Return to the Planet of the Apes (1975) Intro

Saturday Morning Cult-TV Blogging: Land of the Lost: "Tasha" (September 7, 1991)

In 1991, producers Sid and Marty Krofft revived the popular Land of the Lost (1974 – 1977) concept for a new era.  This new version of Land of the Lost aired for two seasons on ABC, and the run ultimately came to 26 half-hour episodes.  The series was popular enough during the early 1990s that a considerable line of show-related toys was released from Tiger Toys.

Like the original Land of the Lost from the 1970s, this new version of the story begins after a family has already arrived in the hostile pocket universe of three moons. 

In the original series, the first episode was called “Chaka” and involved the Marshalls -- Rick, Holly and Will -- meeting a friendly denizen, a Pakuni child.  The first episode of the re-made Land of the Lost “Tasha,” duplicates that template.  Here, the stranded family -- Tom, Annie and Kevin Porter -- encounter a newly-hatched, baby dinosaur.  This dinosaur is named “Tasha” after Annie’s dead mother.  And, as another point of connection, the Marshall children had also lost their mother at some point before arriving in Altrusia in the original series.

This new version of Land of the Lost demonstrates how much times had changed since 1974, to be certain.  Specifically, the Porters arrive with far more amenities and technological assets than did the Marshalls.  The Marshalls spent their early years in the Land of the Lost in a dusty cave called High Bluff.  When we first meet the Porters in “Tasha,” they have already constructed and furnished an elaborate tree-house which stands high off the ground, and which boasts a separate kitchen (replete with sink) and sleeping area. 

Furthermore, the Porters have their car with them, which is still operable, plus Sony Walkman radios, and a hand-held video camera.  They also have a boom-box and a box garden.  In other words: all the comforts of home, a planet away.  I have not seen episodes of this series in many years, so it will be interesting to note, going forward how the Porter’s technology plays a role in their adventures.

In terms of production, the 1990s Land of the Lost does not rely on chroma-key matting, dinosaur miniatures, or sound-stage shooting.  There’s a great deal of exterior work instead, and the dinosaurs – designed by the Chiodo Brothers -- are depicted with much more detailed (and much more menacing-looking) puppets.  Personally, I prefer the look of the dinosaurs in the original series, but that’s my own sense of nostalgia speaking, and not a reflection on the Chiodos’ work. I suspect these new dinosaurs will just take a little getting used to. 

In “Tasha” we also meet the dinosaur antagonist of the series.  The original series had the T-Rex named Grumpy, and here we meet “Scar,” the T-Rex responsible for murdering Tasha’s mother and eating all her eggs, save for one.  Scar also attacks the Porter tree-house twice during this episode, but is finally repelled when the family rigs their car to deliver the dinosaur an electric shock.

The greatest drawback I detect at this early stage of the re-made Land of the Lost (1991 – 1993) is that it possesses no coherent or distinctive sound-design, one of the most amazing qualities of the original series.  You can turn on the original Land of the Lost and you won’t mistake it for any other series ever produced.  The sounds of the jungle-world of Altrusia are highly-distinctive, and make the alien world seem very real, and consistent from installment to installment.  

Similarly, the visualizations of the Land of the Lost in the original series -- while clearly done on the cheap -- also created a kind of cohesion or unity of thought in terms of technology (like the pylons and the crystal matrix tables) and the locations in terms of the lost city of the Sleestaks, and other subterranean and above-ground constructs.  I’ll be looking hard during this retrospective of Season One of the 1990s remake to see if I can make the same observations about its production design.

In terms of the characters, the Porters are pretty obviously a recreation of the Marshalls, only updated for the 1990s.  Annie is a little more forthright and independent at the beginning than Holly was.  Indeed, that sense of dawning independence became Holly’s character arc, and I’ve often insisted the series is really about her, not Will or Marshall.  Meanwhile, Kevin seems more obnoxious and snarky than Will ever was, but again…this is the 1990s we’re talking about so I guess that’s to be expected.  The Dad, Tom, much like Spencer Milligan’s Rick Marshall, seems a paragon of patience and wisdom.

Next week, we learn much more about this new land of the lost and its denizens in episode #2, “Something’s Watching.”

Saturday Morning Cult-TV Blogging: Land of the Lost (1991) Intro

Cult TV Review: The Name of the Game: "L.A. 2017" (1971)

L.A. 2017" "is a uniquely dystopian episode of the wheel TV series The Name of the Game (1968-1971) and one directed by none other than movie legend Steven Spielberg.

Networks don't present so-called wheel series these days, but The Name of the Game filled a ninety-minute slot each week of its 76-episode run on NBC, with three rotating lead actors (Gene Barry, Tony Franciosa and Robert Stack) vetting different story lines. 

In this case, all the adventures portrayed on The Name of the Game centered around Howard Publishing.  Franciosa played an investigative reporter, Stack a crime magazine editor, and Gene Barry was Glenn Howard, the publisher-and-chief.

Created near the end of The Name of the Game's three year run, on the then-considerable budget of $375,000 dollars, "L.A. 2017" features Gene Barry's character, and sends him off in an unexpected and frightening science fiction adventure.

As "L.A. 2017" (written by Philip Wylie) commences, Glenn Howard is on his way back to Los Angeles from the Sierra Pines Conference on Ecology. 

As he drives on a windy mountain road, Glenn dictates a private memo to the President of the United States about what he has seen and heard at the conference.  He suggests that "the destruction of the environment" is imminent unless someone begins to demonstrate real leadership on the issue.

While steering and dictating the memo, Glenn suddenly falls unconscious and drives his car off the road. When he awakes, he is being tended to by two emergency workers in red jumpsuits and protective gas masks. 

These men escort him through the "Los Angeles Portal" to the city.  But it's not the same city it once was, as Glenn quickly learns.  The year is now 2017, and the surface of the planet Earth is uninhabitable.  Mankind has moved underground to a series of overcrowded subterranean complexes.

While Glenn tries to figure out how he traveled into his own future, the authorities of L.A.in 2017 interrogate him.  Cameron (Severn Darden) is a psychiatrist and chief-of-police, and is suspicious of the stranger.  Cameron fears Glenn might be part of a violent underground movement seeking to destroy the cities.  "I can get anything I want out of you, electronically," he confides in his ward.   Soon, Cameron diagnoses Glenn as either "schizoid" or telling the truth about his time travels.

In short order, Glenn is introduced to the amiable Vice-President of Los Angeles, Dane Bigelow (Barry Sullivan).  Dane further explains the nature of this terrifying future.  He describes how mankind has been underground since 1989, when the atmosphere grew "toxic" after the growth of poisonous algae in the Indian Ocean.   Because "science and government stood by while everything died," the business community of the United States took over control of the country, drafting a "Corporate Constitution" that gave all surviving citizens shares in America, Inc.  Supposedly, this is a more "efficient" system of government, than before.  At least according to Bigelow and the Chairman of America Inc.

A beautiful young woman, Sandrette (Sharon Farrell) gives Glenn a tour of the underground city, home to 11,000 survivors.  She introduces herself by informing Glenn is she is "thirty, sterile and a sex education major."  Sandrette then takes Glenn to church where computers have taken the place of priests.  You can type your spiritual question on a keyboard, and the computer will answer it.  Example: Q: "How do I find the truth?"  A: "It will find you." 

The more Glenn learns of life in LA in 2017, the less he likes it.  America is at war with England over a jurisdictional matter, and many of the poor citizens are assigned to public housing, five or six people to a single room.  Worse, these homes often show seepage from the surface, and the air is becoming unbreathable.  Other people are exploited as workers on the poisonous surface, an occupation with a 20 percent death rate. 

Milk is the drink of the rich, because there's only one cow, and it is "privately owned."

The state also constantly monitors all citizens, making privacy a thing of the past. 

"If there's no privacy, there can't be any invasion of privacy," Sandrette cheerily informs the visitor from the 20th century.  When Glenn asks her if there is any freedom in the city at all, Sandrette's response is similarly vacant: "Freedom is always relative to the needs of the community."

In the final moments of "L.A. 2017," Glenn escapes the city, where the Vice-President has plans to install him as the head of a state-sponsored press/propaganda outfit, and tries to make it back to his car, and hopefully, back to his time...

Although "L.A. 2017" features the dreaded "it was all a dream," dramatic cheat at the end, it nonetheless makes for a remarkably powerful program, forecasting ably the growing power and influence of corporations in America, as well as a technological surveillance state.  The movie boasts many great, almost throwaway moments involving the city's official announcements over loudspeakers, for instance.  One such advertisement encourages citizens to "borrow against their shares at an interest rate of just 35 percent,"  a concept that is not at all foreign to our contemporary country, post Great Recession. 

This episode of The Name of the Game is veritably filled with brilliant little asides like that, such as the surprise announcement in a control room that "there are unconfirmed reports of a Negro(!) in Cleveland," meaning, apparently that most African-Americans did not live to survive the new Corporate America.  Another interesting touch: parenthood is "no longer for amateurs."  On the contrary, the State has "professionals" do it now; professionals who have removed the words "mother" and "father" from society all together. So the episode also reflects the growth of the so-called "Nanny State."

I also enjoyed the way the episode blends psychiatrists with law-enforcers; these fearsome men are -- quite literally -- thought-police (and armed with weapon cylinders which fire injections of "counter-productive" drugs.)

But the episode's finest and most telling moment arises in the last act.  Glenn visits Vice-President Bigelow and upbraids him for maintaining and nourishing a "totalitarian state." 

At first, Bigelow responds that "survival justifies anything" in 2017, but then he changes his tact. 

He turns Glenn's self-righteousness around on the man from the 20th century.  If Glenn hates this "future" so much, why didn't he do something about the environment when he had money, fame and power, back in 1971?  Who is he to judge the future if he didn't take responsibility for building it in the first place? 

This is a really clever narrative angle, because it asks the audience, rather bluntly, to take just such responsibility for our shared tomorrows.   Why aren't we complaining more loudly that some people -- in the thrall of big business -- want to gut rules and regulations that keep our water clean, our food safe, and our air breathable? 

Director Steven Spielberg does a solid, highly-effective job creating and charting this dystopian future of the year 2017.  He sometimes sets his camera high--up (pointed down) to catch an angled-perspective of the various rooms; presenting the appearance of being a surveillance camera view.   On other occasions, he uses extreme low angles looking up to present us multiple levels of surveillance, a visual cue that the upper class is always looking down on the rest of the populace.

Otherwise, Spielberg gets the absolute most out of the tunnels and corridors of the city, fostering memorable visions of a claustrophobic world.  In the episode's final road chase -- an ambulance versus a police car with a hood-mounted machine gun -- he deploys many of the same expressive angles he used in Duel (1971). 

Finally, Spielberg's last shot -- a shift in focus from a "rescued" Glenn in 1971 to a dead bird on a bare tree branch in the foreground -- proves a nice way of undercutting the facile "it was all a dream" ending.  Instead, Spielberg puts the valedictory focus of this piece on the environment, leaving us no choice but to consider its importance.

What surprised me a great deal about this long-ago production was -- to take a page from Glenn's dialogue -- "how it's all remarkably consistent."  The episode is filled with odd touches (like a rock-and-roll club for senior citizens), affecting touches (a painted skyline is all that's left of surface life...), and moments of authentic pathos (the death of one of the four last fish in the world...).   There's not one moment of empty air in this TV show from forty-two years ago; not one wasted breath.  Instead, Spielberg and writer Wylie fill in every inch of the movie with terrifying and memorable detail.

The episode's predictions are clearly hit or miss.  The environment in 2013 may be in difficulties, but it isn't destroyed.  Rather, the predictions about modern surveillance techniques and the rise of the corporation seem more apt.  Whether right or wrong, "L.A. 2017" represents a good early look at Steven Spielberg's approach to filmmaking, and an intriguing time capsule of 1970s "futurist" concerns.

The Name of the Game (1968 - 1971) Intro

The X-Files 20th Anniversary Blogging: "Small Potatoes" (April 20, 1997)

The fourth season of The X-Files (1993 – 2002) represents a remarkable and fertile time in the series’ history and development.  The ratings were through the roof, and creatively the stories pushed the limits in terms of on-screen horror (“Home”), but also in terms of character development. 

On the latter front, Scully developed cancer during this span, and the Chris Carter series also adopted a new, often askance perspective on Mulder. In episodes such as “Never Again,” Scully found herself objecting more and more to Mulder’s way of doing things, and even, after a fashion, rebelling against his mentor-ship.

The de-mythologizing, or more aptly, humanizing of the main characters continues in a comedic little masterpiece called “Small Potatoes,” an episode which is actually anything but small.  In this tale written by Vince (Breaking Bad) Gilligan, Mulder and Scully confront a loser who can re-shape his face and body so as to become anyone he chooses.

But significantly, Eddie Van Blundht (played by series writer Darin Morgan) alters his physical appearance not merely for the purposes of sex, but because he longs for some touch of romance or sense of connection in his unhappy, lonely life.  He can’t find that connection as himself, and so he must shroud his true identity to attain the happiness he seeks. Eddie even approaches one woman, a former girlfriend, in the guise of her movie hero, Luke Skywalker. 

It’s a weird paradigm: Van Blundht can only be his best self when he is imitating someone else.

“Small Potatoes” explicitly contrasts Van Blundht’s desire -- as a living, breathing X-Files -- to reach out and relate to people with Mulder’s opposite approach; the agent’s all-consuming desire to understand the X-Files, a task which, a priori, prevents him from reaching out in a personal, romantic sense. 

Dynamically and unconventionally then, “Small Potatoes” suggests that as a (romantic) partner, Van Blundht may actually preferable to Mulder, at least for Scully, who also longs for some sense of deeper human relationship outside the work culture. 

This is a matter that The X-Files takes up again in the fifth season, as Scully’s longings to become a mother come to the forefront.  But the point is that she is asking questions about her life, and becoming impatient with it as it stands.  She wants to take a next step, and possibly with Mulder, but he is not ready.

So in short, the theme of “Small Potatoes” might be viewed as a pretty big swipe at the handsome, heroic and dedicated series protagonist, Mulder.  For all his intuitive genius, for all his brilliance, he is emotionally arrested.

Still, this installment thrives as both a comedy and trenchant examination of character because Mulder and Scully are both keenly observed, and David Duchovny goes all in -- and I mean all in -- for his comedic performance as Blundht-in-Mulder’s-Guise.

In a small town in West Virginia, four infants with tails are born to four different sets of parents.  When Scully (Gillian Anderson) and Mulder (David Duchovny) investigate, they determine that this genetic anomaly can only mean one thing: all the babies stem from the same father, perhaps a sperm donor.

While looking deeper into this mystery, the duo discovers that a custodian in a local doctor’s office, Eddie Van Blundht (Darin Morgan) is the culprit. 

He not only once had a tail (which he had surgically removed), but possesses a bizarre muscular condition that can alter or re-arrange his features.  He uses this ability so that he can mimic the physical appearance of any man…and thus have sex with any woman of his choosing.

Soon, Van Blundht escapes from police custody, transforms into Mulder, and sets his lascivious sights on Scully…

The crux of the issue in “Small Potatoes” is made plain during a trademark moment of fast-paced dialogue between our twin “lenses” on the world, Mulder and Scully. 

Scully remarks that in terms of Blundht, “looking like someone else and being someone else are two different things.”

Mulder’s thoughtful reply is that people judge other people by appearances, and so if our appearances did change “the world would see us differently.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” He asks her.

Unwittingly, Scully must consider that philosophical point up-close and personal when Van Blundht -- appearing as Mulder -- shows up unannounced at her apartment with a bottle of wine, gets her a little tipsy, proves very good at listening and empathizing, and almost lures Dana into the sack. 

The real Mulder breaks in on this scene, and realizes what is occurring. Van Blundht has stolen his life, and worse, may be doing a better job managing his relationships than he has done!

The sad truth that even Mulder comes to explicitly realize (when he comments that he’s “no Eddie Van Blundht”) is that the chameleon in their midst possesses the very qualities that one might desire in a romantic partner. 

Against him, Mulder realizes, only half-joking, he doesn’t exactly measure up.  Mulder’s never brought over wine to Scully’s house, never asked her about her teenage years, and never taken up an interest in her life just for the sake of “knowing her better.” 

There’s a great scene in this episode of Van Blundht (Duchovny) pretending to be Mulder in front of a mirror, pulling out his badge and gun, and quoting macho dialogue from Scorsese’s Taxi Driver.  But the episode essentially holds up a mirror for Mulder.  With just a little bit of action on his part, he and Scully could be together, but he never takes that step.

But again, a loser like Eddie does. 

Or as Eddie tells Mulder: “I was born a loser, but you’re one by choice.”

In this final recognition of Eddie’s triumph, and Mulder’s failure, the comedic “Small Potatoes” suddenly switches gears.   The focus moves from a unique monster-of-the-week to a very telling commentary on the kind of life Mulder has lived, and chooses yet to live.  Mulder’s a “damned handsome man” to quote Van Blundht, so what’s he waiting for?  Why doesn’t he make a move?

The question becomes, regarding Eddie:  is he just putting on a show for Scully and the other women so he can bed them?  Or is he legitimately just a guy who seeks connection and romance in an otherwise humdrum life, but lacks the self-confidence as “himself” to make that connection? It’s a testament to the complexity of the series that this question is not definitively resolved, and there’s room for interpretation.

Throughout The X-Files, the series writers play with the idea of a Scully/Mulder romantic relationship, but never quite take the plunge (until the end of Season 8).  An episode such as “Small Potatoes” -- which hints at what a Mulder/Scully coupling could look like -- serves an important function.  For one thing, it helps tide fans over between longing looks, the first kiss, and other milestones in the Mulder/Scully relationship.  But in another case, it reiterates a significant theme.  No development in The X-Files comes without some kind of price, or some kind of uncomfortable truth. 

For Mulder, the case involving Eddie Van Blundht puts the onus on him to overcome his inertia.

So again, why doesn’t he make a move? The answer, I believe, simply comes down to that conversation Mulder and Scully share about how people are “seen” by others.  In a relationship that starts out with respect and friendship, there’s much to lose in the transition to romance.  Mulder can’t be someone else --unlike Van Blundht -- and so he must live with the consequences of his relationship choices.

Next Week: “The Post-Modern Prometheus.”

The X-Files Promo: "Small Potatoes"

Collectible of the Week: E.T. Talking Figure (LJN; 1982)

The summer of 1982 was a great one for genre movies, perhaps the greatest in my lifetime. It was the summer of Firefox, Tron, John Carpenter's The Thing, Swamp Thing, The Road Warrior, Blade Runner, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, Poltergeist and another little number from director Steven Spielberg, E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial.

At the time, I was much more into Star Trek than E.T., but many of my friends got into "collecting" mode over the blockbuster and sentimental film about a boy named Elliott (a young Henry Thomas) and his homesick alien pal.

LJN produced a line of E.T. action figures to spur the toy craze. Among the items available were an E.T. Pop-Up Spaceship, an E.T. and Elliott Powered Bicycle, an E.T. Wind-Up Walking Figure, E.T. and Spaceship Launcher, an E.T. Stunt Spaceship, and E.T. 3 and 3/4 inch action figures.

One of the most popular E.T. toys was this talking figure. Designed for ages 3 and up, this action figure stands approximately eight inches tall, features a painted red heart, and can utter such words as "home," "ouch" and "Elliott." The talking figure could also say his own name. three times: "E.T. E.T. E.T." All you had to do to activate the little guy was pull the string on his back.

My parents found this particular collectible on a yard sale excursion with my son Joel and bought it for three dollars. As you can see, it's in pretty good condition for a thirty-year old toy. Personally, I think it makes a good book-end with my LJN Gremlins action figure...

Below, an LJN commercial for the E.T. line.

Lunchbox of the Week: E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial

Board Game of the Week: E.T. The Extra Terrestrial (Parker Bros. 1982)

Movie Trailer: Black Swan (2010)