"Mookie and Pookie"

Original Airdate: November 4, 1984

Directed by Timna Ranon.

Written by Dan Kleinman, Story by Dan Kleinman and Marc Fields.

Starring Justine Bateman (Susan ‘Pookie’ Anderson), Tippi Hedren (Ruth Anderson), George Sims (Harold Anderson), and Ron Asher (Kevin ‘Mookie’ Anderson).

SYNOPSIS: Mookie and Pookie are twins, and as twins are emotionally inseparable. Brother Kevin is a computer whiz who is gradually dying from an unnamed illness, forcing him to spend most of his time locked away in his bedroom with his beloved modems. When he passes away, his sister Susan promises to finish the program that he started, her obsession with the project dismaying her parents. But the program Susan is completing will in fact restore her brother to the family unit once more.

CRITIQUE: When Roald Dahl tangentially tackled similar territory as “Mookie and Pookie” in his 1959 short story “William and Mary,” his take was of a decidedly cynical bent, dealing as it did with the dissolved-by-death marriage of an older couple and the husband’s continuation of life in the form of a pickled brain. Mary used this strange opportunity to take back her existence from the tyrannical rule of the despised William, but Dan Kleinman uses the same conceit to show not the bitterness of a holy union but the unwavering devotion of familial love.

The episode is by no means a tearjerker, but it does provide a wistful glimpse into a world where death can be conquered by the right algorithm of binary code. Ron Asher is on the scene only for the establishing scene that paints him as one of those dreamer-geniuses who have posters of Einstein decorating their walls, but the brief time he shares with Justine Bateman (FAMILY TIES) is serviceable and effective enough to sell us on their relationship. Kleinman wisely declines using any sugary-sweet “Aw shucks, bro” type of interactions that might hamper a lesser drama and their bond is understood without ever coming off as showy. Even though the buzzer alerting the family to Kevin’s failing life support system occurs before the first commercial break, we can still appreciate the sense of loss.

The attitude that the parents have towards computers in general is amusingly reflective of the time period, with Dad getting especially irked by his daughter’s use of the technical term “glitch” during their game of Scrabble. George Sims (who was last seen in ALLIGATOR II: THE MUTATION) gives his daughter a little too much credit in her technical know-how when he surmises that she hacked into a bank database to look up a check he had written for the sale of the computer, but he strikes just the right chord of angry disbelief and stern parental guidance to balance the tone. His character is particularly odious when he tries to give a message to Susan "from Mookie" asking her to give the computer up. Sometimes parents can be even more insidious than the harm they think they're protecting their children from.

If the dictum that states that parents never truly understand their children is true, the episode agrees. Mom and Dad are seen as interfering in Susan’s search for her brother’s soul in the digital ether, insisting that her grief is affecting her judgment. They do this without ever truly saying it, which is the norm in family politics. No one ever comes out and says their feelings unless the script tells them to. Mom eventually comes around, but there’s a very telling moment right before she does when she tells Susan that she’s signed her daughter up for riding camp that summer. This was a privilege that was originally denied to Susan because of her brother’s condition. The part where Mom acknowledges that Susan can go now because of her son’s death and explains that this is also a means to get Susan away from the keyboard goes unspoken, of course.

An interesting parallel develops late in the story that compares Susan's battle to the moralistic plight surrounding humans in vegetative states. Throughout the episode Susan desperately tries to convince her parents that Kevin is in fact alive. Both Mom and Dad type questions on the screen--electric blue light against the blackness of the unknown--that go unanswered but Susan insists that her brother is “there.” It is only when Dad threatens to pull the plug that Kevin’s mechanized plea bursts from the voice synthesizer, shattering the protective cocoon of reality from around him. Realizing that he has come close to bestowing a second death on his son, Dad decides that he needs to go sit down and think for a little bit.

The resonance of this scene is softened by the slightly-cheesy denouement that sees the smiling family back at the dining table playing their regular game of Scrabble with the now computerized Kevin offering his word choice on the interface of his screen as the rest of the group laugh warmly. They don’t freeze frame the moment though, thank Christ. "Mookie and Pookie" may be tame stuff when compared to other episodes but serves as a sweet little testament to the belief in undying love. This one’s for all the brothers and sisters out there.

“It must be the hardest thing in the world to lose a twin.” 

***

RATING: 2 1/2 Lizzies

COMING UP: David Patrick Kelly is feeling wiped out in "Slippage."

"The Odds"

Season One, Episode 4

Original Airdate: October 21, 1984

Directed by James Sadwith.

Written by James Sadwith.

Starring Danny Aiello (Tommy Vale), Tom Noonan (Bill Lacey), Robert Weil (Horace Chadway), Anthony Bishop (Phil the Bartender), Mario Todisco (Mafioso), and Michael Quill (Lacey's Man).

SYNOPSIS: Bookie Tommy Vale has earned a reputation of never turning down a bet, no matter the odds. Vale finds his mettle challenged when a strange figure from the past comes calling, placing big bets that keep winning big bucks. It doesn't take long for the sharp Vale to gather that the man is the long-dead Bill Lacey, a former customer who committed suicide after suffering a huge loss. But the stakes become considerably higher when Lacey proposes that Vale bet against the time of his own death...

CRITIQUE: This episode marks the first occasion in the series when the same person has directed from their own script, creating a real unity of vision here compared to the last few good-to-okay (but muddled) stories. Right from the get-go Sadwith establishes his hardboiled world of tough bookies and wise guys and keeps it running smoothly all the way to the finish line. Sadwith is comfortable in this type of atmosphere and it shows, much to our enjoyment, a verve that would later be awarded in the form of an Emmy for his direction on the TV miniseries SINATRA (1992). And while we're at it, ya'll remember TV miniseries? 

"The Odds" also has the benefit of playing like a one-act play, confined as it is to a single location peopled with just a few characters. This may spell "boring" for some, but as Aristotle would be quick to remind us, the most effective dramas take place in the span of twenty-four hours. I myself have a strong affinity for this type of story, both for its succinctness and its noir qualities, and the marriage of the two works incredibly well under Sadwith's assured hand.

These are traits that, like many from other TFTD episodes, harken back to THE TWILIGHT ZONE. The sweaty bar full of meat-heads was a prominent fixture in "Mr. Dingle, the Strong" and the central notion of the impossible bet is familiar to anyone who has seen another second season entry, "The Silence." Remaining quiet for one year is comparatively easy next to defying one's own death, but the two episodes both use the concept of the bet to reveal the deceptive natures of their characters. In order to uphold his part of the bargain, the chatterbox from "The Silence" has his vocal chords removed prior to being stuck in his observational glass cage. Here, Tommy performs "the oldest trick in the book" to ensure his own odds. As they say, desperate times. 

The dramatic thrust of the story deals with revenge, but Sadwith is less concerned with the bad guy's just-desserts comeuppance as he is with the chemistry between Vale and Lacey. Though the two men appear to be ciphers for the forces of good and evil at first, the truth isn't quite so clear by the end of the episode. Vale may be considered ruthless and hard-edged, but he is nowhere near the morally deranged old codgers we saw in "Trick or Treat" and "I'll Give You a Million." When we find out how he managed to beat the Angel of Death, it's clear that Vale doesn't think much of dishonesty so long as it means coming out the victor in the end either.

Lacey arrives on the scene like an angelic man from the south, toying with Vale by placing wagers that he knows through his divine knowledge will come through. His sharing of hot leads with Vale's other customers appears to be cosmic justice in action, bleeding the stuck pig of all his dough so that he may start to sweat like his other victims. It seems like heavenly powers are righting the scales of justice and everybody's getting what's theirs, as they should be.

The Aiello in its natural habitat

But in spite all of this, it's hard to peg Vale as truly evil. Even when he's tearing Lacey down after winning the bet--a moment that seems to be heartless and malicious on the surface--the exchange could just as easily be interpreted as the more stout-hearted, worldly man confronting Lacey with his own transgressions. Vale tells Lacey that the man dug his own grave, both by betting more than he could afford and killing himself afterward when he lost everything. Lacey's spirit has determined to make Vale feel this same torture, but after this confrontation we can't help but consider how much responsibility Lacey is passing off from himself and onto the Big Bad Bookie.

Aiello and Noonan are both great, but it's really Aiello that this episode hinges on, and he delivers a performance that manages to highlight his character's nastiness and pomposity while still eliciting a quiet respect from the audience before his number is finally rung in. It seems only fitting that he should die in the only world he has known for all his life, waiting for the cool reprieve of a frosty mug of beer on the way to whatever waits for him on the other side.

"You're not broken yet, are you, Tommy?"

***

RATING: 3 1/2 Lizzies

COMING UP: Justine Bateman cannot compute the strange happenings in "Mookie and Pookie."

"Pain Killer"

Season One, Episode 3

Original Airdate: October 14, 1984

Directed by Armand Mastroianni.

Written by Haskell Barkin.

Starring Lou Jacobi (Harvey Turman), Peggy Cass (Nadine Turman), Farley Granger (Dr. Roebuck), and Fay Sappington (Mrs. Tracey).

SYNOPSIS: Harvey is feeling the pressure. His wife Nadine is pushing him to become an executive at the computer firm where he works as a maintenance man. When Harvey’s back starts seizing up without any observable physical ailment besieging him, it becomes clear that the senior is just suffering from good old emotional tension. But the sinister Dr. Roebuck has an unorthodox prescription in mind for Harvey. Namely having his nagging wife bumped off!

I... am... Iron Wimp.

CRITIQUE: If you viewed Tales from the Darkside’s third official episode as a letdown from the previous entries, you really couldn’t be blamed. The earlier stories are grand epics compared to the extremely low stakes that are at play in “Pain Killer.” It’s an episode where the entire dramatic arc hinges on our clueless protagonist’s nasty cramps, with the mysterious workings of Granger's mad medico of fleeting interest for all the impression they make. One needn’t look any further than the moment when Harvey realizes after his wife’s “happy accident” that his back no longer hurts, a revelation that is promptly followed by an ominous sting of music. It’s about as exciting as it sounds, which is of course to say not much at all. 

This is a more homey kind of a tale, one that veers into Hitchcockian territory at the second act mark when Dr. Roebuck recommends wiping out Nadine to alleviate Harvey’s nerves. It’s an idea the Master of Suspense was more than familiar with, but try making “Pain Killer” into the next DIAL M FOR MURDER (1954) and you’ll be sorely disappointed.

In that light it’s certainly appropriate having Farley Granger on hand. The actor, who starred in both ROPE (1948) and STRANGERS ON A TRAIN (1951), is a true silver fox as Roebuck, his voice the velvety cooing of a much younger man. His role is, unsurprisingly, the most assuredly performed and intriguing. The script by Haskell Barkin only recognizes Harvey and Nadine as two caricatures, so Jacobi and Cass can’t be held entirely responsible for the flatness of their characters. Cass whines and bitches and Jacobi shrugs and mutters as is becoming of a henpecked husband and his battle ax of a spouse. 

Our leading contender for Miss Darkside 1984.

Still, it's hard to generate much interest in Jacobi's plight. He looks like someone's roly poly grandfather, just as vexed by a nefarious homicide cabal as he would be by a mustard stain on his sweatshirt. The entire supernatural conceit--if it can even be called that--of Roebuck's ring of pay-it-forward patients who provide their murderous services after their own "illnesses" are taken care of is treated so haphazardly within the duration of the episode that the viewer fails to feel its importance and gravity. There's certainly no harm in keeping the finer details of Roebuck's plot in the shadows so as to further build the mystery, but the head-scratching fashion that the episode ends in is clearly the work of a writer just as undecided as we are. Is Roebuck a brilliant sociopath? The Devil? The world may never know...

And where the hell did that thunderstorm come from?

In truth, "Pain Killer" is not the worst thing you'll ever see. Despite its relative ineptitude it never panders or insults the intelligence. Barkin even manages to sneak in a few insightful bits, such as when Nadine scolds Harvey over his supposed pains ("You were giving in to it. That was your problem."), little realizing that her words perfectly reflect their own fractured marriage. We also get a darting glimpse into more interesting terrain when we see Harvey return to his disordered house to scarf down the chocolate sweets that were forbidden to him when Nadine was around. It might have proven more fruitful had Barkin chosen to examine how Harvey's life would become even worse off without the presence of his emasculating (but always in control) wife, perhaps even with the arrival of new and even more torturous physical pains than his back troubles. But there I go rewriting someone's material.

For what's it worth, this episode also gives us our second consecutive angry telephone greeting. Cass almost trumps Keenan Wynn's gruff address from "I'll Give You a Million." I know that if I heard her "Hello" I would just hang up. This may just in fact become a series hallmark and require the implementation of a drinking game. Now there's something to make these episodes more interesting!

"My patient is in so much pain..."

***

RATING: 1 1/2 Lizzies

COMING UP: Danny Aiello finds out that all bets are off in "The Odds."

"I'll Give You a Million"

Season One, Episode 2

Original Airdate: October 7, 1984

Directed by John Harrison.

Teleplay by Mark Durand and David Spiel, Story by John Harrison.

Starring Keenan Wynn (Duncan Williams), George Petrie (Jack Blaine), Michael Freeman (Richards), Bradley Fisher (The Devil).

SYNOPSIS: Duncan Williams and Jack Blaine are two filthy rich silver foxes who delight in inflicting misery upon their fellow man. Seeing an interesting direction to take their usual betting habits, Duncan proposes to offer a cool million for his partner's eternal soul. Blaine at first sees it as a simple jest, but after signing the dotted line he begins to feel uneasy about the sale. As well he should, because Blaine is not long for this world...

CRITIQUE: So nice to see a familiar face popping up in the Darkside. Keenan Wynn, unforgettable to fans of genre TV for his turns as Captain Joe 'Mad Dog' Siska from KOLCHAK: THE NIGHT STALKER and the memorable growl of the Winter Warlock from SANTA CLAUS IS COMIN' TO TOWN (1970), is here essaying the part of the Monopoly guy Duncan Williams. His usual bursts of explosive fury--save for one moment where he answers the phone with a demure "HELLO?!"--are traded in for a more subdued performance where he's allowed to show a quieter form of evil.

My favorite exchange is when Petrie, literally at the end of his rope after receiving news of assured death by liver failure from his doctor, beseeches Wynn to keep the money and relinquish his contract, telling Wynn that he can enjoy the million more than Petrie can now. Wynn just smiles at him from under the brim of his dandy gardening hat and whispers, "I'm enjoying this immensely."

"I'll Give You a Million" further perpetuates the notion TFTD established with "Trick or Treat" that the absolute worst kind of person is an old, rich bastard. We're first introduced to the duo during an afternoon limo drive as they regale each other with anecdotes of their heartlessness. They casually talk of business and riches they've acquired with the help of "sex, bribery, and homicide" and refer to their exhibitions of humiliating and terminating underlings as "public executions". They have become emotionally numb by their vast wealth; the only way they can really get anything out of life that they haven't already is instigating suffering in others and wagering thousands of dollars on shots during a pool game.

When Duncan wheedles Jack about the staged suicide of a competitor that he was involved in, Jack seems mildly ashamed and looks to brush over the subject. But it's clear from the get-go that these are both equally devious men, and even the casual viewer will already sense that these two characters are being set up at the end of the lane in preparation for the cosmic bowling ball that's heading their way.

The episode seems like something of a "gentleman's club" tale, a sordid account narrated over a snifter of whiskey next to a roaring fire as the fellows of the group listen in with morbid interest to that dreadful business of ol' Blaine and Williams. "But what happened to them?" one of the younger, fresh-faced aristocrats might ask. "Well," the narrator would hesistate. "No one can be entirely sure. The common assumption is that..." And here he might laugh to repress a shudder.  "Well, it really is the damnedest thing."

The narrator wouldn't be too far off, as damnation is surely what awaits the bastards. Because the episode diverts from its previously subdued path straight into comic book territory at the climax by way of "The Monkey's Paw." Williams is alone in his huge, dark house as a thunderstorm rages outside, the news that Petrie has indeed died placing a grim weight upon his heart. What exactly does that entail for Williams, the official owner of his late friend's everlasting soul?

He finds out soon enough, for right at the front door is Blaine, or what remains of him. The ashy corpse (which looks from its appearance that the death was from a fall into an industrial size cheese grater) holds its neon-bright spirit in a glass case, offering it to Williams so that "He" might not come in time to take it away first.

This is a nice high point for the episode, recalling the similarily garish horrors that were on display in "Trick or Treat." There's a bit of recall to CREEPSHOW in there too, as William's sweaty mania and shooting of the green-hued revenant reminds one of Leslie Nielsen's useless fight against the waterlogged zombies in "Something to Tide You Over."

Random Observation: At one point Duncan muses during the stormy night "Next thing you know the lights will go off" only for the lights to flicker ominously. I was honestly hoping that after that Wynn would look around and then mutter under his breath, "Next thing you know I'll be in a Bangkok harem."

Williams had chastised his friend earlier for "reminiscing about Sunday school", so it's too bad that he doesn't get to see the mysterious "He" that Blaine was warning him about before he collapses dead straight from a heart attack. For it is here that Dave Vanian of The Damned the dark angel Satan himself enters, looking all decked out for a night at the local brimstone cabaret. It's another nice touch, the goopy cadaver one-upped by the vision of Lucifer in tails. He coos in a multi-layered vocal track ala Linda Blair before claiming both of the dead men's souls to take back with him to the goth night club down below.

And with a final flair of fireworks straight from the mind of Al Feldstein, Satan sears the words "PAID IN FULL" into Duncan's chest. Because like our two unfortunate businessmen, the Devil has to get his kicks somehow.

"Never listen to quacks, Jack!"

***

RATING: 3 Lizzies

 

COMING UP: Farley Granger offers bitter medicine in "Pain Killer."

"The New Man"

Seasone One, Episode 1

Original Airdate: September 30, 1984

Directed by Frank De Palma.

Teleplay by Mark Durand, Based on the story "The New Man" by Barbara Owens.

Starring Vic Tayback (Alan Coombs), Kelly Jean Peters (Sharon Coombs), Chris Herbert (Jerry), Billy Jayne (Petey Coombs), Paul Jenkins (Robert Johnson).

SYNOPSIS: Alan Coombs is a real estate agent who has just resumed control of his life after a raging bout of alcoholism nearly ended his career and family life. On his way home one day, Alan's son Jerry comes to the office to escort him home for dinner. But Alan doesn't have a son named Jerry. He desperately tries to convince his wife and teenage son Petey of this but they just suspect that Alan has returned to his old ways. But if Alan is right, then who is Jerry? And what does he want? 

SHUT. UP.

CRITIQUE: If there was any episode that showed TFTD's allegiance to THE TWILIGHT ZONE, this would be it. While other entries from the series are similar to episodes from Serling's anthology, "The New Man" carries quite a few tropes that were popularized in that earlier program. Barbara Owens' original short story, as a matter of fact, like many of DARKSIDE's sources was culled from the pages of Rod Serling's The Twilight Zone Magazine.

Coombs is the suffering and recovering alcoholic we find in "Mr. Denton on Doomsday" and "The Night of the Meek," his grasp on reality gradually revealed for how tenuous it is like William Shatner in "Nightmare at 20,000 Feet" and Cliff Robertson in "The Dummy," characters who had their sanity and reason called into question after witnessing their inner demons take form. Jerry is the same breed of enigmatic, diabolical child as Anthony from "It's a Good Life." And the general, skeptical disbelief from the rest of the cast is a device that was par for the course in countless vignettes from TZ. Coombs' alcoholism is a hallmark that even calls back to noir in film and literature, recalling protagonists like that of Cornell Woolrich's Black Alibi whose bender-blackouts made him the prime suspect in a series of murders.

Alan's other, normal child

The paranoia of Coombs' situation is where "The New Man" gets its mileage, though the rest of the affair may seem kind of humble. At its weakest, the family drama looks like something that was shot at the local community theater where the actors were glancing in the wings at cue cards that read "Approximate turmoil." Vic Tayback is the glue that keeps it all together. He's one of those great, no-nonsense actors who's instantly likable for how real he looks, paunch and jowls and all. He has an attractively grounded presence, and the confused rage that boils inside of him builds to a nice climax at the end of the episode. Check out that bit when Sharon and Jerry talk about Alan at dinner the same way they would for a dog that's made a mess while the big guy stands there just taking it. Great acting lies in the quiet moments!

Not quite as effective is Kelly Jean Peters as Coomb's wife. She has too much of a Mrs. Cleaver-cuteness for her conflict and anger to come off as strongly as they should. Her descriptions of their past struggles like having to go without shoes while Alan spent all their money on booze just sound a little phony, but her small aside while she tries to sit everyone down for a peaceful dinner ("The grocer's so nice when you don't have to buy on credit.") hits the message home perfectly. 

The paranoia loses some of its oomph after the episode delivers its final "twist." After Coombs tears Jerry's room apart, he finds a bottle of happy in the top drawer and then chugs himself into a stupor. Later at the agency where Coombs worked, a new hotshot salesman (who just so happens to have recently adopted the status of tee-totaler) is accosted by none other than the very same young Jerry, claiming to be his son. For whatever reason, Coombs' checkered-suited, cigar-chomping boss doesn't recognize the little demon as having been Alan's kid, but that's probably due to all the congratulatory liquor he keeps having to drink by himself.

Other logical inconsistencies abound as well. For instance, if Alan really did miss two days of work, why didn't Sharon mention this during the preceding breakfast scene?  Did Alan walk through a wormhole on the way to the office? And after Sharon clears out with the kids, why are so many of Jerry's things left in his room for Alan to tear to pieces when there isn't even a can of Who-Hash in the rest of the house?

But it's the ambiguity that drives Coombs' plight, the uncertainty of the supernatural the element that holds our interest the most. When we find out that the boogeykid is real, what came before doesn't seem so scary. The idea of a monstrous, otherworldly child who lives solely to push weak men off the precipice into the darkness of their own inhibitions just doesn't have the same chilliness as those characters living in constant doubt as to whether they were the real monster the entire time.

The face of someone who owns shirts with their own name on them

When we see Coombs show up at his office a disheveled mess with no memory of the last two days, we can't be sure if he really is just slipping off the wagon. It's an engaging arc, but "The New Man" sadly wimps out at the last minute and says "Yeah, it was this ghost-boy all along." When it turns out that Shatner was right about the gremlin, it's eerie and invigorating. When we find out Tayback was in fact the victim of other forces, it feels limp and cheap.

However, it's clear that the lesson to be learned here is that these guys just need to find another agency to work for.

"Who's the lucky father of this young, little... creep?"

***

RATING: 2 1/2 Lizzies

COMING UP: Keenan Wynn finds out that business is a soulless enterprise in "I'll Give You a Million."