Joe Blevins's Blog, page 40

Podcast Tuesday: "The Bride of Fonzenstein"

Cathy Silvers and Henry Winkler on Happy Days.
After a low-rated second season in 1974-75, Happy Days was very nearly canceled by ABC. If the show were to continue, the network had three demands:  Fonzie (Henry Winkler) would have to move in with the Cunninghams; the series would have to be filmed in front of a live studio audience; and the previously-unseen character of Arnold would have to appear on camera. Producer Garry Marshall happily complied with all three demands, but the third proved tricky. Marshall and his writers didn't know how Arnold would look or talk, and a series of auditions didn't make the solution any clearer. Eventually, Garry called in his old pal, actor-comedian Pat Morita, to play the role in his own inimitable fashion.
In a way, this set an important precedent for Happy Days. From then on, if a character were frequently discussed, he or she would eventually be seen as well. Clarence the cook, Mother Kelp, and even Binky Hodges all appeared on the series after having been mentioned in previous episodes. But perhaps the quintessential example of this phenomenon was Jenny Piccalo, a wild-acting, rumor-spreading girl who attends school with Joanie (Erin Moran). The other characters started discussing Jenny's exploits as early as Season 4, but she wasn't seen on camera until Season 8, when she was played by Cathy Silvers, daughter of comedian Phil Silvers. At the time, the producers explained to the press that Jenny's addition to the show was partly done to compensate for the loss of Ron Howard and Don Most.
About midway through Season 8, Jenny got her own spotlight episode, "Bride and Gloom." The rather far-fetched plot has Jenny accidentally marrying the Fonz and moving into his apartment. Surprisingly, the story takes a rather sad and dramatic turn, very much at odds with Jenny's party girl image. Does this make for a good episode? Find out when we review "Bride and Gloom" on the latest installment of These Days Are Ours: A Happy Days Podcast .

Podcast Tuesday: "Please Sponsor Us, Brylcreem!"

Scott Baio and Erin Moran on Happy Days.
As I explained a couple of weeks ago, each installment of These Days Are Ours requires an extensive postproduction phase. Recording the show takes only 30 to 40 minutes. Editing, however, takes several hours, usually spread out over a few days. During that time, I think a great deal about the Happy Days episode we're reviewing. Occasionally, a thought will occur to me that I should have said when we were actually recording.
This week's podcast is a perfect example. We're reviewing Season 8's "Broadway It's Not" in which Joanie (Erin Moran) and Chachi (Scott Baio) appear in the high school musical, a cornball Western called Home on La Grange. Chachi becomes fiercely jealous when Joanie swoons over the show's handsome but arrogant leading man, Granville Clark (guest star Larry Anderson). Granville and Chachi exchange insults before resorting to physical violence. Ultimately, the young Mr. Arcola emerges triumphant, usurps Granville's leading role in the play, and sings a mushy romantic duet with Joanie.
Only during the editing stage did I realize that "Broadway It's Not" is structured exactly like a Popeye cartoon, specifically like the cartoons Popeye was making during the 1950s at Paramount. Most of those 'toons center around the eternal Popeye/Olive/Bluto love triangle. The way Granville roughs up Chachi during rehearsals, throwing him through a fake window and into a a real trough of water, is highly Bluto-esque. Meanwhile, the way Joanie's loyalties waver between Granville and Chachi is classic Olive Oyl behavior. And Chachi is written just like Popeye, taking a lot of abuse before he finally snaps. All that's missing is a can of spinach. By the way, my cohost and I differed on the merits of a song called "My Home Sweet Home La Grange." I loved it. My cohost did not. Again, during the editing phase, I realized why I liked the song so well: it's arranged like the musical numbers from many of Mel Brooks' movies. Compare it to "Prisoners of Love" from The Producers, "I'm Tired" from Blazing Saddles, or the title song from Robin Hood: Men in Tights.
What did we think of "Broadway It's Not"? Was it a hit or a miss? Find out by listening to These Days Are Ours: A Happy Days Podcast .

Podcast Tuesday: "The Curse of Fonzenstein"

Henry Winkler and Henry Winkler (???) on Happy Days.
I've loved classic horror movies for as long as I can remember. I've since come to appreciate all kinds of horror films, including the gory modern ones, but as a kid, I was all about mad scientists, shambling monsters, and creepy castles. One of the formative experiences of my youth was watching the classic Universal Frankenstein on television. I remember just being blown away by the entire look of that movie; it was like being able to watch one of my own dreams right there on the screen.
Back then, before the dawn of streaming services, the internet, or even video rental stores, it was not always easy to find the B&W Universal classics. You just had to wait for some local TV station to air them. In the meantime, I got my monster fix wherever I could, including cartoons like Hanna Barbera's Drak Pack and Scooby Doo. I also faithfully collected the Remco Mini Monsters action figures. (Boy, I wish I'd held onto them!) We didn't have a weekly horror host, but there were occasional specials featuring Detroit's own Count Scary . One way or another, I got by.
Nowadays, I can (and do) get my horror fix whenever I desire. This week, for instance, I have the special privilege of reviewing the 1981 Happy Days episode "Welcome to My Nightmare," featuring comedian Dick Gautier as the villainous Dr. Ludlow, a kind of Dracula/Frankenstein hybrid who wants to clone Fonzie (Henry Winkler). What is such a character doing on Happy Days in the first place? Well, it's all part of a fever dream Fonzie is having while laid up with the flu. I'm sure this episode was intended for Halloween, but the late start of the 1980-81 TV season made that impossible. So it aired in February instead.
Does "Welcome to My Nightmare" live up to the legacy of the great Universal horror films? You can find out by listening to the latest installment of These Days Are Ours: A Happy Days Podcast . 

Ed Wood Wednesdays: The Wood Promo Odyssey, Part 7 by Greg Dziawer

This week's article takes us to jolly old England.
Ed Wood's sex film work of the 1960s and '70s was often featured in the adult magazines of that period. Publications like Unreleased Dynamic Films, Torrid Films, and Fiery Films—among dozens of others—filled their pages with stills from low-budget sex films, accompanied by texts that ranged from reviews to plot summaries to outright ballyhoo. It was a win-win for all involved: inexpensive content for the publishers and promotion for the filmmakers.
Though common in America, such magazines were published around the world. A colleague recently shared with me an issue of Cinema X, published in London. Cinema X, vol. 4, no. 4, from 1971 includes a photo feature about Ed's Take It Out In Trade, meaning that this film must have played across the pond!
Unlike its US counterparts, which typically focused exclusively on low-budget sex films, this issue of Cinema X sandwiches Ed in with articles on the expected sex films but also includes pieces about Alfred Hitchcock, Clint Eastwood, and an interview with Mario Van Peebles. I'm happy to share it with you!
Here's a link to a PDF of the Cinema X article . (WARNING: NSFW)
Special thanks to Spicy Goldman, Esq. for supplying it to me. If you are a fan of vintage sex films, be sure to check out his fantastic site, Capri Show World Center (caprishowworld.com) .

Podcast Tuesday: "The Completely Dental Misadventures of Arthur Fonzarelli"

Warren Berlinger and Henry Winkler on Happy Days.
I hate and fear going to the dentist. There, I said it. I'm a rabid anti-dentite. It's definitely one of my phobias. But maybe I shouldn't even call it a phobia. Google says that phobias are "exaggerated or unrealistic." My fear of the dentist is completely based on reality and experience. I've had, let's say, my fair share of work done to my teeth over the years, and it has always been painful, uncomfortable, scary, and nauseating. Dentists -- and their evil minions, hygienists -- are among the few professionals in this world who are allowed to lecture their customers and treat them with total contempt. Apparently, it's not enough for them to merely torture us physically. They have to do it emotionally and psychologically as well.
The dentist office my parents used to take me to as a child was located at 3218 S. Dort Hwy. in Flint, Michigan. It's a Liberty Income Tax location now, but it looks exactly the same from the outside as it did when I was young. I think it even has the same front door. God, just looking at this awful place gives me the heebie jeebies. I can still remember that nauseating, quasi-sweet smell and the corny Norman Rockwell prints hanging on the wall of the waiting room. 
My personal house of horrors from childhood.
Given all this, you might imagine that I would not be eager to review a Happy Days episode about Fonzie (Henry Winkler) going to the dentist. And you'd be right! But we're watching every episode of the sitcom for our podcast, and Season 8's "It Only Hurts When I Smile" is no exception. Despite my discomfort with the subject matter, I was still looking forward to this episode because it features character actor Warren Berlinger in the fifth and last of his memorable Happy Days appearances.

You can find out what my cohost and I thought of "It Only Hurts When I Smile" by listening to the latest installment of These Days Are Ours: A Happy Days Podcast . Was I able to overcome my prejudice and enjoy this episode on some level? There's only one way to find out!

Ed Wood Wednesdays: The Ed Wood Summit Podcast #25 by Greg Dziawer

As always, Greg keeps us in the loop regarding Ed Wood.
A few months back, some wonderful anonymous poster digitized and uploaded a copy of an 8mm porn loop from 1973 in a private adult forum. The film in question hailed from The Reel Thing, a short series containing only eight loops, a few among them still unidentified. I immediately recognized that title, The Reel Thing, since it was also used by publisher Bernie Bloom for one of his Calga magazines in 1972 .
Could the loops be related to the magazine? We know Ed wrote for the latter. He even reviewed one of his own books there anonymously! But could he have also been involved in the film series of the same name?

Join me for this podcast as I ponder that question.

BONUS MATERIAL: Here are the front and back covers of a Reel Thing loop. Take special note of the disclaimer on the back.
I had to censor the cover picture a little, but you get the idea.
And here's that book review that Ed Wood wrote for the Reel Thing magazine. It's of his two-volume set, A Study in the Motivation of Censorship, Sex & The Movies.
No, really, read this review. It's a goldmine of Wood trivia.

Podcast Tuesday: "Fonzie IS the Law!"

Scott Baio and Henry Winkler on Happy Days.
As Happy Days progressed over its 11 seasons, the nostalgic sitcom's focus shifted more and more to Arthur "Fonzie" Fonzarelli (Henry Winkler), the ace mechanic and ladies' man who lived with the very square Cunningham family. After the ABC series' nominal lead actor, Ron Howard, left the show in 1980, Fonzie completely took over, even being top-billed for the last four seasons. Fonzie's popularity largely rested with young children who looked up to him as an ultra-cool, almost supernatural role model who could do just about anything. As a result, Fonzie's vices were either toned down or eliminated. He drank his milk, ate his vegetables, and obeyed the law. The former bad boy became a goody two shoes.
But Fonzie still had his flaws! Case in point: the season 8 episode "The Sixth Sense," in which the leather-jacketed mechanic wrongly judges Frankie (Steven Ford), a new fry cook at Arnold's, to be untrustworthy after only meeting him once. When Fonzie's money is apparently stolen, he naturally accuses Frankie of the crime and tells the fry cook to leave town. Which Frankie does. Only later does Fonzie learn that the cook was innocent and that Joanie (Erin Moran) and Chachi (Scott Baio) had actually taken Fonzie's money... for wholesome, understandable reasons. Naturally, Fonzie feels terribly about this. Did his vaunted "sixth sense" let him down this time?
What surprises and galls me about the episode is that Fonzie's original suspicions are ultimately proven correct. Frankie didn't steal Fonzie's money, true, but he did swipe some other money from Arnold's, so Fonzie was right to threaten him and chase him out of Milwaukee. And the show treats this as a happy ending! To me, this is a terrible moral. Judging people on first impressions with no evidence is the very soul of prejudice, and it's horribly irresponsible to have Fonzie -- a hero to kids, let's not forget -- modeling such reckless behavior. Fonzie is only "saved" at the end through sheer coincidence and luck.
But does this mean that "The Sixth Sense" is a bad episode? You can find out by listening to the latest installment of These Days Are Ours: A Happy Days Podcast .

Podcast Tuesday: "Have I Ever Told You About Rosa Coletti?"

Nancy Marvy and Al Molinaro on Happy Days.
The average episode of our Happy Days podcast, These Days Are Ours, lasts only about 20-30 minutes. But those 20-30 minutes can take many, many hours to produce. Let me talk about what the process is like on my end. It can be divided into at least three distinct phases, some more fun than others.
Phase 1: Preproduction 
First, naturally, I have to screen the Happy Days episode we are reviewing. I always watch each show at least twice: once straight through without interruptions to get a feel for the plot and the jokes, then a second time with frequent pauses as I take notes. Once I've taken notes, I then do my research on all the guest stars, songs, and cultural/historical references in the episode. This forms the basis for the script I use while recording the podcast.
Total time for this phase: About two or three hours.
Phase 2: Production
The next part of the process is actually recording the podcast This takes about 40 minutes and is by far the most enjoyable part of making These Days Are Ours. It breezes by. Generally, my cohost and I record on Saturday afternoon via Skype. That's a nice program to use because it has a built-in recording feature. We generally do not kibitz much before or after doing the show. We simply exchange pleasantries and get right into it. Whatever we have to say to one another, we save for the show.
Total time for this phase: Less than an hour.
Phase 3: Postproduction
This is where the real time is spent. You may not guess it, but These Days Are Ours is a heavily-edited show. Out of respect for our listeners, I take the 30-40 minutes of Skype audio and whittle it down to about 20 minutes of "good stuff." Once I add in all the various sound clips from Happy Days and other sources, that usually brings the podcast's total running time to about 25 minutes. (Although this varies from week to week.) 
So much is left on the proverbial cutting room floor. My cohost and I are both prone to flubs and awkward pauses, for instance, and we tend to clutter our speech with filler words. ("Well, uh, like, I, uh, thought this, um, y'know, episode was pretty, uh, good or whatever.") I get rid of as much of this as I can. And then there are conversational threads that just don't lead anywhere interesting or stray too far away from the matter at hand. I can be especially guilty of free-associating and hopping from topic to topic.
There are also technical problems to fix. Maybe certain words or phrases didn't record properly, so I'll either have to edit around them or rerecord them. When we were reviewing "If You Knew Rosa" for this week's show, my cohost's audio was very quiet compared to mine. I basically had to fix this on a sentence-by-sentence basis. Hopefully, the end result sounds more or less like a "normal" installment of our podcast. All in all, the editing process for These Days Are Ours is time-consuming and tedious, but it's also where the show really takes shape.
Even then, the postproduction phase is not quite done. After exporting the audio, I have to upload each episode to Libsyn, which takes several minutes. There are a lot of screens you have to go through. Then, while the podcast is still fresh in my mind, I write one of these blog posts about it. On the day the episode drops (always Tuesday morning), I do a little flurry of promotional posts on social media.
Total time for this phase: Hard to say. It feels like six or seven hours, stretched out over several days.
So there you have it. A half hour of These Days Are Ours takes a minimum of ten hours to produce. Is it all worth it? You can decide for yourself when you listen to our latest episode. 

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 132: "Rapee's Revenge" (1970)

Today's Ed Wood story deals with a man who spends years in a dungeon.
Fans who know Ed Wood mainly through his 1950s film work or through his more accessible adult films, such as Orgy of the Dead (1965), may be in for a shock when they investigate his literary career. In his novels and short stories, Ed tackled some shocking and upsetting subject matter, occasionally wallowing in the very worst of humanity. The truly obscure short story I'm covering today is a prime example. We're a long way from Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957) here. Though it's far from Ed's most graphic writing, it is still quite disturbing in its implications.
The story: "Rapee's Revenge." Originally published in Illustrated Case Histories (Calga Press), vol. 1, no. 3, November/December 1970. Credited to "Jack Ripar." (Ed used a very similar pseudonym, "Jacques Rippee," in that very same issue .)
Summary: Marvin has been languishing in the dungeon of an unknown woman for nearly five years. Haggard and dressed in rags, he subsists on "slop" while enduring the elements because his cell has no roof, only 25-foot walls and a stone floor. Today, however, he plans to escape. He has been slowly chipping away at one of the stones in the wall with a sixpenny nail, and now he can reach an unlit tunnel on the other side. 
While Marvin cautiously traverses this dark passageway, he thinks about his former life as a prolific rapist and occasional murderer. In fact, he had raped the woman who is now his jailer. She'd knocked him unconscious while he was committing the act and has kept him prisoner ever since. He thinks now of killing her. Finally, he sees a light at the end of tunnel and is overcome with joy at the thought of freedom. His jubilation, however, is short-lived.
Excerpt: "The Woman, he thought, brushing a cobweb away from his face—he wondered what she would do when she found him gone, when she found no one left to vent her insane hatred on. In all the years Marvin had been in her prison which was not really a prison, but rather a part of a huge mansion in which she lived, Marvin had never learned The Woman's name, had not even spoken a single word to her, in fact. But he had raped her."
A typical "Hudd & Dini" adventure.Reflections: It's one of the enduring images of popular culture—the bearded, almost-skeletal wretch who has been left to rot in a dungeon for years on end. How many New Yorker one-panel cartoons have featured just such unfortunates? Monty Python put these miserable characters into nearly all their films, perhaps best typified by Michael Palin's luckless Ben in Life of Brian (1979). Dungeon dwellers have also played a role in classic horror films. Boris Karloff’s character in House of Frankenstein (1944) starts out languishing in a dungeon before escaping and wreaking havoc. Then, there's Hammer's The Curse of the Werewolf (1961) in which a beggar (Richard Wordsworth) is thrown into a dungeon by a cruel nobleman and stays there so long he essentially becomes a beast.
"Rapee’s Revenge" is Ed Wood’s twisted take on the "dungeon escape" plot. This is one of those moral tales in which a truly loathsome and sinful character receives his justly deserved comeuppance. It’s driven by the same logic as many Tales from the Crypt episodes: if you do something evil enough, the universe will get you back in some way. Certainly, after we learn of what Marvin has done, we cannot root for his escape. Had the law apprehended him, he would have faced life in prison or even execution. It's possible that Ed felt at least some degree of sympathy for his protagonist, however, since he lets us know that Marvin regretted some of his past crimes. It's a little late for that, though, especially in the case of the murder victims.
What’s truly odd about this story is the Wood-ian dream logic that guides the plot. How has Marvin survived this long? What has kept him going through the rain, sleet, and snow? And what is this place where he has found himself? Ed tells us the dungeon is part of a large estate owned by a wealthy woman. I guess, since the cell has no roof, it's basically a big pit in the backyard—sort of like a swimming pool that got out of hand. 
Since any passerby could peek into the pit and see Marvin down there, this estate must be in a remote location. No servants are depicted or even mentioned, so our dungeon mistress apparently lives alone. How is she maintaining this property by herself? If torturing Marvin has become the sole focus of her life, hasn’t she become another sort of prisoner?
Then there is the tunnel itself, the most mysterious part of this entire story. Why would such a tempting but useless passage exist? The nearest I can figure is that the woman built it herself in the hopes that Marvin would one day find it and try to escape, only to have his hopes dashed. She may have even planted that sixpenny nail in his cell. Take away the rape angle, and this story closely resembles Vic Martin's "Hudd & Dini" comics that used to run in Cracked magazine in which two bumbling crooks continually break out of prison, only to find themselves in custody yet again. Perhaps Ed Wood, himself a prisoner of poverty and alcoholism, could relate to their plight.

Podcast Tuesday: "It's an Honor Not to be Nominated"

Ted McGinley and Henry Winkler on Happy Days.
I can't say that I've won a lot of awards in my time. If I owned a trophy case -- and I don't because I still have a shred of sanity left -- it would largely be empty. I remember being a kid and feeling unreasonably jealous of those classmates who received perfect attendance medals at the end of the school year. That seemed so unfair to me. Why should I be punished simply for getting sick a couple of times? It's not like I chose to be contagious! 
My grades were generally fine, if not spectacular, and I was a total washout at sports. So I didn't win awards as a kid, and I continue not to win them as an adult. I'm a little bitter about that, sure, but I think I keep my bitterness to a reasonable level. It occupies maybe one-eighth of one percent of my brain, about as much as my irritation with hangnails.
Didn't Sally Field speak for all of us?I think this matter of awards is significantly more important to those in show business. After all, if you're an entertainer, your job depends on receiving support, praise, and encouragement from the public and the press. Even Lady Gaga admitted to all of us that she lives for the applause. When people stop applauding for you, that can be devastating. People go mad from it. (See Sunset Blvd.) Entertainers' self-image is dependent upon what others think of them. So, yeah, they're going to want every Oscar, Emmy, Grammy, and Tony they can get their hands on. We all snickered at Sally Field for her infamous  "you like me!" speech at the Academy Awards, but isn't it true? 
Receiving one of those industry awards may be even better than applause. It means that you're not only liked but respected. And if you're in an industry where a great deal is subjective -- since no one can ever definitively prove what's "good" or "bad" in art -- awards are as crucial as TV ratings or box office receipts. They're as close as you can get to objective, verifiable evidence of your success. Awards may be unfair or political or arbitrary, but they're also permanent. If you win one of those major industry awards, it becomes part of your story. It'll be mentioned when you die. It becomes part of the historical record, etched in stone.
Happy Days did quite well in the ratings for about seven of its eleven seasons. In addition, it had a long and prosperous second life in reruns and generated a fair share of merchandising revenue. So it was liked, but it was not respected. The reviews ranged from middling to hostile (I found one article from the '70s that called the modest sitcom "everything that's wrong with television"), and the show won one measly Emmy in eleven seasons. And that was for editing!
The eighth season episode "And the Winner Is..." deals directly with the matter of awards. The plot has a desperate Fonzie (Henry Winkler) campaigning vigorously but fruitlessly for the Teacher of the Year (or TOTY) award at Jefferson High. Not only does he not win the award, he's not even nominated. It's easy to read this episode as Happy Days' response to the Emmys. Family Guy and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia also did episodes about their failure to win these coveted awards. Happy Days ultimately comes to the conclusion that awards, while nice, don't really matter. What matters is knowing that you're doing good work.
Is it a convincing argument? Find out when we review "And the Winner is..." on the latest installment of These Days Are Ours: A Happy Days Podcast . And if there are any TV podcast awards we could possibly win, please nominate us.