The Luckiest Man in America whammies out

It's quite curious to me that a movie that would go to the trouble to meticulously recreate Press Your Luck's stunning set piece, that enormous board of slides and flashing lights — one of the best game show centerpieces ever — would then go so far afield with the story of Michael Larson. Always looking for the next scheme, Larson memorized the board's patterns and used that knowledge to break the bank. For all the small details captured, like the accurate rendering of the hidden score and spins readout that only the contestants are intended to see, there are incredible diversions in the story, such as network brass drinking champagne in the background after they decide to cash in on Larson's performance. The reality was quite the opposite. 

I'm not sure anyone coming to this movie with no knowledge of Larson or Press Your Luck would find the story particularly interesting; its scenes are largely confined to the show's studio. And I think many people could have written this better. For example, it seems malpractice not to have a scene of Larson sitting at home, eating cereal in his pajamas, watching the great game show block of The $25,000 Pyramid, Press Your Luck and The Price Is Right. One day, studying those lights bounce around the squares on Press Your Luck, he thinks he notices something and starts taking notes through the use of a VCR recording. The tagline at the bottom of the poster says, "What's behind his winning streak?" That's the meat of what is interesting about Larson, and it is largely unexplored here.

I also think Peter Tomarken, who did a fine job hosting the 1983-1986 game show and spent some of his time providing angel flights to sick individuals, would be insulted by the unfairly smarmy portrayal of him in this production. While the cast includes some fine performers like David Straithairn, and it's clear that Paul Walter Hauser studied Larson's in-the-zone technique, it's not enough to save this misguided script. For those intrigued by Larson's feat, Game Show Network's documentary Big Bucks: The Press Your Luck Scandal is excellent and remains the definitive telling of the Larson story.

Verdict: 2 out of 5

Also see // RIP Peter Tomarken

Movies: Leave the World Behind

I can’t remember the last time I reacted this negatively to a film’s ending. The premise: A vacationing family led by Julia Roberts and Ethan Hawke find themselves in an unraveling world — a ship barrels ashore while they are luxuriating on a beach; then cell phones and internet quit working (the ultimate horror). It goes further downhill from there in a what’s-going-on puzzle that continually teases the viewer with vague clues such as mysterious animal behavior. Meanwhile, another couple arrives to add cultural and political tension to the mix (groans). 

The movie strongly reminded me of M. Night Shyamalan’s notorious The Happening (with less wind) and, to a lesser extent, Stephen King’s novel Cell. At its best, Leave the World Behind weaves several tense threads together in thrilling fashion and achieves a compounding sense of dread, but the film then simply ends as things appear on the verge of greater calamity without providing any resolution apart from the daughter's quest to see the final episode of Friends. I know that sometimes a filmmaker wants us to be left with a puzzle to ponder, but it just doesn’t work here. It’s an infuriating ending, and, while I do not condone violence, it left me wanting to throw large objects at director Sam Esmail.

Now streaming on Netflix  //  2 hours 21 minutes  //  2.5 stars out of 5

Some true things about Milli Vanilli

 Ok, Eddie … This one’s for you.

The Paramount+ documentary Milli Vanilli spends much of its time portraying the fake duo’s surviving member Fabrice Morvan as a sympathetic figure, a victim of show business and, particularly, producer Frank Farian, who lured the naive duo into a contract that they did not read or understand. But, late in the documentary, Morvan has the gall to say that yes, a small part of him still feels that he deserved that Grammy award for all the hard work they put in touring the world for promotion while eating caviar and living the life of a star. The moment underscores the sketchiness that tainted everyone involved.

One of the actual lead vocalists, Charles Shaw, is positively seething throughout the documentary, and rightly so. To its credit, the show brings to light the fact that Farian was a repeat offender who previously undertook similar shenanigans with the immensely popular Boney M. The other person with the most screen time is Farian’s business manager/girlfriend Ingrid “Milli” Segieth, who gives the scandalous details of the real singers sneaking in the back entrance after hours and her love for Rob Pilatus.

The documentary goes on for a very long time — at least a half hour too long as it dwells on Morvan’s lmaudlin reflections — yet it manages to largely gloss over the appeal of the music, a triumphant string of five top five U.S. singles, including three consecutive number ones on the Billboard Hot 100. Most of the songs aren’t even mentioned by name, although Dianne Warren does appear for about 15 seconds to acknowledge her contribution. The song “Girl You Know It’s True” sounded like nothing else on the airwaves in late 1988/early 1989. Farian is a clever producer who also made hits for the likes of La Bouche, No Mercy and Le Click, and I would like to have heard some talk about how he cooked up the winning Milli Vanilli sound. To my ‘80s pop loving ears, the best of the bunch was the version of “Baby Don’t Forget My Number” that appears on the greatest hits album — likely a single remix. Of the album tracks that didn’t get released as singles, most of them are unremarkable, but there was one potential hit left on the table — “Take It As It Comes” — a Climie Fisher co-write that is as instantly catchy as the album’s hits.

Through the whole documentary, there’s a galling lack of anyone accepting any genuine responsibility for what transpired, from record label executives who appeared shifty and unprepared for basic questions to Morvan himself. And there was a surprising lack of consequences once the jig was up. Yes, Rob Pilatus arguably lost his life as a direct or indirect result and there was the public shaming of being stripped of the Best New Artist Grammy, but a lot of people made a lot of money and carried on with their merry lives. It does feel like something that should rise to the level of criminality. When it was discovered in the 1950s that game shows were making up the outcomes, there wasn’t just outraged headlines — there were congressional hearings and strict new rules at the TV networks. But when the music world made up Milli Vanilli, everyone involved said: Ah, just blame it on the rain.

Netflix's Midnight Mass is a revelation

I've taken note of the name Mike Flanagan. 

I've not seen much of his previous work. I liked Doctor Sleep (2019), the sequel to The Shining. A few years back, I panned his Ouija: Origin of Evil but noted some inspired flourishes; and, more recently, I bailed out on his The Haunting of Hill House series after one episode (we're going to give it another shot). But watching the seven-episode Midnight Mass proved to be a religious experience of the sort I haven't felt since the first couple of seasons of True Blood and, in movies, since the stunning twist of The Sixth Sense.

There aren't many new ideas in horror, and that's where Midnight Mass really delivers, taking the concept of the vampire to a place that some might find blasphemous, but I found its melding of vampire lore and Christianity brilliant and exciting. In terms of good and evil, it turns the concept of the vampire inside out. And it does so at a leisurely pace across seven hours; it takes a bit to fully realize what's going on here as the story establishes its territory with the return home of Riley Flynn (Zach Gilford), a troubled young man, and the arrival of Father Paul (Hamish Linklater), a young man of the cloth who … well, to say much more would enter spoiler territory.

There are no jump scares; it doesn't need them. The music, which often consists of gorgeous choir renditions of sacred hymns, and the sparingly used, something-creepy-is-about-to-happen parts, is outstanding. There are enormous passages of fascinating, hypnotic dialog, often delivered by Linklater, who was good as the brother on sitcom The New Adventures of Old Christine and is Emmy-worthy here. Another cast standout is Samantha Sloyan as Beverly Keane, an overly pious clergywoman whose intentions are always suspect.

At times, Midnight Mass becomes a profoundly philosophical meditation on existence, life and death. We immediately watched it a second time — something we never do — to revel in the nuance and the slow-burn dread. We're still haunted by it, still dissecting and discussing the details. As lifetime horror fans, we think it's an important work in the genre. I don't remember for certain if I've ever bestowed a divine 5 out of 5 rating to any piece of entertainment on this blog before, but here one is.

Netflix's Black Summer

It’s like someone looked at The Walking Dead and said: What if we took out all the boring parts? Rather than concocting an elaborate new villian every time the crew moves to a new fracked up town, as The Walking Dead does (at least up to the point that I bailed out, which I think was season 4), what if it’s mostly just about getting from point A to point B? Also, change the zombies from lumberingly slow to super fast. Thus far, it’s a winning formula for Netflix’s Black Summer, a relentless exercise in zombie fight-or-flight tension. It’s best not to get attached to any particular character, because (spoiler) a lot of them don’t make it.

The story does not always unfold in a linear fashion, and I like how they’ve done it, going back to give us a bit of back story on something that just happened. Some have criticized the show for lacking character development, but I think Rose’s character is progressing just fine every time she blows away another non-zombie who’s gotten on her wrong side.

This show is derived from Z Nation, and the good news is that this is far better than that, based on the little bit of Z Nation I’ve seen. I’m not particularly a fan of the zombie genre and am perplexed by its enduring popularity — it seems a daunting task to bring anything new to its apocalyptic storylines — yet I tore through the two eight-episode seasons (season 2 just recently arrived) and was left wanting more when I came to the end. It’s pretty rare that I say that about a new show these days.

Score: Considered merely as escapist fare, it's a solid 4 out of 5.

Eight things about classic Price Is Right on Pluto TV

 A 24-hour loop of current episodes of The Price Is Right might be one definition of hell. But Pluto TV’s 24-hour-a-day classic The Price Is Right Bob Barker-era channel is pretty heavenly.

Some random observations:

• With my (lack of) luck, I’d probably win a sewing machine or a snowmobile. I always feel sorry for those contestants.

• Most of the episodes airing now are circa 1983, when it was apparently a legal requirement that all washing machines and clothes dryers were a sickly yellow color.

• What’s the deal with the 1980s obsession with brass beds? It’s a chintzy look.

• Contestants could reap the rewards of faithful viewership. Watching these shows, I quickly learned that the Haggar slacks are always $30.

• My dream would be to play Punch A Bunch (or is it Punchboard?). Assuming I earned all four punches, I would punch four consecutive spaces on the bottom row. Just because.

• Whoever built the games used too much lattice. Ten Chances looks like something your neighbor is trying to grow tomatoes on and might be a city code violation.

• Bob Barker had his occasional creepy and condescending moments, but he was peerless among game show hosts at building playful drama and anticipation, and I admire his love for game statistics and esoterica (“Has that ever happened before?”).

• It’s streaming on channel 163 on Pluto TV, which, many days, we watch more than “regular” television. That's really saying something, because we loathe sitting through commercials. Come on down!

Movies: The Car (1977)

 Just how much menace and dread can be extracted from the revving engine of a tricked-out Lincoln Continental Mark III with illegally tinted windows? That's explored at length in 1977 horror-thriller The Car, renowned among some as a so-bad-it's-good chestnut; critics had fun describing it as "a total wreck." My grandmother drove a Lincoln Continental back in the early '80s, and I remember it as an incredibly long vehicle with those little panels that would come down and hide the headlights when not in use. I was fascinated by those.

Starring Josh Brolin as the sheriff, The Car followed in the recent dust of highway thrillers like Duel, and its poster is simply fantastic with the car's angry face and the windswept lettering.  I remember it as one of the first movies that scared me as a kid when it was on TV, probably as a "movie of the week" on one of the big three networks back in the days when they aired theatrical releases as Event Programming. The titular auto zips around a desert town terrorizing its residents, seemingly without anyone behind the wheel, and it all looks pretty great in HD. Hammy dialog aside, the threatening face of that rampaging vehicle stirs dread every time it appears. Though the plot may be thin, it has its effective moments; the best one gives new meaning to the phrase "drive-thru" in a harrowing scene involving one of the leading damsels. It all builds to a sudden, fiery conclusion, with the movie never signaling what drove the car to its murderous rampage, literally or figuratively. As with so many things, the journey is more satisfying than the destination.

The Car is currently streaming on Netflix.

Notes for the new Unsolved Mysteries

It's great to have you back, Unsolved Mysteries. I'm still working my way through rewatching the entirety of the Robert Stack episodes and am currently on season 6 (sadly, it's no longer free on Prime Video at the moment, although it’s free with ads via imdb). The new Netflix series started strong — the two opening episodes about truly mysterious deaths are very good — but it steadily nosedived from there. As a superfan of the show, I have a few suggestions and general observations:

• We don't want to read Unsolved Mysteries. I don't care how great the mystery is — we don't want to read subtitles for 45 minutes. This is comfort food TV, not a stuffy foreign film. The offending episode, "House of Terror," about the murder of a French family, is, indeed, a fascinating case, but we don't want to read it.

• Keep things moving. One of the good things about subscription television is the emergence of sophisticated documentary programming without the constraints of the network television format. It's also a potential pitfall … all of that room to breathe and expound can lead to glacially slow programming. The old Unsolved Mysteries rarely gave the viewer an opportunity to lose interest; each mystery almost always wrapped up before the next commercial break. The storytelling was tight and incisive. Please keep it that way — this model of only one mystery filling out the entire show is fatiguing.

• The UFO episode was simply terrible. Not even a grainy Polaroid or out-of-focus home movie footage? Just people talking about what they saw? I love a good UFO yarn, but this was really weak.

• Consider a host. Robert Stack obviously can't be replaced, but it feels odd without the narration to help set the scene.

Six more new episodes arrive on October 19.

Also see // Streaming Unsolved Mysteries

Movies: The Bedroom Window (1987)

With The Bedroom Window, it seems director Curtis Hanson (L.A. Confidential, The Hand That Rocks the Cradle) set out to make the Hitcockiest movie Hitchcock would make if he and Alma were around in the mid to late 1980s. It’s so overtly Hitchcockian that you almost expect to see the old master walk by in one of the bar scenes or seated in the crowd in the theater scene, casting a knowing fourth-wall glance at the camera. 

It’s got the signature Hitchock ingredients of romantic intrigue and an innocent man wrongly accused and digging himself ever deeper a hole in a plot that involves the protagonist Terry (Steve Guttenberg) doing the boss’ wife (Isabelle Huppert), who witnesses an assault of a woman from her lover’s bedroom window in the middle of the night after hearing screams. To cover up the affair, Terry, rather than his paramour, goes to the police. In terms of plotting, it’s a clever idea that sends our protagonist into a series of mishaps and errors.

Currently available to stream on Amazon Prime, The Bedroom Window often does look like a Hitchcock film in style and staging, and there are a few scenes in which Huppert, dolled up to the max, is framed like a ‘40s vixen. It generally doesn’t look much like an ‘80s movie; the bar scenes, however, with Mario Brothers and Ms. Pac Man video games in view and ‘80s music playing, are exceptions. A curiosity that struck me is a song that plays in both bar scenes — a repetition of music that seems intended as a harbinger of the villian's presence. Particularly in '80s movies, I'm always trying to identify the music, and, in this case, it’s a third-tier Robert Palmer single, "Hyperactive," that many viewers probably wouldn’t even notice had been played in the earlier scene. "Hyperactive" was a single of the time; it crawled to #33 on the Hot 100 on the coattails of its #1 predecessor, "Addicted to Love." Why not use a more identifiable tune or a bit of ominous orchestration that recalls Bernard Hermann?

Most of the movie is a fun watch as Terry gets on the trail of the villain and begins to make a mess of things, but the movie’s final act is rather unimaginative. I think Alma would call for a rewrite.

Top 7 things about Classic American Top 40 on iHeartRadio

We’re counting down now to my top seven thoughts about Classic American Top 40 from the 70s and 80s (I’m there for the 80s), back in the days when it felt like the charts really meant something, on iHeartRadio. And it doesn’t stop till we get to the top!

#7 Casey Kasem had a voice and charisma that made him perfect for counting down the hits. He was the best ... sorry, Rick Dees.

#6 It's always fun to rediscover good tunes that you forgot you knew. One of those that resides in my current playlist as a result of listening to these shows is Sylvia's hilarious country crossover hit "Nobody" (#15 in 1982). Your nobody called today / She hung up when I asked her name …

#5 The writers for this show had a curious obsession with the geographical identity of the artists. Born in Brooklyn, grew up in Queens, recording out of Nashville, vacationing in the Poconos ...

#4 I’ve always had an inordinate interest in music charts — I think it is somewhat tied to OCD tendencies. It's satisfying to know that both of The Motels’ substantial hits peaked at #9 on the Billboard Hot 100 (or "the Hot Hundred" as Kasem sometimes called it), among endless other chart minutiae.

#3 Listening to the shows from the 80s, one thing that has struck me is how the big power ballad duets of that era, often teaming major stars, are a lost art. Songs like "We've Got Tonight" by Kenny Rogers and Sheena Easton, "Separate Lives" by Phil Collins and Marilyn Martin, and "I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me)" by Aretha Franklin and George Michael. A number of them were movie soundtrack songs — another driver of the charts that has diminished in today’s music scene. 

#2 Another thing that has struck me is that there are some fine tunes from the first half of the decade that never resurface in 80s playlists or flashback radio shows. One such nugget that I recently playlisted is John Lennon’s excellent "Just Like Starting Over" from 1980, and there are countless others.

#1 If you listen with any regularity, you'll almost immediately begin to hear repeats, because a relatively small number of countdowns (considering how many there were) are in rotation. If you listen frequently, you'll be able to recite the long distance dedication letters along with Casey and sometimes know what song is coming next. I know there's one show in which Belinda Carlisle debuts at #30 with "Circle in the Sand," one in which Level 42 holds at #7 with "Something About You" and one in which Diana Ross moves 40-29 with a ridiculous song written by Michael Jackson called "Muscles" about unbridled desires for beefcake men (!) . It'd be great to hear some "new" old countdowns added to the rotation. I'd actually love to hear shows from the Shadoe Stevens era as well (Kasem departed in August 1988, so the tail end of the decade is underrepresented). Stevens presided until the 1995 cancellation, and there was still some fun left in the top 40 format into the first half of the 90s, although I pinpoint the beginning of the end to be somewhere around "Rump Shaker" (#2 in 1992).

Till next time, keep your feet on the ground, and keep reaching for the stars!

Streaming Unsolved Mysteries

We've been having a lot of fun watching Unsolved Mysteries on Amazon Prime Video (it can be found elsewhere, as well) — it's a great trip back to the late '80 and into the '90s, a time when crop circles made us want to believe. "Fun" may not seem the best word, given that Unsolved Mysteries is essentially a show about tragedy, but it was presented with great dramatic style. There's the outstanding theme music — you could imagine X-Files composer Mark Snow was a fan — alongside the comforting narration of Robert Stack. And the stories were backed with good, old-fashioned reporting. The occasional paranormal and UFO segments were welcome diversions, although the long-lost family member stories did wear out their welcome. It's a show that, in this time of revival fever, ought to come back, focusing on crime and the paranormal.

The Dennis Farina revival episodes are also there for streaming, and it's pretty stunning how many of those there are. Nothing against Farina, but it's really all about the Stack episodes.

Each week, Robert Stack would dramatically wrap up each episode with something along these lines: "For every mystery, someone, somewhere, has the answer. Perhaps it's you." But what really kept us coming back was that strange human drive to indulge our fears as entertainment and knowing that a little turn of fate is all it takes to make us an unsolved mystery.