Reviews

After "The Beverly Hillbillies" got the axe, former dancer Buddy Ebsen, who played the sage Jed Clampett for nine years (the only soul on that show, city or country, who had any sense) was picked up as detective Barnaby Jones for an eight-year run of his second successful TV series.

The 1970s was a bizarre time for detective shows. The sloppy detective (Columbo); the bald detective (Kojak); the disabled detective (Ironside); the obese detective (Cannon) . . . All very humorless and straightforward. Peter Falk made "Columbo" special but until the advent of shows like "Charlie's Angels" (the female detectives) and "The Rockford Files" (the detective who lived in a trailer and never got paid) did these shows evince any sense of fun. Through the 1960s and most of the 1970s comedy shows ran half an hour and dramas (detective shows, doctor shows, "adult" westerns) ran an hour and had to be kept utterly straight.

"Barbaby Jones" (the old detective) nestles in nicely into the "straight" category. Unlike "The Rockford Files" it doesn't have laughs. It wasn't until the 1980s and the advent of shows like "Remington Steele," "Moonlighting," and the first season of "Matt Houston" that detective shows became comedies, and were all the better for it.

"Barnaby Jones," typical of the period, follows the "Columbo" mode: viewers watch a murder committed (usually by a guest star) and in the ensuing hour (with commercial breaks) someone hires Barnaby to turn over a few rocks and the cagy old codger winds up in a cat-and-mouse game with the presumed killer. "Columbo," though, ran to longer episodes, so Barnaby has to step lively. The episodes do have some variations on the theme, but bingers beware: the episodes to have a tendency to look a lot alike when watched all at once.

Is "Barnaby Jones" good? It's so representative of its period, it's difficult to say. I went 50 years without seeing a single episode but I'm glad I finally caught them (retirement can have that effect). The episodes are straightforward, without any special camera angles or that weird camera movement they have these days that makes me seasick. Because liberal interest groups were forcing violence off television "Barnaby Jones" is rarely too violent or bloody and Jones himself is not given to fistfights or car chases where he knocks over fruit carts, but prefers using his brain and folksy manner to outsmart his opponents. Fine with me.

The guest stars were mostly TV stars of the time and some then-big names have lost their lustre. Generally, "Barnaby Jones" is a kinder, gentler detective show, the kind of that in the 1970s had the sort of murders the whole family could enjoy together to see that crime doesn't pay.

Glen Ford plays a member of a secret college society he thinks is a harmless fraternity with weird secret ceremonies. Until they assign him a task that leads to a death of a friend. From then on, for breaking the code of silence, is "The Brotherhood of the Bell" trying to break him? Or is he losing his marbles? The cockeyed camera angles given Ford as the movie progresses can be seen a either danger or insanity.

Ford is such an ordinary Joe, as actors go, his performance as a typical guy helps get across the paranoia inherent in the story.

When in my 20s I joined the Masons and the first thing my guru told me was, "The Masons never killed anybody," and I thought, "Hot dog!" But I quickly found out it was just a lot of pot-bellied old men who performed silly rites under the pretense of doing something important (though I've kept the code of silence, because that's a code of honor; it's too boring to relate, anyhow).

I suppose most "secret societies" are like that, and when presidential candidates are found to belong to secret societies the tin-foil hat crowd has a collective cow. But they're just as unhappy when "outsiders" run and have worse cows when they win so what are we to do?

Whether you believe the world is run by small, secret cliques (the Trilats, the Illuminati, the Knights Templar, the whomever) or think that's giving way to dangerous mental issues, "The Brotherhood of the Bell" is unsettling entertainment whose eeriness will keep you awake nights. Apart from Ford, good performances all around.

A likeable, if gruff, con man (James Garner) is mistaken for a famous gunslinger by competing mine owners (Harry Morgan, John Dehner) with life-threatening complications.

Most of the cast of "Support Your Local Sheriff" follow Garner to this one, in completely different (if similar) roles.

New additions along with Dehner include Suzanne Pleshette ("The Bob Newhart Show"), Grady Sutton, Dub Taylor and Chuck Connors.

Garner plays a more mean-spirited version of Bret Maverick (he also dresses like him) but retains the Garner charm nevertheless.

The prime scene stealer is Garner's sidekick, played inimitably by Jack Elam.

Other good ideas are the roulette wheel and Colorado McGee. The latter is one of the funniest, yet horrifying, moments in comedy.

Is it as good as "Sheriff"? How can it be? It's not a sequel, though it has a sequel ambiance. Still, if you loved "Support Your Local Sheriff" (it's my favorite western spoof) you're likely to enjoy this one, too. It's like the first movie's little brother.

The main problem with "Krull" is that it takes itself too seriously. It has some comedy relief, but it's centered on certain guys and it often falls kind of flat.

What's it about? Well, two warring kingdoms make peace through marriage but the bride is stolen and there's an alien invasion . . . It's nicely genre bending.

It's a lovely movie, often beautifully shot. The special effects guy is swiped from the James Bond movies, which was a good idea (though they don't all work in retrospect). The director of photography was coming off "Star Wars V" and it looks just great most of the time.

The cast is top-drawer. Freddie Jones, Francesca Annis, Lynette Anthony, Alan Armstrong . . . And that's just the icing on the cake.

The weak link is Ed Marshall as Colwyn, who just happens to be the main character. He's not very inspiring.

Also, the script's a bit of a muddle. I don't mind being flung in media res into a sci/fi or fantasy novel, because I have elbow room to figure the place out. In a fantasy movie full of new and strange things, it means lots of talky exposition.

It's one of those fantasies where the hero goes on a quest (this time, to rescue his bride) and collects odd companions the way a snowball collects rubbish. Some are more interesting than others.

It's like the rhyme of the girl with the curl: when it is good, it's very, very good, but when it's bad it's horrid.

Accidentally fired into space, Sergeant Deadhead (Frankie Avalon) returns to Earth with strange personality changes. This upsets the brass, who hoped to make him a press hero.

"Sergeant Deadhead" isn't as funny as the better Avalon beach movies, nor the spy spoof "Doctor Goldfoot and His Bikini Machine."

Part of the problem is the movie's dated theme: the space race, during the era animals were being sent up in rockets (actually, it was made after that, but we'll have to stretch a point).

The cast is first rate. The top brass of the service include Fred Clark, Cesar Romero, Gale Gordon and Reginald Gardiner. Also on hand are Eve Arden, Buster Keaton and Pat Butram as the president. A great comedy cast.

Unfortunately, a comic is only as good as his material. The aim, apparently, was to turn Avalon into a sort of Jerry Lewis. As if we needed two of them.

With so many old pros in the cast, you'd think one might've risked his contract to stand up and say the material isn't working. It has a few laughs, but no more than you'd squeeze out of a so-so Carol Burnett sketch. Not good for a comedy running an hour and a half.

Too bad. I hate to see a talented cast go to waste.

"Beach Blanket Bingo" is the best of the Frankie Avalon and Anette Funicello beach movies.

The surfers want nothing more in life than to kiss, hug, surf and disport themselves half-naked in peace.

This time around their serenity is shattered by sky-divers, a sleazy promoter with a new singer he's peddling (Linda Evans) and a mermaid (Marta Kristen, "Lost in Space").

The songs aren't important but they aren't egregious. The best belongs to Harvey Lembeck's Eric von Zipper and his Rats.

Paul Lynde, as the promoter, is extremely funny as usual. The cross-talk between Lynde and Lembeck, two comic pros, must be heard. Lynde rises far above his material. He's great.

As usual, pretty girls fill the background (such as Patti Chandler and Playboy's 1960s playmate Donna Michelle).

After this one, the beach movies went into a nose-dive. But one day set an afternoon apart to watch "Bikini Beach," "Beach Blanket Bingo" and "How to Stuff a Wild Bikini," with Dwayne Hickman replacing Avalon (Hickman and Avalon later went on to co-star in the cult classic buddy movie "Doctor Goldfoot and His Bikini Machine" with Vincent Price). A trilogy worthy of Eastwood "Dollars" trilogy. Right.

Oh, the legendary Buster Keaton gets a chuckle or two, but he's mostly wasted. But thirty-seven years after the Silent era he still moves his body wonderfully.

"Bikini Beach" is not the first Frankie and Annette Beach movie but it does kick off a trilogy (Bikini Beach, Beach Blanket Bingo and How to Stuff a Wild Bikini) where the Beachers are beset by men in gray suits.

This time around, it's Keenan Wynn, who wants to prove surfers have the I. Q. of an ape (which they keep referring to as a monkey). No argument from me. But what is his ulterior motive?

Like Alec Guinness or Peter Sellers, Frankie Avalon essays two roles in this one. See if you can guess which.

Is this trilogy up to, say, the original "Star Wars"? Let's not be silly. But it is fun from the days when young people liked having fun. Why did fun die? If you enjoy watching half-naked twenty-somethings playing teenagers disport themselves surfing and making sport of their elders, this is for you.

No bad language, no sex (despite lots of talk) no nudity you wouldn't see at your local beach. It doesn't have 'bikini" in the title for nothing. The songs aren't great, but the plot is thin in the ground.

Then there's chunky, forty-ish Harvey Lembeck, hilariously playing biker "Eric von Zipper." This old pro steals every scene he's in.

And there's a trick ending with a very special guest star whom young people today won't know. What a shame.

A recent reviewer for a (legitimate) national magazine recently compared "Oppenheimer" to a Frankie & Annette Beach movie. He said what they revealed was important but what they concealed is more important. In this case what they conceal, apparently, is Annette's pregnancy.

Meanwhile, Frankie's out of town, having a ball in short cameos on a Pacific island with nothing but beautiful women and Buster Keaton. I wouldn't mind that, myself.

How do you replace Frankie? Easy. Call for Dwayne Hickman (Dobie Gillis). He's a better actor, anyway. Avalon and Hickman would go on to co-star in the cult classic buddy movie "Doctor Goldfoot and His Bikini Machine" with Vincent Price. Good stuff. Unfortunately, fine as he is, in the later flick Hickman would prove to have better chemistry with Frankie than he has here with Annette. The two are a far cry from the rapport of, say, Rick and Ilsa in "Casablanca."

Yes, Annette *is* there and much in evidence, but because of her condition she's on low mobility and mostly in close-ups. She seems to be less important to the bike race climax in this movie than she was in the skydiving or race cars of the previous outings.

However, Frankie and Annette proved they aren't necessary. The movie has lots of nearly-naked young people; and an extended role for Harvey Limbeck's biker, Eric von Zipper (be honest: hands up who watch these flicks more for von Zipper). The movie is full of music and I like the bikers' songs best.

This movie also has Mickey Rooney (overacting) and Brian Donleavy (a long way from "Beau Geste"). Len Lesser is an adequate replacement for Timothy Carey (though previous guest stars like Paul Lynde and Don Rickles are sorely missed).

While not as good as "Bikini Beach" or "Beach Blanket Bingo" (which is sort of the "Citizen Kane" of Beach movies) "How to Stuff a Wild Bikini" both signaled that genre was over (audiences do grow up and change in generations), and made a fitting capper to that "Beach Movie" trilogy (actually, they made more movies in the series than those three, but ignore them: only these three are worth your time).

So, overall, how does "How To Stuff A Wild Bikini" stack up, if I may phrase it like that? I wouldn't class it with "Star Wars," 'Lawrence of Arabia" or . . . Well, lots of other things, so I'll borrow a few words from Douglas Adams and say it's 'mostly harmless."

BTW, stay til the bitter end. The closing credits have some interesting music.

After seeing a UFO, Ritchie Cunningham receives a visit from perhaps the strangest space alien in the galaxy, Mork from Ork.

If "Happy Days" hadn't jumped the shark when Fonzie jumped the shark, it might well have with "My Favorite Orkan."

The "flying saucer" setting is perfect for its time. It's just the sort of thing that would have happened circa 1960. But an actual visitation by outer space beings seems a far cry from the show's first couple of seasons. And the challenge match of Mork with Fonzie (Henry Winkler) is embarrassingly bad.

What saves this episode from being a total disaster is a bravura performance by rising talent Robin Williams. And the writers give him some good lines, such as when he's watching television.

In retrospect, however, this episode is only worthy as a kick-start to Williams' career. In 1978 no one had seen anything quite like him (not even Andy Kaufman was this nuts). If it hadn't been for the casting of Williams this episode would have been just another milestone marking the decline of the once-great "Happy Days." It's almost always true that a performer is only as good as his material. Williams rises above the material and deservedly earned his own show.

"Love, American Style" was one of the biggest con jobs ever perpetrated on the American people by the major networks (outside of the news).

With links provided by the like of Stuart Margolin, James Hampton and Phyllis Davis, this anthology show became a dumping ground for unsold pilots, which helped it attain the lustre of a genuine all-star cast every week. (Though the only episode I know of where a dumped pilot was picked up became "Happy Days." So some good came of it).

A time capsule for late 1960s and early 1970s sexual mores, as is the case with every other anthology series the episodes vary in style and quality. One can see why lots of these thwarted pilots weren't picked up. But it's worth watching for the real gems, and for seeing big stars of the past (who were current when I was a kid).

Based on a touching but funny "pilot" on the show "Love, American Style" (one of the better episodes of that series) "Happy Days" was picked up as a show about a 1950s family, the Cunninghams, starring Ron Howard as the leader of a group of high school boys.

A minor character was Fonzie (Henry Winkler), the biker, who became amazingly popular. To keep him closer, at the beginning of season three, Fonz moves into the room above the Cunningham's garage.

That's not the only change. They'd experimented with filming the show before a live audience (before, the show had been filmed and looked pretty good). I never took to shows performed before a live audience, as most of the shows done that way look stagey. But while "Happy Days" traded some its charm and the acting was lots broader, it became funnier. And the live audience laughter, while raucous, fits "Happy Days" better than the laugh track underscoring unfunny lines in the classier first two seasons.

This episode, where Fonz moves in, is very funny. It's a good start to their new look.

"Happy Days" is a long-running sit-com of how an average American nuclear family was overcome by a "greaser."

When I saw an episode of "That '70s Show" I asked: where's the 1950s? Because the 1970s kids were obsessed with the 1950s. I myself wailed a saxophone in a late-1970s "1950s" band.

George Lucas caused a long-time obsession with "Star Wars" but in "American Graffiti" he first touched a public nerve among kids like me with 1950s "nostalgia" for a time we never lived in. And a good thing, since the actual styles of the 1970s were the pits.

The father and mother are played by Tom Bosley and Marion Ross, who'd bopped around TV shows a while. Ron Howard ("The Andy Griffith Show") was one son. The fact that he was a grade-schooler in his first show and a high-schooler in his second gave him a unique progression in American homes.

Another son vanished without a trace, in some sort of television Bermuda Triangle. Erin Moran is the daughter.

But a "greaser" (the term for guys who put "greasy kid stuff" on their hair) named Arthur Fonzerelli (Henry Winkler) started out as a minor character, became incredibly popular, and eventually moved in with the family, in effect becoming the lost or misplaced other brother. It's impossible to overestimate the popularity of "The Fonz." Every school had a kid with that nickname. The term "jump the shark" derived from something Fonzie did.

The important thing to remember about "Happy Days" is that it's not really a show about the 1950s, but a show about the 1970s with a 1950s veneer. When I see it, it doesn't make me nostalgic for the 1950s but the 1970s.

Was it funny? Not particularly. But all the characters are incredibly likeable, and that carries the day.

Whatever happened to the intelligent "adult" comedy movie? Well, my theory is that they made one too many like "A Man Could Get Killed."

The movie starts out well: Garner is a banker examining some sort of prospects near Lisbon (that part doesn't matter in the slightest, it's just an excuse to get him there) and from the moment he disembarks from the airplane it's assumed by everyone he's an American spy and no one will listen to the truth, thinking it's a clever cover story.

This includes the dunderheads at the British embassy (Robert Coote, Cecil Parker) an American smuggler posing as Portugese (Anthony Franciosa) and a collection of spies working in groups of twos and threes who are more like Keystone Kops.

Garner plays "comically frustrated" as well as or better than anyone in the business and I've never seen Franciosa better. And the movie has some fine comic moments. I even laughed out loud and I'm pretty jaded.

But as the movie drags on it seems to run out of ideas. It gets bogged down in fish and rice scenes (if you must know what that means, see the flick). Though it does keep trying new (rather, familiar) plot twists right up to the climax, i'd trade a plot twist or two for something funny.

In fact, one of the best things about "A Man Could Get Killed" is a trial run of music for what became "Strangers in the Night," a chart-topping hit for Sinatra in the age of the Beatles. It's lovely.

If the writers (or whomever) had been able to sustain the ideas and energy propelling its first half-hour "A Man Could Get Killed" might've been a spy-spoof classic. Garner is certainly good enough and has range enough as an actor to carry it off, as he did in the comic-western "Support Your Local Sheriff " But at some point someone decided the way to proceed was with boring scenes of fish and rice and that's what we're left with.

(James Coburn's unfortunately dated spy spoof "The President's Analyst" nailed the genre better and despite a third-act lull ultimately sustains itself to the end.)

I like Sandra Dee but she's just awful. Rumor is, she didn't want to go to Lisbon and was forced to do the movie contractually. I never "got" Melina Mercori and that's probably my own blind spot, but I can provide, under separate cover, a list of actresses I'd prefer cast as the women who bedevil Garner and Franciosa (as if Coote, Parker and the spies didn't bedevil them enough).

Overall, a worthy try until it runs out of steam. Despite a wonderful title, good music, and fine performances by Garner and Franciosa, "A Man Could Get Killed" is not a must-see classic you've missed all your life. Too bad.

Rex Stout's GAMBIT, featuring Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin, concerned a suspicious death in a chess club. The daughter of the man arrested for the crime hires Wolfe to investigate over the objections of everyone else: the man's lawyer, his wife and his friends and associates. Why does everyone object so strenuously to Wolfe's involvement?

The "Gambit" episode of the Nero Wolfe show is about a lone electronics genius with a grudge against Wolfe dating back to the Second World War who booby traps Wolfe's entire house. The idea was later recycled in an episode of "MacGyver."

Perhaps the idea of chess (actually, a popular game in the late 1970s and early 1980s, when I was in a tournament myself) was too outre, or too nerdy, or just too darn dull to hold a TV audience, and they were right. One thing they kept from the original story was the cutey-of-the-week.

Again, William Conrad has Wolfe's girth and commanding presence and voice, though he seems a trifle short when sized up against the rest of the cast. Lee Horsely ain't the sassy Archie Goodwin from the books, but he's good and terribly likeable (his pilot episode for his later series, "Matt Houston," is still my favorite pilot episode of all time, just barely edging out "Moonlighting.")

I tend to agree with the other reviewer about this episode. But what makes it watchable if at all (I knew a guy who set a chair outside to watch an imminent train wreck--well, there was nothing he could do to stop it so he might as well watch) is Darrin McGavin's performance as Wolfe's persecuter. He does demented as well as anyone, and better if, like me, you prefer funny-scarey.

Significant story changes make this a "Speckled Band" like you've never seen before.

Author John Buchan, after viewing a Hitchcock movie based on one of his novels, remarked on the odd experience of sitting in the theatre, wondering how it would come out. Arthur Conan Doyle would have a similar experience watching this "Speckled Band."

The curious thing is, it's not bad for an all-new yarn. The story elements salvaged from the original are presented in graphic detail and though it defies all logic to show up front how the crime was committed, we do gauge the full horror of Julia Stoner's death.

And Victoria Tennant looks lovely in bed.

Unfortunately, these Sherlock Holmes stories are shortchanged as they are only half-hour (in fact, a few minutes less). It's difficult to do a truly mysterious mystery in that length of time as it's usually obvious who the culprit is--in fairness, they won't introduce a new character in the last five minutes. It's a shame, as the series (largely not based on Arthur Conan Doyle) shows promise, without all the shouting from its forebear, the Howard/Holmes series, which they probably did back then to compensate for shoddy early TV sound equipment.

The casting makes this series worth watching for the Holmes compleatist. Before the Brett/Holmes series cranked up a few years after this one, Holmes TV shows and movies were weak either in Holmes (Roger Moore? Robert Stephens? Good actors, yes, but . . .) or (more often) Watson (with notable exceptions like Colin Blakely or, like him or hate him, the cuddly Nigel Bruce) or (most likely) Lestrade. While no one touches the early Brett/Holmes episodes, they were Canon. These mostly "made-up" tales are a different animal altogether.

Patrick Newell ("Mother" on "The Avengers," who went on to feature in one of the tip-top early Brett/Holmes episodes) is a more than adequate Lestrade, if a little too slow for comic effect.

Donald Pickering is a first rate Watson and his name must not be overlooked in the Pantheon of Watsons.

This time around the weak link is Geoffrey Whitehead as Holmes. He's tall and gaunt but his voice, which I've heard without offense on numerous BBC radio shows (try "Rigor Mortis" for one) is too high and slight for Holmes fans accustomed to the more careful or sharper voices of, say, Rathbone, Gielgud, Hobbes or Brett. His Holmes, IMHO, lacks authority. But if you disagree I won't be offended.

Also, since the Brett/Holmes revolution was still in the offing, Whitehead is lumbered with the deerstalker cap, cape and pipe in downtown London. Don't get me wrong, that look was what enticed me to read Holmes stories in the first place, and half a century on I still wear my own deerstalkers with pride. And the casual (i.e., non-obsessive) Holmes-watcher won't care. I have a cousin enjoying a more modern Holmes series who never heard of Jeremy Brett, and he's my age.

Just be aware that while Newell and Pickering are just fine, Whitehead, whatever you think of his tone, plays an unreconstructed Holmes.

One delightful thing is the pizzicato incidental music. Violin music is a must for Holmes shows and I wonder why I've never heard that sort of background playing before. And though Arthur Conan Doyle's stories could be bleak, these episodes have scattered touches of humor. I just wish the episodes had more elbow room to develop.

Hey, kids, I have an idea! Let's take a beloved novel, generally deemed a classic of it's genre, and make it into a movie making fun of it and all it stands for and undermining everything its readers love about it!

How's that for a winning combination?

It's not the only book Hollywood bought to undermine. P. D. James' THE CILDREN OF MEN, intended to show the bleak consequences of left wing anti-child social policies (she was "conservative") was turned into a screed against President Bush. Well, at least the movie was kept bleak.

An omnivorous reader of whatever was in my school libraries, I read lots of Heinlein at one time. Admittedly, I was no fan of STARSHIP TROOPERS. A rather raving, anti-military leftist at the time, though the son of a proud Navy veteran of the Korean conflict, I saw in STARSHIP TROOPERS the reason why I'd never serve. I was too free-thinking at the time and still am. Which is why Democrats despise me and others are wary: I decline to follow a party line. Anyhow, I stopped reading Heinlein in favor of genuine literary classics. Whereas Hollywood these days can't seem to read anything above comic-book level (no insult to comic books: I still have all mine from the 1970s by the hundreds and revisit them).

But friends of mine loved STARSHIP TROOPERS (the book) and even decades after reading it they were excited by the idea of a movie about it. They were sadly disappointed.

So, if you love the book, stay away. Or if you hate the book (as I did) yet don't want to see a classic of its genre turned on its head when the lazy scoundrels in Hollywood might have developed a whole new idea (A new idea? Hollywood? Now, that is a laugh!) don't waste your time or money.

Vincent Bagetta, more accustomed to playing scum, often "connected," is the good guy this time around, a lawyer taking cases his boss (Ken Swofford) doesn't want, or doesn't want done that way. It's like a police show where the policeman bucks his superiors (or Kolchak without the panache or the ghoul-of-the -week or the incredibly talented Darrin McGavin).

They gave Bagetta's Capra all the usual baggage: a secretary like Perry Mason's Della Street, a kid assistant who'd been fired from the firm yet still did Capra's leg work, etc. . . . But somehow, the show didn't gel.

Capra was more detective than lawyer, determined to find his clients innocent before trial to avoid public confessions as in "Perry Mason."

Eddie Capra was so up to date to the late 1970s it looks like an antique today. As opposed to another short-lived show, "Ellery Queen," which had a period late-1940s setting (though with 1970s sensibilities and stars) and so doesn't look these days like a relic of its time.

Frankly, I came of age in the 1970s. I was a Junior in high school when this show aired and had other things on my mind than sitting home watching TV. I didn't like the 1970s then and I have no nostalgia for it. But these days I try to catch up on things I missed and Eddie Capra fell into my lap accidentally after 45 years of never hearing about it. It's worth watching once, but despite a lot of promise I thought the show was ultimately special. Sorry.

Peary v. Cook. Which of those former colleagues turned bitter rivals reached the North Pole first? Well, this TV movie shows Cook reaching the Pole while Peary is presented as confused, arbitrary, deceptive and downright mean.

Since this movie came out several books have been published purporting . . . What is probably the truth . . . Neither man went anywhere near the Pole. And they used basically identical evidence against each other except Peary had the backing of the uber-influential National Geographic Society. I haven't taken their word for anything since.

But who cares about facts? What about the movie? It's well-made and watchable. Richard Chamberlain gives one of his patented "gee, I'm really caring" performances while Rod Steiger is blustering and boggled.

Just beware that it's probably historical garbage.

An amnesiac (Richard Chamberlain) trying to learn his identity doesn't particularly like what he finds. Along the way he picks up a beautiful companion (Jaclyn Smith) who doesn't like him, but he grows on her.

To be honest, THE BOURNE IDENTITY is the only Ludlum I've read. I'd like to read more but he does write long.

This miniseries is quite a good adaptation (unlike the children's version done later that ignores Ludlum's subtletie). Chamberlain has long been one of my favorite actors and while Smith was my second favorite Charlie's Angel, she has a larger range than my no.1 (perky Cheryl Ladd) and I always enjoy watching her.

The movie is dotted with a few familiar faces (Denholm Elliot, Peter Vaughn, Anthony Quayle) but it's the Dick and Jackie show all the way and why not? They're fantastic.

The music is fairly typical for this sort of fare but it doesn't intrude.

Whenever silent movies or Vaudeville or Burlesque are recreated by more modern people, they do a shoddy job of it. In this episode an impresario is murdered while trying to revive a burlesque after World War II.

Two characters make this episode. First George Burns, who only appears briefly on film. Then Barbara Rhoades, who made lots of appearances on TV in the 1970s, from "Mannix" to comedies. Here, she plays a stripper and she's delightful as well as lovely to look at.

And who is the suspicious man who keeps trying to buy extra tickets?

The stage show is so bad, this episode is painful to watch. The mystery is no great shakes, either.

When a wealthy backer of Ellery's play (Edward Andrews) disappears, Ellery Queen (Jim Hutton) has to determine if he's dead or alive.

This is possibly the best episode of the series, coming as it does fron a genuine Ellery Queen story.

On a personal note, it's the first episode of the series I saw, finding it by accident when it first aired. So I do have a special affection for this episode that may be corrupting my judgment. But it's a solid mystery with a star-studded cast. And a literary subtext that tickles my fancy. And a shocking moment in the climax.

One disappointment: one of the joys of this series is Hutton's chemistry with David Wayne, playing his no-nonsense father. Unfortunately, Wayne is tardy about showing up for this episode.

In the immediate post-war period an undercover operative writes a book of memoirs. He also uses his secret files to blackmail people. When he's murdered, Ellery Queen (Jim Hutton) has an international list of suspects to choose from, including a Soviet Diplomat, an English antiques dealer, a French photographer and an Indian club steward.

As usual, the chemistry and by-play between Ellery and his father (David Wayne) is lovely. It's usually the best part of the show. Another useful additive is Gretchen Corbett ("The Rockford Files") as Ellery's latest girl friend who is gung-ho to find the murderer . . . Since she, too, is a suspect and needs to clear herself. She's a ball of fire.

I know they like to keep providing Ellery a new love interest each week (he's so absent-minded they probably get fed up with him!) but Corbett's so good and plays so well with Hutton and Wayne they should've made her a regular.

This episode has a star-studded cast and a good mystery. In a voice contrary to so many reviewers, this is one of my favorite episodes, and Corbett is one of the reasons.

Apparently perfunctory airline "disaster" movie following not long after "Airport." However, the subject of a "skyjacker" (as they used to call them) is treated seriously and the size of the airplane set provides a genuine feeling of claustrophobia. In this plane, there's nowhere to run.

While the magnificent spoof "Airplane!" knocked the struts out of this sort of feature so it's hard to take these sorts of movies seriously, this portrayal of an airline in trouble is no-nonsense. It has some stereotypical passengers, such as the pregnant lady (Mariette Hartley) . . . But you've got to have passengers and pregnant women do take airplanes. Duh. And Rosie Grier's jazz cellist is a new one on me.

The cast has familiar faces. Charlton Heston is the pilot (so you feel nothing too bad can happen--can it?). Walter Pidgeon is a Senator on a secret mission for the President (no party given). But the sets aren't fancy, the music isn't portentous, the story is straight-forward and not cloying (it's amazing how quickly they get in the air, rather than goofing around with lots of exposition--you get to know these folks as you fly with them) and if the plane blows up it's the end of the world only for the few mostly ordinary people trapped in the air, whose lives feel genuinely at risk.

The mystery is no great shakes, but that's a side issue. More troubling is: in an age when Communist terrorists hijacked airplanes to Cuba, why hijack a plane to Anchorage?