Beware Buying Anything From Panasonic

Be aware that this is going to be a long rant about Panasonic, a company with which I have been engaged in a battle for the past six months. Whether they are dishonest or just plain incompetent, I'm not yet certain, but I am sure that I will never again purchase a Panasonic product, if I can help it, and I am advising you to do the same. Once you're read what I have to write, maybe you'll understand my frustration.

Some dates, conversations, etc. in the early part of my tale may be shaky; I would have kept better notes if I'd known what hell I was stepping into when I first bought my Panasonic DVD recorder: DMR-EH75V with VHS, an 80GB hard drive and a TV Guide On Screen function for $429.99. I bought this in March 2007 at the local Circuit City and had no problems with it until around last Christmas. I burned literally hundreds of DVD-Rs using it, most of them Taiyo Yudens. But then, late last year, the DVD drive crapped out on it. It wouldn't boot any discs. Wouldn't play or record, because it wouldn't accept any discs. I made my first (of what so far has been dozens) telephone call to the Panasonic Customer Care (PCC, from now on) line, where I soon learned they don't "care" about their customers. The operator I spoke to said he would send me a disc to update the firmware.

"If the machine doesn't boot any discs, how am I going to update the firmware with your disc?"

He hemmed and hawed, and suggested I try it anyway. Several days later, the disc comes, and, hey, what do you know, it doesn't work. Why a trained Panasonic Customer Care worker didn't see this coming, and I—a regular Joe—did is anyone's guess. So I called back, and they suggested I ship the machine off to the Repair Center (PRC, hereupon) in Elk Grove Village, Illinois. It was still under its original warranty, so they emailed me a shipping label and advised I take it to a UPS store for free shipping.

Super-fast turnaround—they received it January 22, and I had it back less than two weeks later. According to their official paperwork, they "replaced DVD drive," and I could tell, because it made a loud sound when it opened, closed and burned discs. After the first two DVD-Rs I attempted to burn failed, causing the machine to go into "disc recovery mode," I called the PCC, who advised me to send the machine back to the PRC. I said, "I just got it back yesterday! (you have to let the machine sit with the power off for 24 hours after initial setup for the TV Guide On Screen function)" No avail, so they emailed me another shipping label, I disconnected all the cords and wires, put it back in the original box, took it back to the UPS Store, shipped it back to Elk Grove Village.

This happened about three weeks later, because it took me some time to get the label and make the frustrating effort to take everything apart and send the machine in. Around March 11, I get the machine back with a letter from the PRC that tells me, literally, they did nothing to it. According to them, it works perfectly, everything checks out, they found nothing wrong with it, they made zero repairs. So I hook it back up, set it up, wait 24 hours, burn some discs…same problem. A couple here and there work fine, but, out of ten attempts, only three burn successfully.

Another call to the PCC. Another request to send the unit back to the PRC. I'm fuming by this time, and ask why I would want to do that. What is the point of me sending the unit in again, if they aren't going to fix it? I eventually move up from the regular operator to someone in charge named Charles (and I'm too riled up to make the obvious Scott Baio joke). My questions are pretty straightforward—namely, why should I send the unit back to the PRC, since they didn't fix the problem the first time? I'm really angry, since they just flat out refused to fix the problem that I know perfectly well exists. Charles is no help whatsoever, just repeating his mantra, "Send it to the Repair Center." I tell him that I would rather not, I would rather someone came up with an alternate solution that would involve the least amount of work for me, but no one at Panasonic is capable of thinking outside the box. After more than an hour of speaking to the PCC, I decide, okay, hell, I guess I'll have to send the machine back.

This time, I write Panasonic a 1-page letter (on the PCC's advice) outlining exactly what is wrong and what I think the problem is. It's fairly obvious that the replacement DVD drive is defective, considering what has taken place. I enclose the letter, the previous work orders and invoices, a copy of my Circuit City receipt, and a copy of my extended warranty, which I purchased while the unit was at the PRC the first time.

I get it back the third time April 16. According to the work order, all they did was install firmware. I plug the unit in, set it up…IT STILL DOESN'T FUCKING WORK!

I don't even bother to call the PCC this time, I go straight to the PRC, which is difficult, 'cause they're only open 7am–4pm weekdays, when I'm at work. I speak to someone in their Customer Service department named Antoinette, who seems friendly and interested in helping. While being firm and as polite as possible (I don't shout or call names), I explain the problem and what's going on and ask why they refuse to fix a machine that is clearly in need of repair. Another hour on the phone of her asking me to send the machine back (for a fourth time!), and me asking her why I should, when they clearly have no interest in helping me. She promises to take a personal interest in the case and says that I can call her directly anytime I want, if I'd like to monitor the situation.

I can't believe this is actually happening, but…another shipping label, another disconnection (by this time, my original box has been beaten up by so many trips through the mail, so I'm using the box the PRC sent the unit back in, but I use plenty of padding, because they barely bothered to wrap it at all), another trip to the UPS Store.

This time, the PRC has my unit for six weeks. During that time, I made perhaps 25 calls to them. About two weeks after I shipped it, Antoinette called me at home around 8am. She said that a technician had discovered the problem and that parts were on order. She said she did not know who the technician was or what parts they were, but they were waiting for the parts to arrive, and then the unit would be fixed.

"So they did discover that there was a problem?" I asked.
Her exact answer: "Yes."

That afternoon, I get a call from Victor, a technician, who tells me that they have looked at my machine several times and they can find nothing wrong with it, so they are going to have to send it back to me unrepaired. Obviously, someone has misplaced his or her talking points. I ask, "Why did Antoinette just tell me that you were ordering parts for it?" He says he will ask her, and when he comes back, he says she is busy and can't come to the phone, but she told him she never told me that. Obviously, somebody is lying. I make it quite clear to him that I want the unit repaired. He claims they ran diagnostics tests, that they had other technicians look at it, and that they burned several discs successfully. "How is it possible for it to work perfectly at your place, and not at mine?" He has no answer.

I ask him, "Are you telling me that you burned ten DVD-Rs and they all worked?"
"I don't know how many discs, but everything is fine."
He asks me what brands I use, and I told him I have tried different kinds, but primarily Taiyo Yuden. It isn't the discs, because I have the same problem with all brands. I ask him what he used.
"We have our own special kind, Panasonic discs."

Over the next couple of weeks, at my demand, they keep the machine and claim to run more tests on it. Honestly, I don't know if they ever take it out of the box. What is an incontrovertible fact is that this DVD recorder is defective and does not work properly, no matter what Panasonic says. I begged Victor to just replace the DVD drive and send it back to me. He refused, saying he would have to explain to his superiors why he replaced a perfectly good DVD drive. I told him it's not a perfectly good DVD drive, it doesn't work, but he refused to listen.

Finally, during the first half of June, I talk more to Antoinette, who, at my request, gives me her supervisor, Estrella, who is a Customer Service supervisor. At this point, nobody from the PRC is returning my calls (and complicating the matter is the fact that I just changed my phone number, because of my impending move). Estrella is also completely useless—just telling me that the technicians could find no problem, that they would have to return my unit to me, and they could not send me a replacement unit.

Sidebar: in the event Panasonic were unable to repair my unit, they say they will ship me a new unit, free of charge. The problem is Panasonic no longer makes the DMR-EH75. During one conversation with the PCC, a female operator told me they didn't have any new ones.

"You mean there isn't one DMR-EH75 anywhere? Not one left over in a warehouse someplace?"

She said they were completely sold out of every unit. I asked her why they didn't make it anymore, and she said Panasonic decided there was not enough demand for units with hard drives inside, so they stopped making them. Setting aside the idea that no consumers want hard drives (since everyone I know who owns a DVD recorder has one with a hard drive), I asked her, "how can there be no demand for this machine, when you just told me you sold every single one that you made?" Unsurprisingly, she had no answer.

Back to the present (and, believe me, there are a lot of conversations I am leaving out in the name of something approaching brevity, including someone at the PCC who flatout lied to me and made me jump through some hoops that, another operator admitted later, there was no reason). My machine returns from the PRC around June 24. At this point, I'm in a different residence, different electricity, maybe just different vibes, who knows? I really am trying to give Panasonic some benefit of the doubt, that maybe, miraculously, there is some situation in which my DVD recorder would work perfectly in Elk Grove Village and inconsistently at best in Champaign.

I hook the machine up. Forget about the TV Guide To Go (which I don't think works with my new DirecTV HD DVR). I just want to burn DVD-Rs. I start with a new batch of Taiyo Yudens. The first three work, then one doesn't. I open a new batch of Maxells. One works, one doesn't. Then I try a new batch of Sonys. Four in a row—unsuccessful. This DVD recorder does not work.

Today, I call the PCC, because Estrella told me there was nothing more the Repair Center could do for me (which is also what Customer Care told me months ago). She did give me her superior's extension, but, of course, a message on his/her voicemail resulted in no callback. My plan now is to just keep moving up the chain until I find somebody who can pull the trigger and get something done, whether it's repairing my unit or sending a replacement.

Today, I tell the operator at PCC that I want a supervisor. I get David, who will only say he's a "member of management."

"What's your job title?"
"I speak for management."
"What does that mean?"
"I am a member of management."

After more than a half-hour, I get nowhere. David's only advice is to return my unit to…yep…the Repair Center. I tell him I've done this four times already. What will happen the fifth time that has not already happened? He says he can't tell me. He says he will send an email to someone there who can follow up.

"Who are you emailing?"
"I can't tell you."
"Just give me a name, any name."
"I can't give you a phone number, outside of the toll-free general number, or an email address."
"I'm not asking you for that. I just want a name I can ask for at the Repair Center, so I can follow up on your email."
"I don't have a name. I'm sending an email to a group. You're asking me who will be assigned to your case, and I don't know who that will be."
"No, I'm not. I'm asking you for the name of somebody within that group who can tell me who is assigned my case."

We pretty much go around in circles. He's telling me that I'm not giving him a chance to help me, and I tell him that I have already given his co-workers dozens of chances to help me. None of them has, and how can he ensure me that he will do anything different? He cannot.

Finally, I ask to speak to his supervisor, which he does not want to do. He tells me it is Charles (remember him?).

"What's his job title?"
"Member of management."
"What does that mean?"
"He can speak for management."
"So can you. Is he above you? You're a member of management."
"He is a Lead."
"Lead. That's what it says on his business card? Lead?"
"He is a Lead, and he will tell you what I'm telling you. He will call you back sometime in the next 24 to 48 hours."

I didn't mention to you before, but I told David, that I have been fed that "24–48 hour" b.s. before. Someone at PCC once told me they would call me back within 24-48 hours, and I finally called them back nearly two weeks later. They said, "We don't have a record here of anyone promising to call you back." Yeah, just like nobody at the Repair Center has any record of a technician ordering parts for my DVD recorder (by the way, when I asked, Estrella told me it was impossible for anyone to delete information from the work notes, which I'm not convinced of).

I asked David today who Charles' supervisor was. He was really steamed at this point. "I know what you're trying to do, you're trying to work your way up the chain to find someone who can give you what you want." I had to admit he was right.

"You can't speak to his supervisor today."
"Fine. Just what is the name?"
"Lovette (sp?)."
"What is her job title?"
"Supervisor."
"The first person I spoke to today, I asked her to speak to a supervisor. I thought you were a supervisor."
"I am not."
"So it goes: Member of Management, Member of Management—Lead, Supervisor, in that order?"

So, now, I am waiting for Charles to call me back, which may or may not ever happen. I plan to call Estrella or perhaps her supervisor (I have that extension) tomorrow, if I'm able. Today is July 6, 2008, so you can see how long this has been going on.

I'm not just writing this to vent, but also to seek advice from you. What else should I do? Where else should I turn? Should I go to Small Claims Court? Contact the Elk Grove Village Better Business Bureau? Do I have a legal leg to stand on? Should I post this message somewhere else? Should I call someone? Or should I just say "screw it" and toss the damn DVD recorder in the trash? Anyone who would like to add their 2 cents or just share a Panasonic (or any other company) customer service story of their own, please leave a comment or email me privately. I really feel I'm at the end of my rope.

A Hippie Cult Of Sex And Death

The Chopper Cop is back on the case in this Popular Library paperback from 1972. Well, I should say the Chopper Cop is here, because I previously reviewed the second title in the series, THE HITCHHIKE KILLER. Counterculture cop Terry Bunker debuted in VALLEY OF DEATH and is structured very much like the other. It opens with three beautiful young females, one in San Francisco, one in Los Angeles, and one in San Clemente, committing suicide in front of witnesses. However, a couple of weeks later, all three begin appearing to their families in the form of telephone calls and notes left at the parents' homes. One, Annette Caldwell, even seems to be continuing her painting in the family studio. None of the Caldwells—her parents and her younger sister Penny—have laid eyes on her, but…

Called to investigate is Lieutenant Bunker, an investigator for California's State Department of Criminal Investigation. Bunker reports to gruff Ted Haggard, who strongly disapproves of Bunker's long hair, choice of transportation and antiestablishment attitude. However, he really reports only to the governor, who also shakes his head at Bunker's individualism, but likes the 27-year-old and respects the way he gets the job done.

The idea of a left-wing action hero is fairly rare in crime drama. Frank Serpico, played by Al Pacino in the movies and David Birney on television, is about the closest I can think of offhand. Of course, Serpico was a real person. Not much is made of Bunker's politics in VALLEY OF DEATH. He despises authority, but, then, so did Dirty Harry. Paul Ross (a pseudonym for someone) could have had a background in TV writing, as nothing here is overly sexy or violent, and the novel shows hints of a classic three-act structure. Certainly nothing in VALLEY OF DEATH lives up to its cover blurb promising "a hippie cult of sex and death."

Crackers

10 Crackers
April 28, 1979
Music: William Broughton
Teleplay: Michael Sloan
Story: Michael Sloan & Glen A. Larson
Director: Michael Caffey

An impressive guest cast—Christopher Connelly, Luke Askew, Richard Bradford, John Fiedler, Edd Byrnes—adds weight to this thinly plotted BJ AND THE BEAR episode. BJ (Greg Evigan) tries to collect $85 in damages from the drunk driver who ran him off the road, but the culprit, town boss Jason Rockman (Byrnes, best known from 77 SUNSET STRIP twenty years earlier), has him tossed out and beaten up. BJ takes a job from pretty psychiatrist (Leann Hunley, later on DYNASTY) to transport some of her mental patients to the local fair for the afternoon, but an obstinate Rockman sends the local sheriff (Bradford) to the fairgrounds to bust up the fun. It all gets weird from here, as though Sloan was trying to fill the hour. BJ rescues a frightened girl stranded atop a Ferris wheel, then chases one of the patients, the not-so-crazy Hilts (Connelly), in a stock car pursuit after Hilts kidnaps Rockman to get him to give BJ the $85.

Connelly is very likable, and Askew lends this breezy hour some dramatic weight as a Vietnam vet stricken with what would now be called PTSD. Stu Gilliam plays a mechanic, and you'll recognize THE PEOPLE'S COURT interviewer Doug Llewellyn as the befuddled race announcer. Sloan's teleplay is sloppy, including Hunley's initial meeting with BJ where she calls him by his initials, even though she knows him only by the name on his truck, "Billie Joe." "Crackers" is Michael Caffey's only BJ AND THE BEAR episode, but he did have an extensive career directing episodic dramas, such as TRAPPER JOHN M.D. and IT TAKES A THIEF.

Greg Evigan was basically an unknown when he landed the lead role of BJ McKay, though he had been on television before, most notably as the co-leading man (along with David Letterman bandleader Paul Shaffer!) on the shortlived sitcom A YEAR AT THE TOP, in which he and Shaffer were rock musicians who sold their soul to devil Gabriel Dell in exchange for one year of stardom. I'm guessing the creators weren't thinking longterm when they came up with the idea.

BJ AND THE BEAR made Evigan a genuine television star—he was the show's only regular and appears in nearly every scene of the 48 episodes. He also starred or co-starred in six other series, including P.S. I LUV U, MY TWO DADS, PACIFIC PALISADES and TEKWAR, which was a USA cable series based on a series of science fiction detective novels ghostwritten by William Shatner. Viewers have never tired of the New Jersey-born actor and musician (before BJ, he appeared on stage in GREASE and JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR), who continues to guest-star on hit shows like DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES and CSI: MIAMI, as well as topline two recent direct-to-video sci-fi movies for The Asylum.

Top 100 TV Shows Of The 20th Century, Part 3 Of 3

Man, I completely got the yips on this topic. What seemed like a good idea at the time turned out to be an enormous amount of work, so I put the project away after writing 25 or so essays (Part 1 is available here, and Part 2 here). Judging from the traffic on those posts, it wasn't worth the heavy effort. However, I hate to leave the damn thing incomplete, so what I'm going to do is post the remaining pieces I have written, and then list the remainder of the top 100. If you have any thoughts on the list or would like me to elaborate on anything, please let me know, and I'll see what I can do. Remember: the list is generated randomly, so the #22 show isn't necessarily any better than #84.
#21: THE ROCKFORD FILES
6 seasons on NBC
September 1974–July 1980

It's been over a year since the last time I reviewed a ROCKFORD FILES episode on this blog. I made it more than halfway through Season One before getting derailed. You can find a few of my reviews here, here and here (the first one links to "The Kirkoff Case," the first regular episode after the pilot and one that guest-stars a young James Woods). You'll get the gist of my love for the show, but to summarize for those of you not curious enough to check out any of the old reviews, THE ROCKFORD FILES is quite simply the best private-eye show in television history.

Not only did it make TIME's list, but THE ROCKFORD FILES made it to #39 on TV GUIDE's list of the Top 50 shows all-time. Its star, James Garner, is unquestionably one of television's most popular stars, having made his bones as the co-star of MAVERICK in the 1950s. He quit that show in a salary dispute with Warner Brothers, and became a major film star before his return to the small screen with the one-season flop western NICHOLS in 1971. Garner has been a regular cast member on eight different series, including GOD, THE DEVIL AND BOB (on which he played God!) and 8 SIMPLE RULES FOR DATING MY TEENAGE DAUGHTER (which he joined after the sudden death of star John Ritter), but the role for which he is best known today is Jim Rockford, the rare TV private detective who didn't have a sexy secretary (he had a beat-up answering machine), didn't shoot it out with all the bad guys (he kept his gun in his cookie jar and preferred talking his way out of trouble to fighting), and didn't live in a flashy bachelor pad (he lived in a dilapidated trailer, albeit one parked on a Malibu beach). TV was full of private eyes when ROCKFORD debuted in 1974. Most of them were distinguished by a particular gimmick (Cannon was fat, Longstreet was blind, Barnaby Jones was old…), but Rockford was notable for being the most human of the group.

ROCKFORD was created by Roy Huggins, the maverick television writer/producer who had also created MAVERICK in the '50s, and Stephen J. Cannell, a Universal contract writer who became a fledgling producer on the short-lived private-eye show TOMA. Recognizing that the best way to be noticed among the glut of private dicks then populating the airwaves, Huggins and Cannell decided to add humor to ROCKFORD. It worked for MAVERICK, and you couldn't slide a cigarette paper between Bret Maverick and Jim Rockford in terms of character. While Rockford may have been the same guy, he was all James Garner, and audiences loved his slick-tongued methods of dealing with bad guys, whether he was running a con job on a greedy mobster (often using a disguise) or asking a thug who just pounded on him, "Does your mother know what you do for a living?"

While ROCKFORD's mystery plots were sometimes clever, they usually took a backseat to characterization, which stretched from its main character to include the eccentric Angel Martin (Stuart Margolin), Rockford's cowardly ex-prison cellmate (Jim was eventually pardoned after serving five years for an armed robbery he didn't commit) who could never resist a chance to pick up a few bucks, even if it meant ratting Jim out; Dennis Becker (Joe Santos), Rockford's only friend on the L.A. police force (unlike most TV detectives, Rockford was hated by cops); Beth Davenport (Gretchen Corbett), Jim's smart young lawyer (and old flame); and several others who popped in occasionally during the six-year run. Another unusual aspect of ROCKFORD was its portrayal of an adult father/son relationship, as retired truck driver "Rocky" (Noah Beery, Jr.) constantly fretted and worried about Jim, but was always there to patch him up after another goon rapped him on the head and ransacked his trailer as a warning to lay off his current case.

NBC hated the humor in the show, and tried to force Cannell to remove it and make Rockford a normal P.I. who punched the bad guys out and made out with a different chick every week. Less MAVERICK, more MANNIX. Cannell refused, though the series did showcase a lot of action. It did it very well too, partially because of Garner's insistence upon performing many of his own stunts. ROCKFORD became famous for its car chases, often with Garner behind the wheel of Jim's tan Pontiac Firebird, which became one of TV's most beloved automobiles.

ROCKFORD was never a major hit in its Friday time slot, but was quite popular with its fans. It spawned a direct spinoff, RICHIE BROCKELMAN, PRIVATE EYE, starring Dennis Dugan as a young P.I. who learned from Rockford how to fast-talk his way out of dangerous situations (Steven Bochco produced this NBC short-timer). A few months after ROCKFORD left NBC, CBS picked up the slack with MAGNUM, P.I., which starred Tom Selleck as a Honolulu private eye with a whimsical tone quite similar to ROCKFORD (Selleck, in fact, guest-starred on a couple of ROCKFORD episodes as a funny spoof of a typical TV P.I., which neither Rockford nor Magnum were).

Garner reprised the Jim Rockford role in eight made-for-TV movies that aired on CBS during the 1990s and rounded up the series' cast members and writers (including David Chase, who went on to create THE SOPRANOS) for more fun adventures.


#22: MEDICAL CENTER
7 seasons on CBS
September 1969–September 1976

If any series on this list is going to receive howls of protests, it will most likely be MEDICAL CENTER, which, before ER came along, was the longest-running medical drama in television history (airing two episodes more than MARCUS WELBY, M.D.). I admit that I have a soft spot for the show, in that it was a steady source of unintentional comedy during my college years when it reran daily on the TNT cable network. Stiffly performed, naively written and melodramatic as hell, MEDICAL CENTER did its damnedest to be relevant, tackling serious issues of the day such as abortion, male impotence, campus unrest, alcoholism, recreational drugs, witchcraft (!), homosexuality, Vietnam, even venereal disease.

One reason MEDICAL CENTER was able to logically face such polarizing topics is because it was set on a college campus. Young physician Joe Gannon (Chad Everett) and chief of staff Paul Lochner (James Daly) worked at the university medical center (I believe exteriors were filmed at UCLA, though the show's setting was never stated), where a wide variety of illnesses and ailments crossed their paths. Since the center was also involved with medical research, plots like "The Combatants," which guest-starred William Shatner as a brash scientist whose recklessness to create a cancer cure puts lives in jeopardy, were made possible.

Some stories played like soap opera, such as "Suspected." Earl Holliman played a gifted heart surgeon who was the only man on Earth qualified to perform a difficult procedure that could save a patient's life. His problem is that he was a convicted sex offender who ran off to Canada to avoid incarceration, and if he returns to the U.S. to save the patient's life, he will likely go to prison. "Witch Hunt" found Gannon competing to save the life of a girl with Addison's Disease against the black-magic forces of her coven, led by guest Dana Wynter. Forrest Tucker was "The Professional," a cornpone ex-college football star who faked various illnesses because the loneliness he felt at home was too much to bear.

Perhaps MEDICAL CENTER's most famous episode was "The Fourth Sex," a two-parter that kicked off the seventh season. Robert Reed, just coming off THE BRADY BUNCH, played a prominent surgeon who comes to his friend Gannon with a shocking request. He wants to become a woman and for the procedure to be performed at Medical Center. At first, the hospital board, just like Reed's family (including his wife played by Louise Sorel), rejects their colleague's wish because they find it repellent. However, with the righteous Gannon urging them on, the board changes its mind and grants permission. Two things about the episode are interesting: 1) will the show bravely go through with the operation (I don't believe a sex change had ever happened on episodic TV before) and 2) will we get to see what Reed looks like afterward? Well, the answer is yes on both counts, and the series deserves much credit for not only doing a show about transgenders, but one that treats the uncomfortable subject with class. Reed received an Emmy nomination for his dignified performance.

MEDICAL CENTER made a star of Everett, though he arguably didn't take to it well. In addition to recording some awful record albums, he became slightly notorious for his misogynist interviews, including a DICK CAVETT SHOW where he drove fellow guest Lily Tomlin off the stage after he lumped wife Shelby Grant in with the family pets, saying she was the best animal he owned. Still handsome in his 70s, Everett never again found a role as popular as Dr. Gannon, but he continues to act in movies (MULHOLLAND DRIVE, ANCHORMAN) and TV (WITHOUT A TRACE, COLD CASE). James Daly, by the way, was the father of actors Tyne (CAGNEY & LACEY) and Tim (WINGS).


#23: MONTY PYTHON'S FLYING CIRCUS
4 seasons on BBC1
October 1969—September 1974

The legacy of Britain's most popular comedy series lives on in North America, where nearly every TV sketch-comedy show that followed it bore its influence to some extent. Monty Python was a comedy troupe consisting of Terry Gilliam, John Cleese, Michael Palin, Terry Jones, Graham Chapman and Eric Idle—six brilliantly talented writer/performers who introduced a blistering new absurdist style to television. Granted, the Pythons were themselves influenced by THE GOON SHOW, a BBC radio program of the 1950s, but FLYING CIRCUS seems to have been the first show to bring that style of surrealism to television, or certainly at least the first to do so at such a high level of popularity.

Surprisingly, only 45 episodes were ever made, but they were rerun almost constantly on PBS during the 1970s. Younger audiences, schooled perhaps on MAD, flipped over the silly slapstick and wordplay, whereas hip college students grooved on the political and sexual humor. Americans had never seen anything like the Python style, which often involved starting sketches in the middle and cutting away before the end. Transitions were often eschewed with one sketch bumping right into the next. The Pythons played all the roles (or nearly all) themselves, including female parts, which is still a rarity on American shows.

While FLYING CIRCUS may not have reached mainstream acceptance the way SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE did, it earned a rabid fanbase that can recite nearly every sketch ever performed on the show and helped make it the only sketch show to branch into movies. Sure, the Brothers Blues and McKenzie had their moments on the big screen, but the whole Monty Python troupe made the shift with larger-budgeted, sharper-targeted versions of the series, where they were able to hone their satire to a sharper prick.

Chapman died in 1989, but the rest of the Pythons remain popular as writers, actors and filmmakers (both Gilliam and Cleese have been nominated for screenwriting Oscars).


#24: THE ADVENTURES OF BRISCO COUNTY, JR.
1 season on Fox
August 1993—May 1994

In the fall of 1993, the young Fox network debuted its new Friday prime-time lineup. Both shows were SF/fantasy-oriented. One was upbeat, funny, exciting and highly publicized by Fox, which clearly expected this show to be its breakout hit of the season. The other show was dark, moody, edgy and felt like a network throwaway. The first show, THE ADVENTURES OF BRISCO COUNTY, JR., was cancelled after one season. The second, which Fox barely promoted, was THE X-FILES, which became one of the most influential television series of its time.

BRISCO was simultaneously behind and ahead of its time. It was an outdoor western with horses and shootouts and cowboys, a genre that hadn't been successful since GUNSMOKE left the airwaves nearly twenty years earlier. At the same time, it was an unusual mix of genres–an adventure series with overriding story arcs, which is common today, but not at all back then, except on soaps. Frequently compared to THE WILD WILD WEST, BRISCO closely mirrored the fantastic storylines and campy adventure of that 1960s series. However, the latter series knew to occasionally play it straight, which made its characters more human and the dangerous situations they frequently found themselves in more suspenseful. THE WILD WILD WEST was a cartoon, albeit often an entertaining one.

The series should have been a breakthrough role for its handsome star, Bruce Campbell, whose pliable face and sharp jaw helped demonstrate that he could do everything a good leading man should. He could throw a punch (and take one), he was funny, he was effective in all clinches, both romantic and dramatic. He was also a fine physical performer who appeared to be one-half Bob Conrad and one-half Shemp Howard. Campbell already had a small but loyal fan base as the star of the EVIL DEAD trilogy—black-comic, blood-soaked horror movies in which he served as a producer as well as an actor—but it was BRISCO that should have made him a household name.

Campbell played Brisco County, Jr., a Harvard-educated bounty hunter who roamed the West collecting bad guys while searching for the group of outlaws who murdered his father, Marshal Brisco County, Sr. (played in the pilot by R. Lee Ermey). The gang of thirteen was led by the sinister John Bly (played with a weird whisper by the incredible-looking Billy Drago), who spent much of the series evading Brisco's grasp. Key to the series, however, was its supporting cast, most of whom appeared in recurring roles. Besides Campbell, the only regulars were Christian Clemenson as Socrates Poole, Brisco's intellectual lawyer sidekick, and Julius Carry III as Lord Bowler, a big, tough bounty hunter who originally was Brisco's somewhat friendly rival (the two took turns making each other's lives momentarily miserable), but eventually became his partner. Occasional players included John Astin (THE ADDAMS FAMILY) as a batty inventor, John Pyper-Ferguson (DRIVE) as eccentric gunfighter Pete Hutter (who couldn't stand it when anyone touched his gun), Gary Hudson (ROAD HOUSE) as Aaron Viva (a sheriff who talked and dressed like Elvis Presley), and the delectable Kelly Rutherford as Dixie Cousins, a showgirl who enjoyed a series-long off-and-on love affair with Brisco.

Another supporting player was The Orb, a mysterious alien sphere with extraordinary powers and removable rods that caused all kinds of supernatural problems for Brisco to solve. The Orb bounced around from character to character with all of them trying to learn the extent of its power—in the case of John Bly, to use them to rule the world. The series also introduced other anachronisms, such as a rocket built by Astin's Professor Wickwire and even the donut, which a little boy named Duncan gave to a hungry Bowler.

Ratings problems began plaguing BRISCO almost from the beginning (though the 2-hour pilot got good numbers), and Fox—obviously to this viewer—began fiddling with the show's format. A hunky new character, Whip (Jeff Phillips), joined the cast, The Orb was hastily explained away and gotten rid of, and Brisco and Bowler changed careers from independent bounty hunters to special agents for the U.S. Government. None of the network interference improved the show, though Fox did stay with it long enough to produce extra episodes at the end of the season for the unusually high number of 27 altogether. Still, the high cost of making a western, particularly one with special effects, sent BRISCO packing at the end of the season, but it remains one of Fox's most memorable series. TNT aired Saturday-morning reruns for several years, and the entire series was released on DVD in 2006. Campbell, who shoulda been a star, has since bounced around in TV guest shots, starring roles in crummy independent movies, and supporting roles in classy studio films, but has never received the acclaim that should have been his.


#25: GET SMART!
4 seasons on NBC
1 season on CBS
September 1965–September 1970

GET SMART! missed the top by that much. Yeah, I know the rankings are random, but how could I pass up the opportunity to make that lame joke? GET SMART! is practically the lone exception to the rule that satire dies on network television. Hitting the NBC airwaves at the peak of the James Bond craze, this irreverent sitcom not only spoofs spy-movie conventions, but also government bureaucracy, the Iron Curtain and often other television shows and movies (Robert Culp popped up in an episode titled "Die, Spy").

How could GET SMART! miss, created as it was by two of Hollywood's great humorists: Mel Brooks and Buck Henry (though Brooks' participation seems to have waned after the pilot)? And while the two men deserve their fair share of credit, the lion's share should go to Leonard B. Stern, the executive producer who heralded the series through most of its Emmy-winning run, and star Don Adams, a standup comic who adopted a nasally voice that was part William Powell and part Billy DeWolfe. Adams perfectly inhabited the sweet, buffoonish personality of Maxwell Smart, an American secret agent working for CONTROL whose code number, 86, may also have been his IQ. Partnered with the beautiful and bright Agent 99 (ex-model Barbara Feldon), Max somehow always managed to get his man, no matter how inept his investigative skills.

If GET SMART! had only been about Smart and 99 bumbling about, the series would never have worked. In addition to scripts that carefully crafted standard (though absurd) action plots for the agents to bounce around in, the series created an amazing extended family of unusual, colorful supporting players: the Chief (Edward Platt), Max and 99's blustery boss; Hymie (Dick Gautier), a robot that literally performed any command asked of it; Siegfried (Bernie Kopell), Smart's opposite number at KAOS, an evil spy organization dedicated to disaster; Agent 13 (Dave Ketchum), a master of disguise often found inside filing cabinets and potted plants, and several others. The "family" extended to the series' wide coterie of catch phrases ("Sorry about that, Chief." "That's the second biggest ___ I've ever seen." "Missed by that much.") and gadgetry, such as Smart's famous shoe phone. My favorite is the Cone of Silence, which, on the surface, appears to be a one trick pony of a gag, but somehow was funny every time it was used.

Max and 99 got married in the fourth season—its last on NBC—and they had twin children in GET SMART!'s fifth season on CBS. This shifted the comedy's focus (unsuccessfully) from spy adventure to domestic antics. Still, the series has managed to endure since leaving the air in 1970. Not only did it immediately go into syndication, where it will probably run forever, it spawned one theatrical reunion (1980's unfunny THE NUDE BOMB), a charming TV-movie (GET SMART, AGAIN!), a shortlived Fox sitcom (starring Andy Dick as Max and 99's bumbling son, once again paired with a smart, sexy agent played by Elaine Hendrix), and 2008's feature-film remake with Steve Carell (THE 40 YEAR OLD VIRGIN) and Anne Hathaway (THE PRINCESS DIARIES).


#26: M*A*S*H
11 seasons on CBS
September 1972–February 1983

M*A*S*H, the series that brought blood and black humor to prime time, remains one of the most popular television series ever produced. It was a Top Ten show in nine of its eleven seasons, reaching #3 the year it was canceled. Its final episode, the 2 ½-hour "Goodnight, Farewell and Amen," remains the highest-rated in history, reaching over 100 million viewers. It won fourteen Emmys, surprisingly only one of them for Best Comedy. And it will likely play in syndication for generations to come.

Developed for television by the great comedy writer Larry Gelbart (TOOTSIE), M*A*S*H was, of course, inspired by Robert Altman's smash 1970 film, which was in turn based on a series of novels by Richard Hornberger about a group of hell-raising surgeons trying to remain sane while patching up U.S. soldiers on the front line of the Korean War. Alan Alda, who went on to win Emmy awards as an actor, a writer and a director on M*A*S*H, the only person ever to do so, became one of TV's biggest stars playing the leading role of "Hawkeye" Pierce, a sardonic, humanistic and hopelessly romantic doctor who was the unit's de facto leader inside the operating room and as the instigator of pranks. Pierce and his sidekick, "Trapper" John McIntyre (Wayne Rogers), did everything possible to make the war miserable for their ferret-faced tentmate, the officious Frank Burns (Larry Linville), and his stick-in-the-mud lover, nurse "Hot Lips" Houlihan (Loretta Swit). Others in the camp included commanding officer Henry Blake (McLean Stevenson), alert clerk "Radar" O'Reilly (Gary Burghoff), crossdressing Klinger (Jamie Farr) and Father Mulcahy (William Christopher).

Despite several important cast defections, M*A*S*H remained incredibly popular during the late '70s, as Rogers, Stevenson and Linville split and were replaced, respectively, by Mike Farrell as Hawkeye's new partner in crime, B.J. Hunnicutt, Harry Morgan as Colonel Sherman T. Potter and David Ogden Stiers as the blueblooded surgeon Charles Emerson Winchester. As the series progressed (far beyond the Korean War's three-year length), it became more mature, often dropping its laugh track (which Gelbart, from the beginning, insisted be kept out of the OR scenes) and leaning towards more dramatic episodes sprinkled with comedy.

If nothing else, M*A*S*H proved there was room on television for sophisticated wartime comedy, far removed from the absurd antics of HOGAN'S HEROES. It nimbly presented the hell of war from all angles and did as much to put a human face on the brave men and women who have served their country as any newsreel could.


#27: THE BIG VALLEY
4 seasons on ABC
September 1965–May 1969

It will surprise many to learn that BONANZA did not make my Top 100 list, but THE BIG VALLEY, which was clearly inspired by it, is. Simply, I never cared much for BONANZA, which seemed overly simple and whose characters never engaged me. THE BIG VALLEY was a more exciting show with a premise that lent itself to domestic stories, courtroom dramas, suspense, action, light comedy. It also had a majestic theme (composed by George Duning) that lent the series an epic aura that BONANZA's guitar picking could not.

THE BIG VALLEY chronicled the adventures of the Barkleys, a wealthy family who lived together on a large spread near Stockton, California. Though the patriarch, Tom, was long dead, the Barkley household was held together by his strong widow, Victoria, played by "Miss" (as she was credited) Barbara Stanwyck. Oldest son Jarrod (Richard Long) was an attorney; fiery, black-gloved son Nick (Peter Breck) ran the ranch; and barely-out-of-her-teens daughter Audra (Linda Evans) helped her mother run the home. In the first episode, young, blond Heath (Lee Majors) showed up and announced he was Tom's illegitimate son. Surprisingly, his half-siblings didn't put up as much fuss as you might expect, and he and Victoria eventually settled into a normal mother/son relationship. (And—shades of Chuck Cunningham—another son, Eugene, dropped out of the series during the first season and was never heard from again.)

Boosted by high production values, accomplished guest stars, an absorbing mixture of stories and its appealing main cast made THE BIG VALLEY an ABC hit for four seasons. Like other westerns like MAVERICK and BONANZA, episodes often revolved around just one or two regulars. The two-part "Explosion" was a nice showcase for Majors, Long and Breck, as they transported a load of deadly nitroglycerine across rough terrain to help put out a forest fire. Charles Bronson guested in "Earthquake," in which he, as a recently canned Barkley ranch hand, became trapped underground with Victoria and a pregnant woman.

While all the regulars had successful television careers, THE BIG VALLEY made a star of Majors, who leapt to another western (THE MEN FROM SHILOH) and the legal drama OWEN MARSHALL, COUNSELOR AT LAW before his iconic roles as THE SIX MILLION DOLLAR MAN and THE FALL GUY, both on ABC, the network that aired THE BIG VALLEY.

28. Law & Order
29. Gunsmoke
30. Murder One
31. Outer Limits, The
32. SCTV
33. Police Squad!
34. Carol Burnett Show, The
35. Adventures of Superman, The
36. Barney Miller
37. Taxi
38. Fugitive, The
39. WKRP in Cincinnati
40. Maverick
41. Bob Newhart Show, The
42. 77 Sunset Strip
43. Magnum, P.I.
44. Pee Wee's Playhouse
45. Sports Night
46. Naked City
47. Crime Story
48. Mannix
49. 60 Minutes
50. Jeopardy!
51. I Love Lucy
52. Mystery Science Theater 3000
53. Politically Incorrect
54. Mission: Impossible
55. Harry O
56. Batman
57. NewsRadio
58. Cagney & Lacey
59. Ernie Kovacs Show, The
60. Ed Sullivan Show, The
61. Match Game
62. Dick Cavett Show, The
63. What's My Line?
64. I Spy
65. X-Files, The
66. Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson, The
67. Thriller
68. Flintstones, The
69. Star Trek
70. Jack Benny Program, The
71. All in the Family
72. Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour, The
73. Homicide: Life on the Street
74. Many Loves of Dobie Gillis, The
75. Andy Griffith Show, The
76. Hill Street Blues
77. Monday Night Football
78. Late Night with David Letterman
79. NYPD Blue
80. Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman
81. ABC's Wide World of Sports
82. Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In
83. Have Gun Will Travel
84. Monkees, The
85. Avengers, The
86. Playhouse 90
87. Dean Martin Show, The
88. Larry Sanders Show, The
89. Lone Ranger, The
90. White Shadow, The
91. Dick Van Dyke Show, The
92. Hawaii Five-0
93. Honeymooners, The
94. Freaks and Geeks
95. Perry Mason
96. Police Story
97. Sesame Street
98. Prisoner, The
99. Columbo
100. Dragnet

Wheels Of Fortune

09 Wheels of Fortune
April 29, 1979
Writer: Glen A. Larson
Director: Bruce Bilson

I don't think of Glen A. Larson as any kind of innovative television producer, although he did have many, many popular shows during the 1970s and '80s, but he was a bit ahead of the curve on BJ AND THE BEAR in one respect. He made an attempt at giving trucker BJ McKay (Greg Evigan) something of a continuity during the series, at least during the first season, that few other one-hour shows were doing at the time, except for the soaps like DALLAS. In "Wheels of Fortune" (obviously a takeoff on the daytime game show that was hosted by Chuck Woolery back then), Larson and director Bruce Bilson, who collaborated on the pilot, bring back the character of Toni, who tells us she was one of the sex slaves BJ rescued from Sheriff Lobo (Claude Akins). Played by Melody Anderson, who was probably in London shooting FLASH GORDON when NBC aired this episode, Toni was not really a character in the pilot—just a faceless girl—and she certainly wasn't played by Anderson. However, this little touch reminds us that BJ has a past and that his various adventures resonate within the fictional universe, which was not common in the days when television heroes almost never acknowledged what happened to him the week before.

Following the strong "The Murphy Contingent," "Wheels of Fortune" suffers from having an identical plot. In order to save a charity (a center for disabled children) from foreclosure, BJ's friends (Toni and the members of her college fraternity/sorority) trick him into helping them run an illegal casino at a ski resort. Cops don't get involved, but hoods do, particularly Cannon (QUINCY's Val Bisoglio), who rents the kids his gambling equipment and then dons a pantyhose mask to rip them off.

Action is light and too much screen time is filled with dull musical sequences, but the guest stars, which also include Stuart Pankin (NOT NECESSARILY THE NEWS) and 7-footer Peter Isacksen (CPO SHARKEY), are lively in an episode that was probably based somewhat on ANIMAL HOUSE (Toni's frat wears togas in their first scene and are condescended to by a rival yuppie frat).

Lock Up Your Sons

This is the first time I've seen this one-sheet for SWITCHBLADE SISTERS, which promotes Jack Hill's 1975 drive-in classic under its original title, THE JEZEBELS. I've seen a JEZEBELS trailer, and it looks as though Centaur was trying to have it two ways with this poster, which prominently features the words "switchblade sisters."

Monkeemen

Dial B for Blog, one of comic book fandom's greatest blogs, chimes in with a typically thorough examination of those master battlers of evil--the Monkeemen!

Yor On Turner Classic Movies

I know, I can't believe it either. TCM's recent acquisition of titles from the Columbia library has resulted in some interesting programming choices this year, though probably none as weird as YOR, THE HUNTER FROM THE FUTURE, an Italian/Turkish co-production filmed in Turkey with an Italian director (Antonio Margheriti, who used his usual "Anthony M. Dawson" nom de plume) and released in the United States by Columbia in 1983.

This extremely funny fantasy stars Reb Brown (TV's CAPTAIN AMERICA, who now is a Sunn Classic Pictures executive) as Yor, a rugged blond warrior who teams up with lovely cavegirl Corinne Clery (MOONRAKER) and irascible old man Luciano Pigozzi (billed, as usual, as "Alan Collins") to fight an evil overlord (John Steiner). Actually, there's much more to it than that, since YOR is a condensed version of an Italian TV miniseries. I can't imagine watching this any longer than the 88 minutes that it already is, but cutting the miniseries down to feature-length makes it play like a particularly strange Republic serial, making Yor leap from one dangerous situation to another without looking back, meeting ape-men, pterodactyls, dinosaurs and even robots with lasers! We eventually learn that Yor is really from the future, hence, the literal title.

If you aren't cracking up at the dialogue or special effects, you'll certainly get a kick out of Yor using a giant bat as a hang-glider or smacking a plastic monster in the head with his stone axe or swinging across futuristic chasms, dodging laser beams, like Luke and Leia in STAR WARS or smacking a robot's head clean off its body with a big rock. Or comely Clery, scrumptious in her teensy leather outfit.

Two 30-second TV spots for YOR follow, so you can laugh your ass off too.



While we wait for a YOR, THE HUNTER FROM THE FUTURE DVD release, you can watch the whole film on YouTube now. And rock out to the awesome YOR theme song.

The Executioner Vs. The Assassins

After beating plenty of mobster ass in France and in England, Mack Bolan returns to the U.S.A. in #7, NIGHTMARE IN NEW YORK. No sooner does he step off the damn airplane than hitmen begin circling and have to be eliminated in that gritty Executioner style. However, Bolan suffers serious injury, and is taken by three sexy fashion designers to their apartment to recuperate. Outside of Bolan's new "girlfriends," who appear to be kinda clingy and not terribly bright, even though we're supposed to feel sympathetically toward them, this book follows the Executioner format pretty tightly. Bolan flippantly rips off a Mafia "bank" and, in the well-played climax, invades a lodge where the big Mob families are staging a sit-down meeting. At this point, Bolan is good and pissed after discovering the ravaged body of one of the three girls who befriended him, who had been raped and tortured before her death.

I enjoyed NIGHTMARE IN NEW YORK, but found it less memorable than previous Executioner adventures. While Bolan's bloodlust for the Mafia is what drives him to adventure, it's possible the formula may be becoming repetitious, as opposed to rival Pinnacle heroes like the Penetrator and the Death Merchant, who varied their choice of villain.

The Murphy Contingent

08 The Murphy Contingent
April 18, 1979
Music: William Broughton
Writer: Frank Lupo & C.R. O'Christopher

We learn more about BJ's past in this BJ AND THE BEAR episode, as, for the first time, we meet someone from his past. Or, I should say, several someones. Members of his Army commando unit in Vietnam, to be exact: Murphy (Lance LeGault), Melendez (A Martinez) and Jefferson (Tony King), as well as civilian volunteers Rita (Susan Woollen) and Joanne (Katherine Cannon), whose late brother Bobby was interned with BJ (Greg Evigan) in a POW camp.

With the help of the others, Murphy has founded Walken House for disabled GIs, but a $122,000 loan has put the place's future in jeopardy. Desperate, the five Army pals plot to knock off a bunch of mobsters hiding out in a farmhouse with millions of dollars worth of stolen gold in its basement. However, they need BJ's help to pull the heist. Reluctant to tangle with gangsters or to mess with stolen government money, the trucker makes a deal with a straight-arrow Treasury agent (MAVERICK's Jack Kelly) that he hopes will make everyone happy. Except the gangsters, of course.

Some impressive helicopter stunts, many squealing tires and a heckuva lotta machine gun fire dot this action-packed episode with impressive direction by Rod Holcomb that's marred only during some glaring continuity errors during the car chase. LeGault's performance is very fine, as we never quite know whether Murphy is deranged, desperate or even dangerous, and Martinez and King back the actor up well. Martinez remains a busy television actor, whereas King ended up in Italy making trashy horror and action films like CANNIBAL APOCALYPSE and RAIDERS OF ATLANTIS.

I suspect writer C.R. O'Christopher may be a pseudonym, though he also receives a writing credit on the dull Canadian sci-fi flick THE LAST CHASE. Like Martinez, director Holcomb also is a busy man in television as executive producer of the dramas SHARK and MOONLIGHT on CBS.

A Homecoming In Hell

I knew right away that Ric Meyers was the ghostwriter of FAMILY SKELETONS, because of the early movie references to SUPERMAN II and JUST BEFORE DAWN, which means #5 in Warner Books' Dirty Harry series was probably written in 1981 (its publication date is 1982). I think Meyers has a better grasp of the Harry Callahan character than the other (unknown) writers who worked as "Dane Hartman," at least based on what I've read so far.

Meyers gives the flinty San Francisco police inspector a family, which is more than the films ever did, outside of a reference to Harry's late wife in DIRTY HARRY. Here, he flies to Boston at the urging of his first cousin, Linda Donovan, who fears her 20-year-old daughter Shanna, a volunteer at the local Unitarian church, may be the next victim of a serial killer who made Shanna's friend Judy his first victim. Callahan, who isn't exactly the nostalgic or friendly type, hasn't seen these family members, who may be his only living relatives, in over ten years, and isn't looking forward to the reunion, but, down deep, he figures when family needs help, he has to pitch in.

FAMILY SKELETONS is more complex than other Dirty Harry adventures, which is fine. The Scooby-Doo twist ending is kinkier than anything in the films, and feels like something Meyers pulled out of his ass last-minute (though I know he didn't). It is exciting and poignant, however. Callahan does a lot more cursing in the book than he ever did on screen, though his disregard for authority remains a constant.

Die Spinne

The Death Merchant battles Nazis in THE IRON SWASTIKA PLOT, just two entries after encountering them in the Brazilian rain forest in the excellent THE MATO GROSSO HORROR. I prefer the Death Merchant's pulpier plots to the tales of him fighting the Mafia, if only for the change of pace.

These Nazis, which turn out to be associated with the baddies of THE MATO GROSSO HORROR, are part of a network called Die Spinne—The Spider. The organization has discovered the location of a sunken Nazi submarine in the Atlantic near the Falkland Islands. It reportedly contains not just $2 billion in Nazi gold and diamonds, but also secret papers containing the names of Nazi sympathizers all over the world who could finally be brought to justice.

At the same time The Spider learns of the sub's whereabouts, so do the CIA, which pays freelancer Richard Camellion his customary $100,000 fee to take a team underwater and salvage the treasure before Die Spinne can arrive.

I've read enough of these to comfortably fall into author Joseph Rosenberger's routine by now. Characterization is nil, and graphic descriptions of bullets entering bodies and explosions blasting off limbs prevail. The Death Merchant differs from most other men's adventure characters in that he isn't psychotic or even particularly unfriendly. He's just a guy being paid to do a job, which he does better than anyone else in the world. If you're comfortable with action setpieces that take up half a 178-page book, you can't go wrong with the Death Merchant.

Misses By That Much

THE NUDE BOMB was ahead of its time in one way. In 1979, when it was filmed, it was extremely unusual for Hollywood to remake old television shows as motion pictures, and even more rare for the film to reunite the original cast and/or creators. When THE NUDE BOMB, which brings Don Adams as GET SMART's bumbling secret agent Maxwell Smart to the big screen, was being filmed, STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE was just preparing for its national release—and that film was considered a sure hit, because of STAR TREK's rabid fan base. While GET SMART had been a successful sitcom—four seasons on NBC and one on CBS—and had been in syndicated reruns for the ten years since its 1970 cancellation, it still seems to have been an unusual choice for a big-screen revamp.

Where Universal went right with THE NUDE BOMB was to bring back Adams, of course, as well as Leonard B. Stern and Arne Sultan, who were valuable writers and producers of the GET SMART series and penned the screenplay along with Bill Dana, a talented actor, comedian and writer who "discovered" Adams when the young standup comic portrayed a clumsy detective on the 1963 sitcom THE BILL DANA SHOW. Where the studio screwed up is not bringing back everybody else involved with the series. Actor Edward Platt, who portrayed the beleaguered Chief of CONTROL, was dead, but the absence of Barbara Feldon, the fine comedienne who played "straight woman" to Adams, is a glaring goof-up. I'm perplexed why Feldon didn't co-star in THE NUDE BOMB—she claims she was never offered the part of Max's sexy sidekick (and eventual wife) Agent 99—and the three actresses hired to replace her—Andrea Howard (as Agent 22), Sylvia Kristel (as Agent 34) and Pamela Hensley (as Agent 35)—beautiful as they may be, don't add up to 99.

Oddly, not even CONTROL is featured in THE NUDE BOMB. Now, Smart (Agent 86, of course) works for an organization called PITS, and it's unclear whether the Chief (now played by Dana Elcar) is supposed to be the same character who ran CONTROL in the 1960s. THE NUDE BOMB is not a successful film, but it almost works somehow. Adams steps back into character smoothly enough, but the script lacks the wit and satire of the TV show. Whereas GET SMART creators Buck Henry and Mel Brooks were spoofing the incompetence of the CIA and government, THE NUDE BOMB is content to mock James Bond movies, which were already gross parodies of themselves at this point (the execrable MOONRAKER, which THE NUDE BOMB's opening copies, came out the year before). The intent is clear from the opening titles, which play behind a terrible Bondian theme song, penned by Don Black and Lalo Schifrin and performed by Merry Clayton, that has nothing to do with GET SMART and everything to do with mocking 007. Would you believe the memorable Irving Szathmary theme from the TV series isn't reprised once in Schifrin's score?

Smart is the only agent who can save the world after mad fashion designer St. Sauvage (Vittorio Gassman) creates missiles that destroy all fabrics and threatens to force the world to face its own nekkiditity if the United Nations doesn't pay up. Someone inside PITS is a double agent feeding inside info to St. Sauvage's one-eyed, one-armed, one-legged assassin, Nino Salvatore Sebastiani (also Gassman), who keeps failing in his efforts to bump off Smart. Without 99 by his side, the Chief gives Max a squad of assistants, including the three sexpots mentioned earlier, brother/sister computer experts (Gary Imhoff, Sarah Rush) and Q stand-in Carruthers (Norman Lloyd).

More money for stunts, special effects and locations might have helped director Clive Donner open GET SMART up for the big screen. A big chase scene through the Universal Studios theme park comes back to bite Donner later, when another chase that's supposed to be set someplace else is also obviously filmed on the Universal lot. The plot takes 86 to Austria, Washington, D.C. and New York City, though the film clearly never leaves Southern California. Likewise, the big action setpiece that closes the movie has the germ of a good idea—clones of Sauvage and Smart fighting each other in an exploding laboratory—but obvious doubles and lethargic staging fail to give the climax the pizzazz it needs.

THE NUDE BOMB was shown on television (and possibly home video) as THE RETURN OF MAXWELL SMART. It's not very good, but GET SMART, AGAIN!, a made-for-television reunion made for ABC in 1989, is. Unlike THE NUDE BOMB, the TV-movie was smart enough to bring back Feldon as 99, as well as fellow GET SMART actors Bernie Kopell (as KAOS baddie Siegfried), Dick Gautier (as robot Hymie), King Moody (Shtarker) and Dave Ketchum (Joey Forman played the part of Agent 13 in THE NUDE BOMB). Besides Adams, Robert Karvelas as Larrabee is the only GET SMART actor to appear in both film sequels.

Adams and Feldon returned to their most famous television roles in—what else—GET SMART, which was the title of a shortlived Fox sitcom in 1995 that cast Andy Dick (NEWSRADIO) as the Smarts' bumbling secret agent son Zach and teamed him with sexy but smart agent 66 (Elaine Hendrix). Sound familiar? Adams, who served in the Marines and fought at Guadalcanal during World War II, died in 2005, but his legacy lives on, not just in syndication and on DVD (the original GET SMART series, the Fox series, THE NUDE BOMB and GET SMART, AGAIN! are all available), but also in the 2008 "reimagining," which stars THE 40 YEAR OLD VIRGIN's Steve Carell as Smart, Anne Hathaway (THE PRINCESS DIARIES) as 99, Alan Arkin (LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE) as the Chief and Terence Stamp (THE LIMEY) as the Chief.

Stan Winston, R.I.P.

Slam Evil

Paramount's entertainingly old-fashioned PG adventure is based on the 1936 King Features comic strip hero created by Lee Falk. The masked, purple-garbed Phantom, known as The Ghost Who Walks by the local natives who believe him to be immortal, has patrolled the African jungles for over 400 years, protecting the area from poachers, thieves, killers and supernatural forces. The Phantom is not really immortal, however; the mantle (and costume) of the Phantom is merely passed down from generation to generation. Billy Zane, who projects appropriate earnestness, athleticism and joy at being a costumed hero (if little else), plays the Phantom of 1936, the 21st Ghost Who Walks, while television legend Patrick McGoohan appears in spirit form as Zane's father, Phantom #20, who dispenses advice.

The Phantom becomes involved in a plot by New York businessman Xander Drax (Treat Williams) to track down three mythical skulls--made of gold, bronze and brass--containing mystical powers that Drax can use to rule the world. Kristy Swanson (the original BUFFY, THE VAMPIRE SLAYER) is Diana Palmer, perky niece of a New York newspaper owner who becomes involved in stopping Drax's plan and with the Phantom. Pirates, kidnappers, mobsters in pinstriped suits, sharks, fuel-depleted seaplanes and many other obstacles stand between the Phantom and his quest to prevent Drax's evil scheme, but he manages to pull through with daring aplomb.

Jeffrey Boam's screenplay is very reminiscent of the Indiana Jones films and THE ADVENTURES OF BRISCO COUNTY, JR. (he also wrote for those franchises), but remains faithful to the Phantom legend that predates most other superheroes more familiar to today's audiences (though Bob Kane and Bill Finger's Batman owes a great allegiance to him). THE PHANTOM is a beautiful film that owes a great debt to its Australian and Thai locations, and the costumes and production design that turn the Paramount lot into 1930s New York City are equally plush. Matter of fact, outside of Christopher Reeve as Superman, Zane's costume is the most attractive and believable I've ever seen on a filmed superhero, and the actor looks plausible behind the black mask and purple rubber. Those who claim that superhero costumes that look cool in the funny books, but silly in the "real world," need to look closely at Marlene Stewart's wardrobe skills here.

THE PHANTOM is the movie I wish the Batman films could be, and I like it better than any of those pictures. It's light, exciting, old-school adventure with a rousing David Newman score and a joie de vivre missing from contemporary comic book adaptations. Williams camps it up too much, making his megalomaniac more entertaining than intimidating, but he's capably aided by Catherine Zeta-Jones in her first big Hollywood film. THE PHANTOM is where I first saw her, and I predicted she would be both a major star and a terrific Bond girl. Well, I wasn't half bad.

Pegged as Paramount's big action blockbuster in the summer of 1996, THE PHANTOM was a bust, which I attribute to its awful "Slam Evil" marketing campaign. A money-loser in '96, it's a film worth reevaluating in the midst of Hollywood's current infatuation with comic book heroics. James Remar, Casey Siemaszko, Bill Smitrovich, Samantha Eggar and Cary Hiroyuki-Tagawa round out the spirited supporting cast.

The Wolf Leaves The Pack

The Lone Wolf inhabited paperback book shelves beginning in 1973, when author Barry Malzberg penned the first of fourteen quickie adventures for Berkley Medallion. Later entries were set in San Francisco and Las Vegas, but the Lone Wolf's origin takes place in New York City.

Malzberg, writing as Mike Barry, dispenses with all backstory during a 3 ½-page prologue. Burt Wulff was a Vietnam vet and a New York narcotics cop whose hard nose and no-graft policy forced the politicians on the police force to bust him back to squad car duty. His first night riding with black rookie David Williams, Wulff receives an anonymous tip directing him to a dead girl in a brownstone, a victim of a fatal overdose. The girl is Wulff's fiancé, Marie Calvante. Convinced she was murdered by conspirators within both the department and the mob, Wulff walks away from his job and dedicates his existence to destroying the drug trade, one body at a time, if he has to.

In NIGHT RAIDER, Wulff begins at the bottom, ambushing a pair of low-life pushers and torturing them into revealing their connections. After murdering them, Wulff climbs the ladder until he reaches the top, killing more mobsters and destroying their homes and goods along the way. No question about it—Wulff is obsessed. The Lone Wolf's only ally is Williams, whom he barely knows, but still reveals a willingness to help Wulff operate outside the law.

Barry maintains a sense of continuity throughout the Lone Wolf series, which he wrote for only two years. NIGHT RAIDER closes with a clue to Wulff's next destination: San Francisco. I recently added almost all the Lone Wolf novels to my collection, including the finale, #14, and I look forward to following Wulff on his journey.

Happy Friday The 13th

Last year at this time (well, around Friday the 13th), I was in the middle of my FRIDAY THE 13TH marathon. Click here to read those 11 (!) posts.

Lobo’s Revenge

07 Lobo's Revenge
April 7, 1979
Music: William Broughton
Teleplay: Michael Sloan
Story: Michael Sloan and Richard Lindheim
Director: Bruce Bilson

Bruce Bilson, who directed BJ AND THE BEAR's pilot episode about truck driver BJ McKay (Greg Evigan) going up against a white slavery ring run by Orly County's sheriff Elroy Lobo (Claude Akins), returns for this sequel (Lobo also menaced BJ in "Odyssey of the Shady Truth," the first regular BJ AND THE BEAR episode). By now, Lobo and his bumbling deputy Perkins (Mills Watson) are firmly established as cartoon characters whose attempts at harassing BJ rival Wile E. Coyote's against the Roadrunner.

Lobo, whose department is in serious debt after crashing 19 police cars and rebuilding the jail after his last tangle with BJ, wants revenge and sends Perkins to kidnap Bear in order to lure BJ back to Orly. Perkins' initial attempts, which find him getting beaten up by a mountainous newlywed and busted for dressing in drag (he was attempting to fool BJ into rescuing a damsel in distress with car trouble), fail, but he eventually snags Bear, and BJ naturally follows. Knowing there's no way he can force Lobo to return Bear—and knowing that if he even spits on the sidewalk, Lobo will have him arrested—BJ pulls a series of pranks on Lobo that he hopes will drive the beefy lawman crazy.

Nothing more than good, clean, lighthearted fun, "Lobo's Revenge" finds Akins and Watson in fine form, as the two knuckleheads play off one another quite well. It's sort of like a Gilligan/Skipper relationship, if the Skipper was an avaricious crook. Evigan also has a good time, primarily in later scenes where BJ appears to be enjoying Lobo's clumsy attempt to frame him for a bank robbery that the sheriff himself committed.

Katherine Moffat, billed as Kitty Ruth, reprises Jo Ann Harris' role of Barbara Sue from "Odyssey of the Shady Truth," while Dennis Burkley plays slightly against type for once as Orly's banker (he pretty much plays Burkley in a three-piece suit, but it's still a welcome change). Brion James is seen briefly as Perkins' arresting officer. Michael Sloan, who wrote the bulk of BJ's first season, collaborated on the story with Richard Lindheim, who was the show's co-producer.

Bruce Bilson, who returned a few weeks later to direct Akins, Evigan and company again in "Lobo," was the epitome of a television craftsman. He began as an assistant director in the 1950s, and made his directing debut with THE PATTY DUKE SHOW's third-season premiere in 1965. He directed hundreds of TV shows and movies, but made only one feature film in his fifty-year career, the underperforming CHATTANOOGA CHOO CHOO in 1984. His writer/producer son Danny Bilson (THE FLASH) and his actress granddaughter Rachel (THE O.C.) also have found success in television.

The T.J. Hooker Pilot In 50 Seconds

Sorry For Slacking

I'm a little behind on my posting this week, and probably will be for another couple of weeks. Lots going on that's taking up my time, most of it house-buying. Tomorrow afternoon, I close on my first house, and I've been spending my evenings (and some afternoons) making phone calls, attending meetings, arranging financing, dotting i's and crossing t's. Pretty stressful stuff, and thankfully over soon.

One Lone Soldato

1972's SOLDATO! is the origin of Johnny Morini, who starred in five Lancer paperbacks during the mid-1970s. Morini was created by Philadelphia native Marvin H. Albert, who used the name Al Conroy on his Soldato books and many others (sometimes Albert Conroy). It should also be said that the Conroy moniker was used on all five Soldato novels, even though a couple of them appear to have been ghosted by author Gil Brewer. Albert wrote a lot of stuff in different genres and media, including screenplays, and you can learn more about him here.

SOLDATO! is a darn good action story about Morini, an ex-Mob enforcer who became sickened by his evil world and testified against his don, Renzo Cappellani. Don Renzo was eventually acquitted and swore revenge against the traitorous Morini, who went into the witness protection program, courtesy of a U.S. attorney named Riley.

In Morini's new life, he's the proprietor of a general store in a tiny Arizona town and newly married to Mary. Despite Riley's assurance of safety forever, a shady private eye in Cappellani's employ manages to track Morini down after two years of searching, leading to a lengthy action setpiece in the mountainous desert against two Mafia gunsels. After dispatching his pursuers, Johnny brings Mary back to New York City, where he sets about killing Don Renzo on his home turf.

Inspired, obviously, by the Executioner and perhaps the Butcher (also an ex-mobster gone straight), SOLDATO! is a crackling actioner with good plotting and an interesting protagonist. I also liked MURDER MISSION, #4 in the series, and BLOOD RUN, #5, somewhat, although that finale (which may have been penned by Gil Brewer) fell too far off the beaten path.

Never Give A Trucker An Even Break

06 Never Give a Trucker an Even Break
March 24, 1979
Music: Peter Ivers
Teleplay: Frank Lupo
Story: Frank Lupo and Richard Lindheim
Director: Christian I. Nyby II

This substandard episode of BJ AND THE BEAR is notable for the early, tragic deaths of two of its creative personnel. The score was composed by Peter Ivers, who seems to have been an odd choice to hire for a series like BJ AND THE BEAR. Ivers was a prominent New England-based New Wave musician who hung out with the National Lampoon crowd and penned a song for David Lynch to use in his debut feature, the midnight hit ERASERHEAD. Prior to BJ, Ivers was hired by Ron Howard and/or Roger Corman to score Howard's directorial debut, the drive-in car-crash comedy GRAND THEFT AUTO. I was unaware before now that Ivers had ever worked in episodic television. He was murdered in Los Angeles in 1983.

Guest actress Angela Aames was only 32 years old when she died of heart failure in 1988. Blessed—or cursed, depending upon how one looks at it—with an eye-popping curvaceous figure, Aames bounced between episodic television and exploitation films, almost always playing a sexy girl with little else to offer beyond her breasts. H.O.T.S. (notorious for its topless touch football game) and Jim Wynorski's THE LOST EMPIRE provided her with her most prominent roles, even though they, too, asked her to jiggle for her paycheck.

In "Never Give a Trucker an Even Break," Aames gets plenty of screen time, but little character development (par for the course for this series), as Charisse, the secretary to con man Aaron Wainwright (Beau Kayser), a shady promoter who books a stunt motorcycle rider for a carnival, planning to skip to Mexico with the profits, rather than give it to charity as promised. BJ (Greg Evigan) becomes involved when he agrees to transport the stuntwoman, Tara (Cassie Yates), and her gear to the site, only to discover that Aaron is his old Vietnam buddy. Two gunsels from Aaron's past stick their nose in as well, leading to a wild chase scene along some oceanside cliffs.

Got A Buyer For The Books

Thanks, everyone, for your indulgence.

Who Wants An Instant Paperback Collection?

I'm going to be moving soon, so I've been packing up all my books. I've set aside one box of books that are either doubles in my collection or to be discarded. I'd rather not throw them away, and I'm certain my local library doesn't want them. If you do, just email me. I'm willing to give them away free, if you don't mind paying shipping, which will be about $20 Media Mail. There's probably about 100 books in there: Sharpshooter, Death Merchant, Penetrator, Butcher, Tobin's War and many others. First come, first serve, so whoever e-mails me first and says he/she wants them, you get them. We'll trade addresses, PayPal info, etc. offline.

Kazoo Kazoo

I WONDER WHO’S KILLING HER NOW? is something of a discovery. Mixing dabs of Second City, THE MONKEES, Monty Python and early Woody Allen (the screenplay was written by Mickey Rose, who penned BANANAS and TAKE THE MONEY AND RUN), this inexpensive comedy is a silly and often very funny compendium of sight gags, clever wordplay and goofy accents. I remember it used to play a lot on television and was later released on VHS with an unappealing box with costar Bill Dana’s face (no offense to Bill Dana's face) on it, so it probably never was rented out very much.

Bob Dishy, a New York actor with a background in musical comedy (and seen earlier this year on a LAW & ORDER: SPECIAL VICTIMS UNIT), plays a rare film lead as Jordan Oliver, an embezzling ne’er-do-well who plans to bump off his wife Clarisse (a game Joanna Barnes) for her life insurance. After hiring eccentric Captain Bobo (Bill Dana) to do the job, Oliver learns that a mistake at the insurance company has resulted in Clarisse’s policy being invalid. Hoping to prevent his wife’s death, Oliver tracks down Bobo, who tells him that he has subcontracted the murder to someone else, who subcontracted someone else, who subcontracted…

The film’s biggest laughs result from Steven H. Stern (THE HARRAD EXPERIMENT) pointing his camera at his talented supporting cast and letting them do their schtick. In addition to Dana (doing a variation of his Jose Jimenez routine), the hired killers include Harvey Jason as an Indian musician, Jack DeLeon (whose flaming gay was a semi-regular on BARNEY MILLER) as a Lugosi-like mad scientist, George Memmoli (from the Ace Trucking Company) as his assistant in drag, Richard Libertini (THE IN-LAWS) as a CIA agent and Vito Scotti as an Italian in Mussolini’s army. Much of the funny business happens in one master shot, which makes Stern’s film often play like a typical mid-‘70s TV variety show.

As is often the case with gag-a-minute films, I WONDER WHO’S KILLING HER NOW? peters out before its 84 minutes are up (the Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker comedies usually do this too), but don’t let this stop you from checking out this unsung comedy, which is available on DVD from Mills Creek in one of those 50-movie box sets. Also with Jay Robinson as a hammy actor (great casting there), Ian Wolfe as a sarcastic butler, Severn Darden (in three roles), Steve Franken, Angelo Rossitto, Albert Cole and Pat Morita. Rose tackled the same sort of material in his directorial debut, the slasher-movie spoof STUDENT BODIES, which suffered from not having a cast nearly this good.

Agency Zero

The Big Brain is Colin Garrett, a super-genius who was orphaned at age ten after his parents were killed in an automobile accident. After whizzing through school and university, he joined the Army, but eventually discovered his intelligence was wasted in an organization seemingly built around politics and incompetence.

Years later, his former C.O., Jefferson Judd, contacts Garrett and asks for his help solving a strange mystery. In Washington state, at a secret Army base, three scientists awakened one morning in a complete vegetative state. All three were working on a project known only as Aardvark, which Judd claims is an experiment using lasers technology to change barren soil into land ripe for growing crops. Garrett's assignment is to discover what happened to the scientists.

Structured as a mystery, rather than an espionage adventure, the Big Brain series' first book, THE AARDVARK AFFAIR, published by Zebra Books in 1975, showcases a couple of decent action setpieces, but may as well have been a standard private-eye adventure. Gary Brandner's writing is crisp and clear, dropping a couple of interesting twists and trivial facts into the story. Outside of Garrett's status as the world's smartest man, there are few wild or audacious touches, although it's stated that his eyes change color when deep in thought.

Brandner, by the way, is probably best known as the author of the 1977 novel THE HOWLING, which was adapted into a hit movie in 1981, directed by Joe Dante. Brandner wrote two sequel novels, as well as the first film sequel, the awful HOWLING II: YOUR SISTER IS A WEREWOLF, which I actually saw in 1986 when it played at the Co-Ed Theater in Champaign, Illinois. Outside of Christopher Lee being in it and the hilarious sight of Sybil Danning's topless scene being repeated over and over under the closing credits for no good reason whatsoever, I've blocked most memories of it.

Johnny LaRue's Crane Shot...In Color

The Onion AV Club posts an interesting and favorable review of "Polynesiantown," the brilliant SCTV NETWORK 90 episode that inspired the title of this blog.

A Battle For Blood

Did you know about a blood type so rare that only eleven people in the world have it? It's called Bombay Blood, and ten of those people are slaughtered and drained of it in the first chapter of KINGDOM OF DEATH, which was, to the best of my knowledge, the seventh and last of Charter's TNT series of adventure paperbacks. #3, THE DEVIL'S CLAW, is the only novel that has eluded me so far, but I'm eager to catch up with it.

As I've said before, the TNT books, written by an unknown author calling himself "Doug Masters" and released during the early/mid-1980s, are just about the strangest books I've ever read. No concept is too far out or too tasteless for Masters, who began the series with a scene in which his hero is forced to have sex with several dozen mentally retarded teen and preteen girls. By those standards, KINGDOM OF DEATH, like the previous entry, plays like an episode of THE MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E. Anthony (Tony) Nicholas Twin, the star of the TNT books, is the dullest and least vivid, whereas Arnold Benedict, the effete millionaire who sends the reluctant Twin on his missions, has progressed (regressed?) from a sadistic pedophile to an eccentric, germophobic snob.

Benedict, acting upon a request from prominent politician Adlai Mayflower, recruits Twin to find the masked terrorist code-named Cancer who is stockpiling all the world's Bombay Blood and threatening to destroy a bottle of it every four hours until his demands are met. The only surviving person with that blood type is Mayflower's hemophilic young great-grandson.

Twin, who was given enhanced strength, stamina, sight and hearing powers after he was caught in a nuclear explosion in TNT, is teamed with a supporting cast this time around, including the Titan, the bizarre 300-pound Russian strongman with pink bows in his beard who dresses in drag and rides elephants in this adventure.

Despite being slightly more mainstream than the earlier TNT novels, this is just about the only story I can imagine that could feature Twin battling a zombie Josef Stalin (really!) and it not be the weirdest thing that happens in it.

A Coffin With A View

04 A Coffin with a View
March 10, 1979
Music: William Broughton
Writer: Michael Sloan
Director: Ray Austin

BJ AND THE BEAR has fun sending up horror movies in this episode that guest-stars legendary thespian John Carradine as an addled old caretaker of a Transylvanian cemetery. Hollywood producer Holly Tremaine (Pamela Hensley) hires BJ (Greg Evigan) to transport two coffins filled with Transylvanian dirt from the San Francisco waterfront to Los Angeles, where they'll be used as publicity for Holly's new vampire movie FANGS. As BJ, Holly and Bear travel the backroads on a dark and stormy night, a pair of mysterious murders occur in which the exsanguinated victims are found with puncture marks on their necks. Vampires? Impossible, right? But how does one explain the appearance of hitchhiker Paul Desmond (George Lazenby), whom BJ picks up in the forest in a bone-dry tuxedo on a rainy night?

The strangest thing about the episode is its use of Carradine, whose extensive horror credits date as far back as the 1930s (he had actually played Count Dracula in Universal's 1944 HOUSE OF DRACULA and in a 1956 MATINEE THEATER TV play). "Special Guest Star" Foster Brooks (whose alcoholic standup routine was very popular in the 1970s) plays Terry Morgan, a hammy horror actor who enjoys tipping the bottle and performing impromptu monologues before bar crowds. In effect, Brooks is playing John Carradine, and I wonder why Carradine didn't play the role. I'd cite health concerns (always a factor with Carradine at this stage of his life), but he and Brooks have roughly the same amount of screen time.

One thing about ol' BJ: he surely does know where to find the hottest ladies. Hensley was also appearing as the sensuous Princess Ardala on another Universal series, BUCK ROGERS IN THE 25^TH CENTURY, when she made "A Coffin with a View." One of the '70s sexiest leading ladies (I know that's getting repetitive, but it's true), Hensley retired from acting after marrying her MATT HOUSTON producer, E. Duke Vincent.

George Lazenby, the former 007 (ON HER MAJESTY'S SECRET SERVICE) who spent the '70s making Hong Kong action movies and Australian television shows, worked again with Sloan and director Ray Austin (THE AVENGERS) on the 1985 TV reunion THE RETURN OF THE MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E.: THE 15-YEARS-LATER AFFAIR. Also appearing in this episode are veteran tough guy Jack Ging and 32-year-old Danny Glover, making his network television debut in an unbilled part as a TV reporter who interviews Hensley about her next movie.

Oozing Corpse

One thing I've noticed about the "hero" of Bruno Rossi's Sharpshooter novels. Although many of these men's adventure protagonists seem singleminded in their pursuit of violent justice, the Sharpshooter is downright psychotic. Johnny Rocetti aka Johnny Rock lives only to kill Mafioso. He eats, he sleeps, he sexes up women, but only out of basic animal needs. The only thing in the world Rock gives a shit about is killing mobsters. I mean, that's it. He's practically the most bloodthirsty hero I've read, and that tone is definitely carried out on Leisure Books' covers. Blood drenches nearly every corner of these scummy paperbacks, and "Rossi's" blunt force trauma of a writing style matches.

Several different authors are suspected of being Rossi at various times, but THE WORST WAY TO DIE is reportedly the work of Leonard Levinson, about whom I know nothing (but would like to). Published by Leisure in 1974, it finds Rock storming through Little Italy, where he's ambushed by a mobster he calls Snake Eyes, who roughs him up and sends him off to die. Only Rock escapes, and makes it to the home of an old family friend, a physician, who patches him up. The doctor's daughter, during Rock's recuperation, teaches him the art of makeup, which he uses to disguise himself as a homeless man (they were called bums back then), so he can sack out on the street and case the hangouts of his next targets.

Lots of violence, some blunt and unerotic sex, and plenty of gore mark this Sharpshooter adventure, which ends rather abruptly, as though Levinson/Rossi reached his deadline or his page count earlier than he expected.