Dispatch #444: That's All Folks

 

I hope the visitors who stopped by over the years enjoyed reading Dispatches from Aldeburgh—it's been fun for me, too. Of the 400-some items I posted here from 2020 to 2024, I'm leaving up the most popular.

© 2024 SummitCityScribe

Dispatch #440: Joe Flaherty 1941-2014

 

Joe Flaherty as Guy Caballero, Count Floyd, and Floyd Robertson

Over the last several months I've posted obituaries here for Marty Krofft and Barbara Rush. Today's dispatch adds another name to that sad roster: Joe Flaherty.

My life-long love for absurdist humor can be traced back to a few sources: Mad Magazine, Monty Python's Flying Circus, Saturday Night Live, and Second City Television, or SCTV.

In 1981, NBC—looking for a replacement for their late-night Friday concert show, The Midnight Special—slipped a Candian comedy import, Second City Television, into the timeslot. 

At the time, I was already on the lookout for something to tickle my funny bone. Saturday Night Live had just said goodbye to its original cast and creator/producer Lorne Michaels after five seasons, and the early episodes I'd seen from season six weren't very promising. 

ABC's Fridays had shown initial promise as an alternative to SNL, but its quality varied so much from week to week that I'd already given up on it by 1981.

SCTV stalwarts: Levy, Candy, Thomas, Moranis, O'Hara, Flaherty, and Martin.

SCTV, on the other hand, was hilarious right from the start and only seemed to get better each week. Much like SNL's original Not-Ready-For-Prime-Time-Players, SCTV boasted a superb line of comic actors: Eugene Levy, John Candy, Dave Thomas, Rick Moranis, Catherine O'Hara, Andrea Martin, and Joe Flaherty.

Flaherty created a bevy of original characters for SCTV: station owner Guy Caballero, horror-host vampire Count Floyd, talk show host Sammy Maudlin, and news anchor Floyd Robertson—not to mention his hilarious celebrity impersonations like Bing Crosby.

I suppose it was Flaherty's performance as Count Floyd that most endeared me to him. Having grown up with a local horror-host of my own, I just loved it when the Count exited his coffin to introduce a schlocky fright film like "Dr. Tongue's House of Cats."

It takes a lot to stand out among a cast of comedy pros, but Joe Flaherty's SCTV performances—much like those of Phil Hartman on SNL— were always pitch-perfect and hilarious. Fellow cast-member Martin Short referred to Flaherty as the show's anchor.

Mr. and Mrs. Weir

Fifteen years later, when he was cast on NBC's Freaks and Geeks, Flaherty got to riff on his Count Floyd character during their Halloween episode. For this SCTV fan, those appearances as the grumpy but loveable Mr. Weir were usually the highlight of any episode.

Life has its share of ups and downs—sometimes more of the latter—so it's important to laugh when we can. Whenever I needed a chuckle most, Joe Flaherty always delivered the goods. 

You can read his New York Times obituary here.

There's more to come in the next dispatch.

©2024 SummitCityScribe

Dispatch #437: Barbara Rush 1927-2024

Barbara Rush (1927-2024)

After a long life and a remarkable career, actress Barabara Rush has died at 97.

Rush's big-screen co-stars included Rock Hudson (Magnificent Obsession), Paul Newman (The Young Philadelphians), Kirk Douglas (Strangers When We Meet), and Frank Sinatra (Robin and the Seven Hoods). She also had a prominent role on TV's first primetime soap opera, Peyton Place.

As a kid growing up in the 1970s, I hadn't seen any of that yet. Because of my predilection for mystery, horror, and science fiction, I knew Barbara Rush primarily from her film & TV performances in those genres.

When Worlds Collide & It Came from Outer Space

My earliest memories of her are from a pair of classic sci-fi flicks, When Worlds Collide (1951) and It Came from Outer Space (1953), both of which I saw on late-night TV. Rush was especially good in the latter—playing both plucky Arizona schoolteacher Ellen Fields and her alien doppelganger.

Rush with Yvonne Craig (left) and Lindsay Wagner (right)

Later roles such as the villainous Nora Clavicle on Batman and the mystery woman who-may-or-may-not be Jamie Sommers' mother on The Bionic Woman only increased the affection genre fans like me already had for her.

The Forms of Things Unknown (1964) and Cool Air (1971)

I especially enjoyed Rush in spooky fare such as The Outer Limits (The Forms of Things Unknown with Vera Miles and David McCallum) Rod Serling's Night Gallery (an adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft's Cool Air with Henry Darrow) and even a 1972 TV movie about a Bayou Loup-Garou, Moon of the Wolf, with David Janssen and Bradford Dillman.

Rush in Moon of the Wolf (1972)

Beyond those roles, Barbara Rush turned up on scores of other shows I watched back then, including Cannon, Fantasy Island, Ironside, Knight Rider, The Love Boat, Mannix, Magnum P.I., McCloud, Marcus Welby M.D., Maude, Medical Center, The Mod Squad, and The Streets of San Francisco—to name just a few.

Rush was a classy, terrific actress—much better than the material she usually had to work with—but that's why I enjoyed it so much whenever she turned up on the shows I watched—her performance always elevated them.

Barbara Rush (1927-2024) R.I.P.

There's more to come in the next dispatch.

©2024 SummitCityScribe

 

Dispatch #406: Jimmy Carter's Unique Achievement

 

US President Jimmy Carter

  Over the USA's nearly 250-year history, it's nearly impossible to find a Commander-in-Chief without a single shot fired in anger by American forces during their time in office. The exception to this rule: our 39th President, James Earl Carter, Jr. 

  This remarkable achievement—first noted by the Washington Post's William Grieder upon the completion of Carter's first year in office—continued for the entirety of his term.

  It's fitting that a man known for a commitment to peace—as evidenced by his administration's signature achievement: the Camp David Accords—can also lay claim to this singular honor. 

  At his current age of 99, he's also our longest-living former President. Way to go, Jimmy!

 There's more to come in the next dispatch.

 ©2024 SummitCityScribe

  

Dispatch #389: Nani Darnell: Zatanna's Inspiration?

 

Zatanna as she appeared in the 1960s.

  The popular DC Comics character Zatanna was created by writer Gardner Fox and artist Murphy Anderson. Zatanna, a magician, was a Silver Age legacy character tied to a Golden Age hero, Zatara (who also happened to be her father).

  In her 1964 debut, Zatanna wore a version of her father's top hat and tails—but substituting fishnet stockings for trousers. Over the years, I've often wondered if Zatanna's Silver Age appearance might have also been inspired by the attire worn by the wife of a popular stage magician.

Mark Wilson and Nani Darnell in the 1960s

  In their stage act, Nani Darnell played the role of magician's assistant to her husband, illusionist Mark Wilson. During the 1950s, the two performed together on a local Texas TV show, Time for Magic. 

  That show's popularity eventually translated into a syndicated series, The Magic Land of Allakazam, which aired nationally from 1960 to 1964, first on the CBS network and then ABC.

  Zatanna made her debut in the pages of Hawkman #4, which went on sale in August of 1964—during the final season of The Magic Land of Allakazam on ABC. Murphy and Helen Anderson were raising three children in their New Jersey home at this same time—making it likely they were familiar with Mark Wilson's TV magic show. 

Zatanna's 1964 debut in Hawkman #4 by Murphy Anderson (left), Nani Darnell drawn by Bob Jenney in a 1962 coloring book (right).

  It's not unheard of for comic book artists to be inspired by TV or films. For instance, many believe Jack Kirby's design for the villainous Mole Man in Fantastic Four #1 was inspired by actor Anthony Quinn's look in the 1961 film, The Savage Innocents.

Anthony Quinn and Jack Kirby's Mole Man, both 1961.

  So, was artist Murphy Anderson inspired by Nani Darnell's stage costume when he designed Zatanna's look back in 1964? In my opinion, you don't need to believe in magic to reach that conclusion.

 There's more to come in the next dispatch.

 ©2024 SummitCityScribe

Dispatch #377: Footprints Across Time

 

Ice Age Earth footprint, Apollo 11 lunar footprint

  It's hard not to be discouraged living in a modern world still plagued by war, superstition, sexism, and bigotry. 

  That's why it helpful to step back occasionally and look at the big picture—to remember where humankind began and just how far we've come. The photo at the top of today's dispatch illustrates that concept quite literally.

  On the left is a fossilized human footprint—said to be around 23,000 years old—found near a dry lakebed in New Mexico. Meanwhile, over on the right we have a boot print on the lunar surface, left by an Apollo astronaut in 1969.

 Those Ice Age humans—who doubtlessly gazed up at the Moon each night—couldn't possibly conceive that their descendants would one day walk the lunar surface. In that same way, we modern humans have no idea what our forebears might accomplish in the future.

Lascaux cave painting, Van Gogh's Starry Night

  That's why it's good to remember that humans aren't always bent on finding new ways of hurting or killing each other. We're not always hateful, petty, or stupid. Sometimes we can do great things—inspiring things. 

  Here's to that next great thing.

 There's more to come in the next dispatch.

 ©2024 SummitCityScribe

Dispatch #363: Stop Motion Animation/Claymation

FX wizard Ray Harryhausen at work

   As a kid, I was enthralled by films featuring the FX wizardry of Ray Harryhausen. Whether it was the science fiction tale First Men in the Moon, a sword-and-sorcery epic like The Golden Voyage of Sinbad, or a steampunk adventure such as Mysterious Island, I dearly loved them all.

  Harryhausen brought all manner of fantastic creatures to life—from winged stallions to a towering cyclops—using Stop-Motion Animation, a process in which an object is physically manipulated by an animator in tiny increments between individual frames of film so that it has the illusion of movement when the film is played back.

  The creation of Harryhausen's creatures usually began with stainless steel or aluminum armatures that were then covered in foam latex. For show-biz appeal, he called his stop-motion process Dynamation.

  My pet peeve is when people refer to the painstaking effects process Harryhausen used to animate his fantastic creations not as stop-motion animation or even Dynamation but as Claymation instead.

  The term Claymation was coined by animator Will Vinton (of California Raisins fame) in the late 1970s to differentiate his FX work from that of his competitors. 

  Claymation—aka plasticine animation—is a form of stop-motion animation, but one using clay models—as seen in work by Vinton, Art Clokey (Gumby) and Aardman Animations (Wallace and Gromit).

  Since Ray Harryhausen's magnificent models were made of foam latex and not clay, it's proper to refer to his work as Stop-Motion Animation or even Dynamation but not Claymation.

  I doubt today's dispatch will do anything to correct this common mistake, but as a life-long fan of Ray Harryhausen, I had to try.

 There's more to come in the next dispatch.

 ©2024 SummitCityScribe

Dispatch #342: Reza Badiyi

 

  The late Reza Badiyi (1930-2011) was a showbiz legend who directed over 430 episodes of American television. Name a TV show that aired in the US from 1963 to 1999, and Badiyi was probably behind the camera for at least one episode.

  When I think of Reza, however, it's for the iconic openings he created for two of those shows: Hawaii Five-O in 1968 and The Mary Tyler Moore Show in 1970.

  After being hired by Hawaii Five-O's creator, Leonard Freeman, to create the tiles for his new cop series, Reza flew to the islands to shoot footage for the show's opening. In an interview with the Televison Academy, he spoke about the experience, which you can view here.

   Listening to that clip, it's incredible to think that the iconic big wave shot that's instantly familiar to any Five-O fan was almost lost. 

  Standing on a rocky outcropping (likely at Honolulu's North Point) Reza was drenched by the pounding surf while shooting wave footage—and his camera was filled with salt water. 

  Despite this potentially devastating setback, Reza sent the film off to be developed anyway—and TV history was made with the indelible wave image that survived.

  Almost as iconic as that big Hawaiian wave was Mary Tyler Moore throwing her hat into the air with joyous abandon during the opening titles of her 1970s sitcom. 

 While shooting exterior footage at the Nicolette Mall in Minneapolis, Reza impulsively asked Moore to toss her Tam o' Shanter into the air, which she did, thus creating another iconic TV image—and inadvertently making a minor celebrity out of puzzled onlooker Hazel Frederick.

   Reza Badiyi had a long, impressive career and an interesting life. Early on, he worked with close friend Robert Altman, was the assistant director on the 1962 horror classic, Carnival of Souls, and was stepfather to actress Jennifer Jason Leigh. 

  If you'd like to watch the full 9-part Television Academy interview with Mr. Badiyi, you can do so here.

  Directing over 430 hours of entertainment is quite a feat, but as a kid who grew up on 1970s TV, I'll always remember Reza fondly those iconic openings of Hawaii Five-O and The Mary Tyler Moore Show.

  There's more to come in the next dispatch.

  ©2023 SummitCityScribe

Dispatch #331: The Music of John Barry, Part Two

 

  Today's dispatch continues my reflections on the film music of John Barry. You can read Part One here.

  By the time I became aware of John Barry's work in the early 1970s, he'd already won three Academy Awards—two for Born Free (1966) and a third for The Lion in Winter (1968). He would eventually go on to win two more—Out of Africa (1985) and Dances with Wolves (1990)—for a total of five Oscars.

  As I got older, I began seeking out Barry's work beyond the James Bond series, which led me to discover the wonderful music he wrote for films such as Seance on a Wet Afternoon (1964), The Ipcress File (1965), Midnight Cowboy and The Appointment (both 1969), Monte Walsh (1970), and Robin and Marian (1976).

  While tracing the Barry's film career, I noted the evolution of his sound—from the early big, brassy, Stan Kenton-esque Bond films to his later, lushly romantic scores. 

  This later period produced not only his gorgeous work on the classic cinematic love stories Somewhere in Time (1980) and Out of Africa (1985) but even—believe it or not—a beautiful romantic theme for George Lucas' Howard the Duck (1986). 

  

  His work on the later Bond films reflected this evolution, which is evident in tracks such as Bond Lured to Pyramid from Moonraker (1979), Wine with Stacey from A View to a Kill (1985) or the evocative Mujahadin and Opium from The Living Daylights (1987).

  

  As a devoted John Barry fan, I love all of his wonderful film scores, but I suppose my personal favorites are The Lion in Winter, Somewhere in Time, and Out of Africa. 

  Like all great scores, they perfectly complement and enhance the images they accompany onscreen—but also exist as beautiful music that can be enjoyed by itself.

John Barry (1933-2011)

There's more to come in the next dispatch.

©2023 SummitCityScribe

Dispatch #330: The Music of John Barry, Part One

 

Composer John Barry

  As a long-time film score aficionado, Jerry Goldsmith and John Barry top the list of my favorite composers. Today's dispatch focuses on the Yorkshire-born John Barry.

  In the early 1970s, the James Bond films began airing on American television for the first time, usually on the ABC Sunday Night Movie. 

  The first of these broadcasts I remember watching was Thunderball in September of 1974, followed by Dr. No two months later. As a kid, I was thrilled not just by the action and exotic locales in both films, but by the stirring music, too—although at the time I didn't note who'd composed it.

   A year later, ABC aired Diamonds Are Forever in September of 1975, followed by You Only Live Twice in November. This time I watched the opening credits closely to learn the name of the composer: John Barry.

  Each film contained thrilling sequences set in outer space: in the climax of Diamonds, a satellite laser weapon wreaks havoc on military targets, while YOLT opened with the abduction of an American spacecraft in Earth orbit. 

  John Barry's lush score elevated both sequences: in Diamonds, it's his track 007 and Counting, while for YOLT, it's Capsule in Space.

  The following year, in December 1976, the Dino DeLaurentis remake of King Kong hit theaters. Although it paled in comparison to the 1933 original (which I'd already seen on TV by that point), I loved the '76 Kong for all its flaws. 

  In fact, King Kong became the very first film I ever went back to see more than once in the theater (it would be five months before I would do so again—when Star Wars came out in the summer of 1977).

  

  Aside from Kong himself, a big reason I returned to see the film was to experience the magnificent John Barry score. I mean, who'd have thought a movie with a guy running around in an ape suit would contain tracks as lovely as John Barry's Arrival on the Island?

  I'd recognized Barry's name in Kong's opening credits as the same fellow who'd done those terrific James Bond scores, and the burgeoning movie music fan in me quickly claimed him as one of my favorites. 

  A few months later, when I stumbled across the original soundtrack LP for Barry's On Her Majesty's Secret Service in the bargain bin at Musicland, it became the first film score I ever purchased—inaugurating a life-long hobby and cementing an appreciation for the talented composer—both of which continue to this day.

  There's more to come in the next dispatch.

  ©2023 SummitCityScribe