THERE'S A RIOT GOIN' ON... #3

There was a concentration this week on Tom and Jerry at the Cinema 4: Cel Bloc, but not the Tom and Jerry with whom most of civilization is familiar. Instead, this is a human Tom and Jerry, not a cat and mouse team, but who similarly fought, drank and played their way through nearly 30 adventures in the early 1930's for the Van Beuren Studios. The films are simple but fun (for the most part -- I take major issue with one of them), and while there were no great strides made in the art of animation, there are a handful of clever gags in most of the entries in the series. Many of them, all public domain, can actually be found at archive.org, and many others can be found on DVD; not essential viewing, but if you have the time...

This past week on Cinema 4: Cel Bloc --
Sunday, 4/30/06: In the Bag (1932) Cel Bloc Rating: 6
Monday, 5/01/06: Piano Tooners (1932) Cel Bloc Rating: 6
Tuesday, 5/02/06: Plane Dumb (1932) Cel Bloc Rating: 4
Wednesday, 5/03/06: Pencil Mania (1932) Cel Bloc Rating: 6
Thursday, 5/04/06: Rocketeers (1932) Cel Bloc Rating: 6
Friday, 5/05/06: A Spanish Twist (1932) Cel Bloc Rating: 5
Saturday, 5/06/06: The Swiss Trick (1931) Cel Bloc Rating: 6

SLIPPED DISCS: ROYAL FLASH (1975)

I'm twelve years old in early 1977, and I am at the Denali Theatre in Anchorage, Alaska for a showing of the latest Inspector Clouseau film, The Pink Panther Strikes Again. (The date is approximate; in Alaska, at that time, we often did not get films on time. The film was released mid-December, 1976; I have adjusted to account for this.) I am already familiar with Peter Sellers' buffoonish Inspector, though I know just as much about the character from the cartoon series that aired every Saturday morning on The Pink Panther Show (in whatever form it was in from year-to-year), and truth be told, though I had seen the first two films in the series at that tender age already, I was at the theatre almost as much for the opening animated credits as I was to see Peter Sellers.

In that day, films were still shown as double-features, and when you paid for one movie, you got another usually inferior film with it. Example: later in 1977, when my mother and I took in The Spy Who Loved Me, we were regaled with Won Ton Ton, the Dog Who Saved Hollywood, which served as a then-fun but, in retrospect, bad introduction to the aged Ritz Brothers. Sometimes, however, that second film was just as fun or good as the feature. Such is the case with Royal Flash, a film directed by Richard Lester and released in 1975, and which we saw packed into the program with the Panther film in the Denali on that day..

Lester, along with directing a couple little films called A Hard Day's Night and Help! (along with another personal favorite, The Knack ...and How to Get It) directed the acclaimed Dumas cinematic duo The Three Musketeers and The Four Musketeers, and Royal Flash, too, not only contains a large dollop of Lester's trademarked slapstick jauntiness, but also comes laced with their dash of ironic cruelty, as well. In fact, more than a dash of it, for Royal Flash is top loaded with the stuff, and if you were to discover that Musketeers screewriter George MacDonald Fraser was also the mind behind Royal Flash's witty deconstruction of both heroism and scoundrelism, it should not be so surprising.

Fraser has written a dozen Harry Flashman novels over the past 37 years (with the latest coming out just last year), and in 1975, the second novel was turned into a starring feature for Malcolm McDowell, who certainly knew a thing or two about playing scoundrels. But Harry Flashman is a different sort of scoundrel; for while he has the most mercenary of hearts, and cares only for himself and his safety, to the point of being an utter coward in situations that call for a man of stern and true intentions, fate has conspired to allow the bulk of the world to see him as a conquering hero, and reward and honor are bestowed upon him over better men, even when he tries to do things the right way. He lies, he cheats, he steals, he leaves others to die, and he still lucks his way out of the most dire circumstances, and he always survives to meet the next battle where he is hopelessly outclassed and outgunned again. Karma is his bitch, and magically, he always perserveres...

Alan Bates, Oliver Reed, Lionel Jeffries, Britt Ekland, Alastair Sim, Michael Hordern and even Bob Hoskins (in a early role) are along for this backstabbing parody of The Prisoner of Zenda: all mistaken royal identities, swordfights, trapdoors, torture dungeons and whatnot, which Fraser had the cheek to have Flashman say in the novel version that Zenda author Anthony Hope stole the idea from Flashman!

My mother, to this day, still insists that the film we saw in the double feature with the Panther film was I'm All Right, Jack, a comedy from 1959 that is about labor unions, and one which I would have remembered as excrutiating, no matter the quality (which is great; I've seen the film for the first time recently), because no matter how funny a film is, a twelve-year old is generally not going to finish watching a Pink Panther flick, and then hold still for a film revolving around businessmen. Now, the film also stars Peter Sellers in a supporting role, but my mother always insists that Jack starred Stanley Baker, which it does not. I am therefore going to have to go with my memories and dreams of the sword duels, and the chained water torture sequence, and the scene out from under the castle, etc., and declare that Royal Flash was the film that we saw. Besides, I have friends who went to the same double feature and back me up on this.

It's all terrific though slightly dark fun, and I can't imagine why it is not out on DVD. Most of Lester's ouevre is out already (with a couple of prime films missing, this being one of them). In fact, the film never came out on VHS either, and the only way that I have a copy is that I taped it off of WGN in the early 1980's. When I started watching it, I immediately realized in the first scene that this was my long-lost double feature film, and thus, my copy is missing the first minute or so. Sadly, due to its basic cable status, it was roughly edited for content, shown in fullscreen (no one thought about widescreen in those days), and the cuts for the commercials (which represent the full array of lame tile and carpet warehouse genre) sometimes happen right in the middle of dialogue sequences.

But, it's all that I have for now, and for the foreseeable future. At least I have the novels to keep me twirling my imagined mustache...

RECENTLY RATED MOVIES #16

Finally, Jen and I are getting out to films again. And I am just giddy about it. Despite my hatred of crowds, and hesitancy to engage myself with the public in general, there is no place better to watch films than in a movie theatre. It is not merely the chance to see a film up on a big screen (sometimes even a showing a bad print on a pull-up screen with an old projector is enough to warrant my attention), but it is the whole experience. Nothing brings me greater joy than attending the films. And none of that feeling has to do with the overrated popcorn...

We've gotten out to three films in the past week, and both of us were astonished when this fact popped up while we were driving to the last one. Jen's weekends are not my weekends, and we actually get very little time together, and it is only on her weekends that we have late afternoon/evening time to go out (she works mostly through the afternoon and evenings). So, if you ever wondered how I happen to have so much time to write these days, that is your answer in a nutshell.

I would like to briefly mention that the screening of The Notorious Bettie Page, which surpassed all conceivable expectations on my part, was graced with the prescence of a young man who was caught wholly unprepared at the sight of Gretchen Mol's disrobing in the title role. There is a scene where a naive photographer, who is just fine and happy taking modest, cutesy bikini shots in the woods with Ms. Page, when she playfully offers to remove her top for the novice shutterbug. (Nudity had been avoided to that point, not just in the nerdish lad's life, obviously, but to the audience watching the film, as well.) To see not just the tasty and physically perfect Ms. Mol, who clearly relishes the actually deep role, disrobe in the altogether in the scene, but to hear the breathy, astonished and slightly understated "Holy crap..." emit from the audience member's lips was enough to warrant the visit to the theatre. This was outside of the fact that the film itself was very good; it is honest moments like this that make a trip to the theatre memorable and worthwhile.

A moment like this can all be unbalanced in the next film by a rude asshole talking while ceaselessly crinkling a candy wrapper in the row directly behind you, but... well, that is part of the game. You can't win. If you can't handle it, you might as well stay home in your living room.

What's that? Oh, that's right...

Movie theatres are the new living rooms. Better get used to that talking...

The List:
Bubble (DVD) (2005) - 6; The Squid and the Whale (DVD) (2005) - 7; American Dreamz (2006) - 6; Friends with Money (2005) - 5; The Notorious Bettie Page (2006) - 7; The Station Agent (IFC) (2003) - 7.

Five Discs of Death #2

Invaders from Mars (1953)
Director: William Cameron Menzies
Cinema 4 Rating: 7
Apart from scaring the crap out of me as a child when I saw it on a Saturday afternoon TV matinee, what does this film have to offer me as a supposedly far-more-knowledgable adult? Isn't this the film that infamously has the alien soldier wandering about with a very clear zipper up his back? Isn't there a point where one has to grow up and get past cheesy films like this? Well, the sets are limited in scope, the costumes are cheesy, the acting is sometimes wooden... and it is all designed this way on purpose. This is the fever dream of an innocent child, and the movie reflects his vision of the big, bad scary world (some have written McCarthyist scares are woven into its lining, but I don't necessarily see it that way), the movie is seen from his perspective (in some extraordinary shots, especially in the police station), and his imagining of that worst of all childhood fears: the loss of the love of his parents. But, if it is all in his imagination, why can't the kid seem to wake up from this fever dream? Why do I still freak out everytime someone walks up the forest path? Why do I yell, "Keep away from the sand!" at the screen to this day? Why does this film still scare the crap out of me now? Now you know why I own it...

Taxi Driver (1976)
Director: Martin Scorcese
Cinema 4 Rating: 8
Let's face it: I got over saying "You talkin' to me?" when I was about, oh, well... forever. My De Niro is not that great, so I don't really try. Plus, except for the basic sociopathic tendencies that we all try to rake over, I really do not identify with Travis Bickle that closely. I'm more of a misanthrope. So, the scene about which everyone makes so much ado, which I take as evidence of man's furthering disconnection, countless misguided others take it as a supreme moment of macho coolness. Bickle is a cipher in this film, and he bounces from experience to experience like a puppy, barely taking any recognition of anything happening to him, but he does see everything happening around him, and takes the smallest slight as a personal affront. He builds up his rage step by step, but he is always disconnected emotionally from the situations in which he finds himself mired. There is a grain of good in the man, but he is rough, highly unhinged, and far too easily budged by events in his peripheral vision. He is mankind fighting against its own natural evolution... he is why unthinking violence persists in a civilization advancing far too quickly for everyone involved. (Bonus: Bernhard Herrmann's score is staggeringly brilliant...)

Alice In Wonderland (1951)
Directors: Clyde Geronimi, Wilfred Jackson & Hamilton Luske
Cinema 4 Rating: 8
You might think my rating too high for what is generally considered to be mid-tier Disney, and it is certainly not the most faithful of Lewis Carroll adaptations. But, it is the wild design, the disjointed editing, and a neat snottiness at large in the film that makes it so intriguing. Other film versions of the books end up being, frankly, boring, even with all-star casts; the books are far better read personally than acted, and when actors do tackle Carroll's wordplay, they often talk down to their audience, which is something Carroll would never stand for a second. Disney took the two books, threw away half the chapters from each, shuffled the deck, and gave us a bouncy romp through Alice's greatest hits. Since it is well-known that it is a dream from the beginning, the film never lets us think that she is not dreaming; she is clearly in her own head at all times, and she should be scared. Sadly, the Jabberwock never does show up (I think Disney slipped on that count, especially after the build-up), but we are given memorable scenes (some would say definitive) with numerous Carroll creations. My favorite? Of course, it's the Mad Hatter and his crazed cronies at the tea party. "Mustard? Don't let's be silly!"

Pink Floyd the Wall (1982)
Director: Alan Parker
Cinema 4 Rating: 6
My stock in this film has fallen in recent years, though I still think that it is... uh, watchable. I remember that I dragged half of my friends to this at a showing at the University in 1983, and many of them despised it. The handful that were Floyd fans, however, did not. I was -- am -- one of those Floyd fans, but now not to the same degree that I was at that time, and certainly, I have no regard for anything done after the departure of Roger Waters. The film itself is still creepily effective, with some dazzling animated sequences and nightmare imagery; it's just that I see the cracks in Waters' structure more than ever now. Even if I still love the album, and even though I jumped jaguar-like on the film on its DVD release, I have to admit that it is really in my collection as a memento of a misspent youth more than anything. It's not a world that I need to return to that often, and when I do, I'd rather do it with the album, where my head creates images in conjunction with the nightmare story even more frightening than any film can hope to produce. Still quite the experience, though, for first-timers; there's really nothing like it...

Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man (1943)
Director: Roy William Neill
Cinema 4 Rating: 6
House of Frankenstein (1944)
Director: Erle C. Kenton
Cinema 4 Rating: 5
Neither one of these films, released on a dual disc before Universal tried to screw its monster fans again by packaging all of its star monsters in full sets just a couple years later (at least the rerelease was relatively cheap, but I had already spent around eighty dollars to get these films on the original four discs), is what you would call "good"; but they are entertaining. And, hell... these are monster mashes! Who cares about quality? Well, Frankenstein Meets... still has a certain clinging to the former level of the films to it; Lugosi is OK as the monster; and Chaney is still classy in his second turn in the Wolf Man role. As for House... well, the title is better than the movie itself, but then again, the name of the director is better than the film itself. But, as said, quality is not the point. The all-star mashing together of various and sundry monsters and mad scientists is the point. And I can think of far worse ways to waste an hour of one's life these days (I did not say one thing about the idiotic American Idol... but, I was getting to it...)

THERE'S A RIOT GOIN' ON... #2

Most of the past week on my other blog, the Cinema 4: Cel Bloc, was spent going over another section on the first disc of the Max Fleischer Color Classics collection, Somewhere In Dreamland. Frankly, the cartoons are starting to get cuter and cuter, and I'm becoming a little disconnected from the series. I'm hoping for a couple of good wolf attacks in the near future on upcoming shorts; just a little bit of antagonism can do wonders for a cartoon, and this week there were two Fleischers', The Cobweb Hotel and Greedy Humpty Dumpty, that had some nice dark edges to them. Of course, there was also that avian suicide attempt (I kid you not) in Hawaiian Birds, but outside of that, the film is basically forgettable.

Because of the gradually increasing cuteness, and the fact that I have been reviewing a lot of Fleischer cartoons over the last month (including some Superman episodes), by Saturday, I took a jump over into another studio at large in the 1930's: Terrytoons, with the Farmer Al Falfa biblical flood tale, Noah's Outing. Weird, disjointed, not-quite-the-gospel, but entertaining in its rough fashion: you'll come for the flood, but you'll stay for the giraffe elevator.

Coming up this week are some reviews of Tom and Jerry, and by that, I don't mean the cat and mouse team. The Van Beuren Studios had their own Tom and Jerry on the loose in the early '30's, and for the most part, the films are simple but a good deal of fun, and sometimes, naughtily so.

The past week on Cinema 4: Cel Bloc:
Sunday, 4/23/06: The Cobweb Hotel (1936) Cel Bloc Rating: 7
Monday, 4/24/06: Humpty Dumpty (1935) Cel Bloc Rating: 6
Tuesday, 4/25/06: Greedy Humpty Dumpty (1936) Cel Bloc Rating: 6
Wednesday, 4/26/06: Hawaiian Birds (1936) Cel Bloc Rating: 5
Thursday, 4/27/06: Play Safe (1936) Cel Bloc Rating: 5
Friday, 4/28/06: Bunny Mooning (1937) Cel Bloc Rating: 5
Saturday, 4/29/06: Noah's Outing (1932) Cel Bloc Rating: 6

TERRORS FROM BEYOND ALL IMAGINING... Chapter One: I Need Some "M" Now!

"More movies! What am I going to do with more movies? I don't have time to watch the movies that I already have!"

Rik was flabbergasted at the simultaneous arrival of three separate cardboard-bound packages in his mailbox, or rather, first, the appearance of a seemingly normal key in his normal mailbox, which led to the opening of a large-package side mailbox in which the items where waiting ominously for their chance to hitchhike their way into Rik's abode. Or rather, a key of hidden hellish intent which led to a great deal of wrestling with the lock on the side mailbox, until such a point that Jen stepped in with her heretofore undiscovered knowledge regarding the trickiness of side-mailbox locks, and after a frustrating forty-six seconds of key-flipping and studied consternation, she managed to turn the lock over, and with it, unleashed the horror of newly acquired DVD insanity (which led instantly to the statement proffered at the top of this page).

"You're the one who ordered them," Jen said in her usual calm and understated manner. Rik was already off on a different tangent, flibberdigibbet that he happened to be.

"Hey! How come they used such a large box?!" Rik rattled a box nearly five inches high, in which one could have placed eight normal discs, but which was clearly only laced with three or four at the most. Columbia House was prone to doing things stupidly, like the automatic shipping of their inane "Director's Selections", which are almost never worthwhile nor within the realm of Rik's tastes, and which only lead to extra shipping costs on the part of both the company and the consumer who perhaps missed sending in his denial (or forgot to go online to do so) and now has to spend extra cash to return the damnable thing, such as, for example, a Nicolas Cage movie that isn't Raising Arizona (which he owns) or Moonstruck (which he doesn't). Here, risking both postal crushing (a service that our government provides, amazingly enough, for free...) by not packing anything around the movies, and also by choosing to ship in a box designed with an easy opening sidehatch tab, which, appropriately, was already popped open upon Rik's inspection, Columbia yet again proved that they were a company with their eyes clearly set on losing another customer.

Rik remembered he had ordered four movies from Columbia House, not just three, which was the actual total discovered within the box after Rik did a cursory flip through the inventory, sticking his finger down into the already torn-open sidehatch tab, through which one, even a postman, of unsavory attitude could have easily slipped a movie out on the sly. A quick glance at the invoice, however, proved his worst fears to be unwarranted, as the gigantic box was only meant to contain three loosely rattling movies; he did read, though, that he was still being charged for the aforementioned Nicolas Cage movie that isn't Raising Arizona (which he owns) or Moonstruck (which he doesn't), even though he had sent the film back in the mail to them three weeks previous to this shipment.

As Rik and Jen made their way back to their apartment, a path that proved waveringly inconstant due to the roving pattern of sniffage and stoppage adopted by their two sweet but rambunctious rat terriers, Rik sneakily slipped out each disc to survey his purchase under the late afternoon sun. What a joy to realize (for while he remembered how many movies he had ordered on this occasion, he had, outside of one major title, had quite misplaced the knowledge of the remainder of the purchase) that the first title was one of which he savagely desirous to view: Reefer Madness: The Movie Musical, which premiered initially on Showtime, which did Rik not a lick of good since he was a steadfast HBO'er for many a moon (until Adelphia screwed him over). Owing to both a deep affection for the original tent-show sleazefest from 1936 (also included on the disc) to which this film supposedly pays affectionate though back-handed homage, and a steadily growing fascination and internal love affair with Kristen Bell (of the hopefully not-soon-to-be late, lamented Veronica Mars), and seeing the film on the list of musicals on Columbia House website, Rik wasted not even a half second to include it on his list. (The film has the versatile Alan Cumming, too, as the narrator/anti-drug lecturer, so that did weigh into the need for immediate purchase, not just Rik's Bell-lust.) Rik knew that if the film lived up to even a tenth of his own internal hype regarding it's promise, then it would be a grand time indeed, and seeing the leather-clad Bell on the back cover added unnecessary though appreciated impetus to its timely viewing.

When the original King Kong was finally released on DVD, two years too late for its 70th Anniversary and three too soon for its 75th, but with an awesome slew of extras that could only be provided due to the influence of one Mr. Peter Jackson, it came packaged with two other Merian C. Cooper productions of ponderous primate power: The Son of Kong and Mighty Joe Young. Rik had hoped that they would go the extra step and include three other Cooper films which have ties to the Mighty Kong as well, though lacking the inclusion of a giant ape: The Most Dangerous Game (which Rik actually already possessed in a Criterion Collection version) and which was the immediate precursor (and sneaky cost-saving test film for sets and shots) to Kong; Dr. Cyclops, a 1940 Oscar-nominated special-effects laden film with a mad scientist tormenting an island of people he has diminished with his shrinking ray, released through Paramount (and currently owned by Universal, hence its exclusion) and directed by Cooper partner, Ernest B. Schoedsack; and the Cooper-Schoedsack-Willis O'Brien-Ruth Rose followup to the Kong films, The Last Days of Pompeii, detailing the famous story of the doomed Roman city due to the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius. Pompeii did get released apart from the Kong set, and Rik was overjoyed to add another link in the Kong chain to his collection. He had last seen the film on Cinemax almost fifteen years earlier, and was eager for another go-around with human decadence brought to its knees by the fury of nature.
But what caused Rik to order these films in the first place? It was the rare occurence of a Director's Selection worth pursuing: Peter Jackson's new version of King Kong, the appearance of which was also the cause of Rik's searching for Pompeii in the Columbia database. Jen had tried previously to get Rik to purchase the film in K-Mart and Costco, for a far thriftier cost, but it was not the two-disc release (the release of which Rik was fully aware); rather, it was the version distinctly placed by the counters for the "impulse buy" crowd, and amazingly, he was able to stave off such an impulse buy himself for nearly two months before finally surrendering to his natural state of Kong freak. And there it was in the too-large shipping box, ready to unleash its fury in his own home. It was too much to handle, and Rik had to wait until he got inside the apartment to sit down and open the remaining two packages.
The second package was from Amazon, and in a smaller carboard enclosure, and thus, more tightly packed than the Columbia debacle. Rik, because he always has something on order from Amazon, whether movies, music or books, had no idea what could be inside the container, but the second he uncovered even the first letter on its side, he was pleased with the sight of Robert Altman's highly underrated musical version of Popeye, a film which Rik would defend to the ends of the earth. Perfectly cast, with a weirdly sublime mumbled-sung score by the late, great Harry Nilsson, the film (and set design) veer blazingly close to the spirit of E.C. Segar's Thimble Theatre, the comic strip from which Popeye was sprung as a character. Altman's style is well-suited to the characters, with all of them talking over each other, and hardly any of them hearing a word the other characters have to say, and when they do, the words get twisted from mouth to mouth. Sweet Sweethaven, how Rik loves it...

The final box proved, like the initial box, to be from Columbia House, though this time it was clearly a single disc packed in a tight container much like the Amazon one. Its opening revealed a disc that brought memories back to Rik's mind of the days when he would pack his tiny Alaskan apartment with anywhere from eight to twenty theatre friends and watch repeatedly the latest episode of South Park, then fresh, new and sparkingly savage. As a result, anything produced by the Trey Parker and Matt Stone team at that time was ripe for review, so when Orgazmo hit the cinemas at the old University Center, some of Rik's South Park entourage made the requisite trip to the theatre and lost their collective minds to Parker's wacky, sick but strangely moralistic (or not so strangely, given Parker's penchant for such things) tale of a Mormon missionary who becomes a porn star/superhero. Rik had seen the film a handful of times since, but had never taken the opportunity to add the film to his Parker/Stone shelf, so he leapt on it at last.

However, it was a glance at the invoice that gave Rik pause. Just informed that he would still have to pay for the Nicolas Cage movie that isn't Raising Arizona (which he owns) or Moonstruck (which he doesn't), here was another invoice saying that he had been given credit for the film's return, though he received both invoices on the same day. "I've almost had it with Columbia House, hon! They are damaging my fragile head with their bullshit!"

"Well, if you don't want to belong to it, cancel your membership," she answered, logically as ever.

"Yeah, I probably will. It's just too much crap to deal with. I'll think about it a bit." Rik stared at the invoice further for no reason whatsoever, while Jen wandered off to the kitchen to make some pasta. Rik called after her, "Oh, hon. Guess what I joined today?"

"Oh, now what?"

The Disney DVD Club..."

IT'S NOT A RERUN IF IT'S ON DVD Pt. 1

For years, I have been longing for a DVD set of Wild Wild West to come out. I loved this show so completely as a teenager, when I watched it in reruns every afternoon at 5:00pm for a number of years. Cheesy? Silly? Sure, on both counts. But also marvelous escapism, with stumpy little Western super-spy James West (Robert Conrad) getting outnumbered in each and every fight, and only sometimes coming out on top; the amazing Artemis Gordon (Ross Martin), Master of Disguise showing up in the most unexpected places to help his pal out; the 1860's version of the Aston Martin: a private train car complete with secret exits, trap doors, and various bits of hidden weaponry; and the supergadgets, mostly period appropriate, that would help the heroic duo both in and out of scrapes, including all of the swell devices hidden in West's bootheels. That a truly crappy movie version was chundered out a handful of years ago only pointed out how fun and special the original series was even more. And now, while not meaning to sound like a commercial for the release, a first season set is finally hitting the shelves in June, and I couldn't be more delighted. Combined with the recent release of the complete series of Darren McGavin's The Night Stalker, two of the favorite shows of my youth have finally arrived to help fill much needed gaps in my DVD collection.

But, there are a handful of other shows that I am shocked -- SHOCKED, I tell you! -- that have not seen the light of day as regards a DVD release yet. The first is Adam West's Batman, a show that still gets so much press, so many cultural and trivial mentions from nearly every corner, that it is simply astounding that I am not burning out my freeze-frame button on Julie Newmar's Catwoman as we speak. [Editor's note: the rest of this missive is being written a half hour later.] I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. She still makes it hard for me to breathe, even years past being an impressionable adolescent. So, where is Batman on DVD? Some sort of problem making batarangs meet on the part of Fox (who produced the series) and Warner (who own the characters). Which is a shame because I'm getting tired of scouring two weeks ahead on TV Land through endless repeats of What's Happening? and Night Court to see if maybe, just maybe, the channel will deign to allow Batman and Robin to walk down the side of building with their capes leaning towards the side of the building again...

Many years ago, I spent an entire week getting very little sleep as I meticulously taped the entire series of Get Smart during a grueling but delightful marathon on Nick at Nite. I have watched those tapes a lot over the years, and I, believing that the series just had to be released relatively soon on DVD, got rid of those tapes before my move to Anaheim. Hoo boy, was that a mistake. I'm going nuts without Maxwell Smart, 99, the Chief, Siegfried and Hymie the Robot at my beck and call, ready to be stupidly (thus, Smartly) wacky anytime that I need them to be. There is something wrong with the world where I can show someone an episode in the late 90's, and that young person says to me, straight-faced, "That guy sounds like Inspector Gadget!" It was then that I wished that I owned a Cone of Silence of my own. Don't know what the Cone of Silence is? That's why you need this set to come out...

As I was writing this very post, I was preparing to dig into a diatribe about the lack of three other series in my DVD collection, namely Pinky and the Brain, Animaniacs, and, the first of two Bruce Campbell series that need to be put out on disc, The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr. Turns out... they are all coming out in July! So, my work is done already... but what about Jack of All Trades? Paired with the infinitely inferior, though dripping with hot babes, Cleopatra 2525, Jack was a short-lived but dopily worthwhile show that deserved a much longer run than the partial single season it was allowed. Due to the hot babes, Cleopatra 2525 graduated to an hour-long series the next season, and is somehow out on DVD already, a crime which someone will pay for in some imagined hell somewhere. But Jack? Where are you? Surely, your Campbell cult fanbase has got to be larger than that for 2525? No?

We'll continue this discussion at a later date. There are still a few more series to consider...