loose ends

THE PLAYGROUND (originally broadcast June 4, 1985, RAY BRADBURY THEATER)

Sometimes the most effective, relatable horror is that which draws upon real life.  In this episode of Ray Bradbury Theater, William Shatner plays Charlie, the father of a young boy about to begin school, and because of this, starts having PTSD-fueled flashbacks to his own grade school years. 

Things were very rough for little Charlie, a victim of brutal bullying, and his palpable anxiety for his son, Steve, is quite apparent.  It doesn’t help that Steve (Keith Dutson), though gregarious and without trepidation, seems to be naturally earmarked a bully magnet.

The story begins with a brief flashback of Charlie as a boy, being victimized by a group—then cuts to the adult Charlie in mid-trance, playing with his young son while clearly preoccupied with a dread he should’ve long ago recovered from. 

A couple of things are touched upon, hinted at, as examples of his inability to cope with the past trauma. 

A conversation on the train-ride home with a colleague from work indicates things have been strained for him professionally, and that he is faltering amidst the dog-eat-dog competition. 

Also, he lives with his sister, Carol (Kate Trotter), who has a career and is getting married next month—and she is very frustrated and concerned not only for young Steve’s progress, but for Charlie’s mental state. 

She very pointedly illustrates this a few moments in.  “He needs to learn how to play with other boys his own age.  He needs to learn how to adapt, to get along.”  She then suggests he’ll otherwise turn out like Charlie, a stinging barb he lets go unanswered. 

Since Charlie’s wife is no longer around and no explanation is provided, it’s easy to assume (considering what we know so far) that their marriage was an unsuccessful one.

After much prodding by his sister to take Steve to the nearby playground, Charlie relents, only to discover his worst fears come to life upon arrival.  The children seem to sense his nerves, his growing distress, and through his eyes they become fanged, growling, furry little fiends.  Worse yet, his childhood bully, Ralph (Mirko Malish), is among them, sneering knowingly.

It’s clear that Charlie’s perspective is warped, mired in fantasy, whereas his son just wants to play with the other kids.  And with this first visit to the playground, we realize that Charlie’s grip on reality is tenuous at best. 

When he relates the sheer terror of his visit to Carol, that the other children were bloodthirsty animals, she recoils in disgust, demanding he spare her “the graphic details”.

The next evening, he passes the park on his way home from work and is mortified to find his sister has brought Steve there to play again.  "Do you call that playing?!"  A simple game of tag his son is involved in becomes something far more sinister to Charlie.

And once again his long-ago bully, Ralph, is there taunting him from atop a large spiral slide.  When they get home and Steve begs to go again tomorrow night, Charlie sets his mind to confronting his fears once and for all, and so agrees.

While much has been made of William Shatner's penchant for over-acting, especially during the latter half of his career, he is quite believably insecure and anguished throughout "The Playground".  

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It's best not to divulge much more, though I will note that this is one of the darker tales of the series—and of writer Ray Bradbury's oeuvre, for that matter.

Halloween is danger!

Before you send your children barreling headlong into traffic on their Halloween night’s mad scramble for sugar, be sure to give them a good once-over for safety’s sake.  After all, Halloween can be a rather perilous affair, fraught with hidden danger at every turn.  This instructional filmstrip (at the bottom) from 1977 will help alert you and yours to the dangers of trick-or-treating.

Take, for instance, your child’s choice of costume.  Masks are frowned upon, for they impair visibility.  And so are dark costumes, apparently.  So…“A white costume makes for a different kind of witch.”  Well, it certainly does, what with the pointy white hat and all.  In fact, that color of witch doesn’t make me think of witches at all.  And isn’t that nice?

Also, “it’s a good idea to put your child’s name, address and phone number on the sack...just in case there’s an accident.”  You know, for purposes of identification...because accidents happen, people.

And "always look both ways before crossing the street."  Because cars are so difficult to see at night and, perhaps, your child has never crossed a street.

But most important of all, "have an adult check your candy."  Because other adults are wont to add poison or objects such as razor blades to your candy, kids.  And (little side-note here) "remember to eat a full dinner", as well.  That way you won't eat too much candy on your walk home.

Did we leave anything out?  Maybe.  I mean, how can you really cover everything? Don't run with sharp objects.  Well, that's kind of a given.  Make sure your child's costume is flame retardant—the burn wards are just spilling over with hapless youngsters this time of year.  Oh, and don't accept impromptu invitations into strange houses!  And if you see a car circling the neighborhood, be sure not to accept a ride. Although they might just be checking to see if the poison worked.

a midnight stroll over hallowed ground

CHILDREN SHOULDN’T PLAY WITH DEAD THINGS (1972, d: Bob Clark)

In one of the darker, danker recesses of the now-distant past, there lies a small island whose only occupants can’t decide on which side of eternity they belong.

And here comes a pseudo-groovy theatre troupe, rowing in boats, grotesquely posturing and deriding their grim whereabouts.  A cemetery is no place to play.  Death will not be mocked.

And so we witness Alan (Alan Ormsby), their leader—a  slithery, loathsome, imperious fiend bent on defiling everything sacred—gleefully ham it up while conducting a mock-séance to raise the dead.  Give a man a warlock’s robe and it goes straight to his head every time.

Alan Ormsby, Esq.

But be ever-careful what you wish for, dear boy.  Alas, Alan is so obnoxious he even manages to offend the people buried in the ground, who have little to no business taking offense to anything.

The cemetery is rumored to be stocked to the gills with perverts, maniacs and murderers, so Alan’s randy assemblage of actor-y ne’er-do-wells will feel right at home. 

Anya Ormsby, one of the wonderful weirdos of CHILDREN SHOULDN'T PLAY WITH DEAD THINGS

Despite the myriad limitations of making a movie on a microscopic budget, director Bob Clark (PORKY'S, A CHRISTMAS STORY) manages to eke quite a considerable amount of eldritch atmosphere out of a naturally foggy setting and creepy, hypnotic score.

“It takes an artist to deal with the devil, not an insurance man with delusions of grandeur!” - Val (Valerie Mamches)

And though it takes many mouthfuls of stilted dialogue and operatic delivery to rile the pasty residents of this chilly, lonesome isle, I won't further excoriate this masterpiece of no-budget horror humdingery with details of its inherent short-comings...let us skip ahead to the part that gave me nightmares when I saw this on TV at the age of 5 or 6.

And so our beleaguered band of talky, maladroit misfits head to a cabin next to the cemetery to pontificate the meaning of life—or to at least figure out what the hell Alan is talking about.

"Look, we may not be poets, but we still have a right to know what's going on here."

And what, pray tell, is this business, Alan?  Simulated nuptials with a corpse?!  Are there no limits to your depravity?

But as stale banter gives way to the perverse ceremony, the final affront, the real party begins...

And portending certain doom, these corpses aren't just ravenous, automated instinct—they're mad as hell.

till death do us part

THE STEPFORD WIVES (1975; d: Bryan Forbes)

There is a place not too far down the road, up around the next bend a ways--a town called Stepford.  While some have swore it the perfect place to start a family, a fine area in which to settle down, we should all know better by now. 

Joanna Eberhart (Katharine Ross) knew one thing--she hadn’t wanted to leave her big, dirty city in the first place.  New York had been many things to her.  Her home, her subject, her refuge…her muse.  In New York City, things had just begun to fall into place for Joanna, despite all the trappings and inevitable soul-stifling a husband and two young children will provide.  And she was still just beginning to find herself, as so many women of late seem to be doing. 

"Daddy, I just saw a man carrying a naked lady."  "That's why we're moving to Stepford."

But then her husband, Walter (Peter Masterson), had told her he wanted to move to the country.  And before she’d even had a chance to mull it over, he’d told her about a house in a place called Stepford.  And before she knew it, they were packing their things and leaving the city that had seemed to hold so much promise for the fledgling young photographer.

Walter-"Ever make it in front of a log fire?"  Joanna-"Not with you."

Perhaps Walter had known it would be difficult to pull her away, and so he’d resorted to a bit of underhandedness, rushing things through, telling her it was a done deal before she could say no.  Perhaps he was trying to make her more mother by removing the artist from her subject.  But what lie ahead in Stepford was something neither Joanna nor Walter had bargained for.

While it’s clear Walter was trying to change Joanna, trying to subdue her independent streak, he seemed to be anything but a bad man.  But once he’d attended his first meeting of the Stepford Men’s Association, he’d arrived at a fateful impasse--forced to lay his cards on the table.  And those cards, facing up now, reveal more than anyone could have guessed.

And so it went that Joanna awoke late that night, alone in their bed, momentarily startled.  And when she found Walter sitting next to the fireplace with a drink in his hand, so late, she was startled once more.  What’s wrong with him tonight?  Why is he so upset? 

He’s clearly distressed—no, devastated, it seems—but no, nothing wrong, honey.  The meeting went well.  He’s decided to join the Stepford Men's Association, after all.  No, everything’s okay.  It’s just that...well.  It’s been a long night.  It isn’t easy being a father and husband, especially nowadays.  

"And you know I love you, don't you?  Don't you?"  

And she knows something terrible has happened.  But what?  What could be so awful?  He's drunk, but he isn't letting on...Why?

He has a secret.  Something has completely rattled her husband, and he seems almost ready to come clean, or at least say that he wants to chuck it all and move back to New York.

 But what?  Well, he's drunk and tired and maybe he'll sleep on it and have something more to say in the morning.  Or perhaps he's just been working too hard at the firm.  Either way, we're all moved in now, so best make the most of it.