Showing posts with label The Green Hornet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Green Hornet. Show all posts

June 7, 2024

Around the dial




William Russell died this week, just short of 100 years of age, and with him died one of the last links to the beginnings of Doctor Who. We were introduced to him in the very first episode of Who, airing on November 23, 1963 (albeit delayed from its scheduled start time due to the JFK assassination coverage); he played schoolteacher Ian Chesterton, one of the Doctor's original companions (along with Jacqueline Hill as fellow teacher Barbara Wright and Carole Ann Ford as Susan, the Doctor's granddaughter). Having previously starred in the television series Sir Lancelot (one of the first British imports to American television), it was thought that the young, virile actor could provide the physical action to compliment the older William Hartnell's more cerebral Doctor. He remained on the show for the first two series, and history will record that he was the first person to utter the phrase "Doctor Who." 

We just started rewatching the first season last month, and my wife asked me if he was still living; at that point, he was, and there was something comforting about that, as if the original series was still alive and well. In a sense, he never really left the show; there were references to him throughout the years, he reprised his role as Ian for bridging sequences on a video release of a Hartnell story that was only partially intact; he returned once more for a cameo appearance in 2022 (along with several other former Doctors and companions) in the episode "The Power of the Doctor," aired as part of a celebration commemorating the centenary of the BBC. 

To say that he was fondly remembered by Doctor Who fans is an understatement; I think many of us hold him in the same regard as we do the actors who played the title role. It seemed as if he would go on forever, just like the Doctor, and I suppose that he will, for as long as video continues to exist. Among the many, many tributes on line this week is this typically quirky one from Inner Toob. The finest one, though, is probably the affection with which generations of fans, many of whom weren't even born when Ian Chesterton made his first appearance, continue to have for him. That, I suspect, won't end either.

On the personal side, here are links to my two latest appearances on the Dan Schneider Video Interview. Dan and I discuss Lucille Ball and Mary Tyler Moore, and somehow I was able to stumble through each of them without making a complete fool of myself. I'll have more on what it feels like to be a podcast guest in the near future.

June 1 was National Game Show Day (although I've yet to see the Congressional resolution proclaiming it), and Travalanche commemorated the day with a nifty, comprehensive list of links to all kinds of things game show-related.

The first of two Avengers-related posts comes from The View from the Junkyard, where Roger and Mike match wits with "Invasion of the Earthmen," an episode clearly intended to parody Star Trek, even though that show wouldn't be seen in the UK for another six months.

Keeping with The Avengers, at Cult TV Blog John looks at "The Joker," a Mrs. Peel episode that is actually a remake of the third-series episode "Don't Look Behind You," which featured Mrs. Gale. This wasn't uncommon on The Avengers, so you get the chance to compare and contrast styles.

Martin Grams regales us with some photographs from The Green Hornet television series, which have apparently never been published. The Green Hornet isn't a great series; it never really decided whether to play it straight or camp it up a la Batman, but it was great fun to watch all the same. 

Terence's great blog A Shroud of Thoughts turned 20 this week (!), and to mark the occasion he's linked to the best posts of the past 20 years. I've been at this awhile, but I'm a piker compared to Terence, so let's hope he's up for 20 more years! TV  

April 22, 2022

Around the dial




We're back after the Good Friday break, and as is usually the case after we take a week off, we have a packed trip Around the Dial in-store, so we'll get right to it.

Part three of the Hitchcock Project look at the television work of Sarett Rudley is up at bare-bones e-zine, and this week Jack is looking at "My Brother, Richard," Rudley's teleplay from 1957. It's a routine story, but with a very nice cast: Royal Dano, Inger Stevens, and Harry Townes.

At Classic Film & TV Cafe, Rick gives us seven things to know about Barbara Eden, the wonderful actress who turns 91 (!) this year. She's more than Jeannie, of course, with a list of credits both before and after the show, but I don't think she needed any of that magic to remain a star for all of us.

I Dream of Jeannie wasn't the only '60s sitcom using magic as a premise, of course, but at Comfort TV, Rick takes a slightly darker look at Bewitched, and Darrin's vow to not take advantage of his wife Samantha's powers. His resolve wavered once, but in the end remained firm; what, he asks, can happen when we're the ones being tempted? Will we ever know for sure how resolute we'll be when temptation comes knocking at the door?

It's an "Escape to Tampico" for a flat-busted Bret Maverick at The Horn Section, as Hal recounts the noirish second-season episode, with the great character actor Gerald Mohr as the Bogartesque casino owner Steve Corbett.

Could you possibly resist an event called the First Nether Wallop International Arts Festival? Especially if you knew it featured Peter Cook, Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie, Rik Mayall, Billy Connolly, Rowan Atkinson, and others? It happened in 1984 (you can see highlights here), and John has the details at Cult TV Blog.

The top 10 hits of the Doors is a topic that has pretty much nothing to do with television (although they did their share of TV appearances); since I'm a fan of their music though (though I do cringe at some of the lyrics), I couldn't resist linking to this piece over at The Flaming Nose.

At RealWeegieMidget, Gill reviews the television remake of David Lean's classic Brief Encounter, which I believe aired here on the Hallmark Hall of Fame (back when, well, you know). The ill-fated lovers are played by Richard Burton and Sophia Loren; with them as your stars, do you need anyone else?

Nehemiah Persoff must have been one of the last major stars from television's Golden Age; his performances were often intense and frequently memorable, and one role that encompassed both was the Twilight Zone episode "Judgment Night." At Shadow & Substance, Paul looks at what powered Persoff's powerful performance.

Care for some reading? If, like me, you enjoyed the 1960s television version of The Green Hornet, then you'll be drawn to The Green Hornet: How Sweet the Sting, a new novel by Jim Beard. Martin Grams has the lowdown. 

I promised a lot of good stuff today; hopefully, the wait was worth it. TV  

June 17, 2020

What I've been watching: April—May, 2020






Shows I’ve Watched:

Shows I’ve Bought:
The Ernie Kovacs Show
Batman
The Green Hornet
N.Y.P.D.
Richard Diamond
Appointment with Destiny

Imentioned a couple of months ago, the last time we visited this little corner of the blogosphere world, that I'd been watching some episodes of Ernie Kovacs' 1956 summer replacement show. Or, to be more precise (precision being a trademark of the competent writer, and also yours truly), I'd listed it in the category of stuff I'd bought. That's only partially accurate; I haven't been buying much of anything lately, having once again joined the ranks of the unemployed, but since it would be a pretty one-sided look at my tastes in video if I only told you what I was watching (not to mention I'd run out of material sooner rather than later), I've taken to including in the "bought" category things I've discovered on YouTube or some other streaming platform. In this case, that includes several Kovacs episodes from the wonderful YouTube channel Free the Kinescopes! (exclamation point theirs).

I've written about Kovacs before; he's one of my favorites, and the shows at Free the Kinescopes! don't disappoint. I've got the two volumes of Kovacs material from Shout! Factory—exclamation points are apparently a recurring theme this month—and, while it's been a few years since I've seen them, I think most of of what we have here is new material. Not only that, but unlike the shows from Shout!, these appear to be for the most part intact, including the musical and dancing numbers that are often omitted due to the expense of acquiring the rights. The primary benefit of this is the chance for us to hear more of Edie Adams, Kovacs' wife and sidekick, who has a lovely singing voice to go with her comedic talents. It makes her more of a partner in the success of Kovacs' shows, as well as giving us a chance to see some of Ernie's guest stars, such as singer Bill Hayes. If you're a Kovacs fan, I urge you to go and check these out. If not, why aren't you?

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Batman was, in many ways, the quintessential television series of the 1960s. Like Kovacs, there was a zaniness about the program, a use of color and graphics and camera angles that hadn't been seen on the tube before, at least not with such exposure. It introduced, or at least made popular, a new genre for television: camp. And while its flame burned out relatively quickly—as is often the case with trendsetters and trailblazers—its influence continued, and continues, to be felt.

I'd been old enough to watch the original run of the show when it started back in 1966, but I remember it more clearly during its afterschool broadcasts later on. I liked it, as far as I can recall, although I didn't go crazy over it as so many people did. I viewed it primarily as a comedy, not taking in the irony or the spoofs it entailed, and was quite confused when the Riddler switched from Frank Gorshin to John Astin and then back again. (There were two Catwomen too; what's up with that?) I also remember the feature length movie that was made with the original cast, including yet a third Catwoman, the one and only onscreen appearance of Lee Meriwether; I watched thaHe int one on a Saturday night in a motel room in the college town near the World's Worst Town™, and it was one of the few moments of relief in an otherwise dismal trip. Despite that, however, there are no symptoms of PTSD involved in watching these episodes, in glorious Blu-ray.

Television in 1966 wasn't all that much different from how it had been in previous years. The highest-rated series for the 1965-66 season included programs like Bonanza, The Lucy Show, Andy Griffith and Gomer Pyle. Series like Bewitched and Hogan's Heroes, although they had unorthdox concepts, were essentially conventional (though very good) sitcoms. Batmani, on the other hand, wasn't anything like the two series it replaced on ABC, Ozzie & Harriet and Shindig (remember, it aired twice a week). It was colorful and creative, it showed that crime could be funny, it brought back the concept of the cliffhanger, and at a time when the industry was honing its dramatic chops on the great social issues of the day (see here for example), it emphasized how television, first and foremost, is entertainment. If anything, you might say it built on the legacy of The Beverly Hillbillies, a show that was often criticized for pandering to the lowest common audience denominator, but was often far more clever than it let on.

Unfortunately, the combination of Batman and the James Bond movies had a negative impact on a lot of TV shows of the time, series like The Man from U.N.C.L.E. that took a sharp turn toward the ridiculous and were never able to find their way back. It also created an expectation for The Green Hornet that couldn't be met—wasn't even attempted, in fact. (More about that momentarily.) I'd suggest, though, that you can draw a somewhat straight line from Batman to The Gong Show and Police Squad!, even though the latter played it totally straight and the former defies description.  Batman made television's theater of the abusurd possible.

There’s something delightful and audacious about the show’s efforts to duplicate comic book adventure in a live-action setting, such as the Joker’s (Cesar Romero) escape from prison via a spring-powered catapult buried under the prison yard. We never actually see it happen, but thanks to a cloud of smoke, a well-timed sound effect, and a shot of the platform balancing on the spring after it's shot the Joker over the prison walls. If you've ever seen a Road Runner cartoon, you know how these things work. And, of course the use of the superimposed POWs and BIFFs and whatnot just make the scenes POP off the screen.

Watching it again after all these years, I'm struck by several things. One is that Frank Gorshin was a hell of an actor; we may remember him best for his manic portrayal of the Riddler (and his terrible riddles), but in the times where he lapses into one of his soliloquies while the members of his gang look on, he displays an intensity suggesting something much deeper, namely the existence of a real person under the mask and ridiculous costume. At times like this Gorshin's Riddler seems to retreat into a private world of his own, unaware there's anyone in the room with him, lost in thoughts of who-knows-what. Maybe he's pondering how he came to be like this; I know the comics probably deal with this, but the series doesn't, and it's the only kind of introspection we're likely to get.

Alan Napier, who plays Alfred, the loyal butler, is really good too. He's the soul of discretion, Jeeves for the superhero set, and in the best tradition of English butlers, it's impossible to imagine him getting rattled by anything. It's clear, to me at least, that Bruce and Dick wouldn't be able to get away with anything around Aunt Harriet without Alfred there to facilitate things. And Neil Hamilton really sells the mock-seriousness of Commissioner Gordon, as he has with so many characters in so many classic TV shows of the time. (By the way, have you ever looked at his office? It takes up half a floor in City Hall. I can only imagine what the Mayor's office must look like, but if it doesn't have a spiral staircase and a hot tub on the upper level, I'd be surprised.) And Burgess Meredith looks like he's just having fun playing the Penguin, another in his resume of quirky characters.

Another thing that's intriguing about watching the show with contemporary eyes is its a sustained attack on the parole system. The police, the prison warden, even Batman himself, are all hilariously portrayed as true believers in the rehabilitative powers of incarceration, even though any time anyone gets out of prison, they go right back to their life of crime. Whether this was intended as a sincere but exaggerated belief (and in the War on Poverty-era social programs of the '60s, it would have been all the rage), or if the writers were lampooning the obvious consequences of naive rehabilitators being taken advantage of by hardened criminals, I'm not sure. Either way, it makes Gotham's officials look even more useless than usual, and when the pendulum swings the other way in the Dark Knight movies, it comes across as the logical reaction.

I haven't mentioned the two leads, Adam West and Burt Ward. I wrote about West here, and I don't think I need to add anything more to that. As for Ward, what do you use to describe a straight man in a show where everything's a straight line? I'm not sure, but the wrong Robin would have been disasterous, and Ward is not wrong.

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Van Williams was the junior member of the firm on Bourbon Street Beat; he started out as a law student learning the detective trade and helping answer the phones, but by the end of the show's first (and only) season, he'd come into his own as both a law graduate and a full-fledged detective. When BSB left the air, Williams's character, Kenny Madison, was spun off into another Warner Bros. detective series, Surfside 6. As one of the leads, along with Troy Donahue, Van was now an equal partner in detecting, fighting bad guys, and romancing the gorgeous women always around in these shows. Williams appeared in a third series, The Tycoon, opposite Walter Brennan, before embarking on a role that could have made him a much bigger star: millionaire newspaper publisher Britt Reid, also known as The Green Hornet. Watching him in this series makes me feel as if I've seen him grow up before my eyes, from cub detective to business tycoon and superhero, and I take a great deal of pride in saying that. Williams is a poised, confident businessman, and a cool and collected crimefighter; it's nice to see that he's become a success.

It just wouldn't have been right to review Batman without looking at the series that shared its universe, if not its sensibilities; in fact, I make a point of watching the two of them back-to-back on Friday evenings. The Green Hornet was a product of the Batman phenomenon, and was birthed by William Dozier, who gave us the much-loved Caped Crusader. Unfortunately, and understandably, the Hornet (as he's called by the bad guys) never lives up to Batman's success, for several reasons. One of them is not Al Hirt's fantastic rendition of the show's theme, "Flight of the Bumblebee," given a great arrangement by Sinatra's arranger, Billy May. Another is the dynamic presence of Bruce Lee as Kato, Reid's valet and the Hornet's partner-in-crime. With few exceptions, Lee never really has enough to do in this series, and it's obvious why: he'd have most of the bad guys unconscious in a couple of minutes, leaving us to suffer through the rest of the episode watching Lloyd Gough as Mike, the newspaper's "ace" crime reporter, who keeps trying to prove that the Hornet is the master criminal everyone believes him to be, except for Reid's secretary, Lenore Case. (Wende Wagner) and the D.A. (Walter Brooke). We don't see any of them that much in the series, although Lenore does get put in jeopardy in a couple of episodes, but you have to know going in that any series where Bruce Lee gets number two billing isn't going to afford you much screen time.

There's nothing at all wrong with Williams' performance as Reid. The challenge, other than that the Hornet's completely overshadowed by his supposed sidekick (as would be the case no matter who played Reid) is the decision to play the show straight. Understand, I don't have a problem with that at all; I think The Green Hornet is a lot of fun, and perhaps if it wasn't so closely identified with Batman (there were two crossovers, with each crime-fighting duo making an appearance on the other's show) it would have worked. But while the criminals du jour can be suitably expansive, both Reid and the Hornet are presented as serious, thoughtful, and realistic (given the perimeters of the show's premise). I don't think it was what viewers expected (or were led to expect), with the result that the sting left The Green Hornet after 26 episodes. If this reads like a lukewarm review, you shouldn't take it that way; as I said, I like The Green Hornet a lot. An hour spent with Batman and The Green Hornet is what you need on a Friday evening when you're more interested in entertainment than dealing with the weight of the world, and these days that's praiseworthy indeed. TV