Welcome to Late Night Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Saturdays, I will be reviewing Saved By The Bell, which ran on NBC from 1989 to 1993. The entire show is currently streaming on Prime and Tubi!
This week, Zach becomes Bambi and …. oh, you know the story.
Episode 1.5 “Screech’s Woman”
(Dir by Gary Shimokawa, originally aired on September 16th, 1989)
Screech isn’t working on Zach’s science project because he’s depressed about not having a girlfriend. Screech describes himself as being “snakespit.” That’s …. that’s really sad, to be honest. Zach attempts to teach Screech how to be cool. He attempts to get Jessie to go out with him. Finally, Zach….
Oh, you know what Zach does. If you’re reading this review, you’ve undoubtedly seen Saved By The Bell in syndication and you know that this is one of those episodes that seemed to air constantly. Zach calls up Screech and pretends to be Bambi. When Screech demands to meet Bambi personally, Zach puts on one of Jessie’s dresses, a wig, sunglasses, and he shaves his legs. Zach/Bambi shows up at the Max and tells Screech that, if they’re going to date, Screech is going to have to agree to no longer hang out with Zach. A despondent Screech says that he can’t betray his best friend.
Here’s the thing:
Even with the wig and the dress and the whispery voice, Zach is in no way convincing as Bambi. He’s obviously Zach, just wearing a wig and speaking in a slightly higher register. The fact that Screech, Kelly, and Slater are all fooled (albeit only temporarily in Slater’s case) can only lead me to suspect that everyone on this show is an idiot. Saved By The Bell always demands a certain suspension of disbelief but this episode really took it to the limit. (Or pushed it to the Max, if you want to show respect to that tacky place.)
This episode really made me feel sorry for both Screech and Dustin Diamond and that’s saying something how annoying I found both Screech and the actor playing him to be. Diamond was only 11 when he was cast on Good Morning Miss Bliss. In this episode, he’s 12 and he looks and comes across as being even younger. And yet, he’s acting opposite people who were a few years older and, by teen standards, considerably more mature. (In teen years, there’s a huge gulf between 12 and 15.) From the minute he shows up in this episode, Screech is out-of-place. That may have worked for Screech’s character but it also probably explains why Diamond himself never really seemed to grow up and never seemed to get over feeling like an outsider on the set.
Erin and I watched this on Tuesday. It’s one of our traditions! I swear, though, Peppermint Patty is so mean in this one. And yet, after all that he’s had to put up with, Charlie Brown still invites everyone to come to his grandmother’s house for Thanksgiving dinner. What a guy! You can read Erin’s thoughts here.
Saved By The Bell: The New Class (Prime)
Finally! The version of Saved By The Bell that I grew up with is available on Prime! I watched a few episodes on Friday and …. well, they weren’t very good. But maybe I just need to adjust my expectations. I look forward to watching all seven seasons!
Welcome to Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Saturdays, I will be reviewing Baywatch, which ran on NBC and then in syndication from 1989 to 2001. The entire show can be viewed on Tubi.
This week, the ocean is full money!
Episode 1.6 “The Sky Is Falling”
(Dir by Kim Manners, originally aired on October 27th, 1989)
Baywatch was a show that was often known for being unintentionally funny.
Of course, it’s open for debate just how self-aware Baywatch may or may not have been. Some of the show’s writers and directors have claimed that the show was meant to be campy. At the same time, there are cast members who specifically left because they felt that there was no way to play some of the scenes they were expected to perform. Professional surfer Kelly Ward left the cast after he read a script that involved him fighting an octopus that tried to steal his surf board. Jason Momoa has said that appearing on Baywatch Hawaii early in his career made it difficult for him to convince other casting directors to give him a chance. That said, David Hasselhoff reportedly continues to swear that Baywatch was a sincere tribute to lifeguards and that it was responsible for people learning how to perform CPR and the Heimlich Maneuver. Once you’ve watched Hasselhoff tear up while talking about a girl who saved her little brother using a technique she saw on Baywatch, you’re left with little doubt that Hasselhoff took the show very seriously.
That said, I do think most of the humor on Baywatch was unintentional. That’s especially true of the first season, which was about as earnest as a network television show can be. With this week’s episode, Baywatch tried to be intentionally funny and the results were definitely mixed.
The humor came from Harv (James Sloyan) and Sylvia (Carol Siskind), two frumpy bank robbers who crashed their private plane in the ocean and subsequently lost a suitcase containing thousands of dollars. Throughout the episode, there are shots of the suitcase floating in the ocean. Finally, a boat collides with it and money goes flying everywhere. Soon, everyone is running into the water and getting trapped in a riptide. Lifeguards to the rescue! As for Harv and Sylvia, they were meant to be funny but instead, their constant bickering just got annoying. Watching them, I thought to myself, “If these two idiots can rob a bank, anyone can do it!” That’s not a Hasselhoff-approved message.
Slightly more successful was a storyline about Captain Thorpe (Monte Markham) deciding that he needed to get back on the beach. For Thorpe, this meant working a tower with Eddie and Shauni. For Eddie and Shauni, that meant having to spend hour after hour listening to Thorpe’s long-winded stories. Billy Warlock and Erika Eleniak actually did a pretty good job portraying the mind-numbing boredom of being stuck with Captain Thorpe.
As for the serious storyline, Gail has accepted a job in Ohio and wants to move there …. with Hobie! However, when Mitch helps Gail pack, they both get sentimental and end up sleeping together, leading Hobie to believe that his parents are going to get back together. Hey, divorced parents — DO NOT DO THIS! Seriously, divorce is hard enough on a child without giving them false hope. In the end, Gail decides to let Hobie stay in California after Hobie uses his junior lifeguard training to save the life of a drowned girl. Hobie’s a hero and his big reward is that he doesn’t have to go to Ohio. I’m going to say “Ouch!” on behalf of the Buckeye State.
In the end, this episode was pretty uneven. The thieves weren’t ever a credible threat but I did laugh at everyone running into the ocean to try to grab the stolen money. The important thing is that the show didn’t have to relocate to Ohio.
Ice Station Zebra, directed by John Sturges in 1968, slides into guilty pleasure territory like a submarine slipping under polar ice—full of big Cold War ambitions, shadowy spy games, and submarine peril that tease something epic, but so loaded with pacing hiccups, studio shortcuts, and earnest overreach that it ends up a lopsided, lovably messy ride. Sturges had already cemented his rep with crowd-roaring hits like The Magnificent Seven, where a ragtag posse of gunslingers delivered razor-sharp tension and quotable showdowns, or The Great Escape, a WWII breakout yarn crackling with clever schemes, sweaty escapes, and Steve McQueen’s motorcycle glory. Those films moved like a well-oiled engine, every scene stacking stakes and character beats into unforgettable momentum. By contrast, Ice Station Zebra feels like Sturges chasing that same high-wire ensemble vibe—a U.S. nuclear sub, the USS Tigerfish, barreling toward a trashed Arctic outpost—but bloating into a 148-minute sprawl that swaps tight plotting for endless red-lit corridor glares and withheld mission secrets. It’s not in the same league as his earlier triumphs, lacking their propulsive drive and lived-in grit, yet that very shortfall turns it into quirky comfort viewing for fans who dig flawed ’60s spectacle.
The setup hooks you quick: Commander James Ferraday, Rock Hudson’s square-jawed everyman at the helm, gets tapped for a hush-hush run to Ice Station Zebra after a satellite supposedly carrying spy photos crashes nearby. No full briefing for him, just orders to play it cool while three mystery passengers board—Mr. Jones, a buttoned-up British agent with evasive smirks; Boris Vaslov, Ernest Borgnine’s barrel-chested Russian turncoat oozing fake bonhomie; and Captain Anders, Jim Brown’s steely Marine barking orders over a squad of jarheads. As the Tigerfish dives under thickening ice floes, the sub’s innards come alive with flickering sonar pings, steam-hissing valves, and crewmen hunched over gauges in perpetual sweat. It’s claustrophobic gold at first, the hull creaking like it’s got a bad case of frostbite, echoing the trapped dread Sturges nailed in his POW camp classic but without the same spark of rebellion. Then sabotage strikes—a flooded missile bay, a wild plunge toward crush depth—and fingers start pointing. Who tampered with the ballast? Jones with his locked trunk of gadgets? Vaslov’s too-friendly vodka toasts? The Marines itching for a fight? The scene builds real sweat, divers suiting up in the nick of time, but Sturges lets the fallout drag, turning interrogation into a tea party of suspicions rather than the cutthroat blame game his best films thrived on.
These early stumbles set the tone for a film that’s promising yet perpetually off-kilter, far from the seamless revenge rhythm of The Magnificent Seven‘s dusty trails. Production fingerprints show everywhere: rumors swirl of Navy brass forcing script tweaks to glorify their boats, last-minute casting shifts from bigger names to Hudson, and a roadshow rollout with overture, intermission, and 70mm pomp that screams overambition. The Arctic plunge delivers tense highlights—the sub ramming upward through ice chunks like a whale breaching, sparks flying from shorted panels, crew barking damage reports—but lulls follow with tech jargon dumps and characters circling motives without committing to conflict. Hudson anchors it all with unflappable poise, barking commands like a TV dad in a crisis, but he lacks McQueen’s sly charisma or Yul Brynner’s brooding fire. Borgnine hams it up as Vaslov, his accent flipping from gravelly growl to vaudeville schtick during mess-hall ribbing, while McGoohan brings the sharpest edge as Jones, his dry barbs hinting at deeper layers. Brown’s Anders gets muscle but little nuance, leading a Marine crew that feels like stock tough guys waiting for their cue.
Pushing topside, the flaws bloom into full charm. The ice cap arrival unfolds in sweeping widescreen vistas—endless white expanses, howling gales whipping snow devils—but close-quarters betray the soundstage: actors plodding through “blizzards” in lightweight jackets, no puffing breath in the deep freeze, sets that wobble if you squint. It’s the kind of earnest cheesiness that sinks modern blockbusters but endears this relic, especially when the station siege erupts. Soviets drop from the sky in parachutes like deadly snowflakes, scouring the charred ruins for a buried film capsule packed with NATO missile coords. Americans fan out in white camo, trading potshots amid smoke grenades and collapsing tunnels, loyalties cracking as Vaslov’s true colors flash. Ferraday’s cool bluff seals a three-way stalemate, denying everyone the prize in a nod to mutually assured secrets. Michel Legrand’s score surges here, horns blaring over the chaos like a war drum, giving Sturges’ action chops a late workout. Yet even this payoff sprawls, talky standoffs eating screen time where his peak films would’ve sprinted to the finish.
What seals Ice Station Zebra‘s guilty pleasure status is embracing its dated quirks as features, not bugs—hammy all-male bravado, Cold War jitters turned quaint, plot gaps you could park a destroyer in. Sturges conjures submerged panic and frosty fireworks that nod to his glory days, the sub’s practical effects holding up better than some CGI today, but without the narrative steel of The Great Escape‘s tunnel triumphs or The Magnificent Seven‘s mythic standoffs, it coasts on atmosphere over precision. Clocking 148 minutes, it tests patience with filler like extended sail sequences and coy reveals, yet rewards surrender: grin at Borgnine’s bear hugs masking menace, chuckle at the Navy polish glossing gritty potential, savor the sheer balls of staging Arctic Armageddon on a backlot. Howard Hughes reportedly looped it endlessly in his casino screening rooms, and you get why—it’s hypnotic in its wonkiness, a time capsule of late-’60s Hollywood flexing before New Wave grit crashed the party.
Pop this on a stormy night with cocoa and zero expectations, and Ice Station Zebra shines as cozy flawed fun. Sturges’ touch keeps the chills coming amid the clunkers, delivering submarine squeezes, betrayals under the aurora, and a finale with enough brinkmanship bang to forgive the bloat. It’s no peer to his earlier masterpieces, more a quirky footnote, but that’s the hook: imperfect promise wrapped in icy spectacle, begging a rewatch to spot every goofy grace note. For ’60s thriller buffs, submarine nuts, or anyone needing a break from slick reboots, it’s a frosty, flawed feast worth the dive.
As some of our regular readers undoubtedly know, I am involved in a few weekly live tweets on twitter. I host #FridayNightFlix every Friday, I co-host #ScarySocial on Saturday, and I am one of the five hosts of #MondayActionMovie! Every week, we get together. We watch a movie. We tweet our way through it.
Tonight, for #ScarySocial, I will be hosting the goriest mummy movie ever made, Dawn of the Mummy!
If you want to join us on Saturday night, just hop onto twitter, start the film at 9 pm et, and use the #ScarySocial hashtag! The film is available on Prime and Tubi! I’ll be there co-hosting and I imagine some other members of the TSL Crew will be there as well. It’s a friendly group and welcoming of newcomers so don’t be shy!
Welcome to Late Night Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Fridays, I will be reviewing Freddy’s Nightmares, a horror anthology show which ran in syndication from 1988 to 1990. The entire series can be found on Tubi!
This week, dreams continue to come true in Springwood, Ohio. Freddy continues to show up in very short host segments because I guess he doesn’t have anything better to do. And I continue to find ways to pad out my reviews for a show that there’s really not much to be said about. It happens. Some shows are interesting and take chances and other shows just recycle the same thing over and over again. Anyway, let’s get to it….
Episode 1.17 “Love Stinks”
(Dir by John Lafia, originally aired on February 26th, 1989)
Adam (John Washington) is a high school jock who has a chance to join the White Sox and who has a girlfriend named Laura (Tamara Glyn). When his parents go out of town, Adam throws a house party. The party goes wrong when he finds himself unable to say the words “I love you,” to Laura. Laura leaves him and Adam has a one-night stand with Loni (Susanna Savee). Soon, Adam finds himself drifting in-and-out of a dream state. He sees Laura chopping him up with meat cleaver. He sees his parents come home and he notices that his father is missing a finger. Loni ruins his interview with the baseball scout. It’s all because Adam can’t say “I love you,” but suddenly, Adam wakes up in bed and hears the party still going on downstairs and realizes it was all a dream. He runs downstairs and grabs Laura and says, “I love you!” Except, Laura now looks like Loni. And when his parents show up and say they brought someone to meet him, it turns out to be Loni except Loni now looks like Laura.
Meanwhile, Adam’s slacker friend Max (Georg Olden) gets a job at Mr. Cheesy Pizza. He’s working for his hated uncle, Ralph (Jeffery Combs). When Max’s girlfriend disappears, Max is horrified to discover that she’s become a part of the special sauce that Ralph uses to make the pizza’s so memorable. Don’t worry, it’s all just a dream. Except, in the waking world, the pizza oven explodes and kills Ralph. Max apparently decides to take a lesson from his dream and makes tasty use of Ralph’s remains.
By the admittedly low standards of Freddy’s Nightmares, this episode wasn’t that bad. Though the first story was incoherent, it still captured the feeling of being scared of commitment. The second story was predictable but at least it featured Jeffrey Combs doing his sociopathic nerd thing. This episode held my interest. That said, almost every episode pretty much has the exact same “It was just a dream” plot twist. At this point, it’s no longer a shock when someone suddenly opens their eyes and breathes a sigh of relief. Even Freddy seems kind of bored with it all.
To the East, there’s a cemetery that sits near a bus stop. It’s surrounded by a fence and, judging from the gravestones that I’ve seen, it was last used in 1917. It was a private cemetery, one that functioned as the final resting place for the members of one of the families who founded my hometown. To the west, there’s a park that is home to another private cemetery. It’s also surrounded by a fence. That fence wasn’t always there but it went up a few years ago because people were vandalizing the tomb stones and breaking the statues that had stood there for over a hundred years. How sick to do you have to be vandalize a graveyard?
Occasionally, when I’m near either one of the two cemeteries, I’ll take some time to look at the names on the headstones. The names are of people who I will never know. I’ll never know what they were like to live with or to eat dinner with. I’ll never know what hobbies occupied their time. I’ll never know what books they read. I’ll never know who they were. But I will always know that someone cared enough to erect a tombstone to let the world that person had once been alive. I will always know that, at some point, they were alive and they were a part of society.
I thought about those two cemeteries as I watched Train Dreams. Based on the award-winning novella by Denis Johnson, Train Dreams stars Joel Edgerton as Robert Grainier. At the start of the film, the narrator (Will Patton) tells us that Grainier lived for 80 years and he spent most of his life in Idaho. He never saw the ocean. He was an orphan who never learned who his parents were, when he was born, or how he came to be placed on a train in the late 19th century. The film follows Grainier as he goes from dropping out of school to working as a logger to marrying Gladys (Felicity Jones). He builds a cabin for Gladys to live in while he’s away looking for work. He and Gladys have a daughter named Kate.
Growing up at a time when the frontier had only recently been tamed and when death was considered to be acceptable risk for the men cutting down trees and laying down railroad tracks, Robert sees his share of disturbing things. As a child, he comes across as a mountain man who is slowly dying. Working for the railroad, he watches as one of his co-workers is casually tossed off a bridge. Later, the elderly and kind-hearted Arn Peebles (William H. Macy) is mortally injured in a random accident. When loggers die, their boots are hammered into a tree. Years, later those same trees are cut down and the boots are forgotten. And yet, for all the danger in Robert’s life, there are the moments that make it all worth it. Robert always returns home to his cabin and to the embrace of Gladys and the sight of his daughter growing up. He always returns to his family until he can’t anymore. As he ages, Robert isolates himself from civilization and becomes semi-legendary in the nearby town. But, as always, legends are eventually forgotten.
Visually, it’s a hauntingly beautiful film. The scenery is stunning, even while Robert and his fellow loggers are busy changing it by chopping down trees. But there’s always a hint of danger hiding behind the beauty. A forest fire brings an eerie, orange tint to the sky but it also destroys many lives and dreams. Joel Edgerton gives a strong performance as Robert, proving once again that he’s one of the few actors who can star in a period piece without looking out-of-place. Edgerton’s performance gives the film the humanity needed to keep it from becoming purely a film about visuals. As Robert, Edgerton rarely yells or shows much emotion at all. But his eyes tell us everything that we need to know.
With its stunning visuals, its narration, and its emphasis on nature, Train Dreams owes an obvious debt to Terence Malick. That said, it’s not quite as thematically deep as Malick’s best films. Whereas Malick would have been concerned about Robert’s place in both the universe and the afterlife, Train Dreams is more content to focus on Robert’s 80 years in Idaho (and occasionally Spokane). Whereas Malick often seems to be daring his audience to walk out, Train Dreams is very much about keeping you watching as Robert grows old. That’s not necessarily a criticism, of course. It’s just an acknowledgment that Train Dreams is the rarest of all creatures, an arthouse film that’s also a crowd pleaser. It doesn’t alienate its audience but it does so at the cost of the risks that make Malick’s later films so fascinating, if occasionally frustrating. That said, Train Dreams does stick with you. I’ll be thinking about the final 20 minutes for quite some time.
Train Dreams tells the story of a man — one of many — who may have been forgotten by history but who mattered during his 80 years on this Earth. In the end, Robert Grainier serves as a stand-in for all the people who lived their lives as American rapidly changed from being a frontier to being a superpower. The world may forget him but the viewer never will.
Welcome to Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Fridays, I will be reviewing St. Elsewhere, a medical show which ran on NBC from 1982 to 1988. The show can be found on Daily Motion.
This week, the hospital is a depressing place.
Episode 3.2 “Playing God: Part Two”
(Dir by Bruce Paltrow, originally aired on September 26th, 1984)
There was a lot going on in this episode.
Sister Domenica demanded that Sister Theresa be taken off of life support and she threatened to sue the hospital if it didn’t happen. This led to Dr. Westphall telling another long and depressing story about his dead wife. I don’t mean to be flippant about anyone’s tragedies but it’s hard not to notice that almost everything seems to lead to Westphall telling a depressing story. Westphall is one of the most saddest television characters that I’ve ever come across.
The nurses are closer to striking. A labor negotiator named Richard Clarendon (Herb Edelman) is brought in by the nurses and it’s hard not to notice that he looks a lot like Helen Rosenthal’s ex-husband. I think I can already guess where this is heading.
A sick child was brought in by a woman (Tammy Grimes) who claimed to be his fairy godmother. This gave Fiscus an excuse to get a consultation from Kathy Martin, who has abandoned the morgue for psychiatry and who is no longer dressing exclusively in black.
At home, Dr. Craig struggled with impotence. At the hospital, Dr. Ehrlich gave an awkward lecture about whether or not one can have sex after heart surgery.
The firefighters are still recovering from their burns.
Clancy got an abortion, despite Morrison’s objections.
And yet, all that drama was overshadowed by the fact that the Dr. Peter White — the drug-addicted rapist who nearly killed more than a few patients due to his own incompetence — is once again walking the halls of St. Eligius. White won his lawsuit. I’m not really sure that I understand what the basis of his lawsuit was. St. Eligius could only ask a select number of residents to return and, even if you overlook the fact that White was accused of rape, it’s not as if Dr. White was ever an especially competent doctor. It would seem that just his struggle with drug addiction would be enough to justify not asking him to return. And yet, somehow, Dr. Peter White is once again a resident at St. Eligius. (The ruling was probably handed down by a Carter judge.)
“You just can’t admit that you were wrong about me!” White snaps at Westphall.
Westphall replies that White is a terrible human being and not worthy of being a doctor and that he will not be allowed to work with any patients at the hospital. And, for once, I wanted to cheer Dr. Westphall. He may be depressing but he understands exactly who and what Peter White is.
Whatever the future may hold for the hospital, I have a feeling that it’s not going to be happy. Two episodes in and the third season has already settled into a pit of melancholy. That said, melancholy is perhaps the right mood for a medical show. When it comes to hospitals, there aren’t many happy endings.
