Late Night Retro Television Review: Monsters 2.2 “Portrait of the Artist”


Welcome to Late Night Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Wednesdays, I will be reviewing Monsters, which aired in syndication from 1988 to 1991. The entire series is streaming on YouTube.

This week, a visit to an art gallery goes terribly wrong.

Episode 2.2 “Portrait of the Artist”

(Dir by Gerald Cotts, originally aired on October 8th, 1989)

Lucille Clay (Lucille Kennedy) visits an isolated art gallery that appears to be sitting in the middle of nowhere.  The studio is full of macabre paintings of women and children who appear to be in some sort of mortal danger.  Watching over the gallery is Hubert (Darren McGavin), who claims to be just an old farmer who was hired to look after things while the actual artist is in Nepal.

Accompanying Lucille is Roger Darcy (Beeson Carroll), a man who walks with a pronounced limp.  Lucille claims that Roger is an art critic but, as soon becomes apparent, that’s a lie.  Roger is actually the father of a missing teenage girl and he is stunned when he sees that one of the paintings looks just like her.  In fact, all of the paintings appear to be of someone who has recently disappeared.  Convinced that the artist is a serial killer, Roger demands to be taken to the artist’s cabin.  What Roger doesn’t know is that the gallery hides an even bigger threat.

This episode ends with a twist.  It’s not a bad twist and it actually took me by surprise.  Unfortunately, the rest of the episode is not as good as the twist ending.  I had high hopes when I saw that this episode was going to take place in a gallery and that it was going to star Darren McGavin.  But, and it pains me to say this, McGavin just isn’t very good in this episode.  McGavin was an actor who always had a tendency to go a little bit over the top.  That wasn’t a problem when he was playing Kolchak or the father in A Christmas Story.  But, in this episode, he’s so blustery that it’s obvious that he’s hiding something from the start and it makes Roger and Lucille seem all the dumber for trusting him.

Indeed, the other big problem with this episode is that Roger and Lucille continually do the stupidest things possible.  None of their actions make sense.  Why, if they believed a serial killer was lurking around the gallery, would they split up?  Why would they be so quick to trust Hubert?  Why, after escaping, would one of them then return without any backup?  Why does neither one of them seem to be particularly upset about the possibility that either Hubert or the artist murdered Roger’s daughter and then used her for his painting?  They both behave so stupidly that it’s hard to really care what happens to them.

This story had some potential but, unfortunately, the execution just didn’t live up to it.

Lisa Reviews An Oscar Nominee: Coming Home (dir by Hal Ashby)


Well, here we are!  It’s January 1st.  In just a few days, the Oscar nominations will be announced and then, on February 9th, the winners will be revealed!  From now until the day of the ceremony, I will be taking a look at some of the films that were nominated for and won Oscars in the past.  As of this writing, 556 films have been nominated for best picture.  I hope that, some day, I will be able to say that I have seen and reviewed every single one of them.

Let’s start things off with the 1978 Best Picture nominee, Coming Home!

Coming Home takes place in California in 1968.  While hippies stand on street corners and flash peace signs, teenagers are being drafted and career military men are leaving for Vietnam and people continue to tell themselves that America is doing the right thing in Indochina, even though no one’s really sure just what exactly it is that’s going on over there.  At the local VA hospital, the wounded and the bitter try to recover from their wartime experiences while struggling with an often heartless bureaucracy and feelings of having been abandoned by their country.

When Marine Corps. Capt. Bob Hyde (Bruce Dern) is deployed to Vietnam, he leaves behind his wife, Sally (Jane Fonda).  Told that she can no longer live on the base while her husband is overseas, Sally gets an apartment, a new car, and eventually a new hairdo.  She also gets a new friend, Vi Munson (Penelope Milford).  Vi smokes weed and is critical of the war in Vietnam.  It doesn’t take long for Sally to start to enjoy the idea of being free and not having to cater to Bob’s every whim.  Sally even ends up volunteering at the local VA hospital.

That’s where she meets Luke (Jon Voight, looking youngish and incredibly sexy), a bitter but sensitive vet who, having gone to Vietnam and returned to the U.S. as a paraplegic, is now outspoken in his opposition to the war.  Luke is also friends with Billy (Robert Carradine), who is Vi’s shell-shocked brother.  When Luke and Sally first meet, they collide in a hallway and Sally gets a bag full of urine spilled on her.  It’s only later that Luke and Sally realize that they knew each other in high school and soon, they’re having an affair.  Luke, who is as gentle a lover as Bob is brutish, brings Sally to her first orgasm in a sensitively-directed scene that should be studied by any and all aspiring filmmakers.

Unfortunately, the problem with having an affair while your husband is away is that, eventually, your husband’s going to come back.  Bob returns from Vietnam and he’s no longer the confident and gung ho officer that he was at the start of the film.  He now walks with a pronounced limp and, like Luke, he’s angry.  However, whereas Luke has channeled his anger in to activism, Bob tries to keep his emotions bottled up.  (He does take the time to give the finger to a few protesters and, considering how obnoxious most of the protesters in this film are, you can’t help but feel that Bob may have had a point.)  When Bob discovers that Luke and Sally have been having an affair, he snaps….

Meanwhile, Billy is having a hard time readjusting to life, Vi is getting picked up by sleazy men in bars, and there’s a ventriloquist who shows up a few times.  There’s a lot going on in Coming Home and, at times, it feels like the film’s trying to cram in too much.  The film often seems a bit disjointed, with semi-documentary footage of Voight hanging out with real paraplegic vets awkwardly mixed in with didactic scenes of Sally turning against the war.

That the love story between Sally and Luke is so effective has far more to do with the performances of Jane Fonda and especially Jon Voight, than it does with anything in the film’s script.  Indeed, the script itself doesn’t seem to be too concerned with who Luke and Sally were before they collided in that hallway and it also doesn’t seem to be all that interested in who they’ll be after the end credits role.  As written, they’re just plot devices, specifically created and manipulated to express the film’s antiwar message.  But then you see Jon Voight’s haunted eyes while he’s listening to a group of vets discuss their experience or you hear the pain in his voice while he talks to a bunch of high school students and it’s those little moments and details that tell you who Luke is.  By that same token, Jane Fonda does a good job of showing each stage in Sally’s liberation, even if you can’t help but feel that the main reason Sally becomes an anti-war feminist is because she’s played by Jane Fonda.

Of course, in the end, the entire film is stolen by Bruce Dern.  You actually end up feeling very sorry for Bob Hyde (and, to the film’s credit, you’re meant to).  It would have been very easy to just portray Bob as being a close-minded pig but the film respects his pain just as much as it respects Luke’s anti-war activism and Sally’s need to be free.  In the end, you actually feel worse for Bob than you do for either Luke or Sally.  Bob is as much a victim of the war as anyone else in the film.

Coming Home was one of the first films about Vietnam to ever be nominated for best picture.  Jane Fonda and Jon Voight both won Oscars but the film itself lost to a far different look at the war in Vietnam, The Deer Hunter.

Shattered Politics #32: The Werewolf of Washington (dir by Milton Moses Ginsberg)


Werewolf of Washington (1973)

First released in 1973, The Werewolf of Washington is one of those obscure films that always seems to pop up in Mill Creek box sets.  That’s largely because Werewolf of Washington has slipped into the public domain and anyone can release and sell a copy of it.  (It’s also been uploaded to YouTube by a few hundred different users.)  It’s a film that I’ve actually watched quite a few times, largely because it is so easily available.

Which doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s any good.  I have to admit that, in between viewings, I always seem to convince myself that The Werewolf of Washington is a better film than it actually is.  The idea behind the film sounds clever.  The President’s press secretary (played by Dean Stockwell) is a werewolf.  When the full moon shines, he transforms and wrecks havoc on the streets on D.C.  Stockwell still wears his suit, even when he’s a wolfman.  The President (played by Biff McGuire) is a total idiot who spends a lot of time bowling.  The Attorney General (Clifton James) is a paranoid fascist who is quick to blame the werewolf’s murders on outside agitators.  For no particular reason, a dwarf mad scientist (Michael Dunn) shows up.

Yes, the idea is clever but the execution … actually, the execution is not terrible.  Dean Stockwell gives a good performance and there’s a funny scene where he starts to turn into a werewolf while bowling with the President.  Stockwell’s fingers swell up and get stuck in the bowling ball and Stockwell totally freaks out.  And then there’s a scene where the werewolf attacks a woman in a phone booth and it’s actually rather suspenseful and almost scary.  Plus, Biff McGuire is great and all too plausible as the vapid President.

And yet, overall, the film itself is never as good as you want it to be.  I think a large part of the problem is that the film opens with a long voice over from Dean Stockwell, which explains why his character ended up in Budapest (that would be where he gets bitten by the werewolf) and why the President subsequently named him press secretary.  It’s so much backstory that you get the feeling that the opening narration must have been added in post production in order to cover up scenes that either did not work or that the film’s director never got a chance to shoot.

And really, the entire film is like that.  The film is a collection of scenes that never really flow together or establish any sort of steady pace.  And, when it comes to both horror and comedy, pace is key.

The Werewolf of Washington is a clever idea.  I just wish the execution had been just as clever.

And I’ll probably continue to wish that the next time that I rewatch it.

The_Werewolf_of_Washington_FilmPoster