Showing posts with label Jack Klugman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jack Klugman. Show all posts

Monday, March 29, 2021

"In Praise of Pip"

Jack Klugman as Max Phillips and Bill Mumy as Young Pip

“In Praise of Pip”
Season Five, Episode 121
Original Air Date: September 27, 1963

Cast:
Max Phillips: Jack Klugman
Mrs. Feeny: Connie Gilchrist
Pvt. Pip: Robert Diamond
Young Pip: Bill Mumy
Moran: S. John Launer 
George Reynold: Russell Horton
Gunman: Kreg Martin
Doctor: Ross Elliott 
Lieutenant: Gerald Gordon 
Surgeon: Stuart Nisbet

Crew:
Writer: Rod Serling 
Director: Joseph M. Newman
Producer: Bert Granet
Director of Photography: George T. Clemens
Production Manager: Ralph W. Nelson
Art Direction: George W. Davis & Walter Holscher 
Film Editor: Thomas W. Scott
Set Decoration: Henry Grace & Robert R. Benton
Assistant Director: Charles Bonniwell, Jr. 
Casting: Patricia Rose
Music: RenĂ© Garriguenc (composer), Lud Gluskin (conductor)
Sound: Franklin Milton & Philip N. Mitchell 
Mr. Serling’s Wardrobe: Eagle Clothes
Filmed at MGM Studios

Rod Serling’s Opening Narration:

“Submitted for your approval, one Max Phillips, a slightly-the-worse-for-wear maker of book, whose life has been as drab and undistinguished as a bundle of dirty clothes. And, though it’s very late in his day, he has an errant wish that the rest of his life might be sent out to a laundry to come back shiny and clean, this to be a gift of love to a son named Pip. Mr. Max Phillips, Homo sapiens, who is soon to discover that man is not as wise as he thinks – said lesson to be learned in the Twilight Zone.”

Summary:

            Vietnam. A wounded young soldier is carried in on a stretcher. He needs to be moved to a better facility if he hopes to survive his injuries. The soldier’s identification tag reads: Phillips, Pip.

            Thousands of miles away, Max Phillips awakens with a scream. He is in a cheap, one-room apartment. He smiles ruefully at the man in the mirror and takes a drink from a bottle of bourbon kept concealed in a drawer. Max’s landlady, Mrs. Feeny, enters to tidy up the room. She scolds Max on his habits, especially his drinking. Max inquires if a letter arrived in the mail. Mrs. Freeny tells him that nothing arrived that day.

            Max receives a visitor. It is a young man named George, who placed a losing bet on a horserace using money stolen from his place of employment. Max is a bookie and George has come to beg off paying up in fear he will be jailed if he doesn’t return the money.

            Later that night, Max pays a visit to Moran, who employs Max. Moran mentions that Max has been avoiding him, and that Max failed to collect three-hundred dollars from George. Now, Moran tells him, someone will have to go out and bring George back. Max drops an envelope of money on the table and lights a cigarette. Moran’s gunman brings in George, who has been beaten up.

            Max takes a phone call from Mrs. Feeny. She informs him that a telegram arrived from the Army stating that his son, Pip, is seriously wounded and dying in Vietnam. Max is stunned. He walks to the window and looks out onto an amusement park where he used to take Pip. Max is filled with regret for a lifetime of drinking and conning and hustling, when he should have spent more time with his son. It appears as though they’ll never have time together again, and Max will never have the chance to make-up for all the times he left Pip waiting.

            Regret turns to rage. Max picks up the envelope of money and tosses it to George. Max tells George to get out of there, return the money, and keep his nose clean from now on. Moran’s gunman won’t allow George to leave. Max pulls out a knife. The gunman takes a shot and wounds Max, but Max charges and drives the knife into the gunman’s belly. Then Max turns and knocks down Moran. Max and George rush out.

            Max stumbles, wounded, to the gates of the amusement park. The park is closed for the night, dark and deserted. He begs God to let him see Pip one last time. Max slips through the gates and into the amusement park.

            Max sees a boy in the distance. It looks like Pip as a young boy. Max can’t believe his eyes. He follows the boy around the corner. Miraculously, incredibly, it really is Pip, as he was at ten years old. Max hugs and kisses his son but doesn’t understand how Pip could be there or how Pip could be ten years old again. It doesn’t matter, Pip tells him, they have time together and they have the park to themselves. They should make the best of it.

            The amusement park lights up. The rides lumber into motion. Cotton candy and popcorn appear at the concession stands. Max has forgotten about the wound in his side. He and Pip dash off to ride the rides, eat the food, play the games, and enjoy one another’s company.

            An hour passes when, suddenly, Pip runs away. Max, confused and upset, follows Pip into the House of Mirrors. Max chases the boy but cannot catch him in the maze. Max’s wound flares up again and he collapses, exhausted.

            Pip appears in the mirror. Max pours his heart out and tells Pip all the things he regrets about their relationship. Max promises to change his ways, to be a better father, to give up the drinking and the bookmaking so they can spend time together. Pip tells him that their time is almost up. Pip has to leave because he is dying.

            Pip rushes from the House of Mirrors and disappears. Max follows, the wound in his side draining him of life. The amusement park is dark and silent again. Max leans against a post and offers up a bargain to God. Max will gladly give up his life if it means that Pip can live. Max stumbles forward and collapses to the ground, dead.

            On a sunny afternoon sometime later, Pip arrives at the amusement park in the company of Mrs. Feeny and her granddaughter. Pip is limping and using a cane but looks to be on the road to a full recovery. Pip wanders around the crowded park and remembers the good times he had with his father.

Rod Serling’s Closing Narration:

“Very little comment here, save for this small aside: that the ties of flesh are deep and strong, that the capacity to love is a vital, rich, and all-consuming function of the human animal, and that you can find nobility and sacrifice and love wherever you may seek it out; down the block, in the heart, or in the Twilight Zone.”

Commentary:

            “In Praise of Pip” begins the fifth and final season of Twilight Zone on a particularly high note. It features some of Rod Serling’s strongest writing on the series and reunites viewers with two of the show’s most recognizable and enjoyable performers.

 At this late point in the series, writing was often a struggle for Serling, not because he had lost any of his considerable ability, but because the responsibility of producing a high quantity of high quality material took a creative toll on his output. This was a pressure consistently placed on Serling since the first season, when he was contractually obligated to produce eighty percent of the scripts for the series. Although this production arrangement did not extend beyond the first season, Serling continued to produce the vast majority of material for the series. Serling wrote sixteen of the thirty-five scripts for the fifth season.* As comparison, the second-most productive writer of the fifth season, Earl Hamner, Jr., contributed five scripts.

By his own admission, Serling felt creatively and physically exhausted, and it affected the quality of his scripts as well as his ability to distinguish good work from bad. Serling composed his scripts via dictation, not only in an effort to capture the natural cadences of conversation, but also to speed up production. The results, apparent in several episodes of the fifth season, were scripts heavily weighed down by dialogue and largely devoid of substantial dramatic action. In some instances, Serling was able to circumvent this recurring characteristic and produce engaging drama, such as “The Masks” or “The Jeopardy Room.” Other times, the results were less successful, as in “Uncle Simon” or “The Fear.”

            How, then, did Serling create one of his finest scripts, and perhaps the finest episode of the fifth season? The simplest answer is that, creatively exhausted or not, Serling was still a hugely talented writer capable of producing high quality material. If we dig a little deeper, however, we can see the method by which Serling went back to a creative well that produced material earlier in his career, as well as earlier in the series.

            On April 8, 1953, Kraft Television Theatre presented “Next of Kin” by Rod Serling. The contemporary drama concerned the conflict of the Korean War and explored the effect of three missing soldiers on their families and friends back home. The story of a missing soldier named Tommy Phillips is told through the perspective of his father, Max, an alcoholic bookie who recites an oft-repeated promise to his landlady, Mrs. Feeny. Max promises to clean up, to stop drinking, and to leave bookmaking behind in order to spend time with his son once Tommy returns from the war. Max tells Mrs. Feeny that he plans to meet Tommy at the boat. His love for his son pushes Max to spare a young man who cannot pay up on a bet. This lands Max in trouble with Moran, the local crime boss, who is less forgiving of such transgressions. It is while visiting Moran that Max receives a telephone call from Mrs. Feeny. A telegram arrived from the Army reporting Tommy missing in action. Max is stunned. He looks out of the window onto a carnival where he used to take Tommy. Facing the possibility of never seeing his son again, Max is filled with regret for not being a better father.

            If this sounds familiar to viewers of “In Praise of Pip,” it is because Serling recycled this dramatic act, almost verbatim, from his earlier script. It also explains why the fantasy element in “In Praise of Pip” does not appear until halfway through the episode. As it is, the fantasy element is so subtle, and achieved with such a minimum of effects, that one could plausibly suggest that Max is already dead at the time he enters the deserted amusement park. The park then serves as a sort of purgatory in which Max must wrestle with his own mortality, and the mortality of his neglected son, in order to make the necessary sacrifice that will grant him redemption and save Pip. The telltale clue to this possibility is the waxing and waning of the effect of Max’s gunshot wound.

            Serling did not recycle an earlier script simply to take a shortcut or to speed up production. He recognized the dramatic power in the earlier work and decided to take another shot at it a decade later on Twilight Zone. From this earlier springboard, Serling added a second act and a requisite element of fantasy.

            The second act also calls back to earlier Serling scripts, although in a more indirect manner. “In Praise of Pip” contains a number of thematic and symbolic echoes from earlier episodes of Twilight Zone. In some ways, the episode plays out like the inverse of Serling’s early masterpiece, “Walking Distance.” In that first season episode, a man magically returns to a moment in his childhood and receives a new perspective on his unhappy life, largely through the wisdom of a father who, though deceased in the reality of the present, is young and alive in this fantasy past. For purposes of comparison, "Walking Distance" can roughly be summarized as concerning a father who encounters an adult version of his son from the future, whereas "In Praise of Pip" concerns a father encountering a child version of his son from the past. "In Praise of Pip" also contains, albeit briefly, a sequence with a carousel, which may remind viewers of "Walking Distance."

            “In Praise of Pip” also features an ambiguous deal with God. In many of his scripts, Serling writes about God, Death, or the afterlife as someone or something with which one can directly communicate and bargain. This was established as early as the first season episode, “One for the Angels,” in which an old man gives his life for a young girl hovering, much like Pip, between life and death. Jack Klugman’s first appearance on Twilight Zone was in “A Passage for Trumpet,” which concerns a man, guided by an angel, who must contend with his own personal worth as he walks a purgatorial path between life and death. Bill Mumy, young Pip in “In Praise of Pip,” made his first appearance on the series in an episode concerned with much of the same material. “Long Distance Call,” written by Charles Beaumont and William Idelson, sees a father directly call out to the other side in order to save his young son, played by Mumy, from a tragic early death.

            There are also recurring symbols tenuously connecting “In Praise of Pip” to earlier episodes of the series. The mirror as a symbol for interior self-reflection was a key component in two earlier Serling scripts, “Nervous Man in a Four Dollar Room” and “The Mirror.” It was also used as a simple vehicle for suspense in “The Hitch-Hiker” and “Mirror Image.” Serling also recreated the memorable scene of a character crashing into a mirror from the pilot episode, “Where Is Everybody?”

            “In Praise of Pip” feels akin to several film noir-influenced offerings on the series, as well, many of which date from the first season. The grimy, hopeless, and doom-laden atmosphere of the first act is heightened in the second act by the atmospheric setting of the deserted amusement park and by Max’s bleak, but ultimately redemptive, death. These elements are greatly enhanced by George Clemens’s wonderfully expressionistic photography and, especially, by the melancholy, jazz-inflected score from RenĂ© Garriguenc. Director Joseph M. Newman was no stranger to film noir and related crime dramas. Although he is perhaps best remembered as the director of the science fiction classic, This Island Earth (1955), he also directed such films as 711 Ocean Drive (1950), Lucky Nick Cain (1951), Dangerous Crossing (1953), and The Human Jungle (1954). Newman brought his talent for crime and suspense subjects to The Alfred Hitchcock Hour at roughly the same time he arrived on the fifth season of Twilight Zone.

            None of the preceding is to suggest that “In Praise of Pip” is simply a patchwork quilt of earlier material, but Serling was at his strongest as a dramatist when retracing a narrative path over certain themes and symbols that clearly held personal, rather than artificial, importance to his work.

            The most recognizable aspects from earlier episodes of Twilight Zone are the two central performers in “In Praise of Pip,” Jack Klugman and Bill Mumy. The role of Max Phillips was originally offered to Art Carney, star of the second season episode, “The Night of the Meek.” Carney was unable to accept the role so it went instead to Jack Klugman, a familiar face on Twilight Zone and one of only two actors, the other being Burgess Meredith, to headline four episodes. Both Carney and Klugman date their creative relationships with Rod Serling to the Playhouse 90 drama “The Velvet Alley” (1959). Serling enjoyed working with these actors due to their ability to take Serling’s poetic, expressive dialogue and ground it in the gritty realism of the drama. Klugman, in particular, possessed an almost uncanny ability to elicit genuine pathos from dialogue and situations that, in the hands of a lesser performer, might play as unrealistic, if not ludicrous. The most obvious example in “In Praise of Pip” is the final sequence in which Max strikes a bargain with God to give his life in order to spare Pip. As a contemporary Variety review opined, in an otherwise unfavorable view, Klugman made the material better than it deserved to be. This may be too strong of a take, since it is excellent writing from Serling, but the point remains that Klugman possessed a unique ability to elevate or ground the drama as necessary.

            Klugman also brought a streetwise toughness to the role. Klugman, the son of Russian-Jewish immigrants, grew up in a tough Philadelphia neighborhood and his formative experiences likely played a role in his ability to portray a rough, violent character like Max Phillips. The scene in which Max violently confronts Moran and his gunman is completely believable and serves as a stark transition point for the character and the episode. Before this scene, Max virtually sleepwalked through the drama, lazing about on his bed or the sofa in Moran’s hotel room, seemingly indifferent to what went on around him. From the moment he gets the call informing him that Pip is dying, he becomes an open wound of emotion, and Klugman perfectly steers Max’s progression from rage to joy to regret and finally to the raw anguish of death. It is altogether a masterful performance, and perhaps Klugman’s finest moment on the series.

            The anchoring presence opposite Jack Klugman is Bill Mumy as Young Pip. Mumy is also a memorable repeat performer from the series, primarily remembered for his role as the God-like child Anthony Fremont in the brilliant and disturbing third season episode, “It’s a Good Life.” Here, Mumy assumes a role more in line with his first appearance on the series in the second season episode, “Long Distance Call.” In both episodes, Mumy expertly embodies the vulnerable innocence of youth confronted with the reality of death. Mumy worked exceptionally well with Jack Klugman, allowing Klugman to pick him up, spin him around, and kiss and hug on him, all in a highly naturalistic manner that made the father/son relationship immediately believable. Mumy tells a sweet and touching story in interviews relating that Klugman came up to Mumy and his parents before filming began in order to prepare them for the highly affectionate way in which Klugman prepared to perform the scene with Mumy. 

           The standout performance from the supporting cast in “In Praise of Pip” is that of veteran character actress Connie Gilchrist as Mrs. Feeny, Max’s empathetic landlady who provides a refreshing, motherly aspect to the heavily male drama, and further magnifies the absence of any mention of Pip's mother. The Brooklyn-born Gilchrist (1895-1985) was a versatile performer whose career on screen dates back to 1940. Of particular interest to Vortex readers are Gilchrist’s appearances on The Alfred Hitchcock Hour. Gilchrist appeared in the Charles Beaumont-scripted first season episode, “The Long Silence,” based on the novel Composition for Four Hands by Hilda Lawrence, as well as in the unforgettable second season opener, “A Home Away from Home,” scripted by Robert Bloch and based on his short story from Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Gilchrist earlier appeared on Alfred Hitchcock Presents in the seventh season episode, “The Door without a Key.”           

            Interiors for “In Praise of Pip” were constructed at MGM and seamlessly blended with the results of external location filming at Pacific Ocean Park in Santa Monica, California. Production secured access for filming at Pacific Ocean Park for two consecutive nights after closing hours. Pacific Ocean Park, an amusement park along the Santa Monica Pier, replaced the earlier attractions of Ocean Park Pier and was designed as a direct competitor to Disneyland in nearby Anaheim. POP opened in July of 1958 and closed in October of 1967, left to fall into disrepair for years afterwards. 

            The House of Mirrors is one of the more memorable and impressive sets created for the series. Bill Mumy recalled the method by which the actors were able to navigate through the mirror maze. Tape was placed on the floor, marking the correct turnings to quickly get through the maze. The viewer can see Mumy glance down to the floor as Young Pip rushes out of the House of Mirrors to disappear into the night. 

            Bill Mumy also recalled the eeriness of filming in the deserted park after hours. Mumy, who resided nearby at the time, was a frequent visitor to the park and found the juxtaposition of the normally crowded park with the dark, deserted atmosphere to be strange and unnerving. This jarring juxtaposition is perfectly captured in the episode in the transition from Max’s nighttime death, lying on the pavement with refuse blowing across his body, to the bright sunshine and the afternoon crowds on a following day. 

            Finally, it would be remiss not to mention the episode’s approach to the military conflict in Vietnam. “In Praise of Pip” is very likely the first depiction of American military casualties in Vietnam on a network television broadcast of a dramatic series. As such, it is an important part of the show’s cultural legacy of confronting contemporary social and political issues, as well as a continued example of Rod Serling’s use of military conflicts to explore broader concerns of the human condition. Thematically related episodes such as “The Purple Testament,” “The Passersby,” and “A Quality of Mercy” retain much of their dramatic power due to their universal theme of human suffering.

Rod Serling, a WWII veteran, became a vocal opponent of the Vietnam War as the United States grew deeply entrenched in that conflict and the war became a mass media event. However, Vietnam was not the location Serling originally chose for the military sequences in “In Praise of Pip.” Originally, Serling chose Laos and wrote the teleplay as such. When Serling submitted the teleplay to script readers at de Forest Research to check against errors and inaccuracies, it was reported back that the International Agreement on the Neutrality of Laos, signed in Geneva in 1962, precluded the presence of the United States military in Laos outside of their station at the American Embassy. In other words, it would be highly inaccurate to suggest a contemporary military conflict in Laos. It was recommended Serling change the setting to South Vietnam, where U.S. forces were fighting in an advisory capacity. Serling made the necessary change.

            Although Serling later became an outspoken critic of America’s involvement in Vietnam, “In Praise of Pip” is not a direct comment on that conflict in the way, for example, that “The Mirror” is a direct comment on the Cuban Revolution. Serling simply needed a believable military situation in order to place Pip in peril. Regardless, it serves as an eerily prophetic work, as U.S. involvement in the region grew into a seemingly endless military engagement that costs thousands of American lives, a price primarily paid by young men like Pip.

              “In Praise of Pip” signaled a remarkably strong beginning to the fifth and final season, setting a standard which, despite occasional peaks of excellence, the increasingly tottering series could not maintain. The episode serves as a reminder that Rod Serling at the pinnacle of his talents was capable of producing work leagues beyond most network television drama, if not much of what was shown in movie theaters. At his best, and he’s near his best with “In Praise of Pip,” Serling could say in twenty-four minutes what many films struggled to say in ninety, and most of the time Serling said it better. Throughout Serling’s career, there were lightning strikes of brilliance, works that perfectly illuminated the vagaries of human experience through flashes of robust drama spoken in Serling’s terse, poetic voice. “In Praise of Pip” earns its place in this long line of triumphs.

In many ways, “In Praise of Pip” is also a refreshing callback to the vintage Serling episodes that established the high standard and unique qualities of the series. It is a wonderful showcase for the talents of two of the most consistently brilliant performers on the series, Jack Klugman and Bill Mumy. Klugman, in particular, has never been better on the series. In “In Praise of Pip,” he carries the weight of the drama on his shoulders, and his performance is a testament to the endurance of the series and its continued ability to fascinate and entrance viewers sixty years later.

Although he produced other excellent material for the final season, nothing to emerge from Serling’s Dictaphone again reached the emotional heights of “In Praise of Pip.” Consider it a final, brilliant, and lasting gift from the creator of the series.

Grade: A

*The thirty-sixth episode, “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge,” is a 1961 (released in 1962) Academy Award-winning French short film, broadcast on Twilight Zone as both a showcase for the film and as a cost-saving measure.

Grateful acknowledgement to:

-The Twilight Zone Companion by Marc Scott Zicree (2nd ed., Silman-James, 1989)

-Commentary by Marc Scott Zicree and Neil Gaiman (The Twilight Zone: The 5th Dimension (DVD Box Set), Image Entertainment, 2014)

-Commentary by Bill Mumy (The Twilight Zone: The 5th Dimension (DVD Box Set), Image Entertainment, 2014)

-Rod Serling: His Life, Work, and Imagination by Nicholas Parisi (University Press of Mississippi, 2018)

-The Twilight Zone: Unlocking the Door to a Television Classic by Martin Grams, Jr. (OTR, 2008)

-The Internet Movie Database (imdb.com)

Notes:

-Jack Klugman also appeared in “A Passage for Trumpet,” “A Game of Pool,” and “Death Ship.”

-Bill Mumy also appeared in “Long Distance Call” and “It’s a Good Life.” Mumy later appeared in a cameo role in Twilight Zone: The Movie (1983), and in “It’s Still a Good Life” on the second revival Twilight Zone series.

-S. John Launer also appeared in “And When the Sky Was Opened” and “The Purple Testament.” His voice can be heard in “Third from the Sun.”

-Russell Horton also appeared in “The Changing of the Guard.”

-Ross Elliott also appeared in “Death Ship.”

-Joseph M. Newman directed three additional episodes of the fifth season, “The Last Night of a Jockey,” “Black Leather Jackets,” and the final broadcast episode, “The Bewitchin’ Pool.”

-“In Praise of Pip” was adapted as a Twilight Zone Radio Drama starring Fred Willard.

-Rod Serling’s teleplay for “In Praise of Pip” was printed in the October, 1982 issue of Rod Serling’s The Twilight Zone Magazine. The printed script contains Serling's original setting of Laos instead of Vietnam. 

 -JP

 

Saturday, April 2, 2016

"A Game of Pool"

A game of life or death. Fats Brown (Jonathan Winters) attempts
to teach young pool shark Jesse Cardiff (Jack Klugman)
about the price of being the best.

“A Game of Pool”
Season Three, Episode 70
Original Air Date: October 13, 1961

Cast:
Jesse Cardiff: Jack Klugman
James Howard Brown (a.k.a. Fats Brown): Jonathan Winters

Crew:
Writer: George Clayton Johnson (original teleplay)
Director: Buzz Kulik
Producer: Buck Houghton
Production Manager: Ralph W. Nelson
Director of Photography: Jack Swain
Art Direction: George W. Davis and Phil Barber
Set Decoration: H. Web Arrowsmith
Assistant Director: Darrell Hallenbeck
Editor: Jason H. Bernie
Story Consultant: Richard McDonagh
Sound: Franklin Milton and Bill Edmondson
Music: Stock

And Now, Mr. Serling:
“Next week we engage in ‘A Game of Pool.’ That’s both an activity and a title. A play written by George Clayton Johnson and starring Mr. Jack Klugman and Mr. Jonathan Winters. It’s the story about the best pool player living…and the best pool player dead. And this one, we submit, will stay with you for quite a while. Next week on the Twilight Zone, ‘A Game of Pool.’”

Rod Serling’s Opening Narration:
“Jesse Cardiff, pool shark. The best on Randolph Street. Who will soon learn that trying to be the best at anything carries its own special risks in or out…of the Twilight Zone.”

Summary:
            Empty pool hall. Randolph Street, Chicago. Young pool hustler Jesse Cardiff spends his life here pledging to one day be the best at his craft. While practicing alone after hours one night he decides that he is the best pool player that ever walked the streets of Chicago. Better even, than the legend, Fats Brown, dead fifteen years now. If only he could play one round with the late legend he could claim his rightful title.
            In another world somewhere, Fats Brown quietly plays a game of pool by himself. A voice summons him to a pool hall on Randolph Street in Chicago. He picks up his belongings and prepares to leave.
            Back on Randolph Street Cardiff hears a voice behind him and turns to find a familiar face hidden in the shadows. It belongs to Fats Brown. He is here, he says, to challenge Cardiff’s claim of being the best pool player on Randolph Street. It takes some harsh prodding but Cardiff agrees to play the big man. But it doesn’t come without risk. Brown proposes to make it a life or death affair. If Cardiff wins then he lives. If he loses, he dies.
            Cardiff racks the balls and Brown breaks them, a break that sends two balls gently into the railing and then back towards the formation, leaving it up to Cardiff to scatter the balls. Impressed, Cardiff is caught off-guard by this maneuver but doesn’t let it shake him. He gently nudges one of the loose balls leaving the original triangle unbroken. Then he smiles. Brown calls the fifteen ball and misses, leaving Cardiff the run of the table.
            They continue like this for hours, with Cardiff in the lead. Then Brown begins to land every single shot, rarely giving Cardiff an opportunity to shoot. It appears the young hustler has been hustled. At the end of the night they are nearly tied with Cardiff only two points ahead. He needs to sink one ball to win. Brown does everything he can to distract his opponent, causing Cardiff to miss. Brown takes his last shot and misses, leaving Cardiff with a pocket-hanger. If he sinks this, he wins. He’ll get to live and he will be the greatest pool player of all time. He begins to boast to Brown, throwing the big man’s words back in his face. Brown informs him that he would actually like to see the young man win but warns him that if he does he “may win more than he bargained for.” Cardiff brushes him off and sinks his last shot. He picks the cue ball up and gives it a kiss. He is king.
            Brown simply says, “thanks.” Cardiff asks him what he means and Brown tells him that he will find out whenever he tries to leave Randolph Street. Cardiff turns away for only a second but when he turns back Brown is gone. Cardiff then comes to the realization that he is the only one who will ever know that he beat the legend, Fats Brown. But at the moment, it doesn’t matter.
            Later, far away somewhere. A broken Jesse Cardiff rests his head on a pool table. A voice tells him to report to Mason’s Pool Hall, Sandusky, Ohio. Weary and exhausted, Cardiff reluctantly stumbles off to defend his crown.

Rod Serling’s Closing Narration:
“Mr. Jesse Cardiff, who became a legend by beating one, but who has found out after his funeral that being the best of anything carries with it a special obligation to keep on proving it. Mr. Fats Brown, on the other hand, having relinquished the champion’s mantle, has gone fishing. These are the ground rules in the Twilight Zone.”

Commentary:
            “A Game of Pool” marks the fourth contribution and second original teleplay from writer George Clayton Johnson, cementing his foothold as an invaluable voice on the program. Widely considered a highpoint in the show’s run, it set the bar exceedingly high for pure dramatic tension. The most interesting, and discussed, aspects of “A Game of Pool” is the casting of comedian Jonathan Winters (1925 – 2013) in the dramatic role of the ghost of pool hall legend Fats Brown, and the changing of George Clayton Johnson’s original ending into the light and irreverent ending seen in the episode.           
            Jack Klugman (1922-2012) portrays Jesse Cardiff, an angry young pool player who has dedicated an unhealthy amount of his life to the game and longs to be remembered as the best to ever play. Klugman, as noted in previous posts, already had a successful career as a dramatic actor who developed his craft on the stage and in live anthology programs of the 1950s, as well as in such feature films as Twelve Angry Men (1957). Klugman and Serling first worked together in 1959 when the young actor appeared in Serling’s semi-autobiographical Playhouse 90 production, “The Velvet Alley.” Klugman’s “everyman” stage persona likely appealed to Serling a great deal and made him an obvious choice when casting The Twilight Zone. Serling reportedly postponed production on Season One’s “A Passage for Trumpet,” Klugman’s first appearance on the show, specifically to accommodate the actor’s filming schedule. Klugman would become arguably the most recognizable actor to grace the series, turning in excellent star performances in four above average episodes. His relationship to the show was such that by the time production began on “A Game of Pool” he was willing to accept offers for work on the series without first reading the script, such was his respect for Rod Serling and the quality of the writing on the series. Although he would go on to achieve pop culture immortality in the television adaptation of Neil Simon’s The Odd Couple and later on the NBC medical drama Quincy M.E., The Twilight Zone is still considered one of the jewels of his long career.
            With the unusual nature of “A Game of Pool,” two actors on two simple sets (the pool hall and the afterlife set), the actor cast opposite Klugman would need to be effective and have the acting talent to carry an intensely compact story. Initially, Buck Houghton sought an actor like Jack Warden, the gruff actor who previously appeared in the first season episode, “The Lonely.” However, Rod Serling had an ace in his pocket. Martin Grams, Jr., author of the book The Twilight Zone: Unlocking the Door to a Television Classic (OTR, 2008), indicates correspondence which Rod Serling had previously received from Jonathan Winters in which the popular television comedian expressed interest in appearing in an episode of the series. At the time, according to this correspondence, Serling had nothing in line that would suit Winters but assured Winters that a call would come when something came up that they could both get behind. Whether or not this is the method in which Winters was actually hired to portray Fats Brown is inconsequential. Serling did have a great amount of imput with casting and it is probable that he recommended Winters for the part. 
            Winters did not quite fit George Clayton Johnson’s original description of Fats Brown. Though Winter's had the build of the Minnesota Fats-like character, Johnson wrote him as bearded and ponderous. It quickly became evident, however, that Winters was going to make the character his own. Johnson was an avid pool player at the time he wrote “A Game of Pool” and was especially enamored by the 1959 novel The Hustler by American novelist Walter Tevis. The novel tells the story of a young, ambitious pool shark named Fast Eddie Felson who challenges pool legend Minnesota Fats only to lose and receive a much needed lesson in winning and losing and the price of being the best at something. According to Johnson, he was working on a story that would eventually become “A Game of Pool” (originally titled, “The Pool Player”) when he first read Tevis’s novel. Johnson took the general premise and theme of the novel and compressed it into a dialogue-filled sketch that focused on Cardiff’s obsession with being the best and his ignorance at ignoring the world around him. But while Felson learns his lesson at the end of the novel, Cardiff, at least in Johnson’s original script, does not and the story ends with him falling even deeper into his obsession.
20th Century Fox released a film adaptation of The Hustler in September, 1961, directed by Robert Rossen and starring Paul Newman as Fast Eddie and Jackie Gleason (another comedian in a breakout dramatic role) as Minnesota Fats. The similarities between The Hustler (both the novel and the film) and “A Game of Pool” are profound, so much so that George Clayton Johnson considered changing the name of Fats Brown to something more prosaic, like John Brown, to disguise the debt owed to the Walter Tevis story. And although Johnson’s script owes much to the novel, no one involved with the episode could have known for certain of the similarities between Rossen’s film and “A Game of Pool” as the former was theatrically released on September 25, 1961 and the latter filmed two months earlier, in late July. Despite the similarities, however, the show delivered an end product with enough dramatic tension to challenge even such a venerated American film as The Hustler.
            Though Jonathan Winters would appear on hundreds of television broadcasts throughout his long career, he was mainly known as a comedian on television variety shows at the time he appeared in “A Game of Pool.” The episode served to show the quality talented comedians could bring to a dramatic series. This was not the first time The Twilight Zone presented a well-known comedian in a dramatic fashion. The first season episode “One For the Angels” featured comedian Ed Wynn in a dramatic role, though Wynn had already displayed his dramatic skills in Rod Serling’s Emmy Award winning Playhouse 90 production “Requiem For a Heavyweight” in 1956. An interesting note here is that both Wynn and Jonathan Winters, when first attempting a dramatic role, would fall into comedy routines when accidentally flubbing a line or missing a mark as a way to ease the tension of the transition.
            In 1960, Jonathan Winters began recording comedy albums and would continue to do so throughout his career, albums which would eventually pull in eleven Emmy Award nominations. It was an obvious course for his career as he had been performing voice work for commercials since the mid-1950s. Winters launched his career on radio after an impromptu talent show entry (and win) and would move on to commercials selling beer and trash bags and appearances on television. During this time he also began doing stand-up comedy and quickly gained a reputation within the comedy circuit for his unique blend of quick-witted impressions and deadpan facial expressions. Today he is considered a master of improvisational comedy. In 1954, Winters made his first appearance on television on the talent show Chance of a Lifetime. By the end of the decade Winters had his own television show on NBC and was a frequent guest of Jack Parr’s Tonight Show and The Steve Allen Show. By the early 1960s Winters was interested in diversifying his resume and thus came the letter to Rod Serling expressing interest in appearing on The Twilight Zone.
            The decision to broaden his acting career came at a difficult period in the comedian’s life. Time spent on the road away from his family and the pressure of non-stop touring caused Winters to suffer a breakdown and subsequently spend two weeks under psychiatric evaluation in 1959. In 1961, Winters was again admitted for psychiatric evaluation in Belmont, California for an even longer stay, some reports stating as long as eight months, which would have allowed very little time between his discharge from Belmont and the filming of "A Game of Pool." After this period of difficulty, Winters quit touring the stand-up circuit and focused on television work and his recording career. 
           At the time, Hollywood’s attitude towards mental illness was very different than it is today and artists who had been publicly outed as unstable were often slighted and ignored by the industry. Winters likely wanted to prove himself as a performer by venturing into unfamiliar terrain. “A Game of Pool” was the first of many serious dramatic performances that would showcase the actor’s flexibility. According to Buzz Kulik and Buck Houghton, Winters was very nervous about his performance and was very eager to do it well.
           Though originally written to be a ponderous character, Winters played Fats as focused, intense, a bit patronizing. He exudes confidence, wisdom, and pressure. He doesn’t need to verbally berate the young, blindly confident Jesse Cardiff. The mannerisms and facial expressions of Winters told the audience everything going on inside the character’s head. It is a testament to Winter’s mastery of expression that he was able to be subtle in his performance and still bring across more than enough dramatic tension to keep the encounter between the two men lively and believable.
            Buzz Kulik would direct a total of nine episodes of the show before it was over, many of them overlooked classics such as Season Two’s “Static” or “The Trouble with Templeton.”  But “A Game of Pool” is arguably his greatest achievement. Realizing that the script was deliberately simplistic, Kulik shoots the episode with a restrained attitude, leaving much of the focus on the relationship of the actors. The episode has an unusually high number of extreme close-ups, revealing endless beads of sweat dripping down the faces of the actors, emphasizing the effort given by both the characters and the actors. This is one of only a handful of episodes that does not feature stalwart director of photographer George T. Clemens. Jack Swain steps in for Clemens here and does a fine job. He would go to work on five more episodes during the third season. It is likely that the Emmy Award which George T. Clemens received after his exceptional work on the second season of the series meant more calls for his skills behind a camera on other television and film projects. 
            The most reported aspect of “A Game of Pool” is the fact that the ending as filmed was not that as written by George Clayton Johnson. This is interesting chiefly because The Twilight Zone was seen as a series that served the writer more than other series and production rarely changed anything about the script without the writer’s approval. An episode such as “Long Distance Call” from the second season required rewrites to suit a more effective ending but was served by the fact that the writers, Charles Beaumont and William Idelson, were available on the set to do the rewrites then and there and therefore not impede the tight shooting schedule. Perhaps “A Game of Pool” would have been served the same way but for the fact that George Clayton Johnson was unable to be present on the filming of the episode.
            At the time of production, Johnson was on the set of the 1962 Roger Corman film, The Intruder. This film was an adaptation of the 1959 Charles Beaumont novel of the same name, in which a racist named Adam Cramer (portrayed by William Shatner) incites racially motivated violence in a fictional Southern town. Beaumont and Johnson both had roles in the film and were therefore devoting a sizable amount of time to the film while in the midst of production on the third season of The Twilight Zone. In a much later interview with author Matthew R. Bradley, Johnson recalled how Buck Houghton called him at the time of filming "A Game of Pool" to tell him there was a problem with Johnson’s ending and that they were considering a new conclusion to the show. Director Buzz Kulik told author Marc Scott Zicree (The Twilight Zone Companion) that it required three attempts before they settled on an ending upon which they could wrap the episode. The ending George Clayton Johnson wrote was never filmed for the original series and would have to wait until the 1980s Twilight Zone series to be realized with rather uninspiring results. Johnson’s original ending can be read in its entirety in Marc Scott Zicree’s The Twilight Zone Companion.
            As written, Jesse Cardiff loses the game to Fats, much as Fast Eddie loses to Minnesota Fats in The Hustler. Though Fats Brown told Jesse that the terms of the game were life and death this turns out to be a bit of a bluff as Fats tells Jesse that he won’t die then and there but would instead live out his life as a second rate player and die forgotten while he, Fats, would live on in the minds of those that followed the game as a legend and the best there ever was. The episode was to end with Jesse raging against this fate and promising to practice harder than ever in the coming years and to again one day challenge Fats’s mantle as legend. Johnson was particularly eager to see Jack Klugman deliver the final furious lines of dialogue as the writer noted that Klugman was particularly talented at this type of enraged defiance in his performances.
            Though the reasons for the change are hazy at best, the show was, by the third season, well aware of its own reputation as a series which displayed the O. Henry-type twist ending on stories. For the casual fan of the series this is the quality most often recalled about The Twilight Zone and it stands to reason that production felt the need to insert this type of twist in all of its episodes. Though Johnson’s original ending packed a dramatic punch it may have been seen as too subtle, too straight forward drama for a series that traded in fantasy. Although the filmed ending does alleviate some of the hard earned tension built up in the episode, it does present some interesting design elements and reveals interesting aspects of character.
            As mentioned, in 1989 the first Twilight Zone revival series filmed a new version of “A Game of Pool” for its third season, with Esai Morales as Cardiff and Maury Chaykin as Fats Brown. It was directed by Randy Bradshaw. The decision to remake such an exceptionally well-crafted and revered episode is due likely to the controversy surrounding the original ending. The producers chose to utilize Johnson’s original script for this version and, unfortunately, the result is fairly underwhelming. The plot of the episode, up until its denouement, is much the same as in the original. One notable difference, however, is that the episode begins with the pool hall closing for the night and briefly features a handful of other actors instead of just the two leads. The time period is also updated to then present day 1989. Morales and Chaykin both deliver competent but forgettable performances and Bradshaw’s direction is similarly uninspiring. In his interview with Bradley, George Clayton Johnson says that he was even more disappointed with this second version, featuring his restored ending, than he was with the original episode. 
          A macabre touch during the afterlife scenes, for both Fats and Jesse, is that all the balls on the pool table are black, thus making it impossible to play anything but a solitary game of the traditionally competitive sport, highlighting the loneliness that is part of the baggage of being the best. It is interesting to note as well the difference in character when viewed in the afterlife. At the beginning of the episode Fats is seen actively playing pool in the afterlife, dutifully taking his cue along when the next challenger is announced by a disembodied voice. On the other hand, Jesse is seen as dejected and weary when he finally achieves his legendary mantle. The moral, perhaps, is be careful what you wish for, and that the burden of being a legend can be heavy indeed.
            The ending as filmed is not quite as bad as many viewers and critics have made it out to be despite an inappropriate flourish of light music to end the episode, which, in general, treads along a dark path. Though the changing of the original writer’s intentions is rarely a good idea, the episode remains a favorite of viewers and one of the two dozen or so most highly regarded episodes by those of us that analyze the series. One positive aspect of the episode is that it fully utilized George Clayton Johnson’s skill as a writer of tough, street-wise dialogue and his unerring sense of drama using little more than two or three characters. Although “A Game of Pool” largely represented a change in Johnson’s writing style, from sentimental, Ray Bradburyesque stories to tough, noir-type fiction, it is a transition easy to follow from the writer's previous work. Johnson was writing the streetwise type of story as early as his stroy treatment that was eventually filmed as Ocean’s 11 in 1960. The viewer may also look to Rod Serling’s adaptations of “The Four of Us Are Dying” and “Execution” to see that Johnson’s story ideas were often on the tougher end of the spectrum, replete with violence and noir-ish sensibilities. Of course, Johnson would go on to write his share of light and touching material, such as “Nothing in the Dark,” “Kick the Can,” and “Ninety Years Without Slumbering,” episodes which are much more sentimental and optimistic than “A Game of Pool.”

Grade: A+

Notes:
--Information on Jonathan Winters's nervous breakdowns of 1959 and 1961 was taken from "Jonathan Winters, Unpredictable Comic and Master of Improvisation, Dies at 87" by William Grimes, New York Times, April 12, 2013. Accessed on 4/1/2016. 
--Jack Klugman also appears in Season One’s “A Passage for Trumpet,” Season Four’s “Death Ship,” and Season Five’s “In Praise of Pip.”
--Director of Photographer Jack Swain lent his talents to five other episodes, all during Season Three:
            “Deaths-head Revisited”
            “Still Valley”
            “The Last Rites of Jeff Myrtlebank”
            “The Fugitive”
            “Hocus-pocus and Frisby”
--“A Game of Pool” was adapted as an episode of the 1980’s Twilight Zone revival series. It was directed by Randy Bradshaw with Elias Morales as Jesse Cardiff and Maury Chaykin as Fats Brown. It features George Clayton Johnson’s original script with updated material by Will Bermender. It originally aired on February 4, 1989. 
--"A Game of Pool" was adapted into a Twilight Zone Radio Drama starring Wade Williams (Falcon Picture Group).  


--Jordan Prejean and Brian Durant

Sunday, December 30, 2012

Jack Klugman (1922 - 2012)

Jack Klugman (1922 - 2012)
It’s hard to imagine The Twilight Zone without Jack Klugman. The prolific character actor, known for his ability at portraying the twentieth century everyman, died on Christmas Eve at the age of 90. Klugman enjoyed a rare kind of success as an actor and during his lifetime he remained a sought-after performer on television, in film and on the stage. Klugman’s low key, approachable personality lent itself wonderfully to the misfit characters he so often portrayed.  

Jack Klugman and Jonathan Winters in
"A Game of Pool"
He and Serling first worked together in 1959 in Serling’s heavily autobiographical Playhouse 90 production of "The Velvet Alley." So when it came time to cast someone as hopeless vagabond Joey Crown in the season one episode “A Passage for Trumpet” Serling turned to Klugman and actually postponed the initial production date of the episode in order to work around Klugman’s schedule. His next appearance on the show was as angry young pool hustler Jesse Cartiff in the season three classic “A Game of Pool” in which he starred alongside Jonathan Winters.  His third episode of the program was season four’s “Death Ship” in which he played a militant Airforce captain leading a crew of three men whose spacecraft has crashed on a bizarre planet. Klugman’s character here is an atypical one for him and he confessed in interviews years later that this was his least favorite episode out of the four he appeared in. Nevertheless his performance is great and I have always considered the episode to be a vastly underrated one. His fourth and final episode was Serling’s “In Praise of Pip” for Season Five in which he played a washed-up gangster whose son is dying in a military hospital in Vietnam. In all, he played the lead in four episodes of the program, a record he holds with Burgess Meredith. Klugman also appeared in Serling's adaptation of Whit Masterson's novel The Yellow Canary in 1963. It was directed by Twilight Zone veteran Buzz Kulik.

Jack Klugman and Tony Randall on
the set of The Odd Couple
Outside of The Twilight Zone Klugman enjoyed a highly prolific career. In 1957 Sidney Lumet cast him as Juror #5 in Reginald Rose’s 12 Angry Men and in 1962 he appeared with Jack Lemmon in Days of Wine and Roses. He was a regular fixture on anthology programs and in the live dramas of the 1950’s including a critically praised 1955 televised adaptation of Robert E. Sherwood’s play The Petrified Forest for Producer’s Showcase where he starred alongside Humphrey Bogart, Henry Fonda, Lauren Bacall and Jack Warden. He put in four appearances on The United States Steel Hour and Studio One in Hollywood and five appearances on Kraft Theatre where he also directed an episode.  His other television credits during this time include appearances on Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Inner Sanctum, Gunsmoke, Suspicion, The Untouchables, Naked City, Kraft Suspense Theatre, The Fugitive and The Defenders to name just a few. From 1964-65 Klugman was given a shot at his own show when he starred as Alan Harris in the NBC half-hour comedy Harris Against the World. Unfortunately, the show was cancelled after only thirteen episodes. From 1970-1975, however, he achieved pop culture immortality as Tony Randall’s unrefined roommate in the television adaptation of Neil Simon’s The Odd Couple. Klugman had already played the role of Oscar Madison in 1965 when he replaced original cast member Walter Matthau in the Broadway production. At the end of the show’s run in 1975 Klugman stepped from one iconic television program into another when he took the role of crime-solving medical examiner Dr. R. Quincy in Quincy, M.E. The show ran from 1976–1983.  After Quincy Klugman continued to appear regularly on television and on the stage. In 1989 Klugman, a lifelong smoker, had to have part of his larynx removed as a result of throat cancer.  This left him with a raspy, harsh voice but despite this setback he continued to act regularly for the next decade or so until his health forced him to retire. He was one of the last great living icons from television’s golden age and his passing marks the end of an era and the end of a long and remarkable career.