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Showing posts with label twilight zone. Show all posts
Showing posts with label twilight zone. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Orange Is the New Twilight Zone

A non-spoiler non-warning: This post briefly discusses an episode from the new season of Orange Is the New Black but not in any way that would ruin anything for you. However, this post will spoil a 52-year-old episode of The Twilight Zone, in case that is also a concern.


Midway through the fourth season of Orange Is the New Black, one character uses an episode of The Twilight Zone as a metaphor for mental illness. In the context, it’s actually pretty effective: This Twilight Zone in particular involves a couple who wake up in a strange town that’s inexplicably deserted and full of fake items—fake food in the fridge, fake grass, a fake squirrel on a fake tree. They’re just lost, hopelessly, in this strange, empty town. If you’re not familiar with The Twilight Zone, you might think this episode would be good. After all, it was apparently memorable enough to warrant a mention on a show airing half a century later. I would like to take the opportunity to relieve you of this belief, however. It’s terrible.

Whenever I catch a bit of the New Year’s Day Twilight Zone marathon, it’s almost always this episode that I end up seeing, just as a result of dumb bad luck—though I’m sure Rod Sterling would have me believe it’s part of some conspiracy to teach me a lesson about flouting societal conventions. I’m sure there are worse episodes. They made 156 of them in the original series alone, and there’s bound to be a few clunkers. But just as a result of the fact that I’ve seen this one again and again, I am adamant about it being one with a decent enough premise but a terrible payoff made all the crappier by a plot hole big enough to drive a Borgward Isabella through.

Here, then, is why the episode in question, “Stopover in a Quiet Town,” is terrible—so you can know without sitting through all thirty minutes of it yourself.


Like Orange Is the New Black says, it centers on a couple—Bob Frazier (Barry Nelson, the first person ever to play James Bond onscreen) and his wife, Millie (Nancy Malone, who bears a passing resemblance to Amy Poehler). They wake up in a strange house. They’d been at a party the night before, and Millie drove home because Bob was too drunk to get behind the wheel. Neither can remember how they might have ended up in this house, however, and only Millie has some vague recollection of a strange shadow pursuing them. Figuring some kindly strangers took them in, they head downstairs. The house is empty. The fridge opens, but there’s only a prop loaf of bread and a prop turkey inside. The phone doesn’t work.

They head outside, and while everything looks like a normal suburban town, none of the houses seem to be occupied. They assume everyone left for Sunday morning services, but the church is also deserted. They begin to lose it, and Bob starts implying that Millie may have gotten them lost. Millie thinks that they might have been in an accident, died and gone to hell. Bob lights a cigarette and the grass catches fire—because it’s papier-mâché. Finally, they hear a train whistle and get on the train, which is also empty but which they’re happy to find because it could potentially take them anywhere that’s not this Creepsburg, USA. Soon enough, however, the train pulls back into the exact same train station they just left.

At a loss, they get out, but then the shadow returns, moving over the landscape. Bob and Millie run in terror, but it catches up to them. The shadow was from a hand, it turns out—a giant hand that belongs to a giant little girl. Bob and Millie art ant-sized in this girl’s hand, and she just giggles at them menacingly.


Then we see a mother (also giant) stride into frame: “Be careful with your pets, dear. Daddy brought them all the way from Earth,” she says. The Fraziers are placed back down in their prison, and Sterling delivers the closing narration: “The moral of what you’ve just seen is clear. If you drink, don’t drive. And if your wife has had a couple, she shouldn’t drive either. You might both just wake up with a whale of a headache in a deserted village… in the Twilight Zone.”

Here are all the problems I have with this episode:
  • The level of detail in the giant child’s playset is astonishing. For example, they woke up in a made bed. Did this horrible little girl’s giant, stubby fingers have the dexterity to arrange sheets and a comforter? That was enclosed within a bedroom?
  • The Fraziers didn’t notice if the house had electricity or not.
  • When they go outside, it just looks like a sunny, quiet street, when there shouldn’t have been a source of sunlight—or, you know, sky, since they would have looked up and seen it was a child’s bedroom, albeit a supersized one.
  • The aliens who kidnapped the Fraziers look and act exactly like humans, just bigger.
  • They speak English.
  • They call Earth “Earth.”
  • The giant girl has no apparent means to feed the Fraziers, nor to dispose of their waste once they are fed.
  • The giant girl’s father purportedly went to Earth just to get two tiny humans and nothing more—which seems especially weird considering that the giant family put no system in place to ensure the Fraziers’ survival.
  • If our planet were to be visited by a person who was proportional in size to humans as humans are to ants, then, like, the entire continent of North America would probably see it. It would be a history-shattering emergency. Also, if Space Dad landed on Earth, I assume he’d destroy it or at least knock it hopelessly off its orbit. So I guess Earth is done for in this story.
  • Finally, the moral sucks. It’s laudable for the writers to be cautioning against drunk driving, especially during a time during which I imagine all Americans to be constantly drunk, constantly smoking and constantly throwing garbage from their car windows as they drive their cars, which they also do constantly. But the way Sterling’s narration states it, it smacks of sexism today. “Don’t drive drunk, men. Also, even if your idiot wife is under the legal limit (as Millie would have been if she only had two drinks, like she says), she can’t drive either because she might stupidly drive your car onto a giant man’s spaceship without realizing it.” It’s just very of-the-era but nonetheless awkward the way the message is framed at men first, and then extended to women as well, as if anyone needed reminding that alcohol affects women more or less the same way as it does men.
Again, there are other Twilight Zone episodes that have giant plot holes and tacked-on morality, but this particular example keeps popping up in my life, and I just wanted to warn you against letting Orange Is the New Black making you think this was something you should seek out. That, I suppose, is my PSA.

In case you don’t believe me, here’s the episode in all its clunky glory.


EDIT: I realize I have actually have mentioned this episode before as an example of terrible Twilight Zone plots in my Lousy Twilight Zone Plot Generator. Give it a spin! See where that gets you!

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

The Return of Lorina Dunlop

I wouldn’t have ever found Night Gallery had it not been for Lorina Dunlop. And as you should expect from a story that involves Rod Serling, this one has a twist at the end.

More than a year ago, I wrote about a mysterious woman in a painting that I'd found at a thrift store. I didn’t buy the painting, but I did name the woman: Lorina Dunlop. It was hard not to invent a character for this spear tip of a woman who apparently commissioned a portrait and told the artist, “Paint me as I am. Paint my rage.”


In the end, someone else bought Lorina and took her home, where her disapproving eyebrows are surely darkening whatever corner he’s stuck her in. Through the magic of Google image search, Lorina’s owner actually ended up on my blog, where he told me in a comment that Lorina reminded him of a segment from Night Gallery, the macabre anthology series Serling did for NBC after the cancellation of The Twilight Zone. It’s the one that The Simpsons parodies in the fourth Halloween episode, where paintings introduce the various vignettes, and indeed, each segment of Night Gallery has Serling introducing a painting that somehow figures into the plot of the subsequent story. It’s all of the typical Twilight Zone-style, straight-to-the-camera narration — and, for the record, I love The Twilight Zone — so it’s all deliciously hokey, and meted out with every possible dramatic pause. (“A man on a train… who’s about to be confronted by the thing he fears most: A woman… who’s made of dogs… taped together… yet no one else notices. Now what happens when he finds out… he’s… a… robot. Here’s a painting of a creepy doll that we found.”)

Last night, I finally watched Lorina’s segment, “Eyes,” which starred Joan Crawford as Claudia Menlo, a cruel, rich woman woman who undergoes experimental surgery that can restore her sight — but for only twelve hours. In a traditional, Twilight Zone-y twist, there’s a citywide blackout at the moment she removes her bandages, and Menlo only sees a few fleeting moments of a sunrise before her time is up. She never gets a chance to gaze upon her extensive art collection, which, now that I think about it, is a strange thing for a blind woman to spend years amassing, and why didn’t she plan her twelve hours of eyesight so that it would happen during the daylight anyway?

The entire segment — which was directed by a then-unknown Steven Spielberg — is currently available on YouTube.


And here’s the painting of Claudia Menlo.


Funny how Claudia — a self-motivated harridan who doesn’t mind in the least that her procedure necessitates the donation of a living person’s eyes — still looks softer than Lorina, who presumably was not a TV villain in need of ironic punishments. I’ll continue to wonder why Lorina’s painter made the decisions he made, and I’ll continue to have a pretty solid hunch about how the final product ended up at a thrift shop in the first place.

This story about Night Gallery has a bizarre pop-cultural footnote. In its syndicated form, Night Gallery includes pared-down versions of its original episodes as well as the entire two-season run of The Sixth Sense, a completely unrelated, non-anthology ABC series about paranormal investigations. These episodes were themselves chopped down from sixty to thirty minutes. Rod Serling filmed intros for these segments too, as if they belonged in the original series, but as Wikipedia notes, “Serling's newly added introductions usually covered the introductory scenes and plot point set-ups that had been removed.” And if that weren’t confusing enough, there’s the awkwardness of tuning into an anthology series and sometimes getting the kind of Twilight Zone one-offs you’d expect and sometimes getting serial segments with recurring characters. Weirdest of all, however, is the question of Joan Crawford’s final acting role. A few sources note Crawford’s Night Gallery role as her last, but it's not. Her actual final acting role was in a Sixth Sense episode titled “Dear Joan: We’re Going to Scare You to Death.” (So I guess it worked…?)


So in the end, as the result of an inexplicable syndication packaging decision, Joan Crawford’s final acting role kinda-sorta was on Night Gallery after all. And if you click above, you’ll see Crawford four years older than she was in "Eyes," playing the innocent victim but looking oddly more like Lorina Dunlop than ever.

There’s one major plus to The Sixth Sense being rolled into Night Gallery, however: Anything airing after the Night Gallery opening credits instantly seems more appealing. They’re beautiful — straddling the line between creepy and weird, and perfectly capturing the transition from 60s psychedelia into a bolder 70s brand of supernatural.


Weird TV, previously:

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Ethel Gets Eaten — Nancy Cartwright and the Twilight Zone Movie

Today, I want to talk about Nancy Cartwright, the actress famous for two things: providing the voice of Bart Simpson and being a Scientologist. That may seem like a short list of accomplishments, but when you consider how well-known Bart Simpson is and how many people have spent hours and hours watching him, you realize that Cartwright wields more power in Hollywood than a great many actors with more recognizable faces. However, I’m not so much concerned with Bart as I am with Nancy’s career before The Simpsons, specifically her film debut in 1983’s The Twilight Zone: The Movie.

Now, of course, when you’re talking about this movie, it’s hard not to think about it being the Hollywood production that killed Jennifer Jason Leigh’s dad and two child actors in a horrific helicopter accident. But put that aside for a moment and focus on the third segment of the film, “It’s a Good Life.” Directed by Gremlins guy Joe Dante, this segment is a remake of the famously creepy Twilight Zone episode of the same name, which featured Billy Mumy as Anthony, a child who holds an entire town hostage with his power to bend reality however to suit his own selfish, childish purposes. (Cloris Leachman stars as his tormented mother. If you have never seen it, do so. It’s great television.) In the movie version, Anthony is played by Jeremy Licht, the actor best-known for being one of the non-Jason Bateman Hogan Family sons. Nancy Cartwright plays Ethel, a character introduced as being Anthony’s sister, though she’s probably not; like everyone else in the “family,” she was probably beamed there by Anthony’s strange powers. Ethel’s none too happy about being Anthony’s captive, and she looks like a surly Tina Yothers.


One of the major departures from the original “It’s a Good Life” is the recurrent theme of old cartoons. Now, if you ever stop and think about old cartoons or if you ever watch them drunk and alone on some lonely weekend night, you’ll realize they’re actually quite creepy. Not sure what I mean? Watch this profoundly unsettling 1931 cartoon “Bimbo’s Initiation” and you’ll quickly understand.



It’s that fast-paced, dream-like atmosphere they sometimes have, where very surreal, scary things are taken at face value by the characters they’re subjected upon, and no one on either side of the screen seems to stop and question how bizarre it all is. These are the cartoons that Anthony makes his family watch. At one point, Kathleen Quinlan’s character happens across Sara, who seems to be entranced by them.



In truth, Sara (randomly played by Runaways frontwoman Cherie Currie) has no mouth — presumably because Anthony blinked it out of existence when she said something he didn’t like. Later, Anthony forces his uncle to perform a magic trick. When the uncle pulls the rabbit out of the hat, however, it’s a horrifying, three-dimensional version of a cartoon character, Tex Avery-style wild takes and all. Be warned: This is something that terrified me when I saw it as a kid, and it still unnerves me today.



Finally, the situation becomes unbearable for Ethel, and she tells Anthony off. Consequently, Anthony blinks Ethel into the cartoon world, where everything has a face and none of the faces look happy to see her. It’s nightmarish, and of course, it doesn’t end well, and the rest of the family helplessly watches from the living room and she dies onscreen.



(Excuse the low-quality footage, but reflect for a second that by watching the above clip, you’re watching a handheld camera pointed at a TV screen showing characters watching a TV screen, and you’re watching it all on a computer screen.)

Now — my big conclusion.

Isn’t it weirdly prophetic that Nancy Cartwright’s film debut would have her playing a character who literally gets consumed by a cartoon universe, and then she went on to be identified solely with voicing a single cartoon character? One of the most popular cartoon characters of all time? A character who’s easily better recognized than she is? Is it not especially interesting that Bart Simpson would eventually star in a later reworking of “It’s a Good Life”? Specifically that one “Treehouse of Horror” segment where superpowered Bart turns Homer into a living jack-in-the-box?

These are things I think about.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

The Twilight Zone Lousy Plot Generator

Though I love The Twilight Zone, I’m the first to admit that the series ran some horrible episodes — entertaining, yes, but still horrible. These include the ones where you can see the twist coming a mile away — “They’re obviously toys, duh” — and the ones where the twist is unpredictable, shocking to the point of making the whole plot seem incoherent — “This mysterious town is actually the model village that goes with a train set… owned by a giant alien child… who speaks English!”


And that’s why I designed this Twilight Zone Lousy Plot Generator, because it’s basically that easy to construct a bad episode of this show. Just pick a numeral between 1 and 9 and then do that four more times. Read the plot points associated with those numbers in order. Voila — you’ve just invented a bad Twilight Zone episode.

The set up.
  1. A young schoolteacher is driving late at night on an isolated road…
  2. A big city businessman gets laid off from his job and takes the early train home…
  3. A beautiful seductress meets her lover in her Manhattan apartment while her husband is at work…
  4. A young boy cruelly mocks a hobo he passes on the street…
  5. A mousy secretary worries that no one respects her opinion, and vows to make something of herself one day…
  6. One honest man is the only person in town to defend the local eccentric, whom everyone suspects of being a witch…
  7. A bearded, haggard man stumbles over the dusty horizon alone…
  8. An aged actress clings to the memory of her late husband, and longs for the days when they were together…
  9. A harried adman tires of the rat race and steps out of the office one day, to walk the streets and collect his thoughts…
Escalation.
  1. And then wakes up to find he/she’s suddenly someone else, married with children and moving to a new home…
  2. Only to return home to find that his/her family has lost their money. In fact, in this flip-flopped house, those who were once servants are now served by the once-wealthy family members…
  3. Only to find later that an unexplained run of good luck has driven all his/her neighbors and friends to jealousy…
  4. Later, over lunch at a roadside diner, his/her sister flaunts her high-flying, fancy-free lifestyle, creating feelings of envy…
  5. And eventually wanders to a lush, Eden-like paradise where his/her every wish is granted and where they meet their ideal mate…
  6. When an old gypsy woman approaches him/her and asks for one wish, no matter how outlandish…
  7. When he/she encounters a stranger whose antiquated style of dress and manner of speaking suggest that he’s from a long-passed time period…
  8. But then is shocked to find his/her home invaded by a stranger claiming to be a vampire…
  9. Only to eventually attend a party where the guests — all of them guilty of thumbing their noses at one social more or another — get picked off, one by one, by a killer…
And then it gets weird.
  1. But then they arrive in a town that’s inexplicably populated by rabbits…
  2. And then he/she realizes that there was truth in the seemingly incoherent ramblings of that person in the first act, whom everyone dismissed as a loon…
  3. No one believes him/her that this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be…
  4. And then there’s the shocking realization that he/she’s inherited a great deal of money…
  5. But then it turns out that the whole situation is a product of the protagonist’s superpowered imagination…
  6. Inexplicably, he/she then wakes up horribly disfigured…
  7. Then there’s a knock at the door. Who comes in but a man looking exactly like and claiming to be George Washington…
  8. But then it turns out that every other human is a ghost of someone who previously happened upon this cursed locale…
  9. However, all of that is rendered moot when the radios start broadcasting the news: a nuke strike is imminent!
And finally, the shocking twist!
  1. And then you find out that they were all mannequins the whole time.
  2. Because then he/she learns that the waitress who appeared in the opening scene is actually the Devil, and they accidentally made a deal with him.
  3. But in the end, it turns out they’re all characters in a play that the writer eventually tires of and abandons. They’re lost forever in a crinkled-up sheet of typewriter paper.
  4. And then it turns out they were on Mars the whole time!
  5. But then it turns out that what the protagonist believed to be an impediment is actually considered by this episode’s universe to be a virtue, proving that social advantages and disadvantages are merely a result of one’s perspective.
  6. Wait no. They were dead the whole time.
  7. But in the end, the protagonist realizes that he/she is actually an alien who came to study earth and then contracted amnesia. Memories restored, he/she returns to the mothership, to the awe of everyone else in the neighborhood.
  8. It was all a dream… dreamt by Hitler himself!
  9. And they get on the flying saucer, believing that a brighter future awaits them but oblivious to the awful truth.
And the lesson you’re supposed to learn is…
  1. Don’t be racist, stupid.
  2. Be charitable, stupid.
  3. Beware communists, stupid.
  4. Live in the present, stupid.
  5. Be careful what you wish for, for all wishes are rooted in greed, stupid.
  6. Don’t drink and drive, stupid.
  7. People who ask for help are actually angels in disguise, stupid.
  8. Nonexistent. There’s no moral on this one — just feel weird about stuff.
  9. The most terrifying monsters are ourselves. Stupid.
And yes, by the way, I did watch the New Year’s Day Twilight Zone marathon. It’s one of my favorite holiday traditions.


Well, that and this.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Who’s Got the Button?

So I’m a giant Twilight Zone geek. In fact, I like anthology series in general, just because their freedom from the season-long arc allows them to expose their protagonists to all manner of weirdness that would be verboten in a typical, unified series. Recently, I re-watched my favorite Twilight Zone episode. It’s not one from the original series but from the mid-eighties reboot: “Button, Button.” And in looking into the history of the episode, I was surprised to find out that writer Richard Matheson didn’t intend it the way the show eventually depicted.

The episode stars Mare Winningham (St. Elmo’s Fire) and Brad Davis (Midnight Express) as a couple badly in need of money. One day, a mysterious be-buttoned box arrives on their doorstep, and soon after an equally mysterious man shows up and explains that pressing the button will make the couple earn $200,000 with the single consequence being that someone, somewhere, whom “you don’t know” will die. The spineless husband and chain-smoking shrew of a wife agonize over the opportunity; she’s eager to elevate their standard of living, but he’s worried that the victim could be, for example, someone’s innocent child. Eventually, she hits the button. The next morning, the mysterious man arrives with the promised $200,000. He takes the box, which he says will be “reprogrammed” for a person “whom you don’t know.” The episode ends with the wife realizing her mistake and resigning herself to the grim fate that some stranger as greedy as she is will eventually push the button and cause her to die.

The episode, in case you’re interested:


If that plot sounds familiar despite your lack of Twilight Zone knowledge, that’s probably because it was used as the basis for the 2009 Cameron Diaz film The Box. Donnie Darko director Richard Kelly used this simple plot to spin off into all matter of metaphysical nonsense and conspiracy theory. The result was strange and unsatisfying but, for me, sort of fascinating, just to see what depths Kelly would drag the plot. The Box wasn’t without its surprise rewards — Arcade Fire, what are you doing there? Deborah Rush, what are you doing there? — but I didn’t feel it improved much on the original story, which is so wickedly sinister in its simplicity.

But I was surprised to learn that the ending that I thought so much of wasn’t actually Matheson’s. In his original short story, the wife presses the button and, the next morning, her husband dies in a train accident. When the mysterious man comes to collect the box, he explains why his prophecy was accurate: “ Did you really think that you knew your husband?” According to Wikipedia, Matheson so disapproved of the new ending that he asked to be credited with a pseudonym for the broadcast of the episode.

Now I’m at a loss. I love the original plot, with the awful wife forced to lived the rest of her days knowing that she may die at any moment. However, Matheson’s ending underscores the radically different ethics of the husband and wife — and perhaps punishes her even more for her misdeeds by making her responsible for the death of a person she actually loves. On yet another (third?) hand, the moralistic ending of a wife “not really knowing” her husband seems a heavy-handed, even by TV standards.

So I put the matter you all, thoughtful readers. What’s worse: accidentally ensuring your own death as a result of your greed, or causing the death of someone you ostensibly love, more or less because you didn’t know them as well as you thought you did?

By the way: Whatever you decide, the Wikipedia entry for “unintended consequences” makes for a pretty great read.