TERROR IN TOYLAND
Mood:  cheeky
In the days leading up to Christmas, I'll do my part to help you and your loved ones enjoy this holiday season by recommending some appropriately themed films guaranteed to get you into the proper spirit. Sure, you can always sit down to IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE or A CHRISTMAS STORY for the 79th time. Or you can open your mind, man, to a fantastic new world filled with freaky frankincense and far-out myrrh.

TERROR IN TOYLAND (1980) may look like a slasher film, but falls more squarely into the realm of psychological drama. Also known as CHRISTMAS EVIL and YOU BETTER WATCH OUT, TERROR features a very good performance by Brandon Maggart (later on the Showtime sitcom BROTHERS) as Harry, a meek middle-management type who likes Christmas a little too much. Especially considering he's been emotionally scarred from sneaking downstairs one Christmas Eve as a child and seeing Mommy doing more than just kissing Santa Claus in the living room. Now a middle-aged man, Harry spends much of his time spying on the neighborhood children, keeping a list of their deeds, both naughty and nice (nosepicking goes on the "naughty" list). This finally sends him over the edge on Christmas Eve, when he goes on a (relatively tame) killing spree, cruising around New York City in his custom-painted Santa van and even being chased by good Samaritans with torches!

OK, it's pretty slow-going and bloodless, but well worth watching just for the WTF ending, which left me literally crying from laughter. No kidding, I laughed louder, longer and harder at this movie's final scene than at most actual comedies I've seen.

Want to know more? SPOILERS follow:

After Harry has been identified as the nutcase who's wandering around killing people, the citizens form a lynch mob and start chasing him around the streets. Harry jumps into his supervan and drives away. Just when you think he's going to get killed, the van simply...flies away! Keep in mind, up to the final 30 seconds, there have been no fantastic or supernatural elements whatsoever in the film. And just like that, Santa Harry's van glides into the air, flying over the New York streets with Harry's "Ho ho ho"'s echoing across the sky.

END SPOILERS

Truthfully, this movie didn't do much for me beyond Maggart's strong performance and an oddly sick atmosphere around it. But when that ending happened, I completely lost it. It goes far beyond Absurd into Unabashed WTF Territory. With a bullet. I'd like to watch the film again this Christmas, but no way could it have the same effect on me.

One more TERROR IN TOYLAND footnote: star Maggart fathered pop singer Fiona Apple.

Abe in Space
Mood:  spacey
Now Playing: SECRET AGENT
Believe it or not, I have a set of friends who are obsessed with oddball Abraham Lincoln references. I've never quite understood it myself, but this post is in their honor.


The Unexpected #217, cover pencilled by Ernie Colon and inked by Dick Giordano. I believe the story is "Dear Senator", a 10-pager written and drawn by Sheldon Mayer. I've not had the pleasure of reading it, but I'm dying to know what this ridiculous cover is all about.

Tonight I watched this week's episodes of LAW & ORDER: SPECIAL VICTIMS UNIT (good), THE WEST WING (okay by this season's standards; can't wait for Jimmy Smits to become a regular) and LAW & ORDER (I like Farina, but it was good to see Orbach again in this repeat). I don't watch very much television at all these days, just a handful of network dramas. I haven't watched anything on cable in over a month; maybe it's time I stopped thinking about getting a dish and just did it.

I also dug into A&E's SECRET AGENT box set, watching the first episode. It seems like an odd one to start a series with, since the main character, agent John Drake (Patrick McGoohan), is undercover throughout the episode and acts, er, out of character, so to speak. A bit talky, but the cat-and-mouse games played among the spies were fun, and the British guest cast, including Niall McGinniss and the charming Dawn Addams, were good.

Off to climb into a bed a bit early. I certainly could use it after this week, especially after staying up late so many nights. I'll of course read a bit first. I'm currently spinning the pages of Marvel's ESSENTIAL IRON FIST, VOL. 1, which reprints the first several appearances of the green-and-gold superhero created to take advantage of the martial arts craze of the mid-1970s. I highly recommend the Marvel ESSENTIAL series, which are thick trade paperbacks (500-600 pages) reprinting classic Marvel comics. Early editions focused on A-list heroes like Spider-Man, Captain America, Hulk and the Fantastic Four, but more recently Marvel has moved into the '70s and more obscure titles like MARVEL TEAM-UP, TOMB OF DRACULA, SUPER-VILLAIN TEAM-UP and THE MONSTER OF FRANKENSTEIN. The downside is that they're reprinted in black-and-white, but with 500+ pages and 25-30 different issues presented for less than $15, I think they're marvelous bargains. As much as I love the Silver Age Marvel stories by Stan Lee, Steve Ditko, Jack Kirby et al., I have a soft spot for the comics I grew up with during the '70s...and the sillier the better. And they don't get a whole lot sillier than Iron Fist, whose gaudy outfit, kung fu skills and iron-fist gimmick (by concentrating, he can draw all the power of his chi into his fist, giving it temporarily immense power) fit right into the freewheeling well-let's-see-if-this-idea-sticks Marvel spirit of the pre-Shooter '70s. So face front, fans!

Wastin' Away Again in Polynesiantown
Mood:  chillin'
I feel surprisingly good right now, considering the wildness of last night. I'm not a drinker, and I still often wake up the morning after a night at the Bullet with a hangover of sorts, because of the polluted air circulating around that joint, a mixture of smoke and sweat and juices and oils and I don't even want to know what else. I like Damron and all, but I'm almost glad he's finally gone, `cause another going-away celebration might have killed me. Tonight is for relaxing. I was out Monday, Wednesday and Thursday nights, and will be up very late tomorrow night. I expect I'll catch up on the network television that I recorded during the week.

So. Johnny LaRue's Crane Shot. When I was a kid, as many teenage boys are, especially one who are funny (hey, I wasn't voted Farmer City-Mansfield's Class of `84 Class Clown for nothin'...), I was very interested in comedy. I used to watch Carson's monologue and opening desk bit, and try to repeat the jokes at school the next day. Carnac and Art Fern were my favorite Carson bits. Of course, I watched all the great sitcoms of the period--THE BOB NEWHART SHOW, THE MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW, TAXI, WKRP IN CINCINNATI, M*A*S*H. There were still some good variety shows on the air that regularly featured greats like Carol Burnett and Tim Conway and Dick Van Dyke. Dean Martin roasts. SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE was at its creative peak during its first five years and has never recovered. And there was SCTV NETWORK 90 (soon retitled just SCTV).

I think most people who watched SCTV in the early '80s considered it their own personal secret. SCTV actually began on Canadian television in the late '70s, but was brought to NBC in 1981 to air after THE TONIGHT SHOW on Friday nights in a 90-minute format. The cast was brilliant, so much so that all are still active in showbiz today (at least as much as they want to be): Joe Flaherty, John Candy, Eugene Levy, Andrea Martin, Catherine O'Hara, Dave Thomas and Rick Moranis (Martin Short joined later in the season). At age 14 and 15, I don't recall any of my friends staying up to watch SCTV; I felt as though I was the only one I knew who was special enough to "get" it. SCTV was eventually discovered by the mass media (who eventually put them in LIFE and ROLLING STONE), but at the beginning, nobody knew about the show (and its ratings were never very big, as only a dedicated cult audience was watching).

One of many brilliant bits of that first season began in an early sketch called "Polynesiantown". It was a parody of CHINATOWN, and starred Candy's character Johnny LaRue as a bar owner. SCTV was a collection of TV, movie and commercial parodies, but it also featured regular characters who appeared in wraparound segments. LaRue was a wannabe matinee idol, a playboy failed-movie-star who was reduced to making TV-movies for the SCTV network, and "Polynesiantown" was one he wrote, directed, produced and starred in. Featuring a wild plot involving poisoned ribs and musical numbers by Dr. John, "Polynesiantown" is among Season One's crown jewels. But it's what happened later that led to its legacy as much as the sketch itself.

Candy, who also conceived the sketch, ended it with a complicated crane shot that took hours to film and left the cast and crew freezing at 3:00am on an Edmonton night. It also ran the episode over-budget, forcing an angry missive from NBC. So SCTV weaved the real-life incident into their show, with station owner Guy Caballero (Flaherty) chewing out LaRue on the next episode for going over budget and firing him. A blubbering sycophantic LaRue finally convinced Guy for another shot, which turned out to be "Street Beef", which allowed Johnny only one camera and one microphone. Johnny begged for a crane, but Guy refused to relent.

This series of gags ran through much of the first season, finally climaxing in the Christmas show, which found LaRue outside alone on Christmas Eve doing "Street Beef" all alone without even a cameraman. Drunk, freezing (it really was damn cold during that snowy Edmonton night shoot) and depressed, LaRue delivered an amazingly funny and poignant monologue directly into the lens (Candy really was a helluvan actor). At the end of it, he had a epiphany of sorts, and discovered that Santa Claus had gifted him with his very own crane, complete with red ribbon, reducing LaRue to tears.

SCTV fans remember LaRue and his crane shot with much fondness, and it's a reference that has crept into many realms of pop culture. Michael Moore thanked "Johnny LaRue" for his crane shot in the closing credits of his film CANADIAN BACON (with Candy). Jim Wynorski in his audio commentary on CHOPPING MALL and cast and crew members of FREAKS & GEEKS gush about the joke on their DVDs. Since I have recently rediscovered the genius of SCTV on Shout! Factory's recent DVD releases, I hereby dedicate this post to the cast, writers and crew of that show. And now you know the origin of Johnny LaRue's crane shot.

Aren't you glad you read all that?

Back later tonight.

Make Fuck, Not Kill
Mood:  smelly
Now Playing: GEORGE CARLIN...ON LOCATION
Not much to write now, reason being that I'm pooped and dreading my alarm going off in less than six hours. Damron is A) moving to Arizona tomorrow night, B) had a birthday this week and C) getting married next year, so tonight was a major bash/drinkfest/bachelor party/birthday party, which climaxed at the Silver Bullet. The highlight was seeing a couple of female friends lying on the stage having their tops popped and breasts sucked by strippers. They acted all embarrassed about it...which didn't prevent them from doing it two more times! I wish I knew the guy who invented alcohol, because I would totally shake his hand right now.

I'm also covered in that peculiar, unique Silver Bullet odor; it scares me to ponder what deadly mixture of chemicals is floating around the air in that place, and I fear that if I were struck by lightning upon leaving, the mixture of electricity and chemicals might transform me into The Flash.

I have been tired all day, because I have been staying up much too late this week. I felt terrible all afternoon, and laid on the couch for a couple of hours after work. Through Netflix, I watched GEORGE CARLIN...ON LOCATION, which was HBO's first stand-up special. Taped and aired in 1977, it's sorta quaint to see what a big deal HBO made of the language, bringing on an executive to introduce the special, and even pausing the concert near the end to flash a disclaimer warning the audience that Carlin's following monologue (the Seven Dirty Words bit) might offend some viewers, who should decide right now whether to turn the TV off. Truthfully, this 85-minute show was Carlin Lite; later HBO specials were much better. You could always count on Carlin and Robert Klein to do a special per year for HBO, and they rarely disappointed. This entry's title, by the way, comes from the Carlin show.

I also have Disc 1 of A&E's SECRET AGENT set from Netflix. SECRET AGENT was the U.S. title of a one-hour British TV series called DANGER MAN, which originally aired in the U.S. as a half-hour series called DANGER MAN. Several years later, when the show produced more episodes in a 60-minute format, it was still DANGER MAN in the U.K., but retitled (by CBS) SECRET AGENT here. I guess so stupid Americans would know what it was about. I watched several of the DANGER MAN episodes, which were extremely good, but I'm stoked to discover how great the show was with the luxury of longer episodes to fully flesh out the plots and dramatics. The great Patrick McGoohan (later to star in the brilliant THE PRISONER, another entry on my all-time Top Ten list) was SECRET AGENT's star, playing British agent John Drake. More on this groundbreaking series at another time.

Has anyone figured out where the name of this blog comes from?

Up Past My Bedtime
Mood:  chatty
Now Playing: NYPD BLUE
I'm updating a little late tonight. Ordinarily I'd be in bed already, turning out the light after a bit of reading and a frosty Red Can. But I received a nice/interesting/unusual phone call tonight from an old friend. Steve is a good friend from my college days in Carbondale. He was a local news anchor at the television station where many of my friends worked, and we all hung out and partied together. But eventually I left Carbondale, he left for another broadcasting gig, and soon everyone was gone. We stayed in touch occasionally, but until last spring, I hadn't spoken to him in a couple of years, although I knew where he was and what he was up to. Last spring, Steve landed a very cool new job. He's a celebrity of sorts, so I won't be more specific (because of personal info I'll reveal in a bit), but it's the exact job that I dreamed of having when I was a kid. When I read in the news that he had the job, I called and left him a congratulatory message. We played phone tag all summer, until we finally chatted for a few minutes at the end of September, just small talk mostly.

So it was really cool to talk to him tonight. It's uncommon for me to receive late-night phone calls these days, but back in the day, none of us thought anything about calling someone at 3am if we wanted to. So I was surprised when the phone rang, and even more surprised it was Steve, calling from a Motel 6. Unfortunately, he's having marital problems, which is always a shame, and even worse, the motel TV didn't have TV Land, a killer for a sitcom fan like him. So we chatted for an hour or so about our jobs, his family, baseball, old TV shows. It was a good time. I actually have not seen the guy in person in about 12 years, but I think I'll make an effort to visit him next summer. He's only about 5 hours away by car, and he's got some excellent connections for baseball tickets...always a good quality to have in a friend.

He also has kids...two from his wife's previous marriage and one of their own, which makes breaking up more difficult. I visited some friends tonight who recently had male twins, I think they're about 3 months old. First off, I'm unable to see or hear about babies without being reminded of SEINFELD: "Ya gotta see the babies!" People are obsessed with looking at babies. Personally, a baby is a baby; you could put ten of them in a room together, and I wouldn't be able to differentiate among any of them. But as I was holding one of them and talking to my friend about them, I started thinking about all the things in life that I enjoy doing. And he confirmed that I wouldn't be able to do any of them ever again. What a huge sacrifice it is to have children. Will I ever be willing to take those steps? To give up activities and a lifestyle that I enjoy? I'm not ready now, and I don't know if I ever will be. I think that's kind of sad.

I was trying to squeeze in this week's NYPD BLUE before bed. I rarely watch any network programming as it airs anymore; I always tape it and watch it later. The reason is commercials. Not only are there more of them than ever before, but the number of breaks has increased. Shows rarely run more than 8 or 9 minutes without going to commercial, and that's just too much for me. Zip zip zip...I fast-forward right through those suckers.

I'll miss BLUE when it's gone after this season. While they're having a pretty strong season, I really watch it more out of familiarity than anything else. After 12 (13?) years, it has lost the power to surprise me, but its presence is still soothing. There have been seasons that I only intermittently caught it, mostly because it wasn't that good, but it has rebounded for its final year. The show has never been as good as it was its first year, when David Caruso was blistering the airwaves with his consistently stunning performance as John Kelly and the writing led by Steven Bochco and David Milch was so strong and innovative. The bare asses of Sherry Stringfield and Amy Brenneman didn't hurt either. Tonight's episode was solid, although I have a soft spot for scenes in which Sipowicz slaps a dirtbag suspect across the back of the noggin.

I'm getting ready for Xmas. Packages are actually wrapped this year, as opposed to just tossing them in gift bags with newspaper sticking out of the top. I'm actually sending cards, which I haven't done for several years. My last two Christmases, since my mother passed away, really haven't been that hot; t'is the season when you really do need a family. Not that I have no family, but my brother lives in St. Louis now, and my dad is a pretty busy guy, and I really miss the frequent interaction we used to have. If there's anything I have learned in the 21st century, it's to not take for granted people who love you, 'cause they won't be here forever.

But, anyway, I'm encouraged in that I seem to be slowing getting back into the Christmas spirit, and maybe I'll have another great Christmas or two sometime down the road. I also wrapped a present for the White Elephant game at work on Monday. I'm 3-for-3 in walking away from White Elephant with a better gift than what I came in with, so I hope to extend my streak this year.

Thanks to those of you who commented on my new blog, either on the site or via private email. Your positive vibes are encouraging, and I hope you'll continue to make this an interactive experience. I think it takes a certain narcissism to write stuff like this on a public forum and expect people to read it. I don't feel I have that sort of personality--while I am no different from anyone else in terms of enjoying a certain amount of positive attention, I don't think I have an ego larger than average size at the most. And if I'm wrong about that, I'm sure somebody will let me know!

Well, what the heck...
Mood:  not sure
Now Playing: HAWAII FIVE-0
Just like everyone from Tony Danza to Jm J. Bullock has hosted a damn talk show, I'm convinced everyone on Earth will host a blog before it's all over and done with. I never seriously thought about having one until today, but when Cheeseburger launched hers tonight, I thought I'd give it a whirl.

I spend enough time on the Internet as it is, considering I moderate the Science Fiction, Horror & Fantasy and the Cult & Exploitation message boards over at the acclaimed Mobius Home Video Forum, as well as maintain my own Web site of film reviews, Marty's Marquee. One reason I never seriously considered a blog is because the Web is just too public a place to post my deepest, most inner thoughts. I'm just not the type of cat who can let my feelings hang out there for the world to see.

With that, I thought perhaps I would just use this site to chat about other things that pop into my head, probably pop-culture-related. What shows I'm watching. What movies I'm seeing. Recommend a Web site occasionally. Who knows. Just like who knows if anybody will ever read this.

Not much to report tonight. I stayed home this evening, did some laundry, cooked some cheap, dry steak on the Foreman, and watched HAWAII FIVE-0. Some time back, fellow Mobian Erik Nelson burned his Columbia House VHS tapes of FIVE-0 episodes onto DVD and mailed me copies. FIVE-0 is unquestionably one of my Top Ten (Five?) favorite TV series. When I was in high school, it aired Mon-Thur nights at 11:00pm on WCIA, right after M*A*S*H. Like me, my mother was a night owl, and I stayed up every night with her watching FIVE-0. On any list of great TV cop shows, FIVE-0 consistently offered imaginative scripts and visually sharp direction to go along with the Hawaiian locations (it was the first TV series to shoot there) and the iconic performance of lantern-jawed, thick-haired Jack Lord as Steve McGarrett, who put the "no nonsense" back into no-nonsense cops.

I could write about FIVE-0 all night, but I won't, except to say that I have always appreciated one particular aspect of the show. Unlike every other series to film in Hawaii, FIVE-0 was careful not to shoot only in lush, attractive areas of the state. Of course, palm trees and crashing waves were a huge part of the show, but FIVE-0 always found interesting locations to shoot that were not on the usual tourist haunts, like back alleys and crumbling World War II bunkers. I've always wanted to visit the state, and maybe I will one day.

Tonight I watched "Nine Dragons", which was the two-hour (remember when network TV would occasionally deliver a special two-hour episode?) 8th-season premiere, and one of the best episodes out of the nearly 300 they did. It brought back McGarrett's archenemy, Communist agent Wo Fat (Khigh Dhiegh, who was in THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE and became the only actor to star in his own network TV series, but refuse billing), in a plot that found the evil Chinese spy swiping some deadly toxin from a Honolulu university and McGarrett chasing him to Hong Kong (using actual Hong Kong locations), where he was captured and brainwashed by Wo Fat. Throw in an excellent Bondian score by Morton Stevens, and you've got a well-crafted episode of action-adventure television you'll not see the likes of today.

I reckon that's all for now. It remains to be seen how often I'll update this blog, but I hope you'll come back every day or two to check. Feel free to leave your feedback using the Comments link below. Maybe next time I'll elaborate on Khigh Dhiegh's TV series, or explain the title of my blog.