IN: Review: This 1973 TV remake of the Billy Wilder classic is inferior to the original. Surprise!

First, the good things. Lee J. Cobb makes a terrific Barton Keyes. He's not as good as Edward G. Robinson, of course, but he's the only reason to watch this. This remake's only improvement over the original is that it cuts down the role of Lola Dietrichson, the step-daughter of the femme fatale, Phyllis Dietrichson.

And that's it for the good things.

The bad things are many. The director records everything in an indifferent manner: if you watched the film with the sound muted you'd hardly get the impression that anything especially interesting was happening. Because of modern bad taste, the film must be in color instead of black and white. Because of 1970s bad taste, all the sets are distractingly ugly. Walter Neff's expensive apartment, in particular, is hideous.

The modern setting hurts in a lot of small ways. Train trips were a bit more unusual in the 70s than in the 40s, so Mr. Dietrichson's decision to take a train seems more of a contrivance. Men stopped wearing hats, which prevents Walter from covering up his brown hair while posing as the white-haired Mr. Dietrichson. Women in mourning stopped wearing veils, which robs Samantha Eggar of a prop Barbara Stanwyck made splendid use of in a key scene. (Oddly, Lola still has the line where she reveals that her stepmother was trying on a black hat and veil before she had need of them.)

Stephen Bochco keeps much of the Billy Wilder-Raymond Chandler script the same. But he makes a lot of tiny, inexplicable changes to the dialogue which leave the script slightly flabby where once it was lean and muscular. Outrageously, the famous motorcycle-cop banter is gone, but look closely and you'll see what looks like a post-production cut where those lines should have been. Bochco may not be to blame.

Richard Crenna is passable as Walter Neff. What might have made this version tolerable is a really splendid Phyllis Dietrichson. Instead we get Samantha Eggar, who comes off like a standard-issue villainess from "Barnaby Jones." But who can blame Eggar? With a director who barely seems interested in what's happening in front of the camera, how could Barbara Stanwyck herself have come off well?
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IN: Review: Is there a movement more intolerant and more judgmental than the environmentalist movement? To a budding young socialist joining the circus must seem as intimidating as joining a real circus. Even though such people normally outsource their brain to Hollywood for these important issues, the teachings of Hollywood can often seem fragmented and confusing. Fortunately Ed is here to teach neo-hippies in the art of envirojudgementalism.

Here you'll learn the art of wagging your finger in the face of anyone without losing your trademark smirk. You'll learn how to shrug off logic and science with powerful arguments of fear. You'll learn how to stop any human activity that does not interest you by labeling it as the gateway to planetary Armageddon.

In addition to learning how to lie with a straight face you'll also learn how to shrug off accusations that are deflected your way no matter how much of a hypocrite you are. You'll be able to use as much energy as Al Gore yet while having people treat you as if you were Amish.

In the second season was even more useful as we were able to visit other Hollywood Gods, holy be thy names, and audit - i.e. judge - their lifestyles. NOTE: This is the only time it's appropriate for an envirofascist to judge another because it allows the victim the chance to buy up all sorts of expensive and trendy eco-toys so that they can wag their finger in other people's faces.

What does Ed have in store for us in season three? Maybe he'll teach us how to be judgmental while sleeping!
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IN: Review: One: Richard Pryor and Jackie Gleason, two great comics turned into saps for a bratty kid. They've both sold themselves out in this one, worse than Pryor's character. Two: Horrible, overly sentimental script that could have been used in a Harold Lloyd movie its so cliched. Three: Choice of a black actor as the toy; the racial subtext of this is unbearable, as its never addressed. There's no message here, Pryor's part could have been played by any comedic actor. Four: That kid...I wish I could go back in time and prevent him from ever acting...that would mean movies like this one and Kid Co. might not have been made...and my childhood would have been free of their mind-warping power. So if you want to watch a couple of great comics defile themselves in a sickly sweet kiddie flick, go ahead. If you want to see them in something good, see Pryor's old standup act and Gleason in something better, like the Honeymooners.
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IN: Review: My choice for greatest movie ever used to be Laughton's "Night of the Hunter" which remains superb in my canon. But, it may have been supplanted by "Shower" which is the most artistically Daoist movie I have seen. The way that caring for others is represented by the flowing of water, and the way that water can be made inspiration, and comfort, and cleansing, and etc. is the essence of the Dao. It is possible to argue that the the NOFTH and Shower themes are similar, and that Lillian Gish in the former represents the purest form of Christianity as the operators of the bathhouse represent the purest form of Daoism. I would not in any way argue against such an interpretation. Both movies are visual joys in their integration of idea and image. Yet, Shower presents such an unstylized view of the sacredness of everyday life that I give it the nod. I revere both.
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positive