Late Night Retro Television Review: Highway to Heaven 2.9 “The Secret”

Posted on May 9, 2024 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Welcome to Late Night Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Thursdays, I will be reviewing Highway to Heaven, which aired on NBC from 1984 to 1989. The entire show is currently streaming on Freevee and several other services!

This week, Jonathan’s in trouble and so is the audience.

Episode 2.9 “The Secret”

(Directed by William Claxton, originally aired on November 27th, 1985)

This is an odd episode.

While heading to visit yet another one of Mark’s former cop buddies, Jonathan stops the car at a country store. He spots a young man being bullied by three rednecks. Jonathan politely asks the rednecks to back off. When the main redneck tries to attack Jonathan, Jonathan responds by punching the guy out.

UH-OH, JONATHAN’S BROKEN A RULE! He immediately gets summoned back to Heaven for a disciplinary hearing and, as a result, he’s not in the majority of this episode.

I’m going to assume that Landon had something else going on that caused him to skip out on the majority of this episode. (This was also the first episode of the series to be directed by someone either than Landon or Victor French.) Still, having Jonathan throw a punch seems out-of-character. Over the course of the first two seasons, Jonathan has dealt with a lot of bullies and usually, he just uses his powers to make their car break down or to make them trip over a branch. The Boss has never had a problem with that so you have to wonder why Jonathan didn’t just make the bully’s car radiator start to overheat or something. As well, it seems like Jonathan was acting in self-defense and to protect the guy who was being bullied.

Anyway, the important thing is that Mark has to visit his friend on his own. Wes Fowler (Barry Jenner) has been married to Carol Fowler (Linda Miller) for nearly 18 years. When they first married, Carol told Wes that she couldn’t have children and, as a result, they decided to adopt a young girl that they named Heather. Shortly after adopting Heather, Carol did get pregnant and gave birth to Shelley. Having recently turned 18, Heather (played by Leslie Bega) is now curious about who her birth mother was. A little research leads to her discovering that her birth mother is …. CAROL!

Carol explains that Heather’s father was an ex-boyfriend who left town as soon as he discovered that Carol was pregnant. When Carol married Wes, she wanted to adopt the daughter she abandoned so she lied about not being able to get pregnant so that Wes would agree to the adoption. When Wes finds out about this, he gets angry and, along with Shelley (played by a young Shannen Doherty), he moves out of the house.

Can Mark put this family back together again? Of course, he can. And you better believe Jonathan returns to Earth during the show’s final moments. This is Highway to Heaven, after all.

This episode felt off to me. Some of it was the absence of Jonathan. Some of it was the fact that, even when working solo, Mark didn’t really do that much other than stand in a corner and observe. Both the soap opera dramatic and the performances were so over-the-top that they were impossible to take seriously. This almost felt like a parody of Highway to Heaven as opposed to an actual episode.

Oh well. So much for this episode. Hopefully, next week’s episode, which apparently involves a man being mistaken for a monster, will be a bit better. We’ll find out soon!

October Hacks: Alice, Sweet Alice (dir by Alfred Sole)

Posted on October 18, 2023 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Eh. The 1976 film, Alice, Sweet Alice, is one of the few slasher films to have found critical acclaim and to have been seriously studied in the years after its release but I have to admit that it’s never done much for me.

It’s a film that takes place in 1961, in a Catholic neighborhood of Patterson, New Jersey. It’s perhaps the ugliest setting of a film outside of Combat Shock. The houses that we see are run-down. The apartment building in which much of the action takes place is dirty and rat-infested. Even the local church looks like it could use a bit of spring cleaning. Of course, if you think the neighborhood looks ugly, you should see some of the people who live in it. There’s really not anyone in this film who could be considered to be at all appealing. Everyone’s either angry or disturbed or grotesquely obese or pervy. It’s one of those films where everything is so dirty and sleazy that it’s hard not kind of laugh at it all. John Waters could have worked wonders with this neighborhood but Alfred Sole, Alice’s director, seems to take his story just a little too seriously to give it the camp approach that it deserves.

(In fact, probably the only appealing sight in Alice, Sweet Alice is a picture of John F. Kennedy that is seen hanging in a few offices. There’s a lot of not positive things that can be said about JFK but at least he was handsome.)

Anyway, the plot deals with Alice Spages (Paul Sheppard), an annoying twelve year-old sociopath who lives in the desolate apartment building and who enjoys tormenting people by putting on a Halloween mask and scaring them. Alice is basically a bully but I think we’re supposed to sympathize with her because she’s rebelling against the suffocating hypocrisy all around her. Again, whatever. I was a brat when I was 12 years old too.

Alice’s younger sister, Karen (Brooke Shields, making her film debut), is as perfect as Alice is troublesome. Everyone loves Karen, except for Alice who is obviously jealous. On the day of her first communion, Karen is strangled to death by someone wearing a Halloween mask and a yellow raincoat, one that looks a lot like the one that Alice owns. The killer steals Karen’s crucifix and tries to set the body on fire. Father Tom (Rudolph Willrich) is annoyed that the ceremony has been interrupted. Actually, it’s hard to think of a moment in this film in which Father Tom isn’t annoyed by something.

Did Alice murder her sister? A lot of people think so, especially after other people who get on Alice’s nerves end up getting attacked. Alice ends up getting sent to a mental hospital but, of course, Alice isn’t the murderer. Who is the murderer? No need for me to say. If you watch the film, you’ll figure it out easily on your own.

Alice, Sweet Alice is often described as being an early slasher film. If anything, it’s more of an American giallo, with the emphasis being on figuring out who is the killer behind the mask. Many critics have praised Alice, Sweet Alice for its atmosphere and its anti-religious subtext but, to be honest, I’ve always found it to be kind of boring. Part of the problem is that every character is so repulsive (physically, mentally, and morally) that it’s difficult to really care about whether or not they die or if they’re the guilty party. Even Alice comes across like someone who is destined to start fires once she grows up. None of the actors gives a good enough performance to hold your attention. The film attempts to criticize the Church, as many giallo films did. But one need only compare Alice Sweet Alice to other anti-clerical giallo films, like Lucio Fulci’s Don’t Torture A Duckling or Aldo Lado’s Who Saw Her Die? , to see how simplistic and superficial Alice, Sweet Alice‘s approach really is.

Anyway, a lot of people will disagree with this review and that’s fine. Some films work for some people while failing to work for others and, in this case, Alice Sweet Alice is just a film that does not work for me. Que sera sera.

Embracing the Melodrama Part II #58: An Unmarried Woman (dir by Paul Mazursky)

Posted on May 4, 2015 by Lisa Marie Bowman

I have mixed feelings about the 1978 best picture nominee An Unmarried Woman and I really wish I didn’t because this is one of those films that I really want to love.

Erica (Jill Clayburgh, who did not win the Oscar that she deserved for this film) appears to have the perfect life. She works at an art gallery in New York. She has smart, sophisticated friends. She has an accomplished teenager daughter (Lisa Lucas). She has a beautiful apartment. Early on in the film, she wakes up and literally dances from her bedroom to the living room and back again.

And, of course, she has a husband. His name is Martin and he’s a successful stock broker. Of course, there are hints that everything might not be perfect. She and Martin are a cute couple but they’re not exactly passionate. One need only watch Erica carefully wash dogshit off of Martin’s expensive running shoes to tell who is getting the most out of the marriage. Add to that, Martin is played by Michael Murphy and, as anyone familiar with 70s cinema knows, Murphy specialized in playing well-dressed, outwardly friendly heels. And, of course, the film is called An Unmarried Woman and the title can’t be true as long as Erica’s married.

So, you’re not exactly surprised when Martin suddenly breaks down in tears and tells Erica that he’s fallen in love with a younger woman and that he’s leaving her.

The rest of the film deals with Erica’s attempts to adjust to suddenly being an unmarried woman and a single mom. We follow as she struggles to get back her confidence. The scenes of Erica dealing with her suddenly rebellious daughter really struck home to me, largely because I’m a rebellious daughter of divorce myself. There’s a few great scenes of Erica turning to her girlfriends for support. (Importantly, one of Erica’s friends is happily married, as if the film wants to make sure that we understand that not all marriages are as bad as Erica and Martin’s.) We watch as Erica starts dating again, having a memorable one-night stand with the obnoxious but oddly likable Charlie (Cliff Gorman). Finally, she ends up dating a rugged, bearded artist (Alan Bates) and she has to decide whether she wants to remain independent or not.

And it’s all amazingly well-acted and fun to watch but I have to admit that I was a little bit disappointed the first time that I saw An Unmarried Woman. For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to like it as much as I wanted. The more I thought about it, the more clear my issue with it became.

As a character, Eric was simply too wealthy.

As I watched Erica struggle with being an unmarried woman, it was hard for me not to compare her struggles with the struggles that my own mom had to deal with after her divorce. The film, and specifically Clayburgh’s lead performance, got so much right. But there’s a difference — a huge difference — between an unmarried woman who has an apartment in Manhattan and a dream job at an art gallery and a woman like my mom who worked multiple jobs, spent hours worrying about how to pay the bills, and who had to do all of this while dealing with four stubborn daughters. And so, whenever I saw Erica talking to her therapist about how upset she was over suddenly being single, there was a part of me that wanted to say, “Try doing it while living in South Dallas and having to deal with a brat like me.”

The second time that I watched An Unmarried Woman, I was able to better appreciate the film. Now that I knew that Erica’s experiences were not going to be universal, I could focus on Jill Clayburgh’s great performance in the lead role. I could marvel at how marvelously wimpy Michael Murphy was in the role of Martin. I could laugh at Cliff Gorman’s comedic performance. As for Alan Bates as that bearded artist — well, sorry, that still didn’t work for me. Eventually, I could accept Erica’s perfect apartment and her perfect job but suddenly introducing a perfect boyfriend who also happened to be a passionate and financially successful painter; it all felt like a bit too much.

But, in the end, An Unmarried Woman is a good film and a valuable historical document of its time. If for no other reason, see it for Jill Clayburgh’s lead performance.