight-framing and high-angle shots to increase the sense of Martha's entrapment in a "suspended moment" of time.  All of this style would be a net plus if this episode were a story about human psychology, rather than a story about an evil house that wants to torture Carolyn Jones.

All right, I give up...

Next week, Ghost Story returns to brilliance with “Alter Ego,” an episode starring Helen Hayes as a charming old school teacher, Miss Gilden, who gets put through the ringer by a very naughty little boy...  

Saturday Morning Cult-TV Blogging: Ark II: "The Wild Boy" (September 25, 1976)

This week on Filmation's post-apocalyptic Saturday morning TV series Ark II,  Captain Jonah (Terry Lester) and his crew conduct a geophysical survey in Sector 14, Area 31.  The mission is to discover “rare minerals.”  But before long, a primitive-appearing young human, Isaiah (Mitch Vogel), interferes with their work, and Jonah is nearly trapped in a dark cave.

Local villagers warn the Ark II team that Isaiah is dangerous and that they plan to “put him in a cage and take him out to the great desert.”  Rather than allowing this exile to happen, the crew attempts to befriend the wild boy.  Isaiah is welcomed aboard the Ark  II vehicle and taught how to operate the craft's systems.  However, when Isaiah spots the recently mined crystals, he grows violent and angry, and runs away.

Soon, Isaiah's reasons are all too clear.  The crystals release a dangerous gas that sucks up oxygen, making the Ark II crew suffer from lassitude and fatigue.   While Jonah and Ruth go off to find Isaiah, Samuel loses control of the Ark II, and Jonah must re-board it while the great vehicle is in motion.

Isaiah reveals that his parents died in the cave where the minerals were recovered, and now he fears both it and the crystal.  Understanding this, the villagers make peace with Isaiah and welcome him into the family.  Jonah, meanwhile, arranges for the cave with the dangerous minerals to be permanently sealed.

The twin lessons on Ark II this week are “trust and affection can accomplish more than fear,” and, no less important, even evolved, peaceful folks like Jonah and Ruth can “still learn from those who haven’t had,” the same level of education.

In less didactic terms, “The Wild Boy” is a cool episode of this 1970s Saturday morning TV series for a few reasons.  The first is that this story provides for the closest thing to a car chase we  get on the program's roster.  Samuel loses control of the Ark II, and Jonah and Ruth must catch up in the Roamer and board the craft in motion.  This sequence is well-shot, and amps up the action quotient of the episode and the series considerably.

Secondly, and I know this probably seems minor, but this episode features a great aft-to-fore pan of the interior Ark II set.  It’s one thing to see the set in close-ups, or in establishing shots.  It’s quite another to track the whole set, and see the breadth and scope of it.  It’s really an impressive design, and so far as I can discern, this is a new shot.

Next Week: Robby guest stars in “The Robot.”

Cult Movie Review: Independence Day (1996)

"In less than an hour, aircraft from here will join others from around the world. And you will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind. "Mankind." That word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can't be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests. Perhaps it's fate that today is the Fourth of July, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom. Not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution, but from annihilation. We are fighting for our right to live. To exist. And should we win the day, the Fourth of July will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day the world declared in one voice: "We will not go quietly into the night!" We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence Day! "

- President Whitmore (Bill Pullman) delivers an historic address in Independence Day (1996).

Independence Day (1996) remains one of the big “event” movies of the 1990s, a sci-fi blockbuster of monumental, almost unimaginable proportions.  The crowd-pleasing film successfully tapped into the decade’s unending fascination with aliens and UFOs (The X-Files, for example) and significantly augmented that interest too, resulting in a slew of further alien films and TV programs from Dark Skies (1996) to Men in Black (1997).

As an inside-the-industry cautionary tale, Independence Day also represented the (unfortunate) cementing of the Emmerich/Devlin blockbuster “formula” -- a revival of 1970s disaster film tropes.  This format would meet its Waterloo in 1998’s Godzilla, but nonetheless continues right into this decade with films such as the dreadful 2012 (2010).


Of all the Emmerich genre fare, I’m most fond of 1994’s Stargate, as it seems to strike the right balance between spectacle and intelligence.  After that film’s release, the scales in further efforts kept tipping towards spectacle and away from brains, and so the ensuing films suffer mightily for the imbalance. 

That established, I was certainly part of the enthusiastic audience for Independence Day upon its summer release, and I still remember how great the film looked on the big screen.  A recent re-watch confirms how terrific the miniature effects remain.  The scenes of awesome alien saucers lumbering to position over major world cities -- though obviously reminiscent of Kenneth Johnson’s V (1984) -- remain downright staggering.

What ages Independence Day most significantly, instead, is the pervasive shtick and the schmaltzy, sentimentality-drenched characters. At every step of the way during its narrative, Independence Day punctures its end-of-the-world majesty and gravitas with low humor and over-the-top sentimentality, qualities which today render the whole affair close to camp. 

Science fiction fans, of course, experienced conniption fits over Independence Day’s unlikely finale: a third act which sees an Earth-produced computer virus successfully uploaded to an alien computer aboard a mother-ship, thus giving humans the opportunity to strike back…on July 4^th, no less. 

The movie doesn’t pay even lip service to the idea that aliens from another solar system might have developed anti-virus software (!), let alone computer systems totally incompatible with our 20th century Earth technology. 

Given how badly things go for Earth in the first hour of Independence Day, it’s difficult to countenance the film’s final veer into outright fantasy as every heroic campaign – with split-second timing – comes together perfectly.

Despite my misgivings about the film’s humor, sentimentality, and narrative resolution, however, I still find the grave, apocalyptic, anxiety-provoking tone of Independence Day’s first hour worthwhile, especially the President’s grim choice to deploy nuclear weapons in an American city to drive off the aliens.   

It would be absolutely foolish to deny, too, that some of Independence Day’s imagery has become iconic in the annals of cinema history.  We all remember that portentous shot of hovering saucer pulping the White House for instance.  Thus -- even while criticizing this over-sized beast -- I've got to give the Devil his due for getting matters right on a visual terms

In terms of theme, Independence Day works overtime to remind all of us that although we are separated by oceans and other Earthly partitions, we are all nonetheless citizens of the same planet. It’s a laudable message in an age of hyper-partisanship to be certain, even if delivered with little nuance or subtlety.  This through-line in the film is consistently and well-conveyed, both in terms of incident and in the make-up of the diverse dramatis personae.  Who would have imagined our precious Earth could be saved by a war veteran, a drunk crop-duster, a Jewish cable repairman and an African-American fighter pilot?

Movie critics were understandably divided on Independence Day.  At The New York Times, Janet Maslin wrote: “Guess what: "Independence Day" lives up to expectations in a rush of gleeful, audience-friendly exhilaration, with inspiring notions of bravery that depart nicely from the macho cynicism of this movie season. Its innocence and enthusiasm are so welcome that this new spin on "Star Wars" is likely to wreak worldwide box-office havoc, the kind that will make the space aliens' onscreen antics look like small change.”

Writing for The Washington Post, Rita Kempley opined: “"Independence Day" is primarily a $70 million kid's toy, a star-spangled excess of Roman candles and commando games designed to draw repeat business from 9- to 12-year-old boys. Little girls won't find any role models among the barnstormers, though a plucky exotic dancer is featured among the heroines. Even with the end of the world in sight, she shakes her booty. It's for her kid. No, really.  Maybe the moviemakers' mission was to boldly go where everyone in Hollywood has gone before: the bank.”

Honestly, I can see both sides of the critical equation in this case. Independence Day is such dumb fun, and yet fun nonetheless.

“A toast...to the end of the world.”

The people of planet Earth watch with anxiety and wonder as three-dozen alien saucers descend from orbital space to take up positions over cities around the globe.  President Whitmore (Bill Pullman), a former jet pilot in Desert Storm, advises calm, but new information from genius cable repair man David Levinson (Jeff Goldblum) suggests the alien ships have initiated a countdown and are preparing a coordinated attack.

As the countdown ends, Levinson’s suspicions are confirmed, and the alien ships destroy Los Angeles, Washington D.C., New York and other population hubs. President Whitmore survives the attack on the Oval Office and escapes by Air Force One.  He promptly orders a retaliatory strike.  Pilot, top-gun, and would-be astronaut Steven Hiller (Will Smith) downs an alien ship during battle, and captures one of the fearsome aliens for study.  The rest of the fight, however, is a rout, and the U.S. jets are unable to penetrate alien shields.  Humanity stands upon the edge of extinction.

The President visits the secret military base at Area 51, and learns there that scientists there have been experimenting with an alien ship for close to fifty years.  When Hiller arrives, the President attempts to communicate with Hiller's captured alien, but finds the being implacably hostile.  The aliens, he soon learns, are like locusts.  They travel from solar system to solar system using up planetary systems and then moving on…leaving only carnage and waste in their wake.

After nuclear weapons prove ineffective against the aliens, President Whitmore is at a loss how to save the planet, or the human race.  But David comes through again.  He believes he can take the captured alien ship at Area 51 to the mother-ship and upload a computer virus there, thus bringing down alien shields…at least for a few minutes.  When Steven volunteers to fly that risky mission, it’s up to the President himself to coordinate and lead a huge aerial attack against the alien saucers, both in America, and world-wide…

“It's a fine line between standing behind a principle and hiding behind one. You can tolerate a little compromise, if you're actually managing to get something accomplished.”

For a film about such a terrifying topic – an alien invasion – Independence Day frequently plays thing...light.  At least a half-dozen major supporting characters in the film are defined by their shtick. Judd Hirsch plays a nagging Jewish Dad, Julius Levinson, and his lines and delivery are pure Borscht Belt ham-bone.   Harvey Fierstein plays another kitschy character, Marty, who hams it up and makes jokes about his therapist and his (presumably overbearing...) mother.  Harry Connick Jr. portrays a cocksure pilot who provides the film at least one dopey gay joke.

But the worst character is likely Randy Quaid’s Russell Casse, a drunken crop-duster (and alien abductee) who joins the air battle against the aliens during the film's denouement.  Quaid’s dialogue is so incredibly dreadful that it has become the stuff of legend and MST3K fodder.  “I picked the wrong day to stop drinking,” springs immediately to mind. 

Among all these actors hamming it up and stealing time, Brent Spiner likely fares the best as aging ex-hippie and scientist Dr. Okun. Spiner comes off as weird and eccentric, but not so dreadfully hammy that you want to turn away from the screen in shame for watching.  His last scene -- played with alien tentacles pressing against his larynx -- is also genuinely unsettling.

Why do I have a problem with the film's pervasive moments of low humor?  Well, Independence Day already boasts Jeff Goldblum and Will Smith continually cracking wise in leading roles.  Their dialogue is dreadful too, from "Welcome to Earth" to "Now that's what I call a close encounter!"  Given all this material from our leads, do we really need Judd Hirsch, Harvey Fierstein, Harry Connick Jr., Randy Quaid and even Brent Spiner dishing out lame one liners too?  The ubiquitous nature of these characters makes Independence Day, at times, resemble an overblown sitcom.  Maybe if the material were stronger, these characters would not seem so objectionable. I guess what I'm saying, is that these moments are rarely actually funny.

Another weak character is Secretary of Defense Nimzicki (James Rebhorn), a man who in one scene advises the full scale nuking of many American cities, but in a later scene argues against a “risky” maneuver to attack the alien mother-ship and upload the virus.  His objections to the (ultimately) successful plan make no sense, and aren’t consistent with the “war hawk” image he projects in the film all along; a guy who advises going to Def-Con 2 before the President has made his final decision.  Instead, Nimzicki is contradictory simply so the audience can boo at him, and the President can dress him down…thus appearing tough and resolute. 

While I have real disdain for much of the writing and characterization in Independence Day, I do feel that the film's visuals often still shock, and often still carry real emotional resonance.  One shot, set on July 3^rd, reveals the Statue of Liberty toppled, face down in the harbor...a massive saucer hovering low in the sky.  Colored in autumnal browns,  this is a terrifying composition of American culture annihilated.  It’s tough indeed to compete with the amazing Statue of Liberty imagery of Planet of the Apes, yet this moment in Independence Day remains quite upsetting.    The film is also anxiety-provoking in the way it reveals American military might crushed before a more technologically-advanced enemy.  The battle sequences, the nuclear option, and other heavy moments are all deeply scary because one realizes that if America can’t save the world…the world ain’t getting saved.  Indeed, Independence Day plays up the alien threat so successfully in terms of spectacular visuals and special effects that there’s almost no way the scripted, climactic victory can ring true.  It’s like we’ve slipped into an alternate movie or something.

The first half of Independence Day is undeniably the strongest, as alien saucers push through storm and cloud fronts, and emerge over our cities, casting dark shadows upon bewildered and amazed populations.  These moments continue to impress, and pack an almost visceral gut punch.  We’ve all wondered if, one day, we’ll wake up to something like this imagery…a new dawn in which we learn definitively we are no longer alone.   As much as I deride Independence Day’s silly humor and bad dialogue, I have no quibbles whatsoever with the way that these scenes of “arrival” are vetted.  As I said in my introduction, many of these scenes still carry a staggering punch.

From its first shots to its final ones, Independence Day also makes an interesting point about mankind being unified by a threat from the outside.  The film opens with imagery of a plaque on the moon which reads “We came in peace for all mankind.”  That’s a wonderful thought, the movie seems to suggest, but then the filmmakers set up a paradigm by which that hopeful expression of common cause is tested.  Suddenly, all mankind must work together to defeat the alien threat, putting competition and petty differences aside.  This idea is expressed through scenes set in Iraq, the location of America’s most recent war (Gulf War I).  There, in the desert, British and Iraqi soldiers join the battle against the mother ships.  The implication of such scenes is that mankind is indeed capable of working together.

The same idea is presented in the film in the (positive) character of President Whitmore.  Before the alien crisis, he is viewed not as a warrior, but as a “wimp.”  He can’t even get his Crime Bill passed by a hostile Congress.  Whitmore laments that “it’s just not simple, anymore” and that people don’t seem to understand that compromise is the only path towards moving everyone ahead, together.  He then works with the nations of the world to defeat the aliens, and in the process transforms an American holiday into an Earth holiday.   Again, the message implicit in Independence Day is that we can apply ourselves to solve big problems, not just alien invasions.  Why can’t we all band together to keep our neighbors and our neighbors' children from starving?  Or to eliminate poverty?  Once we acknowledge our common humanity, petty partisan differences shouldn’t really matter, should they?

In this sense, Independence Day -- set in part on July 4^th -- acknowledges a new, evolved brand of patriotism.  It is a patriotism not merely to party or to one nation, but to all of humanity.  As a fan of Star Trek and a person who believes we can achieve great things if we sometimes accept compromise, I appreciate the film’s ultimate message of hope about human nature.  This consistently-applied theme almost mollifies my concerns about the film’s ridiculous and ill-conceived conclusion, and the surfeit of characters who spew cliché after cliché, bad joke after bad joke.  Almost, but not quite.    Still, I know I'm spitting in the wind against an 800 million dollar blockbuster, a veritable entertainment machine.

So am I a hopeless sentimental for recognizing Independence Day’s entertainment and social value, even amidst so many stupid groaners and moments of cynical, calculated humor?  

Or, like Randy Quaid's character...did I just pick the wrong day to stop drinking?

Movie Trailer: Independence Day (1996)

Ask JKM a Question #7: Solaris? (2002)

A reader named Chris writes:

"I'd love to read a 'Muir' analysis (and hopefully an appreciation too) of the Soderbergh re-make of Solaris (11/27/2002). The film impacted me in ways I did not expect when I saw it 4 years back. In the same way I sense that you do, I derive the most enjoyment from films that deliver real identifiable characters, and subtext.

In terms of psychology and subtext, the Solaris re-make has it (no, I haven't seen the Lem original yet, I'm holding off on that for now, while I continue to experience the resonance wave patterns of the remake), and then, some.  It's not only good Sci-Fi, but good horror, and a sort of "Eyes Wide Shut" type film too." 

Hi Chris, I saw the remake in the theater back when it was released in 2002, and the ticket sales-lady actually tried to discourage me and my wife from seeing the film.  She said that "nothing happens" in the movie and by that I presume she meant that there are no laser battles, no spaceships fighting, and no other obvious action scenes.  Then I talked to a manager about turning down the heat in the auditorium, and told him offhandedly that I heard the movie was "kind of slow." He replied that I was wrong and that it was a brilliant movie.  Thus two very different perspectives came at me regarding the film right out of the gate, before I even saw it.

Well, guess who was right?  Solaris is a brilliant movie, and what it lacks in terms of sci-fi movie bells and whistles in gains through its dedicated excavation of character.  The film is a profound meditation on identity, and how identity is actually an internally-constructed quality.  It can't be constructed from outside by someone else, even someone who loves us very much.  It's a haunting and memorable thesis, told in the context of a tragic love story.

I own the film on DVD -- it's a favorite -- so it looks like it's time to haul Solaris out and do a full-scale review.  Look for it in the days ahead, and thanks for reminding me of a great movie from last decade.

Collectible of the Week: The Six Million Dollar Man: A Game By Parker Brothers (1975)

I was just five years old during “Bionic Mania” that all-too-short a span in the 1970s when The Six Million Dollar Man (1974 -1978) and his spin-off, The Bionic Woman (1976 – 1978) reigned supreme on television, and at toy stores thanks to the efforts of Kenner and Parker Brothers.

Not long ago, my parents found a fun little reminder of those days in the mid-1970s at a local yard sale: The Six Million Dollar Man board game from Parker Brothers, manufactured in 1975. 

The back of the box spells out the game’s specifics:

“Four bionic men each claim to have Steve Austin’s powers.  Your job is to prove that YOU ARE THE REAL SIX MILLION DOLLAR MAN.

The Computer Spinner reads out your moves and gives you the power to handle assignments for NASA, INTERPOL, the CIA and the Defense Department.  You’ll take part in dangerous missions – encountering imposters and waging Bionic Battles.

Each assignment will make you stronger.  And the stronger you become the faster you’ll move around the board and back to the Bionic Research Lab where you’ll win the game.

On the box front, you can see images from the four scenarios you get to explore in the game: “Steve Austin rescues stranded astronaut,” “Steve Austin prevents nuclear blackmail attempt,” “Steve Austin knocks out International Crime Ring” and “Steve Austin locates underwater missile network.”

Unfortunately, there is not a scenario called Steve Austin fights Bionic Big Foot.

Anyway, the first player to complete all four assignments proves that he’s the real Six Million Dollar Man.  Bionic battles ensue when a “player lands on a space which is occupied by another player.” 

Where many games from this era seem to have nothing to do with the TV series they are related to, this game’s description actually sounds like it could be a Six Million Dollar Man plot-line.  I can just see Oscar Goldman (Richard Anderson) now, informing an alarmed Colonel Austin (Lee Majors) that three bionic imposters have been spotted all over the globe…and he’s got to stop them.

Happy Fourth of July!

Game Board of the Week Alien (Kenner; 1979)