Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘Tom Skerritt’

I look at the news today and it is stuffed to the gills with all sorts of goings on in Washington DC concerning the dismissed FBI director and the British nation holding its breath ahead of its second general election in three years. The embarassment of Trump is something to crack a smile over, I suppose, but I find I can muster little hope for the situation here in the UK. How to take one’s mind off such things? Back to the TV of the 1970s, I suppose; it can usually provide something appropriate to any situation.

It’s easy to demonise a certain type of politician as a heartless, soulless, callous, grasping, self-interested monster – so let’s get on with it. The Devil’s Platform is the seventh episode of the weekly Kolchak: The Night Stalker series, written by Donn Mullally (with, probably, help from David Chase of Sopranos fame), and directed by Allen Baron – the episode first aired in November 1974. Kolchak is a fairly obscure show these days, probably most famous for being the proto-X-Files: every week, old-school Chicago newspaper reporter Carl Kolchak (Darren McGavin) stumbles upon a series of crimes (usually murders) carried out by an otherworldly or supernatural menace, and has to resolve the situation despite the hostility of the authorities and his own boss Vincenzo (played by Simon Oakland).

The episode opens with a senatorial race in full swing in Illinois, with the running being made by little-known newcomer Robert Palmer (Tom Skerritt, probably best known these days for playing Captain Dallas in the original Alien) – although Palmer’s cause has been helped by a string of mysterious deaths. Palmer’s campaign manager has managed to turn up some serious dirt on his man, and is so outraged that he is about to go to the police about it. Not notably concerned by this, it would seem, Palmer steps into an elevator with his soon-to-be-ex-manager – which then crashes thirteen floors to the bottom of the shaft, after a freak failure of the machinery.

Kolchak, as luck would have it, is on the scene to meet Palmer, and joins the first responders when the elevator is opened up. Everyone inside has been killed, but there’s no sign of Palmer – and also in the car is a huge black dog which forces its way past everyone on the scene, knocking over our hero in the process. Kolchak manages to grab the dog’s collar ornament off it, though, which has an interesting pentagram motif.

No-one can seem to find Palmer anywhere, and so Kolchak goes on about his day, unaware that his steps are (literally) being dogged by the chunky canine from the lift disaster. Eventually Vincenzo packs him off to the Palmer residence to try and get a new angle on the story, where he encounters Palmer’s supremely unhelpful wife in one of the episode’s funniest scenes (‘Expletive deleted,’ mutters Kolchak after she gives him the brush-off). On his way back to his car, he is attacked by the black dog, which only seems interested in ripping open his jacket and retrieving the pentagram amulet. Seconds later, Robert Palmer reappears, as unruffled as he was to begin with.

It’s a nicely put together opening act, somewhat more subtle than is usually Kolchak‘s wont, but still managing to put across its main idea effectively – Palmer is a bad ‘un, with the ability to transform himself into an indestructible hellhound, provided he has access to his amulet. Without the amulet, he’s stuck as the dog, hence his not turning up for TV election debates (well, ‘I can’t debate you as I transformed into a dog and unexpectedly can’t change back’ is not the worst excuse for refusing to engage in a debate that we’ve heard recently, is it).

The rest of the episode isn’t quite up to the same standard, and it does struggle to find things that to fill up its middle act with – Palmer ends up doing another couple of murders while Kolchak is trying to persuade Vincenzo to run his story (‘Why does our political expose have to have a dog in it?!?’ wails Vincenzo) and generally figure out what’s going on.

Naturally, Kolchak works it out just in time to confront Palmer within the fifty minute duration of a network drama show: the candidate is, of course, a warlock who has sold his soul to Satan in return for various interesting faculties – as well as being able to turn into the hellhound, he seems able to cause disastrous accidents, and also to have a degree of clairvoyance. Now he is intent on rising to the very top of American politics, where he will no doubt impose his own brand of strong and stable leadership. Or am I getting my nightmarish real-world dystopias jumbled up again? Hmmm.

Few TV shows are quite as formulaic and thinly characterised as Kolchak: The Night Stalker – if anyone started behaving like a real human beingĀ it would instantly expose how preposterous the format of this series is – but this is probably the best episode of the weekly series, not least because it departs further from the format than most. The fact that no-one but Kolchak is aware that the deaths are anything other than a series of accidents means the episode omits the routine stuff with Kolchak getting on the nerves of the cop investigating the case, while the scene where Kolchak engages in some cross-talk with a local expert in order to get the information he needs to kill the monster is also missing – he just looks it all up in a book.

More significantly, I think, this is one of the very few Kolchaks to escape the pitfalls of building the story to climax with a tussle between McGavin and some guy in an unconvincing monster suit. The black dog is unsurprisingly quite convincing, given it is realised using (you guessed it) a black dog, and Tom Skerritt underplays Palmer rather effectively – and, by the way, absolutely straight. (One thing Kolchak is normally pretty good at is shifting back and forth between comedy and horror.) The moment when Palmer attempts to recruit Kolchak to his cause, drily listing Carl’s various ambitions and foibles and offering the assistance of his, er, patron, is genuinely creepy and as close to a moment of actual character drama as the series ever gets – Kolchak almost seems swayed for a moment.

Of course, it’s Kolchak, so it’s never going to be perfect – there’s the mid-story muddle I mentioned, plus the resolution of the plot is telegraphed very early on when one of Kolchak and Vincenzo’s co-workers returns from a trip to Rome with a bottle of holy water. There’s also something funny going on with the climax – having had his offer turned down, Palmer decides Kolchak is prime human sacrifice material and goes for him with a dagger – but the sequence appears to have fallen foul of network censors, for it’s been bafflingly edited to the point of incoherence.

Still, it all concludes with the forces of darkness vanquished, and the election left open for a politician with a soul to win. Yeah, the past is a different country, isn’t it? Pass the holy water.

Read Full Post »

From the Hootoo archive. Originally published November 29th 2001:

A long time ago (well, the late 1970s), in a galaxy not that far away, the film studio 20th Century Fox had had a big hit with a movie called Star Wars (you may have heard of it). The Fox suits decided they could use a bit more of this spaceship stuff, seeing as it was so popular, and rang round the junior suits who did all the work. ‘Any scripts with spaceships in them knocking about?’ And they were brought the script for Battlestar Galactica, which they promptly sent away again, because even suits have standards. Finally a script called Star Beast appeared, which even sounded a bit like Star Wars, and they decided to make it as a sort of low-budget exploitation film. Unfortunately they forgot to tell this to Mr Ridley Scott, the director, with peculiar results…

Surely everyone reading this knows the plot of Alien, the movie Star Beast turned into? All right, just in brief… Most of the movie occurs on the Nostromo, an interstellar tug with a crew of seven (plus one pet cat – all great horror movies should have animals in them). The crew spend most of the time asleep in fridges, which makes you wonder why they’re there at all, especially as the plot establishes that a sophisticated android workforce is available. However, they’re rudely awakened by an alien signal emanating from a blasted rockball, and their contracts insist they go and investigate. Down on the planet three of the crew find a huge alien vessel and luckless First Officer Kane (a fairly pre-stardom John Hurt) has a close encounter of an intimate and rather icky kind with the occupant of an alien egg. Despite the concerns of Third Officer Ripley (a definitely pre-stardom Sigourney Weaver, here in her signature role), the landing party are let back on board by twitchy Science Officer Ash (a pre-Baggins Ian Holm). The alien parasite seems to die and Kane recovers. However the ship’s supply of indigestion tablets is insufficient to stop him rudely bursting open in the middle of the crew’s supper, and a metallic-dentured alien emerges and does a runner (or the equivalent) for the bowels of the ship. The rest of the crew are forced to engage in a battle to survive, or else the franchise will never get going and The Terminator will never have any competition for the title of James Cameron’s best film…

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Fox may have wanted another Star Wars, but this ain’t it. It’s a weird clash of several different styles of film-making, and arguably the wrong style wins. I’ve never been able to force myself to believe all the hype about Alien, and here’s why…

Style number one is indeed Star Wars influenced: there are frequent loving flybys of bloomin’ big spaceships, and the technology of the Nostromo has a dirty, used look to it, rather like the Millenium Falcon et al. It looks sort of convincing as a working starship. This flows rather neatly into style number two – a naturalistic, almost docudrama approach to the crew mooching about, all talking at the same time over their meals, and complaining about their pay. It’s an effect that reminds me most strongly of a Howard Hawks movie. Hawks was a director and producer of many genres, active from the 1930s to the 50s, and amongst his films was the original Thing From Another World. The Thing was one of the best 50s SF scare movies, and clearly an ancestor of Alien, right down to the traitor in the human camp. Alien was conceived of and pitched as an updated scare movie, a suspense-thriller-horror movie – the haunted house in space.

But the most important name for the Alien saga at this point in time was not Ripley but Ridley – Scott, that is, the director. Here I go into a minority of one, but I’ve never been hugely impressed by a Ridley Scott film. His visual sense is undeniably superb, and his movies are nearly all stunningly beautiful to look at. But it always seems to me that he’s much more interested in filling the screen with pretty pictures than with engaging the audience with the characters or even telling the story.

The next time you see Alien just look at how much of the time is filled with languid sequences where the camera roams around actionless, silent sets, simply showing off how beautiful the production designs are. This drains the film of a lot of the nervous energy it should have, particularly as a suspense horror. Sure, there are ‘jump’ moments, such as when the facehugger falls on Ripley’s shoulder or the Alien appears with Dallas in the air duct – but anyone can contrive that sort of thing. Creating and sustaining true tension is much more difficult and, for me, Alien rarely manages it for long – I just don’t feel drawn into the story.

This isn’t a bad film – of course it isn’t. HR Giger’s creations are incredible and iconic, the rest of the sets equally good. There’s a good ensemble performance by the cast, and it’s interesting that it isn’t until very late on that Ripley emerges as the survivor/heroine figure. Also noteworthy is Ian Holm’s peculiar, nervy performance as Ash – a performance that seems even more peculiar on repeated viewings of the movie.

But for me, Alien is fatally flawed: written and designed as a nerve-jangling horror movie in space, it’s actually directed like an arthouse film, with beautiful compositions and visual effects taking precedence over effective storytelling. The very beauty which makes it so exceptional also deprives it of truly working as it was intended to.

Read Full Post »