Sad Song on the Fourble Board

This past Tuesday, I performed two otherwise completely unrelated activities. I bought a CD of a legendary rock album, and I listened to a classic episode of an old time radio scary story. And in the middle of the night, I pondered on the spiritual link between them...

Most recently brought to light by a tweet from Patton Oswalt, "The Thing on the Fourble Board" from the series QUIET PLEASE is ranked alongside Orson Welles' adaptation of "The War of the Worlds," the "Sorry, Wrong Number" episode of SUSPENSE, and the "Chicken Heart" episode of LIGHTS OUT as one of the scariest, creepiest radio broadcasts ever performed. And after taking a listen to it at, oh, around 2:37 a.m. after a tumbler of Old Crow, I too was finding myself rattled by ordinary house noises as I attempted to go to sleep soon after. Like many who discover the tale, I'm loath to go into details until the reader/listener themselves have had a chance to experience it themselves. So set the reading aside for a half hour and listen to this, okay? I'll wait.

(or, if you'd rather listen on a uZuny or whatever device, you can download here)

Did you listen? Good. Are you rattled? It'll be okay. Let's talk it out.

On a surface level, this episode is effective because of the deceptively dry, matter of fact manner in which the narrator lays out what seem like tedious details of his life and job - his unattentive wife, how drill bits work, the length of oil pipe - and then applies that exact same ordinary tone to the ickier reveals he has in store for us, his unspoken houseguests. It's a narrative device that rarely fails, whether used to unnerve, as when Shirley Jackson states "Although the villagers had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black box, they still remembered to use stones," or to amuse, as when Donald Barthelme opines "I also thought four hundred dollars for a [gallows], on top of the expense for the drinks, invitations, musicians, and everything, was a bit steep..."

But what I think really seals the deal for those who have embraced this story is the peculiar mix of abject horror and empathetic love the narrator develops and expresses for the titular creature whom he refashions into a wife...how, despite claiming the lives of his friends, nearly costing him his own freedom during police investigation, and its possessing a body that previously existed only in his nightmares, he is stricken with pity at its predicament in a world it has never known, of being maimed itself by a threat it never experienced, and sees humanity in its visage. This narration is punctuated by equally scary yet poignant wails from versatile voice actress Cecil Roy.

It stood there dripping with red paint, blood-red from head to foot, like some horrible dream. And it put its hand on my arm. Its hand was stone. Living, moving stone. And it looked into my eyes. And mewed like a lost kitten...I discovered many things about it...it was invisible and couldn't see people when it was invisible; that if you sprayed it with mud or paint or greasepaint -- make-up -- then it could see people. And, believe me, I didn't want to see its body -- I can see that in my nightmares. But its face...I can't help wanting to see that pathetic, little girl face. I'm afraid maybe I've fallen-- Ah, but it's very beautiful. And when it's well made-up, it's...But making it up, rubbing greasepaint on a stone face that looks at ya and smiles and it makes sounds like a lost kitten yet. I can disguise the body in long dresses. She can’t hear very well and when she’s hungry, I have to stay out of her way. 

The album I picked up hours earlier that evening also involves a narrator dryly observing and accepting sordid behavior from a female partner and himself. One of the tracks even features similarly jarring cries of lost children.

They're taking her children away

Because they said she was not a good mother

They're taking her children away

Because of the things that they heard she had done

The black Air Force sergeant was not the first one

And all of the drugs she took, every one, every one

And I am the Water Boy, the real game's not over here

But my heart is overflowin' anyway

I'm just a tired man, no words to say

But since she lost her daughter

It's her eyes that fill with water

And I am much happier this way

The recently departed Lou Reed released BERLIN in 1973, his third solo album after the breakup of the Velvet Underground and the success of his previous record TRANSFORMER, which yielded his sole Top 40 hit, "Walk on the Wild Side." Conceived as a song cycle, it tells a bleak story of a quickly curdling relationship between two drug addicts in the decadent city, where mutual abuse and infidelity lead to tragedy and icy resignation. Even for fans of Reed at the time, who were well-versed in songs like "Heroin" and "Waiting for the Man" depicting all manner of outré living, and likely well aware of his participation in such activity in real life, this album initially proved too dark to embrace. It received poor reviews, and was considered such a disappointment that for years, Reed never performed the album in full; it was only in 2006 that he revisited it for a series of concerts staged and filmed by painter/filmmaker Julian Schnabel, by which time its reputation had so improved it was listed at #344 on Rolling Stone's Top 500 Albums of All Time.

While BERLIN is not a horror story in the conventional sense of what most would say the term suggests, it offers up an interesting convergence to the earlier tale of monstrous embrace from the radio days. What is scary about both situations are the depictions of someone not so far removed from ourselves to willingly be suborned into heinous acts in the name of misplaced affections, be they an oil-rigger luring human food to his mate, or a failed dilettante passively watching his lover prostitute herself to get them more drugs. Also scarily real, the relatability of how unhealthily co-dependent these relationships are to their storytellers -- the narrator of "Thing" likes the face of the creature, but not much else about her, and for all his pity, does likely enjoy being in a position of power as its caregiver, much like meth addict Jim expresses how happier he is to not be burdened with Caroline's children, leaving her to turn her attention fully on him. They are both Water Boys tendering and enabling wounded yet destructive lovers.

The thing on the fourble board lost a finger.

Of Caroline, "Somebody else would have broken both of her arms."

As such, this radio drama and this musical drama are effective kindred, tapping into our fears of how susceptible we could be to doing and accepting bad things for what seemed like rational reasons, and our skill at putting aside our consciences to live with the evil we've done. And consuming each of them for the first time on an ordinary Tuesday made an extraordinary impact for me. Do I recommend this caustic cocktail for yourselves? If you're ready to appreciate the beauty of bummer endings, by all means. Just keep a night light and a white noise machine at the ready if the quiet is too much to bear.

If you don't have a white noise machine, METAL MACHINE MUSIC will do.

Never Been Thwarted

Back in 2005, I was lucky enough to catch the brief run of a ragged, energetic little indie comedy called NEVER BEEN THAWED, and to spend time chatting with its writer/directors, Sean Anders and John Morris. They were great fellas who were just happy to get their movie into a theatre in Los Angeles and play in the big league. Five years later, they are the big leaguers. Following their debut, they drew larger attention for their simultaneously vulgar and heartfelt teen comedy SEX DRIVE, and this year have writing credit on two of my favorite comedies from the last few months, SHE'S OUT OF MY LEAGUE and HOT TUB TIME MACHINE. And the hits keep on coming - they have adapted the classic children's novel MR. POPPER'S PENGUINS for 20th Century Fox, and though Noah Baumbach recently stepped off as director, it is still considered a "go" project set for release next year. As such, seeing their names attached to a movie makes me attach an extra finger on my ten bucks so that I'll have it ready to buy a ticket when it comes out.


Despite facing multiple deadlines and other demands of hot writers, Sean Anders was generous enough to spend time talking to an old fan about his body of work. I consider this the first and biggest "get" since I started this blog, and it's a privilege to be able to present this conversation.

You and your collaborator John Morris were playing in bands and doing graphic design before you made NEVER BEEN THAWED. Which I think helped its authenticity - the songs were catchy with hooks, the logos for the fake businesses looked real and established. So those elements, in tandem with the frozen-dinner-collecting premise, really made me feel I was entering a whole other world. Was there a general feeling in the creative process of "Let's give them something they've never seen"?

Not really, because there was no "them" on that movie. We genuinely never expected much of an audience beyond our friends. Our music and design skills came into it naturally because we knew how to do that. Meanwhile we knew nothing about filmmaking. Still, we did want to make the world of the movie look as real as possible because the silly ideas were funnier to us if they were played in a grounded world. Looking back on it now, I would like to have grounded it all much further and not gone for the joke as often as we did.

What is also good is that you don't coast on novelty through the whole film, you put in solid characters whose stories we get involved in. And some of their foibles are familiar - lonely guy likes a girl who's drawn to someone flashier - but you also touch upon stuff we don't see as often, like the rich guy who is way more successful than the Christian musician, yet often feels cowed in talking to him in the confines of their frozen dinner group. Or even the fact that this musician can be a cocky dick to his friends yet can't stand up to his even cockier deaf brother. Were many of the relationship dynamics based in personal experience?

I guess so. Not really specific people or relationships but combos of people we knew and attitudes we found funny. A lot of it is amping up some of our own worst qualities. We really just kind of felt our way through that one, goofing around and trying all kinds of different ideas. In the end a lot of the character work was built in the edit as we had so much good and bad stuff to sift through.

NBT wasn't well attended when I went to see it. But I guess a comedy with no real stars with a tiny distributor and ad budget can only do so much in the marketplace. Five years later, now that you're established, are you content that "the right people" did get to see it, or do you kinda wish it had fared better in its first run and more regular folk got to see it?

I'm mixed on that. Part of me is mortified because I was trying to act in that movie, which is something I had not done before and have not done since. But when I think of everyone else's hard work and great stuff in the movie, I do wish it could have gotten out there a bit further. A movie like that has a pretty limited range of audience. The average person would likely hate it. But those who like it, tend to like it very much. I'm proud of it. A bunch of numbnuts with no experience making a movie without a clue - it got way further than we ever thought it could.


You were able to get SHE'S OUT OF MY LEAGUE sold as a script before you were attached to adapt and direct SEX DRIVE. I noticed that a few gags, such as the "caught with wet pants" moment, feature in both films. Was there perhaps a worry during the making of DRIVE that LEAGUE might get stuck in development hell and not get made, and thus you really wanted to get the jokes performed? All the gags are funny in both movies, rest assured!

On that joke in particular, we never noticed the similarity until we saw LEAGUE for the first time. (We didn't direct LEAGUE so it was all new to us.) It happens sometimes - you're writing new characters in a whole new world so if some dialogue or gags are similar to things you've done before you sometimes don't see it because everything feels different. We've had people point things like that out to us while still in the script stage and we're always glad to be saved from ripping off our own shit.

What I was struck most by in SEX DRIVE was that within the familiar framework, you again stuck in such original items as the Amish detour, the dental office...you even repeat some of your graphic design gags with the fake website stills. Were any of those hard to get past the studio? Did you have to deal with some suit asking, "What the hell is Rumspringa?"

No. Summit was pretty great. They loved the script from the first draft so they were on board with everything story-wise. We had our fights with them along the way of course but overall they were very supportive. I think that's a big reason why the movie turned out as well as it did. Unfortunately, a bigger studio might have had better luck opening the movie but a bigger studio never would have let us make that movie. So we're very grateful.

Clark Duke is the secret weapon of SEX DRIVE. When he shows up in one scene dressed like Charles Nelson Reilly from a "MATCH GAME" episode, I was sold. Once you had decided to cast against type, how much of his character was already in your writing, and how much did Clark explore and heighten it?

Clark brings a lot to everything he does. We could let him off the leash and he would always find us some gold. Lance was always written to be confident and assertive and cool but casting Clark made Lance a much better character and we began rewriting him right away. Clark is very talented with the improv work so he deserves a lot of credit for his characters.


You had an unsold pilot, "PLAYING CHICKEN," which dealt with people divided by politics having to co-exist with each other. Did you have a grand plan for how the show's characters would evolve over the course of a season, or was this just a one-shot where you had the premise and would decide the through-lines later? What could viewers have expected had the show sold?

We wanted to show how futile most political discussion is between average people who talk without ever doing anything about their gripes. I'm that way. I love to bitch about things but I don't really get involved because, at the end of the day, I'm too lazy and disenchanted to make much of an effort. We wanted to keep these guys at each other's throats but always bring it back to family being more important than politics. We had a lot of ideas for future episodes but the show never made it so I don't even remember what they were.


I liked how the main characters of LEAGUE work for the TSA, making the audience find sympathy with a body of people that they normally tend to curse under their breath. (It also allows the old romantic trope of the reunion-before-takeoff ending to happen within our onerous security restrictions) In keeping with the fresh notions of NBT, what other sorts of people or occupations do you think are underrepresented on film that you would like to portray with empathy in your scripts?

We grew up in blue collar settings. It turns out that Hollywood mostly likes white collar characters because most people would rather see a story about a lawyer than a mail man. I'm sick to death of lawyers and cops and doctors. I'm always drawn to average working stiffs because I grew up around them and I always thought I would be one. I never imagined I could get away with this kind of work. I understand why someone who works hard all day wants to escape into the world of the wealthy but I really feel like we need to get away from so many movies and shows about rich people. So, any job will do. There's an interesting subculture in almost any job.



HOT TUB TIME MACHINE was originally written by someone else. How many changes did you bring to the original story, and which (if any) occurred with the casting of the film?

We wrote a somewhat different story based on an already funny script that Josh Heald wrote. We took the characters to some deeper, darker places and we introduced the idea they they were reliving a particular weekend from their youth.

Was it the original draft or your rewrite that attracted Steve Pink and John Cusack to the project?

Cusack came on while we were writing. I honestly don't know which draft he read initially.

Since Cusack seems to have a love/hate relationship with his teen films, were you exited or intimidated when he signed on? Were you encouraged or discouraged to directly reference those films?

We didn't write with him in mind so it didn't affect us much. Most of the direct references were added after we were finished.

Since Clark Duke appeared in SEX DRIVE, were you instrumental in getting him cast?

Yes. We brought up Clark's name in our first meeting with the studio.


What comes easier when you write a comedy: unusual sight gags (the wet pants in DRIVE and LEAGUE, the catheter in HOT TUB), or the relationships and conflicts of the characters?

They are both equally difficult. Writing a gag is like writing a catchy hook in a song. It seems simple but is very hard to get right. Writing characters is like writing a good song. They are different skill sets and you fail more often than not each time you try. It's all in the rewriting and the sticking to it. If you hang in there long enough you find the ideas and moments that you love. Then you find out real soon if anyone else loves them too.

Do you ever find yourself writing a normal scene, and then suddenly come up with a great gag in the situation?

All the time. It's easier to find humor in a real situation than to just sit around thinking, "what would be funny?" The hardest thing to do is to write and not try to be funny. Just write and let it find you. But it's hard not to push when you're being paid to write something funny.

You've touched upon some writers and directors you like - you took meetings with the Apatow and Farrelly camps, and even got to talk to John Hughes - so who are some of your other influences?

I'm not a film school guy and not a big director fan. I kind of take each movie individually as a lot of people beyond the director are responsible for how a film turns out. The same guy who did CITY SLICKERS - a near perfect comedy in my opinion, also did PLUTO NASH. So a lot of people who aren't on lists of greats have made great movies that are worth learning from. So when I think of influences I think more of films like AIRPLANE, THE JERK, GROUNDHOG DAY, KINGPIN, SIDEWAYS, SLAP SHOT, BOTTLE ROCKET, OFFICE SPACE, and on and on. The ones you mentioned are guys I find consistently great. I also love the Coen Brothers and Monty Python but who doesn't?

One of the interesting recurring themes in your scripts is how often times, bullying is more mental than physical. Sure, [in SEX DRIVE] James Marsden physically beats on Josh Zuckerman, but more often, it's about mind games, such as the dynamic between collectors in NBT, or how Lindsay Sloane dominates Jay Baruchel in LEAGUE, making him think he'll never be able to do better than her type. In a way, I think it's the better form of conflict, because it's less unpleasant to watch (I had a little trouble seeing Marsden constantly hitting Zuckerman, though I understand why it's necessary to the story) and makes the stand-up-for-yourself moment more believable - a physical bully can still beat you up no matter how brave you are, but if you have the self-esteem to not play into another's mind games, that's a battle we all face every day. Even in HOT TUB, where the bully is fate itself - the characters decide that no, the world will not go apocalyptic if they decide to improve their lot in life and take what they want. Would you say this is one of your most important messages people should take from your films?

I think that the worst thing anyone can be is a bully. And we all do it to one another in different ways. I was bullied as a kid. I think most of us were. It hurts but it can also push you to do great things. So, although nobody should be a bully, we kind of need them to give us something to rise up against. Bullies are always great tests for the average person's courage. I love stories about bullies going down and getting theirs but I also love stories about a good person forgiving a bully and conquering him that way as well. You can tell by my answer that I have some issues here.


You are currently attached to the proposed remake of MEATBALLS. What kind of pressures, if any, are you feeling in updating such a beloved comedy?

That was actually a script job we did a few years ago that was really never intended to be called MEATBALLS. It was a whole different camp comedy. Never got made so no pressure there.

I'm really excited about your next directorial project, especially since it has such a dangerous premise (a college student is left to father the child of a one-night stand after the mother's death). It reminds me of an Italian film from 1982, SWEET PEA, where a 13 year old is deflowered by an older model, and a couple years later she leaves the boy with him to raise as she pursues her career. While your film has a considerably "safer" premise, it's still going to raise a lot of fuss. Are you worried at all about studio interference or bad press or theatres refusing to play the film?

Sorry, that one went south. But our next movie will also make you think of the great Italian films. It's called WALTER THE FARTING DOG. It's a family comedy based on a popular children's book that we are writing and directing with the Farrelly Brothers producing. It's actually a very sweet story about a misfit dog in search of a family to love him and the misfit (and, yes, bullied) kid who needs him. It's silly and warm and we're very excited about it. We found ourselves kind of loving writing family comedies after we adapted MR. POPPER'S PENGUINS for Fox last year. That one looks like it's getting made this year as well although we will not be directing.


Since you started out with a consumer-grade camera, a few friends, and some wild ideas, what do you have to say to the next bunch of scrappy dreamers who are in the same circumstances you started out with?

We made our movie for the pure fun of it and we worked our asses off but it never felt like work because we were having a great time. I'm certain that if we had greater plans, it would have affected the outcome in all negative ways. So by not trying to impress Hollywood or festivals, we captured something that was real and fun. Far better movies have been made but nobody else but us could have made that one. Now I get paid and I love the work we do but it's different as there are now a lot more cooks in the kitchen. So if you have no money, you also have ultimate freedom. Enjoy it and you can't lose. Even if it leads to nothing, you will have made a movie and that's pretty damn cool already.


NEVER BEEN THAWED was released on DVD by the defunct Hart Sharp Video. While it would appear to be out of print - the inheritor company Virgil Films does not list it in their catalog or at their website - new and used copies are still available at Amazon and most other online DVD retailers. SEX DRIVE is readily available most everywhere DVDs are sold. SHE'S OUT OF MY LEAGUE will arrive on DVD this month on June 22nd, HOT TUB TIME MACHINE will follow a week later on June 29th.

My enormous thanks once again to Sean Anders for talking shop with me, and enormous confidence in him and John Morris to continue entertaining me for years to come.

"The ghosts didn't wait for me to sleep."

There has been much divided reaction to Martin Scorsese's film adaptation of SHUTTER ISLAND, especially among my valued correspondents. Sinamatic Salve-ation's Ariel Schudson praises its authentic recreation of the failure of post-WWII mental health treatment, while Phantom of Pulp's Mark Savage grew weary of what he felt was its overreliance on dream sequences. I will come back to his observations later on, because they inspired my desire to post this essay - not so much a retort but a reevaluation.

For those who have not yet seen the film, I highly recommend it. Though Scorsese's body of work does not openly belie a leaning to what is classified as horror cinema, horror films have always been an influence on his style. And on multiple occasions, he has cited his affection for the steady output of England's Hammer studio, which, alongside their iconic series of Dracula and Frankenstein tales, turned out a steady stream of what were called "mini-psychos": thrillers like PARANOIAC, NIGHTMARE, HYSTERIA, structured to provide the same gamesmanship and surprise of Hitchcock's 1960 masterpiece (though in actuality, most of the plots of these films share a closer kinship with Henri-Georges Cluzot's LES DIABOLIQUES, a film that had almost been directed by Hitchcock). SHUTTER ISLAND, on a primal level, captures that grand atmosphere of looming dread, distrust, and disconnection.

By now you have likely heard a lot of moaning that the "twists" of the film are easily predictable, especially if you were repeatedly exposed to the too-revelatory trailers. (I personally avoided them for months) Let's get something straight right now: Hitchcock, and his best imitators (Brian DePalma, Neil Jordan, David Mamet), have never made the "twist" the most important part of their story. This misconception was no doubt popularized, ironically, by Hitchcock himself, on his long-running "ALFRED HITCHCOCK PRESENTS" TV anthology series, almost every episode ending on a stinger. It is the aftermath of that twist upon the characters and the audience that they enjoy exploring, that is why in most cases, those surprises pop up in the middle of the film, not the end; you start the movie knowing less than the characters, and finish knowing more, wondering how this surprise is going to change them. Let's straighten another detail: if there was ever a filmmaker who is not only sure, but nay, hopes, that you've seen a bunch of movies and know the storytelling tropes, it's Scorsese. He knows you're smart and that you could solve the puzzle, heck he's counting on it. As such, yes, I figured it out early, but I was still engrossed in seeing how DiCaprio was going to figure it out. So regardless of how much you know or think you know about the plot, there will be plenty to entertain you.



In Mark Savage's negative review, I was caught by one of his statements: I prefer waking nightmares. It's a great sentence, and I'm in agreement with it. Now, on the immediate topic, I would argue that one man's dream sequence is another man's unreliable memory bank, so yes, while there plenty of moments where DiCaprio is not getting a proper night's sleep, he's not exactly spending his waking hours with a clear vision either. And it's not like Scorsese is lifting from Nick Reve's style book and gratuitously putting a dwarf into the scene; all the horrific and bizarre images do have a logical, if not quite linear, place in the resolution of the story. But Mark's statement tapped into something bigger that I had been contemplating after seeing the film, an earlier waking nightmare also captured by Scorsese...

And here there be large spoilers...



In 1999, lost among the crunch of outstanding movies released in the fall period alone (FIGHT CLUB, AMERICAN BEAUTY, THREE KINGS, THE INSIDER), was another story of an authority figure trying to do his job while distrusting his partners, surrounded by unstable strangers, wary of doctors, plagued by hallucinations, and carrying guilt for deaths in which he was directly involved, also based on a popular best-seller. BRINGING OUT THE DEAD was Scorsese's first project for Paramount, and more so than any of his other films is the perfect co-feature for the inevitable New Beverly Cinema revival, not just because it will be easy to get both movies from the same studio.
Now, guilt is as constant a presence in a Scorsese film as "See You Next Wednesday" is in a John Landis film. And SHUTTER ISLAND is not the first time Scorsese has paid homage to Hammer or dramatized the notion that the beast what scares us most is us: his terrific "AMAZING STORIES" episode "Mirror Mirror" has that distinction. But there is a unique parallel in the structure of BRINGING OUT THE DEAD and SHUTTER ISLAND that make them special, and both of them waking nightmares.

"Ever notice people who see shit are always crazy?"

Cage's Frank Pierce and DiCaprio's Teddy Daniels are good souls who have been battered by spending too much time in the trenches, figuratively and literally. Frank's reputation as a paramedic was so good he was called "Father" Frank, as if he had powers imbued from God; Teddy has WWII service and was present at the liberation of a concentration camp, so he is a de facto war hero. But they themselves do not believe themselves heroic; Frank because he was not quick enough on the scene to save a young girl from a sudden deadly asthma attack, Teddy even more so because he arrived at the camp too late to save Jewish prisoners from being killed by the Nazis, and in domestic life years later, arrived home too late to save his children from being killed by his own unstable wife. Frank is now only barely functional, given to reckless behavior on his night shifts (though compared to his three successive driving partners, he appears sane). Teddy has completely broken, killing his wife in anguish and in the midst of psychiatric committment, creating a fictional alter ego who can take the blame for all his failings so that he can believe himself still "good." Heck, they each even have their own hard-tack with a badge that's always hassling them, threatening either to take off their sunglasses or bite their eyes out. And that eye fixation in both movies is only slightly coincidental - both protagonists have seen too much to have any chance of normalcy anymore.

"Taking credit when things go right doesn't work the other way."

What contributes to the mental troubles of both men is, bizarrely, the establishment's willingness to forgive them, when they cannot forgive themselves. Frank's partners have their manner of staying detached from the pain of failing to save a life, and the doctors they deal with are practically numb, often turning patients away or coldly pronouncing death over the phone. Teddy has committed a capital crime, but everyone feels sympathy for him because to them, it's so clearly the result of witnessing unspeakable horror in war and at home, and are thus bent to "cure" him so that he can ostensibly start over again. There are selfish motives too - '80's Gotham is short of capable paramedics, '50's Boston would love to have one of their better mah-shalls back on the job - so if they can be kept working, the powers that be will benefit.

"The streets are not like the ER. There's no walls, no controls."

These damaged men, meanwhile, wander about in a damaged environment. Teddy is a literal inmate given run of the asylum, and even in his delusional cop state, he can see that his doctors' notions of how to cure mental problems is failing. Besides, when the most fundamental authority figure in one's life - the mother - cannot be trusted to protect life, it's not hard for Teddy to believe the doctors are betraying him either. Frank's asylum is the whole of Gotham, a topsy turvy place where prostitutes are indistinguishable from housewives, the same old drunk has to be taken to the hospital every night, and a father who should have died peacefully at home has been defibrillated back to vegetative life 12 times in one weekend. And each world offers the men convenient red herrings to assign blame to - Frank repeatedly sees OD cases from a new strain of heroin called, appropriately, "Red Death," while Teddy rattles off paranoid theories about mind control and human experiments - and while these dangers are real, no question, sadly for them, they're not the tidy solution to their troubles; it's larger and messier than that.

"Tell me that's a crazy person! Every move is calculated!"

Finally, both stories tease a non-tragic ending for their characters, but ultimately take an ambiguous detour. Teddy, fully briefed on the extended roleplay exercise the doctors have staged for him, is taken to be lobotomized while leaving his primary handler uncertain to whether he had failed to reconcile his divided psyche, or worse, was cured but chose to be lobotomized anyway to erase his guilt. Frank, on the surface, seems like he has survived his three-day work ordeal, but considering that he has taken his nascent God complex to the next level, by directly choosing who to save (Noel the homeless man, Cy the drug dealer) and who to let die (the comatose father), when he beds down to rest with the now-deceased father's daughter, who does not know he pulled the plug on him, one is also left to wonder if he also has chosen an extreme measure to purge his guilt.

"No one asked you to suffer. It was your idea."

Two outstanding waking nightmares, courtesy of one master filmmaker.

He'll Be Coming 'Round the Mountain FOR YOUR LIFE!!!

One of the most crippling, secret shames that I carried through my childhood was that I was irrationally afraid of many logos at the end of TV programs.

Little known fact for you youngsters who are used to quick flash credits on your favorite programs, but in the late '60's all the way to the mid-'80's, it seemed that almost every major movie studio that was making TV shows decided to end them with logos which, when seen by young children, would scare the frosting off their flakes. I'm not just talking about something obvious, like a roaring MGM lion. We're talking malevolent rectangles and flying trapezoids and greasy hands with hammers, featuring themes which were often loud, bombastic, lots of tinny brass and percussion, or disturbingly discordant, as if John Cage and Arnold Schoenberg were having a slap fight. So during prime time with the parents, depending on the production company behind the show, when the episode was over and the credits were running, I would have to switch over to a "safer" program, or pray for commercials on another channel, or just flat out leave the room and listen to the jingles, which was often just as bad because my mind could run wild from those sounds. Over time I made myself sit through and be stoic though these images and now they can't hurt me anymore, but I always felt stupid over being phobic about something so irrational.

However, one of the most wonderful things about the internet is that weird aspects of your person, which you thought you were the only one in the world that carried them, turn out to have been shared by thousands, and that there is a community devoted to them. And possibly the most liberating discovery I made through the internet is that I was not the only one who wanted to flee in footy pajamas from the TV at the end of a show. Heck, they even have their own Wiki, as well as blogs, Twitter feeds, etc. They faithfully comb through old videos, Tivo cable broadcasts, scour used VHS bins, searching for all manifestations and variations of their favorite closing logos, scary and benign.

And thanks to Dennis Cozzalio at Sergio Leone and the Infield Fly Rule, some canny filmmaker (with a little help from my friends Blaine Capatch and Josh Fadem) has made a tongue-in-cheek dramatization of the intangible fear that closing logos could inspire in children like me years ago:


Ironically, the "S from Hell" never particularly scared me; their earlier "Dancing Sticks" logo was the one that would pop up in nightmares. But even that was nothing compared to my longtime personal TV boogeyman, the Paramount "Closet Killer." Paramount's TV logos in general took me a long time to acclimate to, a process helped by the less threatening style they adopted in 1986 and beyond. And aside from the general weirdness of my phobia, this was a particular source of embarrassment because in all other aspects, Paramount was my favorite studio - they were making the cool TV shows like "HAPPY DAYS" and "STAR TREK" and "MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE," and the Diller/Eisner/Katzenberg team were cranking out awesome movies like SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER and MEATBALLS and AIRPLANE. Now, I was never afraid to watch a Paramount logo on a movie, because it was slow and silent and not jarring in the least. But I spent years never knowing who those guest stars were on "THE BRADY BUNCH" because I knew if I stayed to watch the credits just a little too long, I was going to face THE CLOSET KILLER!

In brief - the logo consisted of a wide shot of a rectangular box with "Paramount Television" in block letters inside, with the mountain logo on the right, that both panned and zoomed onto the mountain so that it filled the TV screen. That all takes place in four seconds, a lot of movement for a child's brain to process. It's comparable to when a dog owner makes their pet smell their mess close-up by rubbing their nose in it - Paramount was literally shoving the logo in our face, as if yelling "LOOK AT THE MOUNTAIN! LOOK AT IT!" And that rude shove was accompanied by an 8-note jingle by Dominic Frontiere that sounded less like logo music, and more like the kind of sting you would hear in a '40's murder mystery when drunken floozie #2 made the mistake of opening her bedroom closet:


Oh sure, you laugh. But just look at some of these comments from the actual YouTube page this comes from:

I still tremble in fear hearing it!
*sitting on ground, knees in chest rocking back & forth*

congratulations now i can't sleep tonight. or my German shepherd :O

Dammit, I crapped my pants.

AHHHH please don't hurt me, large creepy mountain!

The fact that they zoom in on the Paramount mountain on the last four notes doesn't help either,like "We're Paramount... SEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!" all up in your face like it's about to come out of the TV into your lap!

...Is it possible for a logo to teabag someone?

I have to believe that somebody at the studio got half a hint because a couple years later, they replaced the music. Unfortunately, not only were they still pushing the mountain at you warp speed, they added a Lalo Schifrin/Robert Drasnin composition that sounded like a couple boulders broke loose from the peak and were going to roll down the mountain and crash through your set!


Okay, so we grow older, this ridiculousness gets resolved. Now it's no longer scary, but it's still a time capsule of that era and of our life in that time, and it's interesting to revisit. So, a while back, I rent the first season set of "LOVE AMERICAN STYLE" on DVD - another Paramount show that I couldn't study the credits for back in the day. And after the first episode ends, I am not greeted by either the Closet Killer or the Avalanche - I see this:


You see, because of the various buys and splits that Sumner Redstone has done with his media empire, Paramount no longer owns any of their TV shows - they are all under the umbrella of CBS. So even though that DVD box has both a Paramount and a CBS logo on it, they're divorced parties - just ask the accountants. So CBS is systematically removing the old Paramount trademarks from those programs with no regard to posterity, to assert their ownership. And aside from the fact that, well, their new logo sucks, it's tantamount to the behavior of people who try to reject the existence of certain historical facts. "Who, us? No, we never created any corporate i.d.'s that traumatized a generation of children! We most certainly did not!" It's the TV equivalent of holocaust denial, I'm tellin' ya!

So praise the Lord Lew Grade that we have such things as YouTube and support groups and photographic memories, so that we can warn the children of the future about how we grew up in dread of stylized S's and closet killers, and that without eternal TV vigilance, they could one day return...

Zees has not been a Filmways presentation, dahling.