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Show: “Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C.”
Role: Opie Taylor. (As if the title of the episode didn’t completely give it away.) You might be surprised to discover that, despite being a spin-off from “The Andy Griffith Show,” there were precious few occasions when Gomer Pyle received visits from his friends and family from Mayberry, NC. In fact, of the 150 episodes of the series that were produced, only three - count ‘em - three episodes featured folks from back home stopping by. We saw Goober pop up once (”A Visit from Cousin Goober”), and Aunt Bee found time in her busy schedule to bless Gomer with her presence (”A Visit from Aunt Bee”), but this time we’re giving props to Opie’s unexpected appearance, which came about through one of the all-time classic sitcom plot lines: a kid running away from home. Why the props for such a predictable premise? Because Opie lives in North Carolina, and “Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C.” took place in California. We have to give Opie credit: when he decides to run away, the kid doesn’t take the half-assed way out. In fact, the idea that a 12-year-old boy could’ve managed to make it across country by himself is something that Gomer can’t even wrap his head around. Now, granted, the man’s not Einstein, but, still, we were kind of wondering about how he managed it ourselves. Opie: I hitched a ride on a plane. You didn’t realize Jim Nabors had that kind of range, did you? Well, he moves back into his dumbfounded expression when Opie explains that he’s traveled cross-country to join the Marines. Why? Because he wasn’t doing so well in school, and to keep from having to deal with a pissed-off Andy Taylor, he figured maybe he’d better go away for awhile…’til, say, adulthood. Filed under: TV and TV DVDs and Actors and Reviews and TV Comedies and External Entertainment and External TV and And Our Very Special Guest Star... Comments: None Digg this! Add to Del.icio.us |
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Show: “Happy Days” Roles: You will be unsurprised to learn that the most famous puppet of the 1950s and his cowboy-attired “handler” play themselves, if only because, really, who the hell else are they going to play? “Happy Days” enjoyed taking the opportunity to provide a rose-colored look at life in the 1950s, but rarely were they presented with the opportunity to incorporate actual television icons from the era into the fun. Fortunately, wooden puppets don’t age, and people were willing to let it slide that “Buffalo” Bob Smith was sporting a few more wrinkles in 1975 than could be found on his famous visage two decades prior.
The episode revolves around Richie Cunningham (Ron Howard) trying to impress his editor at the high school newspaper by scoring a scoop, and his first idea is to interview Mr. Doody, whose show was - rather conveniently, it must be said - to be filming in Milwaukee. The Fonz (Henry Winkler) shoots down this idea, suggesting a more controversial alternative: to wrangle a backstage invite and sneak a shot of Clarabell the Clown without his make-up. So how does he get backstage? By entering a Howdy Doody lookalike contest. It’s ludicrous, of course, but seeing Ron Howard dressed in the standard HD attire is almost as funny as experiencing his disgruntlement after losing to a 9-year-old. While backstage with his right-hand man, Potsie (Anson Williams), Richie does indeed score the picture he’s sought, but after that, things immediately snowball at a ridiculous rate. Within hours of snapping the picture, word has already made it from Milwaukee all the way to the offices of Life Magazine, with the publication immediately getting Richie on the phone and making an offer for the photo. Visions of a journalism school scholarship are floating before Richie’s eyes…until the doorbell rings, and Buffalo Bob and Clarabell stand on the stoop. Mr. C: Well, what brings you to our humble house, huh? Hey, nice, Richie. Way to be a complete dick. What’s next, blackmail? (”You know, Clarabell, for a little bit of dough-re-mi, I could make this photo just, y’know, go away.”) Fortunately, Buffalo Bob decides to take a tactic that only works in sitcoms set in the 1950s: heartfelt honesty. “Richie, there’s a reason why nobody has ever seen Clarabell without makeup. Y’see, behind that make-up, he’s Clarabell the Clown, and there’s sort of a mystique about him. It’s like the Lone Ranger without a mask: he’s a nobody. Y’see, millions of kids watch television every day to see their favorite clown, and to them, this is Clarabell. Now, if they were to see him as an ordinary man, Clarabell lives no more.” (Mrs. C attempts to liken the situation to “Tarzan without his loincloth,” but Mr. C assures her, “No, that’s a little different, Marion.”) Richie is notably unmoved by this plea, trying to play the journalism-school card again, but while Bob makes it clear that it could well be a case of Richie’s future versus Clarabell’s career, he concedes that “you worked hard to get that picture, and I guess you’re entitled to sell it.” And then, with a facer arguably even sadder than the one painted on Clarabell, Bob plays the Ace of Guilt: “Rich, it’s up to you.” You guessed it: Richie tears up the picture. Cue one very excited clown…and one pissed-off, whiny Cunningham. After Bob and Clarabell leave, Richie doesn’t take the schmaltzy way out by saying, “Wow, it sure feels good to do the right thing.” Instead, he reacts exactly how a normal teenager would: he pouts and moans, “What about my scoop?”, providing yet another reason why the first few seasons of “Happy Days” are remembered as some of the best television the 1970s had to offer. Filed under: TV and TV DVDs and Actors and TV Comedies and External Entertainment and External TV and And Our Very Special Guest Star... Comments: None Digg this! Add to Del.icio.us |
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Welcome to the first in an ongoing series, where we’ll be examining famous and infamous guest-star turns from throughout television history. Show: “Hawaii Five-O”
Role: Eddie Calhao, a mustachioed attorney who thinks he’s real tough stuff because he’s running a behind-the-scenes operation which involves framing McGarrett’s right-hand man, Detective Chin-Ho. Eddie’s the kind of guy who throws out one-liners like, “You’ve gotta learn to use the media,” or, “Unfortunately, some violence has always been connected with progress. Unfortunately, I say.” He rarely gets his own hands dirty, preferring to let his underlings do the hard work for him while he reaps the benefits. Meanwhile, poor Chin-Ho’s world is collapsing around his ears, and McGarrett is getting pissed off about it, so he starts trying to unravel the mystery, which leads to the interrogation of banker Austin Summers. Summers, as it happens, is one of the aforementioned underlings, and he starts to twitch under McGarrett’s steely gaze, so as soon as he leaves the police station, Summers immediately runs Eddie. Eddie basically just tells him to keep cool, offering financial incentive for his continued silence. (”Ten thousand dollars should help chase the butterflies away. What say you?”) But when further moves are made to ruin Chin-Ho’s name, McGarrett decides that it’s not business anymore. It’s personal. Sheen doesn’t interact with anyone in the regular “Five-O” cast until the 43-minute mark of the episode, so when Eddie’s approached by McGarrett while sitting alone in a restaurant, the inherent drama in their encounter is comparable to the Pacino / DeNiro sitdown in “Heat.” Or not. But it is pretty funny to watch McGarrett walk in, sit down at Eddie’s table, and, without saying a word, pull out a business card and begin scribbling something on the back of it. Finally, McGarrett breaks the silence. McGarrett: My office number is right on the card, but I’ll give you my home number, too. And with that, McGarrett smirks, stands up, and walks away. Eddie’s appropriately rattled, and he only becomes more so when he returns to his office and finds it completely disheveled. He grabs the phone and books himself a ticket off the island, but as soon as he runs out of the building and onto the street, he’s startled by the sound of gunfire…specifically, someone shooting at him! He spots two shadowy figures running toward him, and, suddenly, Eddie’s on the run for his life through a construction site, with guns blazing behind him. As a result, when he hears police sirens, he immediately opts for the lesser of two evils and starts yelling for their assistance. What luck: McGarrett himself is there! Eddie demands protection from Carl Brohme, but McGarrett - with a twinkle in his eyes - demands dates, places, “the whole set-up.” Frightened for his life, Eddie agrees…but immediately after he rides away in the back of a squad car, it’s revealed that the “shadowy figures” were actually Kono and Danno! Okay, so you might’ve seen that coming…but what you probably didn’t figure was that they were shooting real bullets! “You aimed a little close,” says McGarrett. “He was really shook.” “No more than he deserved,” replies Danno. Here’s an alternate ending I’d like to have seen: Chin Ho is exonerated on all charges, but Danno accidentally kills Eddie and is brought up on manslaughter charges. The last line? “Go book yourself, Danno.” Filed under: TV and TV DVDs and Actors and TV Dramas and TV Action and External Entertainment and External TV and And Our Very Special Guest Star... Comments: None Digg this! Add to Del.icio.us |
