The Sheila Variations

The heart has a memory ... and I am the most loyal woman I know ...

... which is why when I saw this cool star map showing the "timeline" of what extraterrestrials will be watching if they have been receiving and monitoring our TV waves (and it appears that this is a very American-centric drawing - apparently TV waves from, say, Romania or Kenya or Laos are uninteresting to the folks in outer space!) my first thought was:

I'm so psyched for the folks living in the star system of 40 Eridani because they are currently watching Quantum Leap and encountering Dean Stockwell for perhaps the first time, and I'm so happy for them because of it.

I don't forget Dean Stockwell! His legacy lives on in my heart!

Citizens of Eridani, I'd like to introduce you to Real Admiral Al Calavicci. We love him here on earth. I'm sure you all will feel the same.

The poster that begs for secrecy

I love how the poster for the film The Boy with Green Hair (seen here) begs the audience to not tell why the boy's hair turned green in order to save the surprise for other audiences.

Young Dean Stockwell is terrific in that film. Too bad the existing print is so muddy and awful, with TERRIBLE sound quality. If you rent it, just know it looks like crap and sounds awful.

It was a favorite of mine growing up, even though I had no idea how unbelievably important Dean Stockwell would one day be to me. To me, as a kid, watching Boy with Green Hair he was just a serious-faced bald kid in a police station, really upset about something, and my heart went out to him. He's good beyond his years.

In the piece I wrote about Dean Stockwell for House Next Door, Bruce Reid (a fantastic commenter over there, I always look forward to what he has to say - so articulate!) listed in the comments-section his own "favorite 5" of Stockwell's performances. He included Boy with Green Hair, saying:

OK, not obscure exactly, but I suspect its title leads a lot of people to snicker and pass it by on the video shelf. It’s a fine film, and Stockwell captures the anguish of its hero with a complexity and thoroughness beyond most adults. He’s so good here (and in many of his childhood roles) that you find it impossible to believe he could have continued acting as an adult, as if he was channeling some instinct that adolescence would surely crush out of him.

Yes, yes, yes.

In Dean Stockwell news:

Here's a really interesting interview with Dennis Hopper about an art show he is curating at a gallery in Taos, featuring six long-time Taos artists (Dean Stockwell included). Interesting take from Hopper on the art scene, what he's working on, and why he decided to finally curate a show. I love his answer to the question referencing Easy Rider ("Are you tired yet of being the patron saint of freedom on two wheels?"):

I prefer being in a car, really. I always enjoy getting off a bike, when everything's finished. Everybody thinks I'm some sort of biker, which I never was. But that's okay.

I know, it's amazing, isn't it? To learn that Hopper was actually, you know, ACTING?

The interview is great and I felt really smart reading it - only because I had seen the documentary The Cool School (my review here), about a particular group of alpha-male macho artists who pretty much created the modern art scene in LA in the 1950s. Dennis Hopper was part of that - as was Dean Stockwell (my original reason for seeing the film) - but because of that documentary, reading Hopper's interview I felt like an insider. Oh yes! Ferus Gallery! Oh yes - the aesthetic they created having to do with surfboards and cars! Yes, yes, I know all of that. I am totally an expert.

In 2007, I flew to Taos to see a retrospective of Dean Stockwell's work - and met the man himself. I wrote about that trip, and all things Stockwell, in the piece I wrote for House Next Door. I would love to get out there again to see Hopper's show. Stockwell, of course, is represented in the work on exhibit - and just look at the picture of those guys in the article! What a bunch of hot old coots. Awesome.

Speaking of Stockwell:

Over a year ago ago, at the height of my Dean Stockwell obsession, I went to a yoga/writing workshop with a group of artists. It was an amazing day. Afterwards, I rode the subway downtown with one of the guys who had been at the workshop. We had a nice conversation. First, we were just talking about the workshop, and the work we had done, and writing and acting. And somewhere along in there, because I can't help myself when I'm obsessed with something, I casually mentioned Quantum Leap. I know it was along the lines of, "You know, sometimes it's hard to get down to work. All I want to do is sit around and watch episodes of Quantum Leap." This struck him almost completely still for a second - and then he said, "Did you just say Quantum Leap?" I started laughing, "Yes - I'm obsessed ..." and he said, "God, I LOVED that show - I can't believe you just referenced Quantum Leap!!" We were guffawing on the subway and we spent the rest of the ride (it was a long subway ride, the workshop had been way up town) reminiscing about Quantum Leap. It was one of those perfect moments of hilarity mixed with sincerity that you sometimes get with a total stranger. You know, you don't want to walk around being a giant GEEK, but when some girl you've never met casually mentions Quantum Leap, it means you are in a free enough environment that you can become the biggest geek on the planet because OBVIOUSLY she will not judge you. It was such a fun conversation. We parted with a hug, still laughing about the Quantum Leap conversation.

Last night I went to a show and he was there. I haven't seen him since that subway ride in 2007. After the show, I went up to him and said, "Hi - we've met before." He looked confused, trying to place me. I said, "We were both at that yoga workshop - " More confusion. "You know - the one that mixes yoga with writing ..." The light dawned on him, and he said, all excited, "Quantum Leap!!!"

It always pays to just be yourself in any interaction you have with another human being.

Maybe someone won't "get it", and maybe someone will judge you. That's okay. Not everyone will understand, and you won't hit the bullseye with everyone. But you might as well just be yourself, because if you DON'T, then you won't have the opportunity to actually connect.

The fact that he remembered that conversation was so so funny to me. We both just burst out laughing AGAIN about it.

"You remember that??" I was laughing.

"Are you kidding me? It's not every day that someone brings up your favorite most geekiest show from your past - that was so awesome."

"Is Quantum Leap on Netflix??" he asked me, figuring I would probably know the answer.

I love it. I don't even know the man. In 2007 we had one conversation. But we were able to quantum-leap over the intervening time, and get right back to the point where we had left off.

"Dunwich Horror" remake: Breaking news in the land of Dean Stockwell

A small break in the Ben Marley obsession to just mention some exciting news:

Dunwich Horror has been remade and will be released this week (at least according to IMDB). Dean Stockwell, who played Wilbur so campily and committedly in the cheesy (totally enjoyable) version in the 1970s will be back - this time playing Dr. Henry Armitage. I'm so excited! The only thing that would make me happier would be if Ben Marley had a role as well.

In preparation for the new Dunwich Horror, here is the post I wrote about it, at the height of my Stockwell obsession. Wonderful film, with not one lackluster moment. Brill.

THE DUNWICH HORROR

Dunwich Horror from 1970 has pretty much nothing to do with the HP Lovecraft story from whence/which it came - and that's a bone of contention for many people, Stockwell included. He was disappointed in how the movie came out - being a huge Lovecraft fan. But the point must be made that it is, essentially, a B-movie, with all the glory and mortification that that implies. It must not be taken too seriously, and it must be seen as an homage to Lovecraft - rather than a faithful adaptation.

The thing is a HOOT. I love B-movies: To me, they are the best examples of the sheer JOY of film-making. And Dunwich Horror, while it definitely has much better production values than Ed Wood's stuff, is in the same vein. It doesn't take itself too seriously - it's not ponderous or pretentious in the slightest - it doesn't worry too much about itself - it is unapologetically manipulative - and frankly, it's a blast.

Every time I find myself in the middle of such an obsession as the one I am in now - and I "go to work" - meaning: seeing everything the object of desire has done - there are always surprises. And there are always movies I discover that I NEVER would have seen otherwise.

Discovering movies like The Dunwich Horror has been so much fun.

Dunwich Horror wastes no time in getting started.

There's a "creepy" opening sequence as the credits roll - a cartoon depiction of a woman being impregnated by this massive devil-like creature - and then the first scene shows a plump and innocent Sandra Dee, with her immovable blonde bob, walking on a college campus with her professor. She is holding a huge book that looks very old. The professor says, "Could you please go return the Necromonicon to its case? Can I trust you with this task?" Suddenly - with no warning - we get a glimpse of a man nearby, eavesdropping. He is Dean Stockwell and he looks distinctly sketchy. He is intense, his eyes burning a B-movie glaze at Sandra Dee and the book. He also is wearing a totally porn-star-from-the-70s 'stache. It is so gross. Sandra Dee goes back into the library with the book - obviously an important book - and she goes to put it back into its case - and suddenly, as if from out of nowhere - Stockwell is there, intense, quiet, and asks if he can look at the book.

She, at first, is befuddled ... No, no, she can't ... the library is closing ... she's supposed to put it right back ... but he, with his subtle arts of persuasion (uhm, burning-eyed porno-stache brainwashing) gets her to give it to him to flip through. He sits down at a table, and naturally (because that's what you do) - he begins to read it out loud, in a quiet low voice - that builds in intensity as he turns the pages. The words he reads are all like:

"and then when the moon is ripe and the sea is in high, the door will open ... and the Old Ones will come through ... and all will flow, and all will cease to be, and all will move and churn and there must be a sacrifice ... there will be a sacrifice ... and then ... as has been decreed ... the Old Ones will rise again ..."

Total gibberish, new age gibberish - but Wilbur (Stockwell) is obviously enthralled. Watching Dean Stockwell sit in that library, reading those words out loud like a creepy incantation, has become one of the primary joys of my life. He has all these thick rings on his hand - with weird squiggles on them (what does it mean???) - and his shoulders are narrow in his little corduroy jacket - and he looks sort of normal, yet there is something OFF about this Wilbur. Is he attractive? Sandra Dee seems to think so. She murmurs to her friend, "Did you see his eyes?"

Uhm - how could you miss them with closeups like this one?

Dude. Step back. Learn boundaries.

Thanks.

So the movie is tons of fun. There are gloriously campy moments (Stockwell speaking some ancient "language", while holding his Ogam-stone rings up beside his head Ha!!! Love it, love it, love it, love it... Sandra Dee writhing almost naked on some Druidic altar as Stockwell places the sacred book in between her legs - to do his incantations - naked witchy hippie types running through fields in dream-esque sequences that are supposed to be horrifying yet end up looking just mildly amusing and vaguely erotic - lots of intense closeups of people looking evil or suspicious. Also there has to be the creepiest house in history. Wilbur takes Sandra Dee there for a "date" - and seriously, if some dude took me into his house, and it looked like that one, I'd run for the hills as quickly as I could.

Oh, some interesting trivia:

Curtis Hanson (you know, LA Confidential) wrote the screen play.

And Talia Shire is in it. This is pre-Rocky. She has a small part but it's always cool to see someone on the cusp of great fame. She has no idea what's going to happen in her career in the next decade, and it's going to be something else!!

Stockwell's great in the movie. One of the things he has said about it that I really liked was this:

He loves HP Lovecraft, so he was really psyched to be involved with the film. Very early on, though, he realized: Okay. This isn't exactly the movie I thought it would be. This ISN'T really about Lovecraft's story.

So what did he do? He adjusted how he played the part. He gave up the movie he wanted to be in, and accepted the movie he was in. He said he played the whole thing in a "tongue-in-cheek" manner - because that was the overall TONE of the movie. This is a very very smart move - and surprisingly difficult. I can think of examples of my own life where I had to give up my idea of what I WISHED was happening - and just go wtih what was actually happening. To quote one of my acting teachers in college, "It may not be the show you want, but it's the show you got."

I was in a version of The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man in the Moon Marigolds - and at the time, it was one of my favorite plays ever - and I had got the part I wanted. Tillie! The lead! So exciting! Dream come true! And very early on in the rehearsal process (one of the worst I can remember) it became apparent that ... well, I was gonna have to give up my fantasy of being in that play I loved so much ... because of certain factors I won't go into (the woman playing my mother, ahem) - It was NOT Zindel's play because that actress refused to play her role in the manner in which it was written. She used to go off stage and vomit. That was how big her antipathy was to the material. She REFUSED to play a bad mother, and basically - that's what the whole play was about. It was a devastating experience for me - a huge disappointment - but my acting teacher's maxim "it may not be the show you want, but it's the show you got" really came in handy.

The Dunwich Horror was a campy movie, with 'scary' moments, and an infrared "monster" raging through the woods, and lots of nudity and dream-sequence orgies (again, they're supposed to look scary but they actually end up looking really fun) ... and Stockwell went with the movie he was IN, rather than his fantasy of what the movie SHOULD have been.

And the tongue-in-cheek manner in which he plays that part is delicious.

It's one of his funnest performances.

There's a scene where his grandfather dies (his nutso bearded grandfather who wanders around the haunted house like a wraith - holding a huge stick) - and Wilbur and the Sandra Dee character go to the local graveyard to bury him. But because he was a Whateley - a hated entity in the town - the funeral is busted up by townsfolk who refuse to have a pagan madman be buried near their Christian relatives. But before the townsfolk show up - Wilbur goes through his pagan rituals, and guys? Seriously. I watch Stockwell with the little mortar and pestle, and his big shiny knife, and his chunky rings - he is also wearing a black cape - and he does these swoopy motions with the knife over the gravesite, saying things like, "Ick. Nick. Ick." Or whatever - gibberish - but you know it means something to Wilbur. Anyway, I watch him - and I am in love with him. I love actors. There is something beautiful about a job well done, even in a B-movie such as this one. There's dignity in it - and I love it.

Then at the end, Sandra Dee is all naked on the altar - she's gonna be a virgin sacrifice - or - it's going to be a Rosemary's Baby type situation - where some Beelzebub creature from the 9th dimension enters our world and impregnates her - or maybe it's like The Astronaut's Wife ... anyway, and Stockwell, in his stupid cape and his cheeseball mustache, walks around the altar - holding his hands up beside his face, knuckles facing out - so his rings are ... what ... facing the heavens? And he's shouting gibberish incantations into the wind ...

And I watch such scenes and think, "I have never been so happy. This is hysTERical."

Doing Hamlet is awesome. The classics are there for us, to challenge us, and to be embodied, generation after generation.

But something like The Dunwich Horror also has its place - and it's a blast. I highly recommend it.

Some screenshots below.

The freakin' rings.

Dude, I thought I told you to learn boundaries.

run for the hills, Sandra!!

The 'stache. In all its nasty glory.

That's such a Stockwell expression.

Run!!!

Up to the Altar of New-Age Death and Virgin Sacrifice.

You vill climb up on ze altar, you vill take off your clothes, and you vill soon feel very very sleepy ...

Here's a quote from Dean Stockwell:

"The best thing in The Dunwich Horror is a scene towards the end, where the guy takes the girl up and sticks her on the altar and does these incantations. It was indicated in the script that he opens his shirt. In Lovecraft's story, there's an indication that he has very weird stuff on his skin. So, I arranged to have a friend of mine, George Herms, a fine artist, paint my chest. He came down to the set and spent four hours in the morning, doing what looks like runic hieroglyphics, all on my chest. Those stand out when I open up my shirt and you see all these weird calligraphies on my body."

I love that that was his idea.

And here is part of the scene at the graveyard I mentioned above. I just love him. He's an actor, playing a part, he is behaving ridiculously serious ... but he's not at all condescending to the material. If that makes sense. Stockwell is not "slumming" in this movie. "Tongue in cheek" doesn't mean condescending - it means a certain attitude towards style. Wilbur Whateley (Dean Stockwell) is DEADLY SERIOUS as he does this stupid ritual, with runes, and dust, and shiny knives, while wearing a flowing black cape. I adore it. And look at Sandra Dee in the background, all concerned and womanly. Hilarious.

I just ... come on. Look at that. It's hysterical.

Those damn rings again.

Uh oh.

I have no words for how much I love that shot.

Oh whatever, I'm just wearing a black cape, reading my book, which just happens to be resting on your mons veneris, as you writhe about on an altar. Yeah, same ol' same ol' for me.

Wilbur, man, you gotta cut it out with that ring gesture. It's gettin' kinda old. ChillAX, bro!

I wouldn't look so cocky, Wilbur. Things are NOT going to end well for you, my friend.

All Stockwell stuff here

The Books: "Are You Anybody?: An Actor's Life" (Bradford Dillman)

Next book on my "entertainment biography" shelf:

Are You Anybody?: An Actor's Life, by Bradford Dillman

One of the side effects of being obsessed with Dean Stockwell is that you suddenly find yourself needing (yes, needing) to buy the autobiography of Bradford Dillman, who starred with Stockwell in 1959's Compulsion (a movie I wrote about here) - just in case Stockwell was mentioned Dillman and Stockwell were not friends. As a matter of fact, they didn't get along. Stockwell had done the play on Broadway with Roddy McDowall (post about that here) - and McDowall was not asked to do the film (not because he wasn't good, but because the studio had a contractual obligation to Dillman, so they put HIM in the project) - and apparently Stockwell was, how you say, less than gracious to this interloper!! (In a beautiful moment of dovetailing narratives, McDowall, years and years later, would play a part on Quantum Leap in the final season ... when Al is threatened, by a moment in his past, to no longer be in charage of the project in the future ... and suddenly Roddy McDowall shows up to help Sam Beckett - played by Scott Bakula - and Bakula is like, "Where's Al???")

But is a small connection between Stockwell and Dillman any reason to buy an entire book, Sheila?? Well, yes, it is. Obsession follows its own pathways. Just find a used copy on Amazon for 20 cents and grab that sucker up.

I think Compulsion is terrific (not perfect, but a terrific psychological thriller, quite daring in the context of its day) - and while I think Stockwell far outshines Dillman (who does a lot of maniacal laughing - "indicating" that he is crazy) - somehow the pair ends up working. There's a scene where Orson Welles interviews the two boys after they have been arrested. Stockwell is chain-smoking, pacing in the small cell - but it's not "actor" pacing. It's not cliche. He is pacing because he has so much nervous energy that he must move. He's cranky. Welles asks questions that seem to imply that Stockwell's character might, uhm, not be into girls (it's 1959, so it's subtle and coded ..."No girls?") ... and Stockwell is sliced open, psychologically, in that moment. Meanwhile, sitting over on the windowsill, is Dillman, at first cocky and assured, and you can already feel how the boys are separating ... Dillman's character leaving Stockwell's out to dry. "Sure, I've got alibis ..." croons Dillman. So while some of Dillman's work here seems "showy" to me, and unnecessarily so, it ends up working for the character. He's also a "showoff" - that's his whole thing. He's a big phony, a liar, a con artist, and a manipulator. One of those Ivy League boys who had everything handed to them ... and so, because things were so easy, he ends up having contempt for the whole world. Dillman really does play that well. I think Stockwell is riveting, however ... and acts Dillman off the screen.

(If you haven't seen Compulsion, I highly recommend it.)

I bought Dillman's autobiography on this slim-pickins basis. But it's actually a hoot. I loved it.

Dillman has 3 kids, was married to the same woman for 40 years (an actress - who passed away a couple of years ago), and - very much like his character in Compulsion was being bred for upper-class greatness when he horrified his family by deciding he wanted to be an actor. Like so many other people at that time (early to mid 50s) he gravitated towards the Actors Studio. That was the place to be. It was the kind of work that everyone wanted to do now. Everyone wanted to be Brando. It seemed like if you took 1 or 2 classes with Lee Strasberg, perhaps you could BE Brando?? No? Maybe?? But it was also a place to study, to get serious about your craft outside of the public glare, to stretch yourself, etc. etc. Dillman was no dummy. He knew it was the place to be.

He had his big break on Broadway, where he appeared as Eugene Tyrone in O'Neill's Long Day's Journey Into Night (a very famous production, with Jason Robards and Fredric March). Another weird Stockwell connection: when the play was finally filmed, Dean Stockwell played Eugene, the role Bradford Dillman had originated on Broadway. Ouch. But regardless, that was a big big moment for Dillman - in 1956 - being in this huge hit show, that won accolades left and right, prizes, literary and theatrical - the production was a sensation. Fredric March (who played James Tyrone) took Dillman under his wing a bit, mentoring him, teaching him about the business. And Dillman's career was off and running.

He was being groomed for stardom - but as so often happens in this life - he didn't quite make it. His "star" slipped very quickly. He had been in big important projects, and then a couple of years later ... not so much ... However, Dillman kept working, and was involved in some pretty cool films (look him up!) as well as appearing in guest spots on every television show known to man. He had a recurring role on Falcon Crest, for example. Dillman's career was LONG. I love guys like Bradford Dillman. They're the ones who were "disappointed", by perhaps not becoming as famous as their peers ... but who kept at it. I know so many people like that, and it's truly inspiring to me. Stockwell was one of them for many years. He has famous as a child, famous as a young man - and then dropped so completely off the radar as a man in his 30s and 40s that he finally moved to Taos and got his real estate license. Couldn't make a living. He didn't count on David Lynch resurrecting his career, and he didn't count on being more famous at the age of 50 than he ever was as a little kid. Love that! Dillman remained good-looking and dapper, perfect for shows like Murder She Wrote and Love Boat, and despite his good looks there was always something a little bit ... sketch about him ... which worked in his favor. It worked in his favor early in his career (that character in Compulsion is the epitome of "sketch") and it worked in his favor later. He could play the dashing shallow man accused of murdering his wife, and you thought, yeah, that guy probably did it, and he'll probably get away with it. You can have a nice career playing things like that!

Now let's talk about his book. There probably isn't one serious word in it. Sometimes it feels like he's writing a How-To book for young actors. He dispenses advice on how to deal with criticism, or how to concentrate on a busy movie set ... and yet at the same time, it's NOT an advice book, it's also just a long compilation of funny anecdotes about his famous co-stars ... So it's a mixed bag. But some of his anecdotes are so hysterical ... and you still get the sense that Dillman was like, "Can you believe how lucky I was that I got to work with so-and-so???" Not in an obnoxious way, but like a little kid gets excited. I find that kind of non-seriousness very refreshing, and also, as I've mentioned, I'm a sucker for an awesome anecdote.

For example, he recounts this famous anecdote, one of my favorites in Hollywood lore:

In The Greatest Story Ever Told [John] Wayne was cast as a Roman captain who visits the scene of the Crucifixion and says, standing at the feet of Christ, "Truly this was the son of God."

Director George Stevens was riding a crane when the actor stepped in for a take. Wayne said, "TrulythiswasthesonaGod."

"Cut. Duke, let's remember you're talking about Jesus here. You might want to take the speech a bit slower."

"You got it, George."

Take Two. The Centurion says, "Truly. ThiswasthesonaGod."

"Cut. Duke, not reverent enough. Let's try it again, and this time give us a little awe."

"You got it, George."

Take Three. The superstar says, "Aw, truly. ThiswasthesonaGod."

Now why Dillman is relating this anecdote that has nothing to do with him is unclear to me. The book is full of stuff like that. It seems to me that he is relaying the story because it pleases him, and I don't know, seems like a good enough reason to me.

So although there is little to no Stockwell in Dillman's book, I had a lot of fun reading it. You'll see why in the CHATTY excerpt below.

First of all, he relates one of my favorite anecdotes ever about Robert Mitchum, and he also relates a story about Orson Welles. Neither Stockwell nor Dillman had good things to say about Welles' behavior (his acting is another story) ... by that point in his life, Welles was a big mess in terms of his personal life, could only work on certain days on the month because he couldn't be in America for longer than that time due to tax problems ... so he would sweep in, be a total nightmare, sweep out, leaving everyone to ... clean up, basically. Stockwell, who had been in the business forever by that point, although he was a young man, always felt that kind of bullying was unnecessary. There was always a trickster element to Welles ... and you can see it operate here, in a less than benign manner.

If you like a gossipy book (well written), full of anecdotes about all the greats - with little to no segue between anecdotes - they serve no POINT, they are just amusing stories... I would recommend Are You Anybody? It's a lot of fun.

Oh, the places you've led me, Dean Stockwell.

EXCERPT FROM Are You Anybody?: An Actor's Life, by Bradford Dillman

For the past fifty years Robert Mitchum has been captivating filmgoers with his sleepy demeanor. He was the first actor to be jailed for marijuana, and it's no state secret he's enjoyed a cocktail or two in his time. But his toughness is no pose.

Before beginning a film with him, Henry Hathaway, a director acknowledged as a card-carrying sadist, felt impelled to explain himself.

"Listen, Mitch," he said. "I got this thing. Sometimes I get a little excited, call actors names and cuss them, but I want you to know it's nothing personal. It's just me."

"I hear you, Henry," Mitchum replied. "I know how it is. I've got this thing, too. See, whenever somebody calls me names or cusses me out, I haul off and bust him in the mouth. Nothing personal. It's just me."

Yet few know what an intelligent, articulate man Mitchum is, how charming he can be. He's also a prankster. When I worked with him on location in Hong Kong, our director was hearing-impaired. In the briefcase used for transporting his script he carried several hearing aid battery replacements. We'd rehearsed a scene in an office, we were doing Take One, I'd fed Mitch his cue, when he mouthed his response. No sound.

"Cut." The director was pounding his ear. "Damn," he said, removing the device, opening his briefcase to install a fresh battery. "Okay, let's go again."

Take Two. I give the cue, Mitch mouths his line.

"Cut." The director pounding his ear anew. "Who makes these things, anyway?"

It took four takes for him to realize he'd been victimized by an imp.

The imp struck again during a scene in the lobby of the Hotel Peninsula, he and I seated at a table. Normally spectators keep a respectful distance as they observe the moviemaking process, but a blonde plumper spilling out of her pink pants suit couldn't restrain herself. Between takes she rushed over and did a five-minute number on how Robert Mitchum ruled her life, how jealous he made her husband, how her friends teased her about her crush. It went on and on, the actor grunting occasionally before pretending to nod off.

The lady's moving lips were right in his ear when Mitch jolted awake. Feigning shock, he thundered, "Suck what?"

**

Orson Welles was a genius. In my judgment Citizen Kane is the greatest motion picture ever made, and I told him so. Its innovations will be copied by filmmakers to the end of time. He transformed the medium forever.

Welles' experience in radio taught him to "hear" a scene. When he directed he was as much conductor as filmmaker, asking his actors to overlap one another in such a way that only pertinent dialogue emerged. Out of seeming confusion he created clarity.

Orson was also a creative bully. I worked with him twice, in Compulsion and in a movie where he, Juliette Greco and I each played two roles. It's called Crack in the Mirror.

During our weeks doing Compulsion, Orson was cordial and helpful, but evidently he neither anticipated nor appreciated that Dean Stockwell and I would earn critical acclaim to equal his.

When we began shooting Crack In the Mirror in Paris he was laying for me. The plot involves a love triangle at two levels. The first is a wealthy older barrister whose wife is having an affair with an ambitious young lawyer. The second is an older laborer whose wife is having an affair with a young punk. After the latter two conspire and kill the laborer, they are prosecuted and defended by the upper-crust attorneys.

The dual roles required special makeup. As the lawyer my hair was sprayed blond. As the punk I inserted plugs to expand my nostrils and my hair was ironed into tight dark curls. Orson noted the difference daily; depending on the schedule, he either called me "Blondie" or "Curley". More than once he ruffled the carefully sprayed hair or ironed curls in what was purportedly a good-natured gesture. But it required time to repair.

Orson did his own makeup, working from a makeup box that must have dated back to his days at the Mercury Theater. Inside he had all his paints and putty noses, an unsanitary mixture that caused my fastidious makeup artist to sniff and whisper, "C'est une boucherie." A butcher shop.

One early morning, seated side by side in makeup, Orson remarked, "You seem damn cheerful this morning."

"Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I'm pumped up. My wife's arriving from California today."

Orson put down his powder brush to study me. "You're kidding. You're married?"

"Sure."

He snorted.

"What about it?"

"Well," he said. "No offense. I always thought you were a fag."

I looked to see if he was joking.

He wasn't.

I gave some sort of light-hearted response but I was badly upset. My stomach churning, I went downstairs to the soundstage. As I walked on the set it hit me: I was about to play my most important scene in the movie.

And he knew it.

More than a courtesy, it's important when doing coverage on a scene that an actor give off-camera dialogue to the person performing his close-up. The eye contact is essential. On opening day Welles demonstrated his despite by waving me away. "Stand over there," he directed. "Get me a gobo." A lighting stanchion was set in my place. Unseen, I fed him his cues.

But bullies are usually cowards, and Orson was no exception. I cherish Darryl Zanuck's story about sitting with Welles in a restaurant, listening to an ongoing diatribe about the injustices done the director by some studio executive, how much he hated the man, what he'd do to the swine if he ever saw him again. A waiter interrupted to present a card. It was from this selfsame executive, inviting Zanuck to join his table for a drink. A feisty, combative man, Darryl showed Welles the card, then went over to the table, listed a bottle of champagne from its bucket and doused the villain with its contents. Triumphant, he turned to Orson for applause.

Welles had vacated the premises.

**

Frequently, live TV shows were rehearsed in a ballroom on the lower East side, a few doors away from Ratner's, an outstanding Jewish restaurant. When I was rehearsing There Shall Be No Night I ate there almost every noon.

I was impersonating the son of Charles Boyer, one of the most charming men I ever knew. Tempted as he was, Charles would never agree to join e for lunch because he was fearful of being recognized. As Gallic sex symbol he'd had some unfortunate brushes with overheated ladies.

One day I had an idea. "Charles, if you'll forgive a rude suggestion, I think you'd be perfectly safe to join me if you'd, ah, leave your hairpiece behind."

He must have been hungry because he wasn't offended. Instead he put the toupee aside and we marched arm in arm over to Ratner's, where we were seated at a table in the middle of the room. Delighted with the menu, Charles ordered a sequence of specialties, beginning with the chicken soup. He was delighted, too, that his disguise was so successful no one had given him a second look. I was congratulating myself when I glanced over his shoulder to see a large, beaming woman rush across the room, homing in on him from behind. Charles was about to bring matzohs to his mouth when she crushed him in a linebacker's embrace, causing the spoon to fly, inundating him with soup.

Hugging him, she cooed, "Cholly, Cholly. Take me to the Kezbah!"

**

Before he became an actor Burt Reynolds was a stuntman. In his early TV series he liked to be seen participating in a lot of action because it was what he did best. In those days, he wasn't much of an actor. But as one series led to the next he became more confident, more magnetic.

I was a guest on what he thought would be his swan song, present the day his show Dan August was canceled by the network. "That's it," said Burt. "I'm dead. This is the third horse I've had shot out from under me. I'm history."

The problem was, he'd never been given the chance to flaunt his sense of humor. But after he posed for a male centerfold and appeared on all the talk shows to jest about it, he built a whole new career as a lovable, laughable guy.

The Cool School, dir. Morgan Neville

Last night I went to see The Cool School, a documentary about the LA modern art scene (which was pretty near non-existent) in the 50s and 60s. And a group of artists, mostly male - it was a very macho atmosphere - created a "scene" from scratch. The Cool School examines how this happened. There were a couple of key figures - Irving Blum, Walter Hopps - they were the visionaries, the ones who made it happen. They were facilitators. They worked on multiple levels: they knew they had to give space to the artists, and have great shows, great publicity - but they also needed to cultivate the collectors, or potential collectors - who might be living in the Los Angeles area at that time. One doesn't need to cultivate collectors in a city like New York City, or Paris. The collectors are already there. But Los Angeles in the 50s was a wasteland, artistically - at least in terms of an art scene. Los Angeles is a one-industry town, and it was difficult to get any support or recognition if you were not in the film business. New York had no interest in what was going on in Los Angeles, and the major national magazines, like Newsweek, didn't have art sections - so if you lived in Los Angeles, and you loved art - you were screwed, at least in terms of what might be going on. This has all changed now, of course - and Los Angeles is a major art town. There was a QA with director Morgan Neville after the movie, and he said he was speaking to one of the artists in the film - who teaches at Cal Arts ... and that artist said that 20 years ago he told his students that if they wanted to have any success in the art world, they should move to New York when they graduated. And now he tells them to stay in Los Angeles, there's plenty going on there, galleries, museums, and also national coverage. One of the theses of Cool School is that the vibrant (and wealthy) art world in Los Angeles now was born in the scrappy days of the 1950s, when a bunch of bohemians, living in Venice, started showing their work in storefront galleries, competing with one another, making each other push harder ... and that is a forgotten, and yet very major, chapter in American art history. Morgan Neville, the director, said that as he started doing research for the film, he thought to himself, "Surely there has to be a book about these guys, and that time, and the Ferus Gallery ..." and was amazed to find that there wasn't. (Now there will be. A coffee table book is coming out, a companion piece to the film - so that's an awesome start.)

By the end of the 1960s, art had become sexy and fashionable. Andy Warhol had something to do with that. Suddenly, you would go to art openings and there would be heiresses and people in Chanel strolling around. The same evolution happened out in Los Angeles. In the late 50s, early 60s, the galleries were storefronts, on hidden streets ... out of the way ... and they would have shows and nobody would come. Nobody with money, anyway. You don't want to have an art show where ONLY beatniks and students come! The Ferus Gallery, run by Walter Hopps and Irving Blum, opened on La Cienega Boulevard - and they cultivated a small group of artists (all of whom are still working today - the ones who are alive, I mean) - and set out to draw the wealthy of Los Angeles to their shows. They brought Andy Warhol out for his first show - the "soup can" show. It was not a smashing success. Only 4 pieces were sold. (Irving Blum then bought them back and bought the entire collection - because he felt they were all of a piece. And now, of course, they are worth millions and millions of dollars.) It is only in retrospect that the soup can show can be seen as major.

The Cool School is put together with terrific home movies of the time, and amazing photographs - of all of the guys at work and at play. There was awesome historical information as well, about Los Angeles as a town, and its development. Anyone interested in California as a whole should definitely see this film. It reminded me a bit of Robert Towne's obsession with Los Angeles, and water, and culture ... it is one of the driving forces of his artistic life. The artists themselves were such characters - each with their own passion, interest ... and because Los Angeles was so isolated, in terms of an art world, many of these artists developed their work in a vacuum. Yet, as so often happens, what they were doing in Venice Beach was being done all over the world: collages, assemblage, using found objects ... the whole American abstract expressionist movement. Yet the artists in the film had a specifically Los Angeles feel to their work, and I found that fascinating. These guys were car freaks, and surfer bums - in a way that artists in New York would never be, because the culture is totally different. So the Los Angeles artists were incorporating lots of new materials - chrome, and plastic ... You can tell these guys loved cars when you look at their work. I love their stuff.

The editing of the documentary was wonderful. For example, as the "character" of Walter Hopps was introduced, we saw photographs of him from that time. He looked like one of the guys from mission control in Apollo 13: white shirt, tie, cleancut, glasses with thick black rims. He was (at least in appearance) the epitome of "square". Totally unlike the biker surfer aesthetic of the artists. Hopps, of course, was crazier than all of them, and just as brilliant - in the way he created an art scene. If you wanted to be an artist in Los Angeles in the 1950s, you had to know Walter Hopps. And one by one, each of the artists was interviewed about Hopps and they all said the same thing - and it was so funny the way it was edited: One guy said, "We all thought he was CIA." Next guy, "I assumed he was in the CIA." Next guy: "It seemed like he must have been CIA or FBI ..."

Another example of this artfully done editing is when Irving Blum was introduced. He was the one who taught Los Angeles about art, basically. He was the one who sought out potential collectors - young couples who had a lot of money, who wanted to build up their private collections, but didn't even know where to start, in the wasteland of LA at that time. Irving Blum found those people. And many of them were interviewed for the documentary, and they strolled around their gorgeous houses, showing their collections, much of which was bought at that crucial time - end of 50s, early 60s. And Irving Blum was a handsome cleancut guy with a bit of a dazzle to him. He was all about the illusion of success. For example, he was on a street and there was a gleaming Rolls Royce parked on the sidewalk - and he had his friend take pictures of him standing by the Rolls Royce, as though he owned it. If you're going to run an art gallery, you had better be at home with rich people. Blum was not rich at that time (although, boy, he is now) - so he went about creating an illusion that he was wealthy. He spoke in a very specific way, and again - one artist after another said the same thing. It was so amazing and funny the way it was put together - 6 artists in a row, 7, said the same thing: "He spoke kind of like Cary Grant." "His accent was like Cary Grant's." "He sort of looked like Cary Grant." "I heard him speak and I thought, 'Is that Cary Grant?'"

It's that kind of detailed editing that makes a documentary, in my opinion. Because the topic may be interesting - but if the format is not compelling, and if the film doesn't, in some way, comment upon the topic - it's not a successful documentary. The spliced-together interviews of all of the artists is a great example of how to do it. They are all fierce individuals, macho to this day, tough tough guys, competitive ... and yet there were these similarities in their experience of that time. The editing of those sequences was very effective.

I mainly went to see the film because Dean Stockwell and Dennis Hopper are both interviewed (and it was a dual interview, they were in the same room at the same time, chomping away on their cigars, answering questions). Hopper and Stockwell finish each other's sentences like an old married couple. The two of them were highly involved in the LA art scene at that time, the whole beatnik generation - and having seen Stockwell's stuff in person - you can feel the influences emanating from his work. Wallace Berman was a main influence - the collages and assemblages ... Berman was a big character in the film. His show at the Ferus was closed - due to "obscenity" and he was arrested. It was his first and only solo show. His stuff is fantastic.

The film is interesting on multiple levels. It was a part of American art history that I did not know. And also, it was great to get to know all of these people, many of whom are still alive. You can see how their work developed - how one guy started paring down his work so much that he ended up only working in light. One guy pushed his work to the limit using plastics - futuristic stuff, sleek, cool, vibrant colors. It's a great story, an important part of our national culture - and I'm glad the story is being told.

The QA was great, afterwards. The theatre was very small, maybe 70 or 80 seats, and they were all filled. The questions were thought-provoking, curious, intense ... about the topic, about Neville's influences - and what drew him to the story, and also about the artists themselves - a fascinating group of alpha males!

Highly recommended.

Quantum Leap: Season 1, Ep. 4: "How the Tess Was Won" - Part 1

LEAP INTO: August 5, 1956

Tess: If there's a man on this ranch who can keep up with me for one week - I'll marry him.

Sam Beckett leaps out of boxer Kid Cody in the 1970s and into "Doc" Daniel Young, a vet on a huge Texas ranch in the 1950s. He leaps into a muddy moment in a corral, where he is in the midst of wrestling with a squealing unhappy piglet.

(Had to break this one up into a two-parter! Here's part 1! Part 2 is below this post)

EPISODE 4: HOW THE TESS WAS WON - Part 1

As with any hour-long television show (especially one such as Quantum Leap - which is not really cumulative, and each episode has its own world and story and characters) - the writing has to be really efficient. Get to it. Don't dilly-dally. Who - what - where - why - when. GO. "How the Tess Was Won" starts, as I said, with Sam holding a squealing pig in a muddy paddock. Naturally he doesn't know who he is, where he is ... so every episode is a game of catch-up, for him (the script of this episode addresses explicitly some of the questions I've always had - like: how does he know where his character lives? What do you do when a character who obviously knows you, and knows you well, does not reveal his name to you? How do you get him to say it? Or someone else to say it? How do you "act like" you are this guy and you know your way around your own life?) But on a larger level, the writers of Quantum Leap, I think, were truly expert in this regard - because, in a way, we all, as viewers, were Sam - with each episode. He's our way in. We are as baffled as he is. We look around us at the new landscape - just 2 seconds ago we were in a boxing ring in Sacramento ... and now ... well, this ain't Sacramento no more. The writers waste no time in helping us out. It's efficient - but rarely simplistic! Quantum Leap was different from other series in that every episode needed a tiny bit of exposition. We almost start from scratch, each time. There aren't the same old characters that we can get comfortable with ... no. We are introduced to a new batch of people each time.

In "How The Tess Was Won", we become immediately aware that an argument is going on between a man and a woman on the outskirts of the muddy area Sam is in. We get their names: Tess. Chance. But then Chance says something about, "Your mother, God rest her soul ... she would have raised you right ..." and you realize that Chance is her father. She just calls him by his first name (which is so hysterical and perfect once you get to know Tess better. Of course she wouldn't call him "Dad", which would imply that, in some way, he was better than her ... because HE WAS A MAN!) In this short exchange we learn everything: Tess is played by the spunky and not-quite-beautiful-but-awful-darn-cute Kari Lizer. She's got wild blonde hair, she wears no makeup, chaps, denim shirts, and when she gets dressed up for church later, she looks like an alien in human clothing. Tess wearing a sun hat and a pretty Sunday dress? No. She's a fierce tomboy. Perfectly cast. (She's an interesting actress. She's become a successful television producer as well, nominated for 4 Emmys for Will & Grace).

So in the first 30 seconds of this episode we learn that:

-- Tess is the owner of Riata - a 50,000 acre ranch in Texas. Or - she's an heiress, let's say that. When Chance dies, it will go to her.

-- Tess refuses to get married. Chance pleads with her. She is ornery. He is afraid that the ranch will be too much for her on her own. She bristles at that. She's yelling and carrying on. Chance is patient, reasonable - in the face of her freak-out.

-- Tess hates even the IDEA that she has to be married in order to be a legitimate ranch owner. It certainly wouldn't be the case if she were a MAN. So no. She will not act "like a mare" ... she will live her life as though she was a man. "I never was much for sashaying and swooning," she declares.

-- Chance says the line about Tess' mother. Says, "She'd have made a woman out of you, and not a cowboy." Tess fires back, "Why can't I be both?" Chance roars, "It ain't natural!"

-- Besides - who would she marry? She waves her hands at all the staring cowhands - and by the tone of her voice, we can tell that while they may be good cowboys, they are no great shakes as potential husbands. She says to Chance, "Any man I marry has to be more of a man than I am." She is convinced that no one on the ranch can out-ride, out-brand, out-rope, out-anything her. And you know what? She's probably right. Then she makes her fateful statement to Chance, "If there's one man on this ranch who can keep up with me for a week, I'll marry him." Uh-oh, Tess. You can't go back on that now! A REAL man can't take back a promise! Chance takes her up on the challenge and tells her to pick a man for the contest. Just to be ornery probably, because she doesn't really want to get married (although, at the end, there's a bit of a twist in our understanding of her emotional life - which is really nice, handled really well) - she points her finger at poor bewildered muddy Sam, still holding the pig, and states, "Doc."

This causes a brou-haha. There's one particular cowboy who seems bummed about it (he's played by the wonderful and handsome Marshall Teague - still working constantly - he's fantastic) - but you know, they're all cowboys. They play their cards close to the chest.

Sam, not quite realizing yet what he has gotten himself into, remains oblivious and, well, frightened of the pigs around him. He's NOT a vet. He doesn't know what the hell he is supposed to be doing with these pigs. It becomes obvious that Doc is treated with bemused tolerance by the cowboys. He's a creature of fun to them, but they aren't mean. I'm reading the Master & Commander series now - and it reminds me a bit of the way Dr. Maturin is treated by the sailors - when he asks questions, or how he climbs the ladder into the boat - it totally reveals that he doesn't know anything about sea life - and they laugh at him, and condescend to him, but they also have great fondness for him. They love him. It's a similar dynamic here.

Sam, who always has that dual struggle going on (how do I "act like" I'm this man - whoever he is, and also "what am I here to do so I can just DO IT and then LEAP") - agrees to the contest, without really understanding what he is agreeing to. He's afraid to make any big moves, or (to use improv terminology) "say No" to anything - he's in the middle of a perpetual improv game, where he must always "say Yes" (Mick Napier notwithstanding) and then figure it out later.

Sam agrees to the ridiculous contest and then gets into the nearby jeep (how does he know it's his??) and drives off. Now, regardless of whether or not we ask the question: How does he know which way to drive?? - I just have to point out (for the 100th time in this Quantum Leap series) - the superior quality of the production design and the cinematography. This is high-end stuff, the series looks really high-end to me - like a mini-movie every week. The cinematographer and the director had Sam get into his rickety jeep and drive off, through this spectacular pioneer wilderness - and we get a long shot of the jeep, with the dust rising behind it - and suddenly, like a miracle, a flock of birds rises, something we had not discerned before (there were birds there?) - and their launching into flight, as one, is just a beautiful effect - accidental, of course, to some degree (one cannot control a flock of birds) - and I don't know how they "planned" that accident to happen - but however it occurred, I am truly glad it did. Because look at it. It's just beautiful.

Moments like that is what elevated this series into something quite special. The acting of the two leads did so as well, but their work was greatly served by the specificity and beauty of the design around them. All hands on deck for a big round of applause. Television is a collaboration. Shots like that are the result.

Now comes the bit where we get, really, the first voiceover from Sam where he tells us what it is like for him, during these leaps - how does he find his way home? In this case, he has remembered his last name, and that he is a vet, and so he sees a mailbox labeled Young DVM - and he knows - Okay. I live here.

When he arrives at his house, there's a young man, maybe 15 or 16 years old, sitting on his front porch, strumming a guitar. I have to say, he looks vaguely familiar. This is the set-up for one of the most famous "Kisses with History" that Quantum Leap had - and, for my taste, the most successful. In my experience, many of the brushes with actual historical events in Quantum Leap, take away from the actual STORY. I'm not wacky about a lot of them. They seem unnecessary. I can see how it would be hard to resist - but many times, you don't need it. The fact that Sam has jumped in time is enough weirdness, you don't need to add to it - by having him inadvertently cause the Watergate break-in by leaving a door unlocked (and etc. etc.) The "Kisses With History" did evolve, as the show went on - "How the Tess Was Won" was in the first season, after all, when they were still finding their way ... and many of the later episodes in later seasons either have no Kisses With History - or they go right for the jugular, like having Sam leap into Lee Harvey Oswald - which is FAR more compelling, I think. I mean, how many of us haven't thought: Man, if I ran into Mohammad Atta in a dark alley on Sept. 10, 2001, and I knew what he was going to do the next day ... would I kill him?? Or: If I met a lonely Viennese painter named Adolf Hitler in the 1920s and I knew what he was going to do - would I have the courage to just stab him in his sleep? And etc. So that particular Quantum Leap episode (which is a two-parter, if I recall correctly), dives straight into those very human questions - and looks at it, struggles with it, ponders it. That, to me, was very effective. Many of the other "Kisses With History" just felt like tricks. Cheap, in a sense.

But - to make myself clear - I REALLY like the one in "How The Tess Was Won". It's set up as an ongoing joke through the entire episode: what the heck is the name of that boy with the coke-bottle glasses who plays guitar on my porch every day? Why doesn't anyone tell me HIS NAME? And so the payoff at the end is fantastic. It really works.

The kid on the porch is not playing a song we recognize. He's just messing around - and the joke is made clear from the first scene: he sings about whatever he sees at that moment. A chicken walks by, the chicken makes it into the song, etc. He's not really writing songs yet - and again, this will pay off hugely in the last moment of the episode.

Sam gets out of the jeep, muddy, holding the little pig that he is supposed to somehow diagnose - and struggles up the steps, feeling awkward because the kid is talking to him ("I watered the animals - what's wrong with that pig?") - and he doesn't know the kid's name. The kid gets up to leave - and Sam stands there, like a dope, saying, 'So long" - knowing it's awkward that he wouldn't say "So long ________ [whatever your name is, kid"]. As the kid drives off, poor Sam looks up at the sky and says, "Couldn't you provide people with name tags?" A jokey reference to God - (or "fate, or time, or whatever" - they openly acknowledge from the first episode of this series that Sam is NOT in charge of his own leaping - that Al and Ziggy have no idea where he will go next - and that "someone else" seems to be in charge. And you'd have to have seen the entire series all the way to the last episode to get the TRUE payoff of this ongoing theme. That last episode is killer - and it's particularly strange becuase they didn't know it was going to be the last episode when they filmed it. But God, what a perfect perfect way to end this series! But I'll get to that episode when I get to it. In about 2011, at the rate I'm going.)

Al makes his appearance at this moment. He appears on the porch beside Sam, and instead of getting right to business - instead of talking about the leap, and where Sam is, and what Sam is here to do - Al seems more concerned with talking about Tina's tattoo (his girlfriend) - and he has an odd, almost suspicious, air to him. He wants to know if Sam ever saw Tina's tattoo. "But no, you wouldn't have, would you. Because it's on a very private part of her anatomy." Al still seems concerned, though. His main question here is: "Sam. Did you ever see Tina's tattoo???" Which is just so hysterical. Who CARES, Al? You're in the middle of one of the greatest experiments that man has ever known - your friend is leaping through time - and whenever you show up, you start babbling about your personal life back in the future. It is SO funny. And, to my taste, it is THE key to the success of this series. There are many other elements that went in to making it a success - but Al's general vibe of.... irritation at being interrupted from his complicated and eternal domestic dramas ... is such a nice touch. And they kept it going, without making it too much of "a bit". Al is not a do-gooder. Sam is way more of a do-gooder than Al is (although we will find out more about Al as the series goes on). If Al showed up as a passionate do-gooder, the series would have been insufferable. It wouldn't have had the humor it did. And Sam's constant frustration with his friend - like: why on earth is he grilling me about Tina's tattoo when there are other more important issues at hand: like: WHO AM I? WHERE AM I? WHAT WAS THAT KID'S NAME? WHAT IS THIS CONTEST I'VE AGREED TO? - is so funny. The series, in its essence, is about the relationship between these two men. And thank God for it. It grounds the entire enterprise. Aren't the two of them just so watchable together? They have a great dynamic. So back to our episode. Al stands there, as Sam gets out of his muddy pants - on the porch - and Al is acting very strange. (Or, stranger than usual). He seems to feel that Sam has somehow moved in on Tina. Which is totally retarded because Sam is trapped in the past - how on earth could he have made a move on Tina and seen her intimate tattoo? But Al is obsessed. Sam is exasperated and tells Sam that he barely remembers Tina at all - remember that whole "swiss cheese" brain thing? Al relents a bit and then confesses - and there is this funny exchange - which might not seem funny in just the lines themselves - but watch how these two actors play it!!:

Sam: Tina's cheating on you?
Al: Can you believe it?
Sam: It boggles the mind.

Sounds pretty straightforward - but Dean Stockwell and Scott Bakula add layers upon layers to each of their lines - it's a comedy slam-dunk. Al, as usual, is obviously not faithful to Tina (the girlfriend) - which he confesses openly. "At the Christmas party when I took Samantha into the stockroom ....... to .... exchange Christmas presents ...... someone made a move on Tina ..." So, you know, Al doesn't really have a leg to stand on. (Once we know Al's backstory, about the wife he lost, all of these romantic dramas take on a totally poignant aspect - which is rather phenomenal if you think about it. The man is a dog. A DOG. He leads with his cock. But what might be behind that behavior? What is really going on with Al? But I'm already quantum-leaping ahead of myself. All we know now, in Episode 4, is that Al is lecherous, and also kind of has a double-standard: HE can cheat ... but Tina? How DARE she cheat on him?? He's kind of a fragile personality, for all his tough cigar-chomping military-hero brou-haha. I love him. He's totally lovable.)

Sam wanders around Doc's house (oh, and let's notice that there is NOT a "mirror moment" - at least not when we expect there to be one - usually Sam rushes right to a mirror to see what he looks like as this new character - this doesn't happen in "How the Tess Was Won" - Sam is too consumed with trying to cure the pig, and trying to gear up for this cowboy contest thing that's going to happen ... When the mirror moment comes, at the very end, it packs a really nice punch - but I'll talk about that when I get to it.)

There's an office to the side - filled with caged animals - raccoons, bunnies, whatever - Sam goes to the desk (still holding the baby pig, let's remember) and starts trying to diagnose the animal. Al, in his ridiculous spats-like shoes, strolls around the cages, and all of the animals can see him - it is clear, from their responses to him. So animals perceive him. We learn in later episodes that very young children can see him, too. A nice touch, a nice comment on the open-ness and accessibility of children - they don't question it, they see a hologram and think, "Whatever. Who is that nice man with the cigar?"

A quick thing about this scene: Sam rummages around in the fridge, and takes out a baby bottle full of milk - asks Al, over his shoulder, "Do pigs like milk?" Al answers immediately, "They adore it!" Then in a couple of seconds, Sam says, "I wonder what's the matter with him" (meaning: the pig), and Al says, browsing thru the animal cages, "That's a girl pig, Sam." Sam starts to peek between the pig's legs and Al says, exasperated, "Would you please just trust me, Sam?"

Okay, so all of this just makes me laugh. I love how, in this series, Al knows a little bit about everything. You know, pigs like milk. Also, that's obviously a girl pig. But it comes up again and again. Sam shows up in some unfamiliar situation, and Al begins to pontificate, "Yeah, I spent a summer with the circus ... so here's how it works ..." It's a kind of a "bit", not completely realistic - how could one man have had so many different experiences?? - but it totally works. Don't you know people like that? (People who AREN'T obnoxious know-it-alls, I mean - which Al definitely is not). Some people who know "a little bit about everything" like to lord it over other people, and pass themselves off as experts. I can think of some bloggers who fit into this category! But Al isn't like that. He's a man who's lived a full and a diverse life - but even more than that (and this is why, I think, Al is such a sympathetic character - who we don't just admire, but love): there is nothing on earth that Al is not curious about. NOTHING. He may have a skeptical manner, he may get easily distracted by tits and ass, he may have closed off great sections of himself because of the losses he has sustained - but he still remains curious about all of the wonderful and scary and interesting things that life has to offer. It's an awesome quality. Reminds me of the comment Sylvia Beach made about James Joyce: "He told me he had never met a bore." Now it takes a really open mind to look at the rest of the human race that way, to truly experience other people as real, and fascinating (even if they're assholes. Realize that James Joyce did not say "he had never met an asshole". No. He said "he had never met a bore". Even ASSHOLES are interesting). One of my pet peeves in life are people who are "over it". People who are perpetually bored - because they have "been there, done that, seen that". I have cut such people out of my life - because I know a couple - I cannot bear that attitude. I experience it as actually toxic, or harmful to my own equilibrium. Anyway, that's neither here nor there - I'm just expressing what it is about Al that I find so admirable, and lovable. His inability to be UN-interested in things. Even when he's not interested in the leap in question, he's always interested in his own personal life. He is always engaged. And that, my God, is a quality I wish I could bottle, and sell to others. Beautiful, isn't it? Dean Stockwell embodies it perfectly.

Sam tries to get Al to focus. And you can tell that Al hasn't even thought about the leap. He hasn't run any numbers. He hasn't pondered why Sam has landed in Texas, and not somewhere else. Al has shown up here basically to confide in Sam his fears about Tina's infidelity. hahahaha So Sam, feeding the pig milk, asks, "Why am I here, Al?" Al snaps back to business, "Oh ... right ... uhm ... let me look at the numbers ..." Al says that there is a 72% chance that Sam is here to cure the pig. Sam doesn't think that's it. He says, "I thought I was here to marry Tess." Al looks confused - who the heck is Tess? How can I be expected to keep all these characters straight when my own personal life is so all-consuming?? Al hasn't even run any numbers on Tess. So he starts to do so - with his trusty hand-set thing (I love how he has to give it a good whack on the side on occasion, in order to jolt it back into commission).

Sam, sitting at the desk, comes across a huge scrapbook, and starts to look through it. He is stunned at what he finds. It's a scrapbook devoted to Tess. Pictures, clippings, piles of memorabilia. There's a notebook, too - a diary. Sam wrestles with himself a bit about whether or not to read it - it seems like an invasion of privacy. But Al says, "You ARE Doc, Sam ... read the diary." So it turns out that Doc Young has been pouring out his heart into his diary for years - about his love for Tess. He has loved her for years, ever since the first moment he saw her. He confides in the diary that he is "still dumbstruck by her presence". Al, re-checking the numbers as Sam reads out loud, says that there is now a 97% chance that "someone who's been sending her love letters will marry her". Sam is nervous about the prospect of having a romance, you can tell - it's too much pressure - so he says, "Well, that's good, right? This is a diary - not love letters!" Al says, with conviction, "Sam. You are here to marry this cowboy. Boy-girl. Cowgirl. Girl."

Now please. When you watch the episode, please just watch how Dean Stockwell manages that ridiculous line. It's SO funny and SO real. He doesn't know WHAT to call Tess - so he goes through every single variation - until finally just landing on "Girl". Well done, sir. That's not an easy line to make not only real but also funny.

So the next day, poor Sam shows up for the first day of the week-long contest between himself and Tess. He is apprehensive ... and he also isn't sure of what the outcome here should be. Should he try to win? Is that the right thing? Is Doc supposed to marry Tess? Has Doc been writing and sending her love letters? Is he "the one"? Or not? But then there's the flat-out fact that Sam is not a cowboy, never has been a cowboy, has never roped a calf, has never ridden a bucking bronco, and has no idea what he's doing. So the prospect of him winning is slim in any case. But Sam is still rather grim and serious when he shows up at the corral the next day. Tess is also grim, but that's because she's a tough mo-fo, and is not in the mood to be generous. She's a competitor. Will Doc keep up with her or no?

The first contest is riding a notorious wild horse - whose name, portentously, is Widow-Maker. Tess is the only rider on the ranch who can handle Widow-Maker. And now Sam has to climb on and try to stay on. He can't even get the bridle in the horse's mouth - it's too difficult - so Wayne, in a seemingly generous gesture, comes over and helps Sam with the bridle. A nervous voiceover commences as Sam gently gets on the horse - he is trying to recall all of the things his father had taught him about horses (remember: Sam did grow up on a farm ... he probably doesn't remember all of that himself, due to the swiss-cheesing ... but some of it is coming back) ... He thinks he'll be okay if he keeps his father's advice in his mind. Look the horse in the eye. Let the horse know who's boss. Get on gently. Blah blah blah. Of course the second Sam settles onto the horse - the horse goes absolutely apeshit. All the cowboys have crowded around to watch, along with Tess and Chance - and they stand back, laughing hysterically, watching the horse buck and rear and fling itself about - with poor "Doc" hanging on for dear life. Finally, the inevitable happens.

Now - Wayne, the cowboy I mentioned earlier, treats Doc with the requisite kindness - helps him bridle the horse, etc. - but gradually, over the first brutal day of this contest - we start to realize that something else might be going on with him. He never steps up and says, "I love Tess, you jagoff". Maybe he has too much pride for that. Maybe he's afraid of Tess a little bit (aren't they all?) Maybe he thinks: "Hey, man, if she didn't choose ME for this contest, then she can HAVE the stupid Doc if she wants him ..." But at the same time, during the next challenges (roping, branding) - Wayne gives Sam some advice about roping - and it comes off as totally helpful - "Okay, so here's what you need to do ..." Off Sam goes, keeping Wayne's words in mind - but it turns out that Wayne left a very important bit of information out of his instructions - and Sam nearly breaks his thumb. Tess starts to see which way the wind is blowing - even though she's been laughing at Doc's struggles all day - and she rides over to Wayne and yells at him. "Wayne - didn't you tell him to so and so?" Wayne, sullen, says, "I guess I forgot to mention that part." Tess is nothing if not FAIR. She wants this contest to be FAIR and she doesn't want to have any "help" given to either side. She's as good as a man - and she can win the contest on her own steam. That seems to be the main thing that is pissing her off about Wayne's subtle interference - what, he doesn't think she can win it all on her own? Because Tess is a bit of a moron (and I mean that in the most loving way) - she doesn't see the undercurrent of what is going on with Wayne. She remains oblivious. She has no experience in matters of the heart, so she can't pick up on the signals. (Funny thing is - by the end of the episode, you can tell that Wayne - handsome and studly though he may be - is ALSO a newbie to this whole love thing ... and, for that matter, so is "Doc". They're all a bunch of love newbies! No wonder why they are all acting like lunatics)

Sam eventually, though, with Chance's help - gets the idea of roping, and he successfully ropes a calf. Not only that but he "punks" Wayne - and does the whole "look at how my thumb is broken" trick - only to show that no, it's not broken at all. All of the cowboys (except Wayne) roar with laughter - it's great to see Doc step up to the plate like this, and everyone loves a good ball-busting joke. Tess loves it, too. It's manly of Doc. She doesn't want a weak man. She wants (and needs) an ALPHA, Goddammit! So it's great to see Doc best Wayne in a moment like that. Wayne doesn't see the humor. And Tess (because she's such a newbie at love) doesn't discern that Wayne is actually the alpha to end all alphas - and in his quiet relentless way, he is ALSO participating in the contest (which supposedly is only between Doc and Tess). He is quiet about it, he's kind of a moron about his own feelings (as we will see later) - but his back is up here, boy ... he can't allow himself to seem TOTALLY mean to Doc, because true alphas aren't mean to those who are weaker ... that's the real mark of an alpha male, by the way. They're so alpha that they can afford to be kind and gentle and fair to those who can't compete at that level. But Wayne is just acting on instinct here. Sam starts to see what's going on before Tess does. And Sam, who is also alpha in his own way (even though Doc might not be) - starts to get his competitive spirit on. He will not let this dumb cowboy run him out of the race.

However. His day of roping and branding and riding has left him battered and filthy. They ride back to the corral through the gathering twilight. Here's another shot - where you gotta give the props to the cinematographer. Bravo. You don't see much on television that looks quite that good.

Once they return to the stable, Tess comes up to Sam - who can barely wait to get home and sink into a hot bath. She tells him that she and Chance and Wayne are heading into town for an important meeting (at a bar, of course) with a potential buyer (a bigwig) of their prize-winning bull. Sam is dismayed. Does he have to come with them before he even takes a bath? Tess is inexorable. "Yup. You have to come now." If you want to get married to me, you better start to learn how the business is run. Sam realizes that the contest is still on, that it will be 24/7 type of contest.

At the bar in town, they sit around a table with the buyer. Now of course business is a subtle thing. You don't get right to the point, you hold your cards close to your chest, you bargain, you bluff. So instead of talking business, they play poker, and drink.

A couple things going on in this scene: you watch how Tess handles the buyer, pouring him a shot, making him feel comfortable, but also letting him know that she is nobody's fool (even though she's a woman). You see that Tess not only can hold her own in ranching matters - but she can drink with the men, too. She drinks, but she doesn't get drunk. She remains cool and clear. There's also a sense of growing tension between Wayne and Sam. Sam doesn't want to drink. Wayne basically tells him to "man up" and pours him the drink anyway. Sam pushes the shot glass away, like: "I said NO." Things are heading for an impasse.

Tess deals the cards. She's getting pissed. Pissed at Wayne and Doc for acting like children. She's also in a scolding mood, saying to Sam, "I ain't marrying no man who can't beat me at poker."

Al appears at this moment. Sam certainly could use Al's help in regards to winning the damn poker game. But Al appears and immediately begins to ruminate nostalgically about how he met Tina "over a poker table in Vegas". Like Sam gives a shit about any of that right now!

Now, a word about Stockwell:

Here is his line here:

"Tina and I met over a poker table in Vegas. I had a flush. She had a pair."

Now that is such a cheap joke - and Stockwell, bless him, goes right for it. (I love cheap jokes.) He says the line in a nostalgic fond tone, as THOUGH he is quoting Rick from Casablanca: "We met in Paris. The Germans wore grey. You wore blue." But no, he's actually saying, "I had a flush. She had a pair." It's so stupid and so funny - Stockwell makes his voice go deep and guttural on 'she had a pair' - and he goes for that double entendre with everything he's worth. It's hilarious. Poor Sam, concentrating on his poker game, surrounded by tough cowboys, is pissed at the distraction - like: "Could you give me a little help here, please?" - but he can't say it out loud because the cowboys will wonder what the hell he is babbling about. Al has figured out that Tina is cheating on him with Gushie - one of the Quantum Leap project leaders. The running joke about Gushie (which lasts throughout the entire series) is what horrendous halitosis he has. They never ever give up on the joke - and pretty much every time Gushie is mentioned, so is his breath. So Al is amazed that Tina would cheat on him - HIM - with that dude with "jock-strap breath". Al has another funny stupid line, and it's just a joy to watch Stockwell say it: "She took my second favorite organ and stomped on it with her four inch heels." Dumb, yes - but Stockwell means every word. And Al is not embarrassed about any of this, which is why he's so endearing. He is not embarrassed that he is not focusing on, you know, his JOB. He is not embarrassed that he cheats on Tina and then is hurt that she cheats on him. He's not embarrassed by anything, and you just gotta love a guy like that.

Sam, however, is caught up in his problems. He loses it for a second, and says out loud, "Gushie??" Chance is baffled. "Gushie?" Sam catches himself and babbles, "Yeah. Gushie. That's Navajo for ... your turn." Tess is giving Sam weird looks like, "Why are you acting like such a jackass in front of our buyer? We don't want him to think we're a bunch of buffoons." And Wayne, who's working his own thing, is laughing at it all ... loving the fact that Doc is losing it, and acting a bit crazy in front of Tess. It's perfect, as far as he is concerned! But that smile eventually is wiped off his face when Sam (on the advice of Al, who can see all the cards) accuses Wayne of cheating. Al says, "He's got all aces and 8s." Now. This is a moment that could have ended in a duel, Hamilton-Burr style. To accuse a man of cheating is a serious offense. You had BETTER be right, and you had BETTER back up your claim. Wayne will not let it stand. He insists he is not cheating. Chance looks on, concerned, in his Marlboro Man way. Wayne has, by this point, stood up. Furious. He puts his cards down, to show what he has - and oh shit, he DOESN'T have aces and 8s. Sam is busted. He took advice from Al - and now look what happened. Al is furious - he SWORE Wayne was cheating - he had aces and 8s, dammit - so while Sam is trying to bluff his way out of his false accusation, you can see Stockwell behind him, trying to figure out what happened - dealing the cards (or, miming it) - trying to track where those aces and 8s went ... Its very funny, Stockwell's behavior in the background - while Sam tries to get out of the mess he's in. Finally, Tess - who has had it with both of them - stands up and drags Wayne away to have a talk with him.

She has finally caught on to the fact that Wayne is trying to sabotage Doc's chances. (Like I mentioned, Tess might be smart about ranching - but she's kind of slow about relationships and men). Tess is PISSED. She thinks that Wayne thinks she can't win the contest all on her own and is trying to 'help' her. She doesn't see that, duh, Wayne wants to win the damn contest, even though he wasn't chosen to compete at all.

Meanwhile, back at the table - Al is still obsessed with how on earth he could have messed up the cards so badly - and Chance and the buyer have gone off to talk about bulls, and Al asks Sam to turn over Tess' cards - because he thinks he's figured it out. Sam does so - and there they are: aces and 8s. Wayne, who had been dealing the cards, dealt those cards specifically to Tess - so that she would beat Doc, no matter what. Now Sam really knows what he's dealing with, in terms of competition for Tess. Wayne will play dirty.

Now a quick note about Scott Bakula and what he's "working on" here as an actor, and how it all makes sense, once you know the ending of the episode:

-- all along Sam has been saying that he doesn't want to marry Tess - not that he doesn't like her, or whatever - but that it makes the leap a whole lot more complicated if that is his task - his first comment is, "Well, if it's someone who's writing her love letters who will marry her - then that's great - because Doc is only writing a Diary!" It's like Sam doesn't want to deal with all that messy love stuff, and would rather just focus on curing the pig. Wouldn't it be great if a leap could be that easy? Figure out what's wrong with the pig, and off you go to your next destination in the space/time continuum. But looks like it's not going to be that easy. So far, Sam's only experience of Tess has been her fierce no-nonsense inexorable competitor side. She is, quite frankly, exasperating. But ... but ... (and it's not clear at this point in the episode, but it will be soon - so I figured I'd bring it up now) ... he finds himself getting attached. He can't help it. In competing for her, in trying to do his best to out-cowboy her ... he starts to become attached to the result. He wants to win. Not just because then he will "leap out" but because ... because he starts to want it. Her, I mean. Now Sam has not really put all of this together for himself yet - and a lot of his own behavior is baffling to him: like, why is he being a dick to Wayne? Why is he obsessing so hard on the "tally" in the contest - like: what is going on here?

This, naturally, will come up again and again and again in the series as a while: Sam getting involved - despite himself. Despite his desire to just get out of the project altogether and go home to his "real life" ... he still can't help but get involved. It's Sam's greatest blessing and his greatest curse. He might be a happier man if he didn't allow himself to get personally involved in strangers' lives. But then, of course, if he didn't get involved - he wouldn't be Sam Becket. And if you watched the series to the end, you know his final leap, you know what happens. And it makes total sense. Of course. Of course Sam would make such a choice. That's the kind of man he is. That's the kind of character he is.

But that final episode would not have the "oomph" that it did if Scott Bakula hadn't been playing that tormented in-out either-or struggle - throughout the series, from the very beginning. Sam wants to leap OUT, but ... something ... something ... what is it?? ... keeps him here, keeps him leaping ... and why? But maybe ours is not to reason why. Sam, of course, can't help but asking why ... it's his most human quality.... and here, in Episode 4, so early on ... they weren't sure if Quantum Leap would last a year, let alone 5 - but here Bakula is, playing that struggle, that struggle that will be so essential to our understanding of the entire series. Sam resists committing to the leap, because he knows it will take a lot out of him. What will it do to a man to let himself fall in love with Tess - with whoever ... KNOWING that he will have to leave her eventually? How do you let yourself "go there" when it is understood that none of it will last? What will that do to a man, in a cumulative sense? But isn't that how life is, for all of us? Quantum leap or no? Isn't it about leaping, regardless of the outcome? Love, courage, commitment ... all of it must be experienced without being attached to the result. I have not learned that lesson, and I know very few people who have learned that lesson - but if you watch Quantum Leap in that light, and watch Sam's eternal struggle, in episode after episode - to not get attached - and then fail and get attached anyway ... you see a character directly engaging in that fight, over and over. I love Bakula for understanding, instinctively, that part of the character of Sam. It's what makes actors great story-tellers - not just great ciphers of stories ... Scott Bakula, in his innate story-telling talent, understood what the real story was here, what the real point was. And whether or not Quantum Leap got picked up again for another season ... is irrelevant. What matters is the moment ... and you go back and watch that first season, and you can see Scott Bakula setting us up for the last episode of the entire series - which hasn't even been written or thought of yet. That's talent.

In our next scene, Tess and Sam, are out in a hot hilly field driving posts into the ground. Sam has his shirt off. He is a hunk and a half, let me tell you. Stud. It's not too much, either - it's not so sculpted that it looks like a coin would bounce off his abs. It's a human body, albeit a great body - the body of an athlete, your basic jock in his 30s. You can tell by her behavior that Tess is starting to fade. Maybe it's too hot. Maybe she won't take a break. Who knows. But something is going on with her in this scene. She's pounding at the posts, and shoveling dirt - drenched in sweat - and Sam, his doctor self coming through his swiss-cheesed brain - starts to tell her to slow down, or at least drink some water, or have some salt tablets. She's getting heat stroke. She's dehydrated.

Tess is ornery, though. She thinks Doc is condescending to her. Like she thinks he thinks she's somehow weaker than a man or something. She shouts down the hill at him, "I don't need no help!" Sam, trudging up the hill towards her with the canteen, groans, "Oh, man, women's lib is gonna love you." Tess, hacking at the dirt with her shovel, swaying on her feet - says, "What's that?" Sam doesn't even get into it. Just hands her the canteen. She brushes him off. Sam is starting to get angry. What is her problem? He says, "Look, there are some things that a man is better at - that's all. It doesn't mean men are better than women, though. There are plenty of things women are better at - like having babies." His comment, obviously, does not go over well. But Sam is speaking more as a doctor here, he is truly concerned about her condition. Tess fights him all the way, until eventually she straightens up too quickly, and immediately collapses in a faint. This has been coming all along, from the beginning of the scene - she probably was dizzy throughout.

Sam scoops her up in his arms and races down the hill with her to take her back to his house. It's an urgent matter - dehydration is nothing to sneeze at. As Sam peels off across the meadow, the camera pulls back - and we see that someone has been watching from a nearby hilltop ... a horse stands there, with a rider. And we just know, somehow, that it is Wayne.

A storm is gathering on the horizon, a big one - lightning forks from the sky, clouds are gathering. Sam races the jeep back to Doc's house, trying to beat the storm - knowing that he has to cool Tess off, or there might be some serious repercussions. It's an emergency. He arrives back at his house, and - naturally - the kid is there, on the porch, playing his guitar. Sam, too involved with Tess (who is still in a faint), doesn't have time to worry about the fact that he still doesn't know the kid's name. The kid stands up, alarmed - as Sam races into the house, carrying Tess over his shoulders. Sam gives orders - go get some water, put some salt in it.

NOW ... Scott Bakula is marvelous in this next scene. Just watch him - watch how he is doing 20 things at once, not just physical things - but emotional things as well. He's in an emergency situation - so he puts Tess on the couch and immediately starts pulling off her clothes. He's calling out to the kid his instructions - telling him to hurry - "fetch me some water ..." then Sam catches himself, mutters, "Fetch? I'm talking like them now ..." but it's just a quick aside - he's still busy with Tess ... It's just a wonderful example of an actor doing his thing, playing the scene - everything that needs to be played.

The kid comes rushing back in, and stops - horrified and embarrassed at the sight of Tess lying on the couch in her bra and panties. (I love, too, that her underwear is not sexy ... it's time-and-place appropriate: a big white bra, and old-fashioned white "drawers", basically ... I love that they didn't make her into a sexpot underneath her clothes. Of course she wouldn't be. Tess is too practical for that). Sam grabs the water from the kid - wets a cloth and starts to cool Tess down - tells the kid to go get a fan - quick. The kid runs off.

Sam starts to force Tess to drink, even though she's groggy and out of it - she winces at the taste of the salt water. Sam doesn't care. Drink. She drinks ... and starts to revive ... and then discerns that, OH MY GOD I'M NAKED ... and she sits up and punches Sam in the face. A sharp hook to the jaw - and he flips back and off the couch, spilling the water all over him.

Again, Scott Bakula is just great in this scene. He's feeling tenderness towards Tess, but it's pretty hard to feel tender towards a woman who punches you in the face when you're trying to help her. He's in an internal struggle. Tess hurries to cover herself up with the afghan, and Sam says, defeated, "Great. You have heat stroke and you cover yourself up with a blanket." He shakes his head and walks away. By now the storm has broken - rain pounds against the windows. The kid, still awkward because of the whole "I just saw a woman in her bra" thing, says he's going home before he gets caught in the storm. There's yet another moment where it seems like Tess is going to say the kid's name ... and Sam gets all excited, and anticipatory - but nope. She stops before the name comes out. Sam is disgusted. Glances up at God/Fate/Time: "Can't you give me a little help here?"

(But again ... that's the whole essence of the series. What it "means", if you will. And I don't mean to over-think this - and make Quantum Leap seem ponderous or overly serious. It's not. But without that deeper level ... of Sam struggling to find his way, struggling to find what God wants him to do ... and then also realizing that no, there is no help ... you have to help yourself in this world, no matter your era or place or time ... the series would not be half as effective. It would just be an everlasting gimmick - and I don't think it would have lasted as long if it didn't have that deeper level.)

As the storm rages, Sam goes into the office - where the piglet still lies in a drawer of the desk, still sick - and Sam sits and reads a medical book, while Tess recovers in the other room. Eventually, Tess appears at the doorway, wearing what is obviously Doc's clothes. She has a different energy now. Softer. Still. Maybe troubled. Curious. Not so certain. And definitely not ornery. She's looking in at Sam at his desk, with an expression on her face that shows maybe she's grateful to him, maybe she's aware that she's been behaving horribly. Also, any time there's a crash of thunder, she winces. Tess? Afraid of thunder? Well, yes.

There's a very very nice scene now - between Tess and Sam. The lights are low, the rain is falling hard - and they talk. Sam asks her if she wants to dance. She says she doesn't know how to dance. He says that's fine. He turns on the radio on his desk (shout-out to the production design: all of the interiors in this series could not be better - the details - I mean, look at what's on the walls, on the shelves, the things on the desk, the horse-calendar on the wall ... it's all so specific and real. It doesn't look like a set. It looks like: Yes, of course. That is where Doc lives.) Tess and Sam dance. They don't speak. She stares up at him, wonderingly. Is this what it feels like to be in love? She's not sure.

She's not used to allowing any softness in her personality. Of course not - she runs a ranch. She will not be respected if she's seen as "just a girl". It's not pleasant to allow softness when you are not used to it. (Yeah, whatever, I speak from experience.)

Sam then makes the mistake (but he can't help it ... he's not trying to "leap out" now, he's starting to accept his own reality - he's not "acting" ... he's succumbing) of trying to kiss Tess. Tess goes apeshit. Pushes him away. Shouting, "I ain't gonna lose in here what I won out there!" Sam has finally had it. Says, "Can't you ever give it a rest?"

Tess, in her desperate moment, goes right back into the contest - saying that she is obviously winning - and Sam can't let it slide. He's competitive too. He tallies it up: "I won in this ... and I won in this ..." and (my favorite moment, I think in the episode) is how he says, "Don't forget poker. I'm thinkin' I beat you at poker", giving her a stern look. Tess, in her tally, thinks that Doc lost. Sam, in his tally, sees that it's a tie - so he demands a tie-breaker. Tess considers this, and says, in a fearfully quiet voice, almost mournful because she knows Doc will lose this one: "You want to marry me, Doc? All right then. Ride Widowmaker tomorrow." Sam, remembering his first try at Widow-maker, hesitates, and Tess shakes her head sadly, and says, "That's what I thought," and walks out, leaving Sam alone with Piggy.

Something's up with Sam. He sits down, stroking the baby pig in the drawer, which squeals and squirms around with pleasure. Sam says, in a quiet voice (and it's real hard to make a "talking to yourself" moment seem real and true - but that's exactly what Bakula does here), "I like you too, Piggy. Funny thing is, until we danced, I didn't realize how much I liked her."

Well played.

"How the Tess Was Won" - part 2

Quantum Leap: Season 1, Ep. 4: "How the Tess Was Won" - Part 1

LEAP INTO: August 5, 1956

Tess: If there's a man on this ranch who can keep up with me for one week - I'll marry him.

Sam Beckett leaps out of boxer Kid Cody in the 1970s and into "Doc" Daniel Young, a vet on a huge Texas ranch in the 1950s. He leaps into a muddy moment in a corral, where he is in the midst of wrestling with a squealing unhappy piglet.

(Had to break this one up into a two-parter! Here's part 1! Part 2 is below this post)

EPISODE 4: HOW THE TESS WAS WON - Part 1

As with any hour-long television show (especially one such as Quantum Leap - which is not really cumulative, and each episode has its own world and story and characters) - the writing has to be really efficient. Get to it. Don't dilly-dally. Who - what - where - why - when. GO. "How the Tess Was Won" starts, as I said, with Sam holding a squealing pig in a muddy paddock. Naturally he doesn't know who he is, where he is ... so every episode is a game of catch-up, for him (the script of this episode addresses explicitly some of the questions I've always had - like: how does he know where his character lives? What do you do when a character who obviously knows you, and knows you well, does not reveal his name to you? How do you get him to say it? Or someone else to say it? How do you "act like" you are this guy and you know your way around your own life?) But on a larger level, the writers of Quantum Leap, I think, were truly expert in this regard - because, in a way, we all, as viewers, were Sam - with each episode. He's our way in. We are as baffled as he is. We look around us at the new landscape - just 2 seconds ago we were in a boxing ring in Sacramento ... and now ... well, this ain't Sacramento no more. The writers waste no time in helping us out. It's efficient - but rarely simplistic! Quantum Leap was different from other series in that every episode needed a tiny bit of exposition. We almost start from scratch, each time. There aren't the same old characters that we can get comfortable with ... no. We are introduced to a new batch of people each time.

In "How The Tess Was Won", we become immediately aware that an argument is going on between a man and a woman on the outskirts of the muddy area Sam is in. We get their names: Tess. Chance. But then Chance says something about, "Your mother, God rest her soul ... she would have raised you right ..." and you realize that Chance is her father. She just calls him by his first name (which is so hysterical and perfect once you get to know Tess better. Of course she wouldn't call him "Dad", which would imply that, in some way, he was better than her ... because HE WAS A MAN!) In this short exchange we learn everything: Tess is played by the spunky and not-quite-beautiful-but-awful-darn-cute Kari Lizer. She's got wild blonde hair, she wears no makeup, chaps, denim shirts, and when she gets dressed up for church later, she looks like an alien in human clothing. Tess wearing a sun hat and a pretty Sunday dress? No. She's a fierce tomboy. Perfectly cast. (She's an interesting actress. She's become a successful television producer as well, nominated for 4 Emmys for Will & Grace).

So in the first 30 seconds of this episode we learn that:

-- Tess is the owner of Riata - a 50,000 acre ranch in Texas. Or - she's an heiress, let's say that. When Chance dies, it will go to her.

-- Tess refuses to get married. Chance pleads with her. She is ornery. He is afraid that the ranch will be too much for her on her own. She bristles at that. She's yelling and carrying on. Chance is patient, reasonable - in the face of her freak-out.

-- Tess hates even the IDEA that she has to be married in order to be a legitimate ranch owner. It certainly wouldn't be the case if she were a MAN. So no. She will not act "like a mare" ... she will live her life as though she was a man. "I never was much for sashaying and swooning," she declares.

-- Chance says the line about Tess' mother. Says, "She'd have made a woman out of you, and not a cowboy." Tess fires back, "Why can't I be both?" Chance roars, "It ain't natural!"

-- Besides - who would she marry? She waves her hands at all the staring cowhands - and by the tone of her voice, we can tell that while they may be good cowboys, they are no great shakes as potential husbands. She says to Chance, "Any man I marry has to be more of a man than I am." She is convinced that no one on the ranch can out-ride, out-brand, out-rope, out-anything her. And you know what? She's probably right. Then she makes her fateful statement to Chance, "If there's one man on this ranch who can keep up with me for a week, I'll marry him." Uh-oh, Tess. You can't go back on that now! A REAL man can't take back a promise! Chance takes her up on the challenge and tells her to pick a man for the contest. Just to be ornery probably, because she doesn't really want to get married (although, at the end, there's a bit of a twist in our understanding of her emotional life - which is really nice, handled really well) - she points her finger at poor bewildered muddy Sam, still holding the pig, and states, "Doc."

This causes a brou-haha. There's one particular cowboy who seems bummed about it (he's played by the wonderful and handsome Marshall Teague - still working constantly - he's fantastic) - but you know, they're all cowboys. They play their cards close to the chest.

Sam, not quite realizing yet what he has gotten himself into, remains oblivious and, well, frightened of the pigs around him. He's NOT a vet. He doesn't know what the hell he is supposed to be doing with these pigs. It becomes obvious that Doc is treated with bemused tolerance by the cowboys. He's a creature of fun to them, but they aren't mean. I'm reading the Master & Commander series now - and it reminds me a bit of the way Dr. Maturin is treated by the sailors - when he asks questions, or how he climbs the ladder into the boat - it totally reveals that he doesn't know anything about sea life - and they laugh at him, and condescend to him, but they also have great fondness for him. They love him. It's a similar dynamic here.

Sam, who always has that dual struggle going on (how do I "act like" I'm this man - whoever he is, and also "what am I here to do so I can just DO IT and then LEAP") - agrees to the contest, without really understanding what he is agreeing to. He's afraid to make any big moves, or (to use improv terminology) "say No" to anything - he's in the middle of a perpetual improv game, where he must always "say Yes" (Mick Napier notwithstanding) and then figure it out later.

Sam agrees to the ridiculous contest and then gets into the nearby jeep (how does he know it's his??) and drives off. Now, regardless of whether or not we ask the question: How does he know which way to drive?? - I just have to point out (for the 100th time in this Quantum Leap series) - the superior quality of the production design and the cinematography. This is high-end stuff, the series looks really high-end to me - like a mini-movie every week. The cinematographer and the director had Sam get into his rickety jeep and drive off, through this spectacular pioneer wilderness - and we get a long shot of the jeep, with the dust rising behind it - and suddenly, like a miracle, a flock of birds rises, something we had not discerned before (there were birds there?) - and their launching into flight, as one, is just a beautiful effect - accidental, of course, to some degree (one cannot control a flock of birds) - and I don't know how they "planned" that accident to happen - but however it occurred, I am truly glad it did. Because look at it. It's just beautiful.

Moments like that is what elevated this series into something quite special. The acting of the two leads did so as well, but their work was greatly served by the specificity and beauty of the design around them. All hands on deck for a big round of applause. Television is a collaboration. Shots like that are the result.

Now comes the bit where we get, really, the first voiceover from Sam where he tells us what it is like for him, during these leaps - how does he find his way home? In this case, he has remembered his last name, and that he is a vet, and so he sees a mailbox labeled Young DVM - and he knows - Okay. I live here.

When he arrives at his house, there's a young man, maybe 15 or 16 years old, sitting on his front porch, strumming a guitar. I have to say, he looks vaguely familiar. This is the set-up for one of the most famous "Kisses with History" that Quantum Leap had - and, for my taste, the most successful. In my experience, many of the brushes with actual historical events in Quantum Leap, take away from the actual STORY. I'm not wacky about a lot of them. They seem unnecessary. I can see how it would be hard to resist - but many times, you don't need it. The fact that Sam has jumped in time is enough weirdness, you don't need to add to it - by having him inadvertently cause the Watergate break-in by leaving a door unlocked (and etc. etc.) The "Kisses With History" did evolve, as the show went on - "How the Tess Was Won" was in the first season, after all, when they were still finding their way ... and many of the later episodes in later seasons either have no Kisses With History - or they go right for the jugular, like having Sam leap into Lee Harvey Oswald - which is FAR more compelling, I think. I mean, how many of us haven't thought: Man, if I ran into Mohammad Atta in a dark alley on Sept. 10, 2001, and I knew what he was going to do the next day ... would I kill him?? Or: If I met a lonely Viennese painter named Adolf Hitler in the 1920s and I knew what he was going to do - would I have the courage to just stab him in his sleep? And etc. So that particular Quantum Leap episode (which is a two-parter, if I recall correctly), dives straight into those very human questions - and looks at it, struggles with it, ponders it. That, to me, was very effective. Many of the other "Kisses With History" just felt like tricks. Cheap, in a sense.

But - to make myself clear - I REALLY like the one in "How The Tess Was Won". It's set up as an ongoing joke through the entire episode: what the heck is the name of that boy with the coke-bottle glasses who plays guitar on my porch every day? Why doesn't anyone tell me HIS NAME? And so the payoff at the end is fantastic. It really works.

The kid on the porch is not playing a song we recognize. He's just messing around - and the joke is made clear from the first scene: he sings about whatever he sees at that moment. A chicken walks by, the chicken makes it into the song, etc. He's not really writing songs yet - and again, this will pay off hugely in the last moment of the episode.

Sam gets out of the jeep, muddy, holding the little pig that he is supposed to somehow diagnose - and struggles up the steps, feeling awkward because the kid is talking to him ("I watered the animals - what's wrong with that pig?") - and he doesn't know the kid's name. The kid gets up to leave - and Sam stands there, like a dope, saying, 'So long" - knowing it's awkward that he wouldn't say "So long ________ [whatever your name is, kid"]. As the kid drives off, poor Sam looks up at the sky and says, "Couldn't you provide people with name tags?" A jokey reference to God - (or "fate, or time, or whatever" - they openly acknowledge from the first episode of this series that Sam is NOT in charge of his own leaping - that Al and Ziggy have no idea where he will go next - and that "someone else" seems to be in charge. And you'd have to have seen the entire series all the way to the last episode to get the TRUE payoff of this ongoing theme. That last episode is killer - and it's particularly strange becuase they didn't know it was going to be the last episode when they filmed it. But God, what a perfect perfect way to end this series! But I'll get to that episode when I get to it. In about 2011, at the rate I'm going.)

Al makes his appearance at this moment. He appears on the porch beside Sam, and instead of getting right to business - instead of talking about the leap, and where Sam is, and what Sam is here to do - Al seems more concerned with talking about Tina's tattoo (his girlfriend) - and he has an odd, almost suspicious, air to him. He wants to know if Sam ever saw Tina's tattoo. "But no, you wouldn't have, would you. Because it's on a very private part of her anatomy." Al still seems concerned, though. His main question here is: "Sam. Did you ever see Tina's tattoo???" Which is just so hysterical. Who CARES, Al? You're in the middle of one of the greatest experiments that man has ever known - your friend is leaping through time - and whenever you show up, you start babbling about your personal life back in the future. It is SO funny. And, to my taste, it is THE key to the success of this series. There are many other elements that went in to making it a success - but Al's general vibe of.... irritation at being interrupted from his complicated and eternal domestic dramas ... is such a nice touch. And they kept it going, without making it too much of "a bit". Al is not a do-gooder. Sam is way more of a do-gooder than Al is (although we will find out more about Al as the series goes on). If Al showed up as a passionate do-gooder, the series would have been insufferable. It wouldn't have had the humor it did. And Sam's constant frustration with his friend - like: why on earth is he grilling me about Tina's tattoo when there are other more important issues at hand: like: WHO AM I? WHERE AM I? WHAT WAS THAT KID'S NAME? WHAT IS THIS CONTEST I'VE AGREED TO? - is so funny. The series, in its essence, is about the relationship between these two men. And thank God for it. It grounds the entire enterprise. Aren't the two of them just so watchable together? They have a great dynamic. So back to our episode. Al stands there, as Sam gets out of his muddy pants - on the porch - and Al is acting very strange. (Or, stranger than usual). He seems to feel that Sam has somehow moved in on Tina. Which is totally retarded because Sam is trapped in the past - how on earth could he have made a move on Tina and seen her intimate tattoo? But Al is obsessed. Sam is exasperated and tells Sam that he barely remembers Tina at all - remember that whole "swiss cheese" brain thing? Al relents a bit and then confesses - and there is this funny exchange - which might not seem funny in just the lines themselves - but watch how these two actors play it!!:

Sam: Tina's cheating on you?
Al: Can you believe it?
Sam: It boggles the mind.

Sounds pretty straightforward - but Dean Stockwell and Scott Bakula add layers upon layers to each of their lines - it's a comedy slam-dunk. Al, as usual, is obviously not faithful to Tina (the girlfriend) - which he confesses openly. "At the Christmas party when I took Samantha into the stockroom ....... to .... exchange Christmas presents ...... someone made a move on Tina ..." So, you know, Al doesn't really have a leg to stand on. (Once we know Al's backstory, about the wife he lost, all of these romantic dramas take on a totally poignant aspect - which is rather phenomenal if you think about it. The man is a dog. A DOG. He leads with his cock. But what might be behind that behavior? What is really going on with Al? But I'm already quantum-leaping ahead of myself. All we know now, in Episode 4, is that Al is lecherous, and also kind of has a double-standard: HE can cheat ... but Tina? How DARE she cheat on him?? He's kind of a fragile personality, for all his tough cigar-chomping military-hero brou-haha. I love him. He's totally lovable.)

Sam wanders around Doc's house (oh, and let's notice that there is NOT a "mirror moment" - at least not when we expect there to be one - usually Sam rushes right to a mirror to see what he looks like as this new character - this doesn't happen in "How the Tess Was Won" - Sam is too consumed with trying to cure the pig, and trying to gear up for this cowboy contest thing that's going to happen ... When the mirror moment comes, at the very end, it packs a really nice punch - but I'll talk about that when I get to it.)

There's an office to the side - filled with caged animals - raccoons, bunnies, whatever - Sam goes to the desk (still holding the baby pig, let's remember) and starts trying to diagnose the animal. Al, in his ridiculous spats-like shoes, strolls around the cages, and all of the animals can see him - it is clear, from their responses to him. So animals perceive him. We learn in later episodes that very young children can see him, too. A nice touch, a nice comment on the open-ness and accessibility of children - they don't question it, they see a hologram and think, "Whatever. Who is that nice man with the cigar?"

A quick thing about this scene: Sam rummages around in the fridge, and takes out a baby bottle full of milk - asks Al, over his shoulder, "Do pigs like milk?" Al answers immediately, "They adore it!" Then in a couple of seconds, Sam says, "I wonder what's the matter with him" (meaning: the pig), and Al says, browsing thru the animal cages, "That's a girl pig, Sam." Sam starts to peek between the pig's legs and Al says, exasperated, "Would you please just trust me, Sam?"

Okay, so all of this just makes me laugh. I love how, in this series, Al knows a little bit about everything. You know, pigs like milk. Also, that's obviously a girl pig. But it comes up again and again. Sam shows up in some unfamiliar situation, and Al begins to pontificate, "Yeah, I spent a summer with the circus ... so here's how it works ..." It's a kind of a "bit", not completely realistic - how could one man have had so many different experiences?? - but it totally works. Don't you know people like that? (People who AREN'T obnoxious know-it-alls, I mean - which Al definitely is not). Some people who know "a little bit about everything" like to lord it over other people, and pass themselves off as experts. I can think of some bloggers who fit into this category! But Al isn't like that. He's a man who's lived a full and a diverse life - but even more than that (and this is why, I think, Al is such a sympathetic character - who we don't just admire, but love): there is nothing on earth that Al is not curious about. NOTHING. He may have a skeptical manner, he may get easily distracted by tits and ass, he may have closed off great sections of himself because of the losses he has sustained - but he still remains curious about all of the wonderful and scary and interesting things that life has to offer. It's an awesome quality. Reminds me of the comment Sylvia Beach made about James Joyce: "He told me he had never met a bore." Now it takes a really open mind to look at the rest of the human race that way, to truly experience other people as real, and fascinating (even if they're assholes. Realize that James Joyce did not say "he had never met an asshole". No. He said "he had never met a bore". Even ASSHOLES are interesting). One of my pet peeves in life are people who are "over it". People who are perpetually bored - because they have "been there, done that, seen that". I have cut such people out of my life - because I know a couple - I cannot bear that attitude. I experience it as actually toxic, or harmful to my own equilibrium. Anyway, that's neither here nor there - I'm just expressing what it is about Al that I find so admirable, and lovable. His inability to be UN-interested in things. Even when he's not interested in the leap in question, he's always interested in his own personal life. He is always engaged. And that, my God, is a quality I wish I could bottle, and sell to others. Beautiful, isn't it? Dean Stockwell embodies it perfectly.

Sam tries to get Al to focus. And you can tell that Al hasn't even thought about the leap. He hasn't run any numbers. He hasn't pondered why Sam has landed in Texas, and not somewhere else. Al has shown up here basically to confide in Sam his fears about Tina's infidelity. hahahaha So Sam, feeding the pig milk, asks, "Why am I here, Al?" Al snaps back to business, "Oh ... right ... uhm ... let me look at the numbers ..." Al says that there is a 72% chance that Sam is here to cure the pig. Sam doesn't think that's it. He says, "I thought I was here to marry Tess." Al looks confused - who the heck is Tess? How can I be expected to keep all these characters straight when my own personal life is so all-consuming?? Al hasn't even run any numbers on Tess. So he starts to do so - with his trusty hand-set thing (I love how he has to give it a good whack on the side on occasion, in order to jolt it back into commission).

Sam, sitting at the desk, comes across a huge scrapbook, and starts to look through it. He is stunned at what he finds. It's a scrapbook devoted to Tess. Pictures, clippings, piles of memorabilia. There's a notebook, too - a diary. Sam wrestles with himself a bit about whether or not to read it - it seems like an invasion of privacy. But Al says, "You ARE Doc, Sam ... read the diary." So it turns out that Doc Young has been pouring out his heart into his diary for years - about his love for Tess. He has loved her for years, ever since the first moment he saw her. He confides in the diary that he is "still dumbstruck by her presence". Al, re-checking the numbers as Sam reads out loud, says that there is now a 97% chance that "someone who's been sending her love letters will marry her". Sam is nervous about the prospect of having a romance, you can tell - it's too much pressure - so he says, "Well, that's good, right? This is a diary - not love letters!" Al says, with conviction, "Sam. You are here to marry this cowboy. Boy-girl. Cowgirl. Girl."

Now please. When you watch the episode, please just watch how Dean Stockwell manages that ridiculous line. It's SO funny and SO real. He doesn't know WHAT to call Tess - so he goes through every single variation - until finally just landing on "Girl". Well done, sir. That's not an easy line to make not only real but also funny.

So the next day, poor Sam shows up for the first day of the week-long contest between himself and Tess. He is apprehensive ... and he also isn't sure of what the outcome here should be. Should he try to win? Is that the right thing? Is Doc supposed to marry Tess? Has Doc been writing and sending her love letters? Is he "the one"? Or not? But then there's the flat-out fact that Sam is not a cowboy, never has been a cowboy, has never roped a calf, has never ridden a bucking bronco, and has no idea what he's doing. So the prospect of him winning is slim in any case. But Sam is still rather grim and serious when he shows up at the corral the next day. Tess is also grim, but that's because she's a tough mo-fo, and is not in the mood to be generous. She's a competitor. Will Doc keep up with her or no?

The first contest is riding a notorious wild horse - whose name, portentously, is Widow-Maker. Tess is the only rider on the ranch who can handle Widow-Maker. And now Sam has to climb on and try to stay on. He can't even get the bridle in the horse's mouth - it's too difficult - so Wayne, in a seemingly generous gesture, comes over and helps Sam with the bridle. A nervous voiceover commences as Sam gently gets on the horse - he is trying to recall all of the things his father had taught him about horses (remember: Sam did grow up on a farm ... he probably doesn't remember all of that himself, due to the swiss-cheesing ... but some of it is coming back) ... He thinks he'll be okay if he keeps his father's advice in his mind. Look the horse in the eye. Let the horse know who's boss. Get on gently. Blah blah blah. Of course the second Sam settles onto the horse - the horse goes absolutely apeshit. All the cowboys have crowded around to watch, along with Tess and Chance - and they stand back, laughing hysterically, watching the horse buck and rear and fling itself about - with poor "Doc" hanging on for dear life. Finally, the inevitable happens.

Now - Wayne, the cowboy I mentioned earlier, treats Doc with the requisite kindness - helps him bridle the horse, etc. - but gradually, over the first brutal day of this contest - we start to realize that something else might be going on with him. He never steps up and says, "I love Tess, you jagoff". Maybe he has too much pride for that. Maybe he's afraid of Tess a little bit (aren't they all?) Maybe he thinks: "Hey, man, if she didn't choose ME for this contest, then she can HAVE the stupid Doc if she wants him ..." But at the same time, during the next challenges (roping, branding) - Wayne gives Sam some advice about roping - and it comes off as totally helpful - "Okay, so here's what you need to do ..." Off Sam goes, keeping Wayne's words in mind - but it turns out that Wayne left a very important bit of information out of his instructions - and Sam nearly breaks his thumb. Tess starts to see which way the wind is blowing - even though she's been laughing at Doc's struggles all day - and she rides over to Wayne and yells at him. "Wayne - didn't you tell him to so and so?" Wayne, sullen, says, "I guess I forgot to mention that part." Tess is nothing if not FAIR. She wants this contest to be FAIR and she doesn't want to have any "help" given to either side. She's as good as a man - and she can win the contest on her own steam. That seems to be the main thing that is pissing her off about Wayne's subtle interference - what, he doesn't think she can win it all on her own? Because Tess is a bit of a moron (and I mean that in the most loving way) - she doesn't see the undercurrent of what is going on with Wayne. She remains oblivious. She has no experience in matters of the heart, so she can't pick up on the signals. (Funny thing is - by the end of the episode, you can tell that Wayne - handsome and studly though he may be - is ALSO a newbie to this whole love thing ... and, for that matter, so is "Doc". They're all a bunch of love newbies! No wonder why they are all acting like lunatics)

Sam eventually, though, with Chance's help - gets the idea of roping, and he successfully ropes a calf. Not only that but he "punks" Wayne - and does the whole "look at how my thumb is broken" trick - only to show that no, it's not broken at all. All of the cowboys (except Wayne) roar with laughter - it's great to see Doc step up to the plate like this, and everyone loves a good ball-busting joke. Tess loves it, too. It's manly of Doc. She doesn't want a weak man. She wants (and needs) an ALPHA, Goddammit! So it's great to see Doc best Wayne in a moment like that. Wayne doesn't see the humor. And Tess (because she's such a newbie at love) doesn't discern that Wayne is actually the alpha to end all alphas - and in his quiet relentless way, he is ALSO participating in the contest (which supposedly is only between Doc and Tess). He is quiet about it, he's kind of a moron about his own feelings (as we will see later) - but his back is up here, boy ... he can't allow himself to seem TOTALLY mean to Doc, because true alphas aren't mean to those who are weaker ... that's the real mark of an alpha male, by the way. They're so alpha that they can afford to be kind and gentle and fair to those who can't compete at that level. But Wayne is just acting on instinct here. Sam starts to see what's going on before Tess does. And Sam, who is also alpha in his own way (even though Doc might not be) - starts to get his competitive spirit on. He will not let this dumb cowboy run him out of the race.

However. His day of roping and branding and riding has left him battered and filthy. They ride back to the corral through the gathering twilight. Here's another shot - where you gotta give the props to the cinematographer. Bravo. You don't see much on television that looks quite that good.

Once they return to the stable, Tess comes up to Sam - who can barely wait to get home and sink into a hot bath. She tells him that she and Chance and Wayne are heading into town for an important meeting (at a bar, of course) with a potential buyer (a bigwig) of their prize-winning bull. Sam is dismayed. Does he have to come with them before he even takes a bath? Tess is inexorable. "Yup. You have to come now." If you want to get married to me, you better start to learn how the business is run. Sam realizes that the contest is still on, that it will be 24/7 type of contest.

At the bar in town, they sit around a table with the buyer. Now of course business is a subtle thing. You don't get right to the point, you hold your cards close to your chest, you bargain, you bluff. So instead of talking business, they play poker, and drink.

A couple things going on in this scene: you watch how Tess handles the buyer, pouring him a shot, making him feel comfortable, but also letting him know that she is nobody's fool (even though she's a woman). You see that Tess not only can hold her own in ranching matters - but she can drink with the men, too. She drinks, but she doesn't get drunk. She remains cool and clear. There's also a sense of growing tension between Wayne and Sam. Sam doesn't want to drink. Wayne basically tells him to "man up" and pours him the drink anyway. Sam pushes the shot glass away, like: "I said NO." Things are heading for an impasse.

Tess deals the cards. She's getting pissed. Pissed at Wayne and Doc for acting like children. She's also in a scolding mood, saying to Sam, "I ain't marrying no man who can't beat me at poker."

Al appears at this moment. Sam certainly could use Al's help in regards to winning the damn poker game. But Al appears and immediately begins to ruminate nostalgically about how he met Tina "over a poker table in Vegas". Like Sam gives a shit about any of that right now!

Now, a word about Stockwell:

Here is his line here:

"Tina and I met over a poker table in Vegas. I had a flush. She had a pair."

Now that is such a cheap joke - and Stockwell, bless him, goes right for it. (I love cheap jokes.) He says the line in a nostalgic fond tone, as THOUGH he is quoting Rick from Casablanca: "We met in Paris. The Germans wore grey. You wore blue." But no, he's actually saying, "I had a flush. She had a pair." It's so stupid and so funny - Stockwell makes his voice go deep and guttural on 'she had a pair' - and he goes for that double entendre with everything he's worth. It's hilarious. Poor Sam, concentrating on his poker game, surrounded by tough cowboys, is pissed at the distraction - like: "Could you give me a little help here, please?" - but he can't say it out loud because the cowboys will wonder what the hell he is babbling about. Al has figured out that Tina is cheating on him with Gushie - one of the Quantum Leap project leaders. The running joke about Gushie (which lasts throughout the entire series) is what horrendous halitosis he has. They never ever give up on the joke - and pretty much every time Gushie is mentioned, so is his breath. So Al is amazed that Tina would cheat on him - HIM - with that dude with "jock-strap breath". Al has another funny stupid line, and it's just a joy to watch Stockwell say it: "She took my second favorite organ and stomped on it with her four inch heels." Dumb, yes - but Stockwell means every word. And Al is not embarrassed about any of this, which is why he's so endearing. He is not embarrassed that he is not focusing on, you know, his JOB. He is not embarrassed that he cheats on Tina and then is hurt that she cheats on him. He's not embarrassed by anything, and you just gotta love a guy like that.

Sam, however, is caught up in his problems. He loses it for a second, and says out loud, "Gushie??" Chance is baffled. "Gushie?" Sam catches himself and babbles, "Yeah. Gushie. That's Navajo for ... your turn." Tess is giving Sam weird looks like, "Why are you acting like such a jackass in front of our buyer? We don't want him to think we're a bunch of buffoons." And Wayne, who's working his own thing, is laughing at it all ... loving the fact that Doc is losing it, and acting a bit crazy in front of Tess. It's perfect, as far as he is concerned! But that smile eventually is wiped off his face when Sam (on the advice of Al, who can see all the cards) accuses Wayne of cheating. Al says, "He's got all aces and 8s." Now. This is a moment that could have ended in a duel, Hamilton-Burr style. To accuse a man of cheating is a serious offense. You had BETTER be right, and you had BETTER back up your claim. Wayne will not let it stand. He insists he is not cheating. Chance looks on, concerned, in his Marlboro Man way. Wayne has, by this point, stood up. Furious. He puts his cards down, to show what he has - and oh shit, he DOESN'T have aces and 8s. Sam is busted. He took advice from Al - and now look what happened. Al is furious - he SWORE Wayne was cheating - he had aces and 8s, dammit - so while Sam is trying to bluff his way out of his false accusation, you can see Stockwell behind him, trying to figure out what happened - dealing the cards (or, miming it) - trying to track where those aces and 8s went ... Its very funny, Stockwell's behavior in the background - while Sam tries to get out of the mess he's in. Finally, Tess - who has had it with both of them - stands up and drags Wayne away to have a talk with him.

She has finally caught on to the fact that Wayne is trying to sabotage Doc's chances. (Like I mentioned, Tess might be smart about ranching - but she's kind of slow about relationships and men). Tess is PISSED. She thinks that Wayne thinks she can't win the contest all on her own and is trying to 'help' her. She doesn't see that, duh, Wayne wants to win the damn contest, even though he wasn't chosen to compete at all.

Meanwhile, back at the table - Al is still obsessed with how on earth he could have messed up the cards so badly - and Chance and the buyer have gone off to talk about bulls, and Al asks Sam to turn over Tess' cards - because he thinks he's figured it out. Sam does so - and there they are: aces and 8s. Wayne, who had been dealing the cards, dealt those cards specifically to Tess - so that she would beat Doc, no matter what. Now Sam really knows what he's dealing with, in terms of competition for Tess. Wayne will play dirty.

Now a quick note about Scott Bakula and what he's "working on" here as an actor, and how it all makes sense, once you know the ending of the episode:

-- all along Sam has been saying that he doesn't want to marry Tess - not that he doesn't like her, or whatever - but that it makes the leap a whole lot more complicated if that is his task - his first comment is, "Well, if it's someone who's writing her love letters who will marry her - then that's great - because Doc is only writing a Diary!" It's like Sam doesn't want to deal with all that messy love stuff, and would rather just focus on curing the pig. Wouldn't it be great if a leap could be that easy? Figure out what's wrong with the pig, and off you go to your next destination in the space/time continuum. But looks like it's not going to be that easy. So far, Sam's only experience of Tess has been her fierce no-nonsense inexorable competitor side. She is, quite frankly, exasperating. But ... but ... (and it's not clear at this point in the episode, but it will be soon - so I figured I'd bring it up now) ... he finds himself getting attached. He can't help it. In competing for her, in trying to do his best to out-cowboy her ... he starts to become attached to the result. He wants to win. Not just because then he will "leap out" but because ... because he starts to want it. Her, I mean. Now Sam has not really put all of this together for himself yet - and a lot of his own behavior is baffling to him: like, why is he being a dick to Wayne? Why is he obsessing so hard on the "tally" in the contest - like: what is going on here?

This, naturally, will come up again and again and again in the series as a while: Sam getting involved - despite himself. Despite his desire to just get out of the project altogether and go home to his "real life" ... he still can't help but get involved. It's Sam's greatest blessing and his greatest curse. He might be a happier man if he didn't allow himself to get personally involved in strangers' lives. But then, of course, if he didn't get involved - he wouldn't be Sam Becket. And if you watched the series to the end, you know his final leap, you know what happens. And it makes total sense. Of course. Of course Sam would make such a choice. That's the kind of man he is. That's the kind of character he is.

But that final episode would not have the "oomph" that it did if Scott Bakula hadn't been playing that tormented in-out either-or struggle - throughout the series, from the very beginning. Sam wants to leap OUT, but ... something ... something ... what is it?? ... keeps him here, keeps him leaping ... and why? But maybe ours is not to reason why. Sam, of course, can't help but asking why ... it's his most human quality.... and here, in Episode 4, so early on ... they weren't sure if Quantum Leap would last a year, let alone 5 - but here Bakula is, playing that struggle, that struggle that will be so essential to our understanding of the entire series. Sam resists committing to the leap, because he knows it will take a lot out of him. What will it do to a man to let himself fall in love with Tess - with whoever ... KNOWING that he will have to leave her eventually? How do you let yourself "go there" when it is understood that none of it will last? What will that do to a man, in a cumulative sense? But isn't that how life is, for all of us? Quantum leap or no? Isn't it about leaping, regardless of the outcome? Love, courage, commitment ... all of it must be experienced without being attached to the result. I have not learned that lesson, and I know very few people who have learned that lesson - but if you watch Quantum Leap in that light, and watch Sam's eternal struggle, in episode after episode - to not get attached - and then fail and get attached anyway ... you see a character directly engaging in that fight, over and over. I love Bakula for understanding, instinctively, that part of the character of Sam. It's what makes actors great story-tellers - not just great ciphers of stories ... Scott Bakula, in his innate story-telling talent, understood what the real story was here, what the real point was. And whether or not Quantum Leap got picked up again for another season ... is irrelevant. What matters is the moment ... and you go back and watch that first season, and you can see Scott Bakula setting us up for the last episode of the entire series - which hasn't even been written or thought of yet. That's talent.

In our next scene, Tess and Sam, are out in a hot hilly field driving posts into the ground. Sam has his shirt off. He is a hunk and a half, let me tell you. Stud. It's not too much, either - it's not so sculpted that it looks like a coin would bounce off his abs. It's a human body, albeit a great body - the body of an athlete, your basic jock in his 30s. You can tell by her behavior that Tess is starting to fade. Maybe it's too hot. Maybe she won't take a break. Who knows. But something is going on with her in this scene. She's pounding at the posts, and shoveling dirt - drenched in sweat - and Sam, his doctor self coming through his swiss-cheesed brain - starts to tell her to slow down, or at least drink some water, or have some salt tablets. She's getting heat stroke. She's dehydrated.

Tess is ornery, though. She thinks Doc is condescending to her. Like she thinks he thinks she's somehow weaker than a man or something. She shouts down the hill at him, "I don't need no help!" Sam, trudging up the hill towards her with the canteen, groans, "Oh, man, women's lib is gonna love you." Tess, hacking at the dirt with her shovel, swaying on her feet - says, "What's that?" Sam doesn't even get into it. Just hands her the canteen. She brushes him off. Sam is starting to get angry. What is her problem? He says, "Look, there are some things that a man is better at - that's all. It doesn't mean men are better than women, though. There are plenty of things women are better at - like having babies." His comment, obviously, does not go over well. But Sam is speaking more as a doctor here, he is truly concerned about her condition. Tess fights him all the way, until eventually she straightens up too quickly, and immediately collapses in a faint. This has been coming all along, from the beginning of the scene - she probably was dizzy throughout.

Sam scoops her up in his arms and races down the hill with her to take her back to his house. It's an urgent matter - dehydration is nothing to sneeze at. As Sam peels off across the meadow, the camera pulls back - and we see that someone has been watching from a nearby hilltop ... a horse stands there, with a rider. And we just know, somehow, that it is Wayne.

A storm is gathering on the horizon, a big one - lightning forks from the sky, clouds are gathering. Sam races the jeep back to Doc's house, trying to beat the storm - knowing that he has to cool Tess off, or there might be some serious repercussions. It's an emergency. He arrives back at his house, and - naturally - the kid is there, on the porch, playing his guitar. Sam, too involved with Tess (who is still in a faint), doesn't have time to worry about the fact that he still doesn't know the kid's name. The kid stands up, alarmed - as Sam races into the house, carrying Tess over his shoulders. Sam gives orders - go get some water, put some salt in it.

NOW ... Scott Bakula is marvelous in this next scene. Just watch him - watch how he is doing 20 things at once, not just physical things - but emotional things as well. He's in an emergency situation - so he puts Tess on the couch and immediately starts pulling off her clothes. He's calling out to the kid his instructions - telling him to hurry - "fetch me some water ..." then Sam catches himself, mutters, "Fetch? I'm talking like them now ..." but it's just a quick aside - he's still busy with Tess ... It's just a wonderful example of an actor doing his thing, playing the scene - everything that needs to be played.

The kid comes rushing back in, and stops - horrified and embarrassed at the sight of Tess lying on the couch in her bra and panties. (I love, too, that her underwear is not sexy ... it's time-and-place appropriate: a big white bra, and old-fashioned white "drawers", basically ... I love that they didn't make her into a sexpot underneath her clothes. Of course she wouldn't be. Tess is too practical for that). Sam grabs the water from the kid - wets a cloth and starts to cool Tess down - tells the kid to go get a fan - quick. The kid runs off.

Sam starts to force Tess to drink, even though she's groggy and out of it - she winces at the taste of the salt water. Sam doesn't care. Drink. She drinks ... and starts to revive ... and then discerns that, OH MY GOD I'M NAKED ... and she sits up and punches Sam in the face. A sharp hook to the jaw - and he flips back and off the couch, spilling the water all over him.

Again, Scott Bakula is just great in this scene. He's feeling tenderness towards Tess, but it's pretty hard to feel tender towards a woman who punches you in the face when you're trying to help her. He's in an internal struggle. Tess hurries to cover herself up with the afghan, and Sam says, defeated, "Great. You have heat stroke and you cover yourself up with a blanket." He shakes his head and walks away. By now the storm has broken - rain pounds against the windows. The kid, still awkward because of the whole "I just saw a woman in her bra" thing, says he's going home before he gets caught in the storm. There's yet another moment where it seems like Tess is going to say the kid's name ... and Sam gets all excited, and anticipatory - but nope. She stops before the name comes out. Sam is disgusted. Glances up at God/Fate/Time: "Can't you give me a little help here?"

(But again ... that's the whole essence of the series. What it "means", if you will. And I don't mean to over-think this - and make Quantum Leap seem ponderous or overly serious. It's not. But without that deeper level ... of Sam struggling to find his way, struggling to find what God wants him to do ... and then also realizing that no, there is no help ... you have to help yourself in this world, no matter your era or place or time ... the series would not be half as effective. It would just be an everlasting gimmick - and I don't think it would have lasted as long if it didn't have that deeper level.)

As the storm rages, Sam goes into the office - where the piglet still lies in a drawer of the desk, still sick - and Sam sits and reads a medical book, while Tess recovers in the other room. Eventually, Tess appears at the doorway, wearing what is obviously Doc's clothes. She has a different energy now. Softer. Still. Maybe troubled. Curious. Not so certain. And definitely not ornery. She's looking in at Sam at his desk, with an expression on her face that shows maybe she's grateful to him, maybe she's aware that she's been behaving horribly. Also, any time there's a crash of thunder, she winces. Tess? Afraid of thunder? Well, yes.

There's a very very nice scene now - between Tess and Sam. The lights are low, the rain is falling hard - and they talk. Sam asks her if she wants to dance. She says she doesn't know how to dance. He says that's fine. He turns on the radio on his desk (shout-out to the production design: all of the interiors in this series could not be better - the details - I mean, look at what's on the walls, on the shelves, the things on the desk, the horse-calendar on the wall ... it's all so specific and real. It doesn't look like a set. It looks like: Yes, of course. That is where Doc lives.) Tess and Sam dance. They don't speak. She stares up at him, wonderingly. Is this what it feels like to be in love? She's not sure.

She's not used to allowing any softness in her personality. Of course not - she runs a ranch. She will not be respected if she's seen as "just a girl". It's not pleasant to allow softness when you are not used to it. (Yeah, whatever, I speak from experience.)

Sam then makes the mistake (but he can't help it ... he's not trying to "leap out" now, he's starting to accept his own reality - he's not "acting" ... he's succumbing) of trying to kiss Tess. Tess goes apeshit. Pushes him away. Shouting, "I ain't gonna lose in here what I won out there!" Sam has finally had it. Says, "Can't you ever give it a rest?"

Tess, in her desperate moment, goes right back into the contest - saying that she is obviously winning - and Sam can't let it slide. He's competitive too. He tallies it up: "I won in this ... and I won in this ..." and (my favorite moment, I think in the episode) is how he says, "Don't forget poker. I'm thinkin' I beat you at poker", giving her a stern look. Tess, in her tally, thinks that Doc lost. Sam, in his tally, sees that it's a tie - so he demands a tie-breaker. Tess considers this, and says, in a fearfully quiet voice, almost mournful because she knows Doc will lose this one: "You want to marry me, Doc? All right then. Ride Widowmaker tomorrow." Sam, remembering his first try at Widow-maker, hesitates, and Tess shakes her head sadly, and says, "That's what I thought," and walks out, leaving Sam alone with Piggy.

Something's up with Sam. He sits down, stroking the baby pig in the drawer, which squeals and squirms around with pleasure. Sam says, in a quiet voice (and it's real hard to make a "talking to yourself" moment seem real and true - but that's exactly what Bakula does here), "I like you too, Piggy. Funny thing is, until we danced, I didn't realize how much I liked her."

Well played.

"How the Tess Was Won" - part 2

Quantum Leap: Season 1, Ep. 4: "How the Tess Was Won" - part 2

LEAP INTO: August 5, 1956

Part 2: We left Sam at the moment he decided to ride Widow-Maker, the ferocious horse who threw him before.

EPISODE 4: HOW THE TESS WAS WON - part 2

Next morning. It's Sunday. Dawn.

Look at the Andrew Wyeth beauty of this shot. Isn't it gorgeous?

Tess and her father are getting ready for church and they look out at the corral, and see Sam there ... bringing out Widow-maker, in the early dawn light. Yup. He's going to go for it. Again. Tess is alarmed. She thought she had won. She had no idea that Doc would take her up on her ridiculous tie-breaker. Meanwhile, Sam - who is full of apprehensions, this horse could kill him - walks into the corral, and finds that Al is there. Naturally, Al is not at all focused on the events at hand - he is still upset about his personal life, and how on earth Tina could leave him for Gushie. How could that happen??? Sam, already wrestling with the horse, has had it with Al. He's not even listening.

The cowboys are starting to gather around to watch. Tess and Chance approach. Tess looks solemn. The horse isn't called "widow-maker" for nothing. Sam is nervous. Al finally realizes that something is expected of him ... and says, "Do you want me to control the horse?" "Yes, please!" Hilariously, Al leans right into the horse's head - and starts to chant "Om" right at it. "Ommmmmmmmmmmmm" ... "Ommmmmmmmm" ... the poor horse stands there, staring right ahead, like: who is this lunatic and why is he moaning right at me? Can't he back off? Then comes the big joke of the scene - in the middle of Al's "Om"s he starts talking to someone back in the future - who has obviously informed him that he has a phone call. At first Al is like, "Can't you see I'm busy? Ommmmmmm--" But he's interrupted again. "Take a message, I'm busy! Ommmmmmmmmm---" And finally, he straightens up - because of something he's told - and says, "It's who? It's Tina?" And then, hemming and hawing, and apologizing lamely to Sam - he says, "Yeah ... so ... uhm ... I have to take this call ... and ..." Sam cries, "Now? You're taking a call NOW?" Al doesn't care ... "Yeah ... uhm ... I'll be right back ... just hang on tight, Sam ... hang on to the horse ... uhm ...." He rips open a door in the atmosphere and promptly disappears - back to his all-encompassing personal life, leaving Sam abandoned on top of the fierce Widow-Maker - who, now that the "Om"s have stopped, goes batshit crazy - bucking rearing, galloping, skidding, doing whatever he can to throw this stupid rider off of him.

The cowboys watching all shout encouragement, totally into it ... but Tess stands there in her Sunday best, anxious. But this time, Sam isn't thrown. He hangs on. Maybe because now he's invested, maybe because now - after their dance - he realizes that he likes her. He likes her enough to compete with a free and open spirit. He's invested in it for Doc - because, after all, he's read Doc's diary and knows that Doc is in a serious state of unrequited love for this difficult woman. But he's invested in it for himself, too. He has feelings for this woman. And he is damned if this stupid horse is going to stay in his way. And whaddya know, eventually - after the ride of his life - Widow-Maker calms down, and submits to Sam's guidance. Widow-Maker gives up. "Okay. You the boss. I got it." The cowboys watching all break into applause, cheering like crazy. All except for Wayne and Tess. This was the tie-breaker. Sam won. Wayne looks down and away, alone with his own thoughts. And Tess is ramrod straight, trembling with nervousness and strain. So. Okay. She will have to eat her own words now. And marry Doc.

But then comes Sam's best moment. Ahhhhh, it's so satisfying!

He gets off the horse, and starts for his jeep. Chance intercepts him and holds out his hand, saying, "Welcome to the family, Doc." Sam doesn't shake Chance's hand. Says, flatly, with great dignity, "No, thanks. I wanted to see if I could ride him. Not her." And gets in the jeep and drives off. GO SAM! Now it wouldn't be good if every woman were treated like that - but Tess needs to be taken down a peg. Otherwise she will make any man in her life totally miserable. (Like Spencer Tracy making that famous comment to Hepburn: "Oh, don't worry. I'll cut you down to size." when she joked that she was taller than him. Hepburn was a Tess-like character (at least in the movies), almost like Widow-Maker in her wildness - someone needed to have the patience to tame her.) Sam's action came as a surprise to me the first time I saw the episode. I didn't see it coming. It throws everyone into a tizzy. Doc? Sweet submissive Doc? Saying "no"? Driving away? Wow. Tess is absolutely stunned. Humiliated.

Then comes a wonderful scene - between Tess and Chance (it's my favorite scene in the episode). There's a tenderness here - even though Tess is a grown woman, and a feisty woman - she's also Chance's daughter - and he takes the moment as an opportunity to teach her something. With gentleness and love. Tess is embarrassed that everyone is laughing at her. I love how Chance replies, "Nobody's laughin', Tess." Love him for that. He tells her to go after him. She balks at this - how humiliating - to chase after a man. Chance is having none of her excuses. "Don't you have to chase down calves to brand them? The chase is part of it, Tess - now go after him and fight for him." I love the scene - it's played beautifully by both actors.

Tess does go after Doc. She barges in on him. Finally, to explain himself - he hands over Doc's diary, wondering if it's the right choice - he's not sure. He hopes Doc, the real Doc, will forgive him when the time comes.

This scene - this last scene between Tess and Doc - is perfectly written. You want to see a well-crafted television scene? A perfect example of what to do, and how to write? You'd do worse than to look at this particular scene. It's where things are resolved, yes - which can often have a too-simplistic feel to it in your basic one-hour TV show ... but here: the writer (Deborah Arakelian, by the way) stays in the world of the characters ... it's still about these two people, and how THEY will resolve. It's just perfectly done, and perfectly played.

Sam is fed up with being treated like shit by her. He thinks Doc deserves better. Tess is scared. This is it, this is love. Is she ready? So when Sam finally just hands over the diary, it's the end of the road for him. No going back from that choice. He turns away from her, and stares out the window - as she, quietly, in awe, almost fear, flips through the journal, reading, realizing ... that Doc has loved her for years. How could she have missed it? She looks over at Doc as though she has never seen him before. Love is a new experience for her, she hasn't recognized any of the signs.

Sam doesn't turn around to look at her. And with his back to us, we get a voiceover. It tears at my heart, have to admit. Without naming "God", you can tell who he is talking to. "This isn't fair, you know. You can't expect me to do this and not get involved. So if Tess falls in love with Doc, I'd appreciate it if you'd just leap me out of here as soon as possible." Oh, Sam. No. It isn't fair. You are right. He can't bear it. If Tess chooses Doc, then that means he will leap - and not be able to experience what it would be like to be in the fullness of love with this woman - and that's a thought he can't stand. Sam Becket only gets to experience the struggle. He doesn't ever get to stick around for the good stuff. And no. That is not fair. I feel ya, dawg.

Tess, having had her heart and eyes opened by Doc's journal, asks if they can dance again. Sam accepts. It's almost too much for him now, though. To touch her. Knowing that his time here is so short. Tess has other things on her mind. As they dance she says, "Riata's in my blood. I can't just give her up." Sam says, "Nobody's asking you to." Tess protests, "If I marry you, all the men will look to you, after Chance is gone." Sam asks, "Couldn't we run it together?" Tess looks up at him as though he is now speaking a foreign language. "Together?" And now - Sam can't help it - leans in to kiss her - and this time Tess accepts the kiss. It's probably her first kiss. Her eyes remain open and vaguely alarmed the entire time. Ha. I love her character.

But then comes the final wrench into the entire leap.

From outside the house, we suddenly hear Wayne's shouting voice, "ARE YOU GONNA MARRY DOC, TESS? I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE. ARE YOU GONNA MARRY HIM?" The kiss breaks up. What is happening now? Tess goes outside, and sees Wayne standing there - all dressed up now - bolo tie, hat, gleaming horse beside him - It is Wayne's moment. His moment to (finally) declare himself. Tess is pissed - "What are you doing here, Wayne??" (She still doesn't "get it", does she.) Wayne, standing still and strong and stiff, confesses that he's worked at Riata all these years (for shit wages) only because of her - and because "someday I hoped I'd rope you."

It was in that particular moment when I first realized: You know what? It's WAYNE who's really her "mate", her "one" - not Doc. Beautiful set-up of the entire episode, I think. You root for Doc, you think Wayne is the competition - but at the end, you switch ... and you see what Tess hasn't seen, what Sam hasn't seen (because he was falling for Tess himself) - and you see Wayne, in all his awkward cowboy glory - and you see true love shining awkwardly out of his face. How could we have missed it? He can't express himself well, so suddenly - he pulls out a packet of letters - and says, "I've been writing you letters all this time ...." Sam, standing on the porch, still hopeful that "he" will win, deflates visibly. The letters. The letters that Ziggy and Al told him about. Can't fight fate. Tess takes the letters - and the expression on her face pretty much says it all. She doesn't look at Wayne the way she looked at Doc - with a curious and almost wondrous look. No. She looks at Wayne like a high school girl psyched - PSYCHED - that her crush-boy has FINALLY asked her to dance. We've never seen Tess look like that. Sam knows he's licked.

But Tess still wants to read the letters from Wayne - to compare and contrast them to Doc's diary - so the three of them sit in Doc's parlor (notice the set design - doesn't it feel like such a REAL room??) Tess puts down the last letter. The air trembles between the three competitors. Tess stands and asks Doc if it would be all right if she danced with Wayne. She just wants to see what it would be like. Wayne is as awkward as Tess was in the first dancing scene - he says (and you just love him, suddenly): "I don't know how to dance, Tess." She puts her arms around him and says, in her guileless simple way, "That's okay. I'll lead." Wayne nods - like that would be okay with him - and they awkwardly step touch step touch together - smiling shyly like two adolescents - and Sam steps back, watching, letting his heart break just a little bit. That's all part of his job. He couldn't do his job properly and not get involved. And I guess that's true for all of us in life, although it's sometimes hard to live by those rules. All that is really required of us while we are here on this planet is that we are involved. Bah. I can't deal with that.

In the next scene, Sam is still Doc - he's all dressed up - and feeding the small pig who, by now, is almost full-grown. We also learn that he is to be the best man at Tess and Wayne's wedding - which is that day - So I am assuming that Tess and Wayne did not have a long engagement - right? Sam wouldn't hang around for months? Or maybe he would. Al has now, at the 11th hour, shown up. Sam is still pissed at Al for abandoning him with Widow-maker and Al tries to defend himself, telling him he HAD to take that call - it was Tina telling him that she had only had an affair with Gushie to make Al jealous! So now, yay, Al was back together with Tina! He HAD to take that call. During this scene, you can hear the still-nameless kid with thick glasses playing his guitar out on the porch ... and it starts, slowly, underneath the scene, to be a tune that we, finally, recognize.

Sam is pissed at Al for not being there. And Sam is also pissed because - the whole leap has gotten him down. He didn't mean to fall for Tess, but like he said to God/fate/time - he did ... and now he has to stand by and watch her marry another man, and that just sucks.

Now comes the long-deferred mirror moment. I can't think of another time in the series when a mirror-moment comes at the END of the episode as opposed to the beginning - but it packs such a nice punch here, for multiple reasons. First of all, Scott Bakula is a stud. He's a tall, handsome guy with a great body, who is pretty much unambiguously male. A hunk. Things are different on this earth for the studs (whether they are nice people or not). The best thing about Sam Beckett is that he seems pretty much unaware of his studly qualities - it's a lucky accident, and he has done a ton of work to develop his mind, etc. But still - Al knows that Sam is a "catch", a guy who catches women's eyes easily - Sam grew up with that. He might not even be aware of it. But the reality is - life is easier for Sam because of his lucky genetics. So Al gestures to Sam, "Come here ... I want you to see something." He points at the hall mirror, and slowly Sam walks over to look at his reflection. And for the first time, we see what Doc looks like. And he's not a big strapping stud. He's a lean scrawny fellow, with glasses, and when he takes off his hat, we see the bald back of his head and his thin hair. All through the episode, seeing Sam ride and rope and brand and pound posts - it has been vaguely plausible that he would succeed at all of these things, eventually - because we haven't had the image of who Doc really is - we just see Scott Bakula. But to see scrawny nerd-man in the mirror, and to picture him braving Widow-Maker is a truly moving moment. Al says quietly (and bless Stockwell - he just knows how to play a moment), "You had a lot to overcome, Sam." Sam's demeanor changes when he sees the reflection. He grins at himself. He's proud. Proud of Doc for "going for it" - even though he didn't win.

Sam and Al stroll out onto the porch, into the sunlight. The nameless kid is still singing. The pig strolls by. The nameless kid sees it, and, naturally, incorporates it into the song - which, as I said, we are slowly starting to recognize. "Piggy Sue ... oh, Piggy Sue ..." Sam and Al don't notice yet, they stroll into the yard - wondering when Sam will leap. They think it's the 'I do' moment - that makes the most sense ... but slowly, slowly, they start to hear the song come forward, and the nameless kid - who, up until this moment in the episode, has just been dawdling on the strings, nothing real emerging - starts to really sing, and really play. He's onto something, he can feel it:

Piggy Sue, Piggy Sue,
Oh, how my heart yearns for you.
Oh, Piggy, my Piggy Sue,
Well, I love you girl.
Yes, I love you, Piggy Sue ...

Sam and Al are stopped in their tracks. Nobody moves. Nobody speaks. Slowly, the two men turn back to stare at the nameless kid on the porch, the kid who has always looked totally familiar. And now, naturally, we know where we have seen him before. But still. Nobody speaks. Al grins. A beautiful silent moment. Al glances at Sam and says, reading his friend's mind, "Why don't you give it a try?" Sam takes his final leap, and calls out to the kid, taking a chance, "Buddy?" Buddy Holly stops playing, glances up and says, "Yeah, Doc?" (Goosebump moment. Huge payoff.) Sam bumbles, a bit starstruck, you can tell - "Why don't you try Peggy Sue, instead of Piggy Sue ... I don't know ... I think it might sound better." Buddy considers this a moment, likes the idea, says, "Okay, Doc!" and launches right back in, playing and singing now with certainty - the rock star is born in that moment.

Al and Sam stand back, watching, grinning, a bit stunned by the whole thing ... and I just want to take a moment to revel in the two faces of these actors. Now I know a lot of good-looking interesting people, some of whom I think should be famous. But I look at these two, and I just feel glad - so so glad - that they "made it", that this series exists - and that it worked out for them - because I think they're both beautiful, and I love "visiting" the both of them whenever I want to, by popping in an episode of Quantum Leap.

Aren't they awesome?

Al, because he knows everything, realizes before Sam does - that it was THIS moment that God/Fate/Time/Whatever was waiting for ... not the "I do" moment ... Sam had one last thing to do here, and that was identifying Buddy Holly and giving him a crucial suggestion ... and now, now ... he will leap. Al turns to Sam and waves bye-bye - just as Sam shivers into blue lightning and disappears ....

... and wakes up, half naked, lying on his back in some dingy attic room ... and a breathless woman is standing over him, hurriedly putting on her pumps, saying, in a thick Long Island accent, "Thanks, Frankie. That was terrific. If I'm lyin', I'm dyin'." And she clacks out ... leaving him alone ... looking around him ... he's wearing a pink tuxedo shirt ... and he's obviously just had sex with that woman ... Tess and the west of the 1950s is long gone ... so ... where is he now ... what has he just done ...

Oh, boy!!!

Quantum Leap recaps
Overview

Season 1, Ep. 1: Genesis - part 1 of re-cap

Season 1, Ep. 1: Genesis - part 2 of re-cap

Season 1, Ep. 1: Genesis - part 3 of re-cap

Season 1, Ep. 2: Star-Crossed - part 1 of re-cap

Season 1, Ep. 2: Star-Crossed - part 2 of re-cap

Season 1, Ep. 3: The Right Hand Of God

Tommy's posts:
Quantum Leap: an overview

Episode 1: Genesis

Episode 2: Star-crossed

In keeping with the general air of shallow elitism in this joint:

I'll be posting my next Quantum Leap re-cap tomorrow. Season 1, Episode 4: How the Tess Was Won.

Here are the other re-caps, for those of you who are into this whole re-cap thing!

And here's a shot of Al, from Episode 4 - when he's having a particularly rough moment, full of suspicion, envy and anxiety.

hahahahaha Look at his face. I love acting that is like that - it's almost like a mask labeled "Suspicious". Brill. Love him.

Happy birthday to ...

Born on this day, in 1936.

Here's a big post I wrote about him for House Next Door. I go into his background and his development as an actor in that post - as well as point out 5 performances (out of so many good performances!) that I think capture Stockwell's impressive versatility, and also his plain old staying power.

In the comments section to one of my many posts on Dean Stockwell, a great conversation came up about fantasy, and what fantasies can provide us in real life. And how if you judge the side of yourself that yearns for a fantasy life, or if you think that that's just "kids stuff" - you can miss so much. I explain myself - and the whole celebrity crush thing here. What I have learned is that often - a crush like that - comes up as a harbinger of other things in my life. It's a message ... from my subconscious (which I normally try to ignore) ... telling me: "Something's going on. You need to pay attention." And then - like with my Ralph Macchio crush (post about it here) ... it seems to exist solely as a kind of emotional armor. Something that I can hang onto when the going gets tough ... and it helps keep the best part of me alive. Because, you know, often the world - and other people - want to kill that part of you. They want to crush that which is soft and open and hopeful - because it implicates them. Hope is suspect in many circles. It's seen as threatening and it either produces a rolling-eyed response of condescension, or a calculated effort to smash that hope. I experienced it in junior high and I experience it now as an adult.

I said in the comments to one of my Stockwell posts:

I think that reality is all well and good - you know, I have to deal with it every day ... but I thank God that even in my adulthood I have carved out that space of fantasy for myself - still. Very much like that one stupid episode in Eight is Enough years and years ago - my "fantasies" about some of these people have kept vital things in me alive ... it's almost like I was able to save things up, for when I would need them later. Life was a howling wilderness, all was cruel - but the dreams that came alive in me when I saw that stupid 8 is enough episode - helped save that bit of my soul, that I would need for later ... It WASN'T killed. It survived.

I think the word I am looking for is "soft". These things help keep me "soft" (and I mean that in the best way Not as in 'weak' but as in 'open'). So much of life and reality seems designed to harden us. It's such a temptation to get bitter. And those who pride themselves on being "realistic" are often just dickheads. I won't go TOO much into my personal life - but 2007 has been a rough year for me. It's been a struggle sometimes to just get thru the day. And Dean Stockwell, bless his heart, helped keep me 'soft' - and receptive - and open ... still able to be hurt, and hope for things, and dream dreams.

I don't expect to be understood by those who have not had such an experience, but that's my experience.

I am happy to report that when I recently met Dean Stockwell, he totally lived up to my expectations. Even to the sexy little comment he made when my friend Stevie was fiddling with my camera - trying to take a picture of us - and Stockwell said to Stevie, "Push the button easy ..." and he had his arm around me, his cigar in his hand ... and he's saying something like "Push the button easy???" Have I died? Can someone kill me right now?

He was just as I had pictured. And that's always awesome, too.

Here are some selected posts I have written about Dean Stockwell. Hope you enjoy.

The incredible length of his career

Three stories about Errol Flynn

Post about Stockwell as Tony "the Tiger" Russo in Married to the Mob - the scene where he files his nails

Post about Blue Velvet

Post about Compulsion - Mitchell and I watched it last night.

Stockwell in The Player

Stockwell in Compulsion on Broadway

Stockwell in The Werewolf of Washington - a camp favorite of mine

Stockwell in The Dunwich Horror - I mean, come ON.

Stockwell taking a bow. sniff, sniff.

So happy birthday, Mr. Stockwell. Glad I decided to re-discover you. Your work has meant more to me over this past year than I can even express.

Quantum Leap: Season 1, Ep. 3: "The Right Hand of God"

Okay. I am determined to keep this going. Tommy, I'm sorry I dropped the ball on our project! The past autumn was seriously a rough time for me. Couldn't do shit. But I really want to keep going with our Quantum Leap re-caps!

LEAP INTO: October 24, 1974

Al: Who does she remind you of?
Sam: Ingrid Bergman.
Al: No. You and me both - back in the old days when we were trying to raise money for the imaging chamber. We were poring over the blueprints. That was our dream, our chapel. Remember?

Sam Beckett leaps out of the lecherous professor Dr. Gerald Bryant, having (perhaps) saved the love of his life Donna from future misery. He hopes. And of course, because Quantum Leap glories in plopping poor Sam Beckett down into the middle of the action, as opposed to, you know, him waking up in the morning, having some toast, whatever, having time to figure it out ... Sam Beckett finds himself in the middle of a boxing ring, staring at a huge fist coming at his face. Pow. And down he goes.

EPISODE 3: THE RIGHT HAND OF GOD

Episode 3 pulls out every boxing cliche in the book. It's an homage to every boxing film you can think of (how much fun the producers and art directors must have had, putting together these episodes - where not one repeats itself, the period changes, the costumes, even the FEEL of each episode changes.) So we open on a boxing ring, cigar smoke in the air - it's kind of seedy. This is not Madison Square Garden. It's a direct reference to the first scene of Rocky - even the LOOK of it. Fun! Poor Sam has been knocked out. He has no idea who he is, where he is, WHEN he is - and he's in the middle of a boxing match. A guy is shouting at him from the crowd - "GET UP GET UP" ... so ... yeah ... that must be my coach? Why is he yelling at me?? Sam also gets a glimpse of a big fat-cat sitting there, looking displeased and grumpy. This character (Jake Edwards) will be important later in the episode. He's also important because he's Guy Stockwell, Dean's older brother. But for now, Sam is confused, hurt, and has no idea what is going on. Remember, it's only his third leap! It takes him a while to get the hang of things. It's always a bit of a start, to find yourself in the middle of a murder taking place, or something frightening - but Sam isn't as "swiss-cheesed" as the series progresses. He knows: Okay. Calm down. Keep your eyes peeled for clues.

Later, in the locker room, things start to become clear for Sam. He's a boxer. Obviously. His name is "Kid Cody". He gets a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and it's that classic old-school barrel-chested boxer body - not the six-pack-ab bodies of today. You can just tell the guy is down on his luck (a la Rocky Balboa). More clues come. His coach Gomez (played by Alex Colon) thinks maybe Kid has a concussion or something, he seems so out of it. He says to him, "You almost lost our last fight together, kid." Okay, so that's important information. This was their last fight together as a team. There's a kind of Burgess Meredith in Rocky thing going on here. You know, the crusty guy who believes in you more than you believe in yourself. The one who won't let you get away with second best - who tells you the truth, etc. Kid Cody (Sam) had actually gone on to win the fight, with a wildly thrown punch that landed his opponent onto the floor. Won by a knockout. The fat-cat comes into the locker room, and you immediately get a bad sense from him, the swagger, the proprietary way he talks to Sam. And let me just say, for the 100th time. how great and specific the art direction of this series was. Every "set" built is so detailed, it feels so right - whether it's a soda-pop fountain in the 50s or a grimy locker room. To me, nothing ever felt kitschy on this show, the way other "period" shows can feel - where the clothes always look like costumes, etc. Quantum Leap leaps around in time, but I always felt that each episode (even the silly ones) were grounded in some sense of reality. It wasn't a sickening nostalgia-fest. Where girls wear poodle skirts, but you just know she's got a belly-ring on underneath, and is openly psyched to play 'dress up'. You know the kind of acting I'm talking about. Quantum Leap had very little of that. It didn't condescend to other eras.

Then - what the hell - a flock of nuns come running into the locker room, all excited that he won his fight, congratulating him, and raving about the "knockout". They're in full habit. Sam, with his natural modesty (I love that about him - he's this big huge hunk with a body to DIE for - but he's quite shy about it) - tries to cover himself up, baffled, and just striving to keep up with the conversation. Who are they?? It becomes clear that Kid Cody's boxing contract had been left to the church of St. Mary's, as part of some kind of estate ... so the nuns have a vested interest in his success, since much of his winning proceeds will go to building a special chapel that will do outreach in the community. This comes out later. For the time being, Sam is being polite to the nuns, trying to figure out his situation - and more than that: why he is here. There's a Mother Superior type, and then a younger nun - whose name is Sister Angela (played beautifully by Michelle Joyner). She is overflowing with enthusiasm and excitement about boxing. You love her.

It's a lot to process. But naturally, Sam has no time to process anything. The next scene shows him outside with Sister Angela in what looks like a vacant lot in a dingy part of town. They're in Sacramento. Sister Angela, a lovely plucky person (but - as we see later, not at all a cliche - she comes from somewhere, her faith in God comes from a deep personal place, she's got a past, the stakes are REALLY high for here too) - is marking out in the dirt where the chapel will go. It has always been her dream to build a chapel, that will be open 24 hours a day, so that if someone should need help, or guidance, or prayer - in the middle of the night - it will be there for them. Sam, in dreadful plaid pants that make him look HYSTERICAL, tries to tamp down her enthusiasm, once he realizes that the chapel will only come to fruition if he wins his next fight. He's not a boxer. He won't win! He says to her, "Just don't count on me too much." She looks at him with incomprehension. She doesn't judge, she's not snotty, and her faith is not a blind smiley-face kind of faith. It's stronger and deeper than that, and much of it has to do with faith in the goodness of her fellow man. So when he talks down about himself, she really does not understand him. She says simply, "But we're all counting on you. All the sisters at St. Mary's are." To quote Sam, oh boy.

This isn't the first time that the series directly brings God into the picture. "He", or "the big guy", or "fate, or time or the universe" (they call him all different things) enters the conversation pretty early on in the series - and it is a great credit to the writers and producers and directors of the show that they rarely played it on the nose - because that way leads to Touched By An Angel malarkey, and we can't have THAT. The show always had a healthy dose of cynicism in it, which is appealing and is where much of its humor comes from - and also: there's a mystery at the heart of it. (The very last episode of the series brings it home like gangbusters - because, after all that, you STILL can't really say: So HE is in control. It's still unknown. Great stuff.) But that's part of why the show works. It's not about do-gooders leaping through time, setting right what was wrong. I mean, yes, they DO do good ... but their main purpose at first was scientific, to time-travel. Then they realize very early on (the first episode) that ... something went "ka ka" - and what could it be? And why can't they pull Sam out of it and correct the error? Maybe it's becomes someone ELSE is in charge. You know. Like God. So ... okay. Sam's journey then becomes (again, without becoming preachy) trying to figure out what God wants. Or "time or fate or whatever". Why is he here? It is the most existential of television series. Because it's quite practical, that question: Am I here to win the next fight? Am I here to help Sister Angela regain her faith? Those questions, yes. But there's always a deeper level - the REAL meaning of the question: Why am I here? In the case of Sam Beckett, and how the series ends up going - and if you remember how it all ends - it turns out that he is not "here" for little do-gooding tasks through the 20th century, helping all of humanity get a bit closer to happiness. He's here for something that could not be more personal. And when he realizes it ... when the realization falls over his face in that last episode (sorry, leaping ahead!) - it is one of the most moving moments I can think of in a network television series. It's KILLER. He knows. A gear shifts into place. THE gear. Finally. THAT is why I'm here. And his sacrifice will be tremendous. The ultimate sacrifice. But it is the right thing to do. So here, in "The Right Hand of God", being surrounded by hopeful nuns who believe in him, that faith in himself is tested overtly. They don't expect him to be a believer. They do not try to convert him. What they need from him is to win his next fight.

No pressure or anything.

While Sister Angela and Sam are talking, Al Calavicci shows up. He is wearing the most ridiculous metallic jacket and metallic shoes known to man. I love this character. He's such a dandy. But ... his style is his own, man. The shoes kill me. Stockwell laughs at the fact that the character's wardrobe was never addressed, nobody ever found out why he dressed like that - it was never mentioned, or questioned ... which is just so brilliant, if you think about it. He shows up in the most bizarre get-ups and it is just accepted that this is how Al Calavicci dresses. He listens to Sister Angela talking, with his customary expression of cynicism, patience, humor, and kindness. I don't know how Stockwell gets all of that onto his face at the same time, but he does - constantly!! He also does his "gesture". The gesture that has been with him since he was a 6 year old.

Exhibit A and Exhibit B, C

He cups his hand on his cheek, hooking his finger up over his nose. It's the most adorable gesture, it's compulsive for him - it shows up everywhere. His thoughtful gesture. I saw him do it repeatedly in Taos, and nearly had a heart attack.

Sister Angela finally leaves, and the two are now free to talk. So Sam, in his plaid-panted glory, begins to freak out that he will have to box, and not just box - but win. No way, this is never gonna happen. Meanwhile Al is kind of not paying attention to the issues at hand (one of his greatest charms). First of all, he is apologetic - because Ziggy thought that Sam would be closer to home by now - "Ziggy messed up the calculations ..." Big time. But also, Al has some personal problems (what else is new). A new guy has moved in next door and he works on his car all night, vrooming at a deafening roar all thru the wee hours. Al has not had a good night's sleep in a week, and he is beside himself. He is cranky, distracted - and kind of couldn't care less about Kid Cody and the chapel and Sister Angela. As a matter of fact, as Sam is telling him the situation, Al blatantly lies down on the ground, and tries to fall asleep. Hahahaha Imagine that your own hope for getting "back home" was behaving in this manner! The dynamic between the two men is the best thing about this show. I personally think it could have gone on. The strength of their dynamic just got stronger and better as the series went on.

The next scene we see Sam climbing a rickety staircase - he's obviously going home. I always wonder about that: how does he know where to go? Does he look at the dude's license? As he climbs the stairs, a shiny car pulls up - and Sam (Kid Cody) is called to come and talk to "Mr. Edwards", the gangster from before. Sam is reluctant. Not sure what he's getting into. But he obeys. And now we move into On the Waterfront references (Sam even tries to make a joke about it, it's that obvious - the joke does not go over well). Kid Cody is in the hands of some pretty shady characters, who want him to throw his next fight. They don't just want him to, they expect him to. He is on their payroll. The 10 fights Kid Cody had won up to that point had been set-ups, apparently - Mr. Edwards tells him that in his next fight: "I'll tell you the round later ..." meaning, the round he will go down. So the fight today - that Kid Cody won - threw a loop in Mr. Edwards' plans. He needs to put the pressure onto this kid. He will do as he is told. Oh, and as they are talking - talks of other fights going on come up, and putting money down on this or that person - and the Foreman/Ali fight is mentioned - which, of course, was coming up the next week - October 30, 1974 - in Zaire. But of course it hadn't happened yet. It was expected that Ali would lose. Naturally, we know now he won - but it was all uncertain then. Sam has insider information from the future. But he doesn't use it yet. Mr. Edwards tells Kid Cody that he will bet MORE on his fight than on the Ali/Foreman fight. This will become important later. Sam feels the pressure. The sisters expect him to win - he's already emotionally involved there, he can't help it - that's the kind of person Sam Beckett is. But these guys mean business. They're mad, they have guns, they threaten to shoot him in the kneecaps if he doesn't cooperate.

Oh, and another detail: in order to save money on expenses, the sisters of St. Mary's have asked him to move out of his apartment and into the church basement - where he can train in peace, and not have to pay rent, etc. We don't know Kid Cody's situation. Sam doesn't know it. He walks into his apartment - which is above a bar (and must mention again, and sorry - but it won't be the last time - the beauty of the set decoration and art direction of this series). You can almost SMELL that apartment. You know how when you go into Rocky's shitty apartment, it's like you can get a whiff of the stale cooking smells, the nasty bathroom smells, the roach motels, the mold, the dust - all of it ... it emanates off the screen. Kid Cody's apartment is spare, cheap, but there are signs of a female presence there - you can see them if you look closely, although it's not apparent at first that he has a girlfriend. There's a boxing bag hanging from the ceiling. Things look random, you know like furniture dragged off the street. It's not a dump, it's clean - as clean as it can be - but you know that Kid Cody is living on the edge of some pretty serious hard times.

And suddenly - he is confronted by what must be his girlfriend - coming at him to kiss him and babble at him about her job, and tell him she's cooking his favorite meal. She is wearing a pink silk bathrobe. And she is absolutely stunning. I wonder if this actress got any work as a Marilyn Monroe impersonator - because it's truly uncanny, the likeness. I'll talk about her a bit later - her name is Teri Copley - and it looks like she doesn't work anymore. I hope she's happy with whatever she is doing. I LOVE her. She's got a little breathy baby voice, the platinum hair, the Marilyn Monroe look in her eyes - but somehow, she manages to create a real woman here. Not a caricature, not a stereotype. You just love her. She's a type of woman that I have met before: the girl who, for various reasons, works in a strip club - but has serious plans for the future. She puts money away. And she's a one-man woman. Monogamous to an almost pathological level. She makes her money dancing naked for the drooling masses, but at heart, she's a traditional girl. Old-fashioned. I know girls like that. That's who Dixie is. She establishes her character within 2 seconds - we know just who she is from how she greets "Kid Cody" - totally supportive, excited, and then - dismayed because he is going to move into the church. She doesn't like that. They have a "nest egg" of money - which they keep in a pocket in one of her pillows - and they are saving up to buy a donut shop. That is their dream, as a couple. Sam is just playing catch-up here through this scene, trying to get information, and not "let on" that he's basically a messenger from the future, NOT her boyfriend. He's also shy about sex (as we learn time and time again) - so to have this beautiful half-dressed woman kissing him passionately throws him for a loop. He kisses her back, but still. In later episodes the sex thing becomes a moral issue for Sam. He doesn't think you should sleep with someone unless you love that person. So ... how does he justify sleeping with these women, if he happens to be their husband - or boyfriend? Al, naturally, has a different take on such "problems". He's like: Who CARES if you love her?? A beautiful woman is ALREADY in your bed and you are ALREADY married to her - so what's the problem?? This is the first time, though, that we see Sam in something like that situation - a man who is part of a couple. How do you handle it? Sam Beckett is old-fashioned. He knows Dixie loves him (Kid Cody) - but still: he's NOT Kid Cody. I love him for having those dilemmas. And I love Al for NOT having those dilemmas. It gives the series a real spark. Great stuff.

A dude shows up at the door - and you get the hint that they know him and that Dixie doesn't like him. He must be a bookie - and he's collecting money from them? Can't remember. Anyway, Dixie is NOT having any of it. "Roscoe," she says to him, "you come between us and the jelly-glazed with sprinkles on top one more time, and I'll bust your nose."

Next scene we see Sam moving himself into the church basement. There's a gym over to the side, some stained glass windows, a single bed ... and you can hear someone singing "Amazing Grace" in the building. It's a bit much, as far as I'm concerned. Too obvious, too on the nose. Also, I don't know - I have nuns in my family, I grew up around nuns - "Amazing Grace" isn't a real convent-type song, although now, of course, some Catholic nitpicker will show up and give me the history of the song, and inform me that it was composed in 1425 by a roving band of Benedictine nuns, or something. I have been going to Catholic Church for my whole life, never heard "Amazing Grace" during mass. Not once. So maybe it's Sister Angela singing it by herself, just as a ruminative type thing. I still think it's a bit too much. The scene would have been better without it.

Sam lies down on the narrow cot, listening to the singing ... and suddenly realizes that someone is snoring - and loudly - beside him. He glances off the bed and sees poor sleep-deprived Al Calavicci, curled up on the floor, snoring. That's another question I have. In later episodes, we actually see the imaging chamber - and what it's like - what the process is like for those back in the present. It's not like you can just zap into the imaging chamber from anywhere - you have to be at the headquarters, and be buzzed in, and blah blah blah ... so maybe Al has a room in the back of the office where he tries to catch some sleep - and so that's how he is able to roll into the imaging chamber in his pajamas, on occasion? I never heard anything about Al having a PRIVATE imaging chamber in his house so that he could "visit" Sam whenever ... it all seemed a bit more formal than that, like it happens during the working hours, etc. Anyway, just a question I have. So Al steps into the imaging chamber, and maybe as he waits to get quantum-leaped to Sam, he falls asleep? So when he is transported, he is in a sleeping state when he arrives? This is where my mind goes. Of course it's also just a funny bit - that the guy who is in CHARGE of your project, who is in charge of getting you HOME eventually - shows up in a deep snoring REM state. You know, what a vote of confidence there, Al! Also, just to add to the ba-dum-ching nature of the moment, Al is talking in his sleep - and he's obviously embroiled in some adulterous brou-haha, he's cheating on Tina, his girlfriend - and imploring some other woman to hide in the closet. Sam is rather judgmental about all of this (he always has been, he rolls his eyes at Al's lecherous-ness, and his apparent lack of morals) - Al finally wakes up and Sam scolds him about monogamy. Al couldn't care less. He is a desperate man - because Muffler Man next door has still been tormenting him. It is ruining his life. He can't sleep! He is at his wit's end!! Sam tries to get Al to FOCUS. Not on his romantic life, but on the issues in this particular "leap". How on earth is he going to learn how to box? This won't work! It's amazing that this particular quality of the show did not get tedious - because it so could have! Sam has to learn how to split the atom! Be a ballerina! Have a baby! Build a nuclear warhead! How will he figure it out??? Instead of being tedious, it is usually quite funny - and Sam has to be very resourceful, and really commit to this other person's life - rather than his own. He doesn't WANT to train to be a fighter ... he wants to go HOME ... but ... oh well, this is the nature of quantum leaping, so here goes! Sam Beckett is a wonderful character. Al reveals that he was a boxing champion when he was a kid (of course he was! That's one of the running jokes of the show - as Al reveals more and more about his life - he was in the circus! He was a POW! He was an actor! He can speak Italian - you realize: who the hell is this guy? And it's not really realistic, but it works anyway. Stockwell makes it work. He keeps Al's cards close to his chest. Al isn't a guy who lets people in easily, even though it seems like he's an open book. The guy has depth. Secrets. Hidden pain. Al says HE will train Sam - but of course that won't work, because when sparring, Sam would punch right through the hologram that is Al. Sam decides okay, he needs to take this seriously - he'll talk to his coach, and see if he will train him - even though they are no longer working together, strictly.

There's an interesting moment at the end of this scene. Sam goes back to his bed, and Al is left in the shadowy gym, lights off - and he dances around by himself, throwing punches - then it's like he remembers his age. He stops, kind of sucks his belly in a bit - and pats his paunch - there's a bit of regret there, in the gesture - it's simple, beautifully played - then he says to himself, "I was good, too."

And that, folks, is an actor. It says it all. It's quiet, private, simple - not overdone ... but his whole life is in that moment. And we're only in the third episode of the series! But he's all there already. Stockwell didn't need time to build that character. He didn't need to develop him over the course of the series. He was THERE, from the beginning. Bakula said that at the audition, Stockwell came in "complete". Al Calavicci was alive, already.

The next scene has Sam and Gomez sitting in a bar. Gomez says he doesn't want to get into the training racket again. "I'm tired of training fighters who take a dive," says Gomez. There's a very Rocky-esque feel to this scene: the trainer with failed dreams himself, who once was a fighter himself, of great promise. And Kid Cody is a good fighter. But he's in with the wrong crowd - the gangsters - he doesn't really want to win - he is willing to take a dive if the price is right. But the scene ends with Gomez saying what the hell, let's go to it. He agrees to train Cody.

First day of training, Kid Cody gets into the ring at the church with Father Muldooney, the priest at the church who also has done some boxing himself. The ring is surrounded by cheering nuns, holding towels, throwing punches. It's hysterical. Sister Angela is beside herself with excitement and has to be told to get out of the ring, please. In the first couple of seconds of the fight, Father Muldooney knocks Sam out. Everyone crowds around, scared. A bucket of water is thrown on Sam's face. The nuns all look disappointed. Nervous. It looks like their guy is a loser.

And now we have the Rocky montage, complete with music (not exactly the Rocky theme, but close enough). The montage at first shows Sam not doing well, really struggling - unable to punch the punching bag in that flowing way that professional boxers have ... struggling with pullups, drenched in sweat, Sister Angela hovering nearby, supportive. Then comes my favorite scene in the episode. Sister Angela rides her bike, and Sam runs along beside her holding two bricks in his hands (a la Rocky Balboa). Sister Angela means business, she is a tough taskmaster. She pushes Sam to keep going - they're going up a hill, and Sam is DYING. He begs for a rest. Just a couple minutes! She relents. As they stand there, he asks her why the chapel is so important to her. She tells her story. It's not a happy one. A little all-night chapel was there for her when she needed it most - she had been living on the streets, she was an orphan ... and it saved her life. God saved her life. She wants to create a place like that for others. Now - it's a cliched story, and I certainly could have watched it being utterly unmoved. Seen it all before. But the way she plays it is just lovely. The emotion that comes up in her feels organic, as though the story (even though well-known to her, since she lived it) still has the capability of taking her by surprise. She does not weep and wail, she does not go for the drama - she just turns her back on Sam, to get some privacy, and quietly tells him what happened to her. It is the LEAST condescending type of acting imaginable - and the supporting actors on this show that come in for guest spots like this are universally excellent in that regard. I love her performance. It could have been over-the-top cheesy. It is not at all.

It is essential we understand the stakes for her, and how specific they are. It's not just a generalized "I love God, I want to share that love with others" thing. When, later in the episode, we see that her faith has been shaken - we really GET what that means for her. This is a girl who has had a tough life. She feels betrayed all over again. Life is a wilderness without God. God came into her life and saved her. And now ... she can't believe anymore. Without that quiet scene where she tells her story to Sam, the impact wouldn't be as great. We really get what all of this means for HER (another reason why the show works so well: EVERYONE has high stakes. On all different levels. We all want something. We all have needs. These needs conflict. That makes for interesting drama, if it's done well. Sister Angela's journey with her faith is part of the whole - it's NOT just about Kid Cody winning the fight. We're all connected, everything is interwoven with everything else. None of us are an island.)

Then we get a second montage. Sam has been training hard now - so he's doing better. This is the SECOND Rocky montage, when Rocky makes it up the steps of the museum, and leaps around in triumph at the top. Sam is in the zone now. Doing situps, pullups, punching ... there's a hysterical moment where we see Sam punching the little punching bag, and he's going so fast it's a blur - and the music is pounding - and as the camera pulls around, we see Al standing there right next to him, in a blazing white suit, smoking a cigar, and kind of dancing (hard to explain - but it makes me laugh out loud every time I see it) to the beat of the punches on the bag. He's "cool" about it, he's not gyrating around - just watching Sam's fist fly, and kind of twitching his body back and forth, in time. hahahaha Well, it's really a visual joke - so if you have the DVD or plan on getting it, keep an eye out for it.

Sam and Al have a conversation in the ring. Sam has been so involved in training that his focus has been elsewhere - and it's interesting, you can see that Al feels a little bit left out. There's a strange distance between the two friends now, and Al ... hm. Well, I think Al - even with his crusty hard-nosed personality - needs to feel needed. That is his whole THING. And he doesn't feel needed here. None of this is spoken. It's not in the script. It's all in Stockwell's acting. He's kind of cranky. Probably because of the sleep-deprivation problem, but also ... because Sam seems more focused on the training than on HIM. He needs Sam to step out of that for a moment and listen to him! He tells Sam that in the real history, Kid Cody was knocked out in the first round of the fight coming up - on October 29, 1974. He lost. And so Sister Angela never got her chapel. There is not a chapel in Sacramento in the present-day like the one Sister Angela dreamt of. You can see Sam's dismay at hearing this. How can that be? Now that he has gotten to know Sister Angela a bit, and been welcomed by all the nuns - you can see that their dream has now become, in part, his. He is not BLASE about them. "Oh well. They didn't get their chapel. What am I supposed to do about it?" No. Sam is into it now. He's turned the corner.

The fight approaches. Gomez and Sam sit in the same bar from before - and they're watching the news. We can see a report going on on the upcoming fight of Foreman/Ali in Zaire. Mr. Edwards comes up to Sam in a menacing way and says, "Nick says you're training for real." This is not part of the deal. Kid Cody is supposed to LOSE, not win. Why is he training? Mr. Edwards has it all planned: he needs to be knocked out in the first round. Sam, feeling stronger now, more able, stands up to Mr. Edwards and refuses. There's a standoff. Inspired by the news report on TV, Sam challenges Mr. Edwards to a bet: 20 to 1 on what round the Ali/Foreman fight will be over.

Sam has to then break the news to Dixie about the bet - they might lose everything - and she flips. Of course Sam knows that this is a GOOD bet, since he knows how it will turn out ... but she can't see that. The jelly glazed dream is even more unattainable now! She's already upset, because he's hanging out with Sister Angela all the time. It seems like the nuns have more say in his life than she, his girlfriend, does. I like this one exchange - it makes me like Sam Beckett even more. She refers to herself as a "tramp" - and he gently takes hold of her arms, stares down at her, and says, "Dixie, you're not a tramp. You're a stripper. That's a profession." I just love him for that.

After the confrontation with Dixie, Sam goes back to the church and finds Sister Angela praying by herself, near a bank of candles. He tries to talk to her, and he can tell immediately that something is dreadfully wrong. She is near tears, yes - but there's something else. A coldness, a hardness. He is alarmed. She was his greatest champion. What's going on? He tries to talk with her. She can't even look at him. She tells him that "a Mr. Edwards" stopped by, and left a message for him: "He thought it over. He wants to call the rounds, not you. Take a dive in the first." She is devastated. Sam isn't too happy either. He has a plan (which he hasn't revealed yet) to get around Mr. Edwards ... but it has to be a secret. Sister Angela believes the worst of him. He can't defend himself. And she, being who she is, with her struggles, her life story behind her, does not take such things casually. Life has not been kind to Sister Angela. There's a fragility there. She says, "I thought God sent me a champion, but he sent me a cheat." She says, "I don't think I can believe in anything anymore." (Now this actress says that potentially cheesy line with utter reality. I've said stuff like that before, and I've meant it. I said it the other night, come to think of it. And I haven't moaned it like Oedipus on a massive Greek stage. I've said it simply, and meant every word. That's how she says it.) And Sam, sensing this in her, her faith being shaken ... is torn up. He needs her belief. It's selfish, yes - but her belief in him helped him get through this training period. To be believed in like that makes all the difference. They are left unresolved. She is crushed. He is scared. Scared that he had hurt her, that he cannot defend himself, and also scared about the upcoming fight. How will he get through it without Sister Angela cheering like a maniac? He knows the stakes are high: the chapel did NOT happen ... he is here to MAKE it happen, to change history.

Now comes the fight. Sister Angela, knowing of the treachery of Kid Cody, is suspicious, waiting for something bad to happen. If he takes a dive in the first round, then she will know he is a cheat. She waits. Sam keeps glancing over at her, worried ... the fact that she's not "in his corner" emotionally is just wrong, for him. He misses her. He's also looking for Al. Where the hell is Al? Because of that strange distance between the two men in the last scene ... we wonder at the slight cooling-off between them. Sam had asked Al, "You coming?" And Al had been kind of diffident, shrugging his shoulders. So that's another issue for Sam. He's all alone out there.

And we have shots of Mr. Edwards, sitting in the stands - with a transistor radio to his ear. I put it together later - he's listening to the Foreman/Ali fight at the same time. It's a big day for Mr. Edwards. Sitting near Mr. Edwards is Dixie, all dressed up and dizzyingly excited for her baby up there in that ring. (If you see the episode a couple times, you might notice some of the things I missed: that there's a fragment of a news program shown in one of the scenes where the "streaking fad" is being discussed. Then, during the argument with Dixie - we come into the middle of it, and she says something like "I bet you wouldn't ask Sister Angela to streak!" But I didn't really put it together - I'm slow like that. Obviously, Sam has a plan - a way that he think he can get around his "promise" to Mr. Edwards that he would take a dive in the first round.) Anyway, Dixie sits out there - in a green trench coat, and seriously - LOOK at the woman. Is there a more supportive face on the planet? Don't you love her? You can see Mr. Edwards in the background, hovering over his transistor radio.

Then comes the dreaded moment: Sam gets knocked out in the first round. Sister Angela, already beside herself, just sits there, shaking her head to herself. So. It was true. Kid Cody was a cheat. He lies on the floor, face crushed into the ring ... disoriented ... all he can see is Sister Angela's disappointed sad face. He can't take it - and starts to struggle up to his feet. Mr. Edwards is distracted by the radio broadcast, but he is aware that something is going up there in the ring ... Sam gets to his feet, not steadily, but he's there - then he looks over at Dixie, and gives her a nod. She stands up, drops the trenchcoat, and streaks naked through the stands, causing an enormous commotion. Mr. Edwards is totally distracted, watching her go by - turning all the way around to see her naked little booty running off - and in that moment, Sam punches his opponent in the nose - and down he goes. POW! It is at this auspicious moment that Al decides to show up. He is wearing bright red trousers, red suspenders, and a little red hat. He looks like a lunatic. He chomps on a cigar, relishing in the moment. Obviously he has gotten a good night's sleep finally! No more cranky Al! He loves the fights. He's here to have a good time, and to help Sam win. Tiger Joe (Sam's opponent) staggers up to his feet, and you can tell by the rage on his face that Sam is not out of the woods yet. Tiger Joe is PISSED. The fight that follows is intense. Sam has to pull all of his training (yeah, from his ONE WEEK of intensive training) out in order to just survive the assault. And Al the hologram helps too - shoving his hand through Tiger Joe - telling Sam where to place his punches, etc. It's a team sport, apparently! It takes two!

And finally .. finally ... Sam lands the punch that knocks Tiger Joe out for good. I love how Al stands there, right beside the action, watching him fall, with a huge grin on his face. The win is very exciting. There's a funny shot of Sam hugging Al - only we see it from the nun's perspective - so it looks like Sam is embracing nothing, throwing his arms around AIR. But it's a big moment, lots of celebration. Nuns screaming, clapping, jumping up and down, everyone going nuts, Al dancing around in his ridiculous outfit, it's a huge triumph.

Back in the locker room, Dixie - now covered up - runs in, all excited - to tell him that Ali won! They had put everything they owned, their whole nest egg, on Ali knocking out Foreman in the 8th round. And Ali just did it. And so they are owed a ton of money (20 to 1 type money) from Mr. Edwards. Enough to buy an entire chain of donut shops. She's going to run off and get their money - and just before she reaches the door - Sam says, impulsively - "Dixie!" She stops. Turns.

And look at her. God. LOOK at this woman.

She loves him so much. And it's a great little moment because I think Sam has fallen in love with her a little bit, too (I mean, who wouldn't? She streaked through a rowdy boxing crowd for HIM) - but it's a great moment because I think Sam knows it's over, he's going to leap any moment. Obviously he won the match, the sisters are going to get their chapel, and everything has worked out. His time "here" is limited, now - maybe he has a minute or so ... so he probably won't see her again. This is it. So he can't just let her fly out of the room without one last moment between them. But he doesn't even have anything to say to her. Not really. All he can manage is, "Hurry back." And Dixie, with eyes full of love, and that Marilyn Monroe glamour girl smile - nods happily and click-clacks off. Leaving Sam alone.

Sister Angela comes in. She is overwhelmed. She is filled with shame that she had doubted him. And that she had doubted God, too. How could that have happened? She thanks him, Kid Cody, for winning ... for getting them their chapel ... but most of all, for giving her her faith in God again.

They shake hands - and as they do so - you can see Sam start to grin, ruefully - to himself. The leap is here. He shivers into blue lightning ... and vanishes ...

Only to find himself ... wearing muddy overalls and galoshes - wrestling with a filthy screaming pig in a paddock ....

Quantum Leap recaps Overview
Season 1, Ep. 1: Genesis - part 1 of re-cap
Season 1, Ep. 1: Genesis - part 2 of re-cap
Season 1, Ep. 1: Genesis - part 3 of re-cap
Season 1, Ep. 2: Star-Crossed - part 1 of re-cap
Season 1, Ep. 2: Star-Crossed - part 2 of re-cap

Tommy's posts:
Quantum Leap: an overview

Episode 1: Genesis

Episode 2: Star-crossed

Quantum Leap: Season 1, Ep. 3: "The Right Hand of God"

Okay. I am determined to keep this going. Tommy, I'm sorry I dropped the ball on our project! The past autumn was seriously a rough time for me. Couldn't do shit. But I really want to keep going with our Quantum Leap re-caps!

LEAP INTO: October 24, 1974

Al: Who does she remind you of?
Sam: Ingrid Bergman.
Al: No. You and me both - back in the old days when we were trying to raise money for the imaging chamber. We were poring over the blueprints. That was our dream, our chapel. Remember?

Sam Beckett leaps out of the lecherous professor Dr. Gerald Bryant, having (perhaps) saved the love of his life Donna from future misery. He hopes. And of course, because Quantum Leap glories in plopping poor Sam Beckett down into the middle of the action, as opposed to, you know, him waking up in the morning, having some toast, whatever, having time to figure it out ... Sam Beckett finds himself in the middle of a boxing ring, staring at a huge fist coming at his face. Pow. And down he goes.

EPISODE 3: THE RIGHT HAND OF GOD

Episode 3 pulls out every boxing cliche in the book. It's an homage to every boxing film you can think of (how much fun the producers and art directors must have had, putting together these episodes - where not one repeats itself, the period changes, the costumes, even the FEEL of each episode changes.) So we open on a boxing ring, cigar smoke in the air - it's kind of seedy. This is not Madison Square Garden. It's a direct reference to the first scene of Rocky - even the LOOK of it. Fun! Poor Sam has been knocked out. He has no idea who he is, where he is, WHEN he is - and he's in the middle of a boxing match. A guy is shouting at him from the crowd - "GET UP GET UP" ... so ... yeah ... that must be my coach? Why is he yelling at me?? Sam also gets a glimpse of a big fat-cat sitting there, looking displeased and grumpy. This character (Jake Edwards) will be important later in the episode. He's also important because he's Guy Stockwell, Dean's older brother. But for now, Sam is confused, hurt, and has no idea what is going on. Remember, it's only his third leap! It takes him a while to get the hang of things. It's always a bit of a start, to find yourself in the middle of a murder taking place, or something frightening - but Sam isn't as "swiss-cheesed" as the series progresses. He knows: Okay. Calm down. Keep your eyes peeled for clues.

Later, in the locker room, things start to become clear for Sam. He's a boxer. Obviously. His name is "Kid Cody". He gets a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and it's that classic old-school barrel-chested boxer body - not the six-pack-ab bodies of today. You can just tell the guy is down on his luck (a la Rocky Balboa). More clues come. His coach Gomez (played by Alex Colon) thinks maybe Kid has a concussion or something, he seems so out of it. He says to him, "You almost lost our last fight together, kid." Okay, so that's important information. This was their last fight together as a team. There's a kind of Burgess Meredith in Rocky thing going on here. You know, the crusty guy who believes in you more than you believe in yourself. The one who won't let you get away with second best - who tells you the truth, etc. Kid Cody (Sam) had actually gone on to win the fight, with a wildly thrown punch that landed his opponent onto the floor. Won by a knockout. The fat-cat comes into the locker room, and you immediately get a bad sense from him, the swagger, the proprietary way he talks to Sam. And let me just say, for the 100th time. how great and specific the art direction of this series was. Every "set" built is so detailed, it feels so right - whether it's a soda-pop fountain in the 50s or a grimy locker room. To me, nothing ever felt kitschy on this show, the way other "period" shows can feel - where the clothes always look like costumes, etc. Quantum Leap leaps around in time, but I always felt that each episode (even the silly ones) were grounded in some sense of reality. It wasn't a sickening nostalgia-fest. Where girls wear poodle skirts, but you just know she's got a belly-ring on underneath, and is openly psyched to play 'dress up'. You know the kind of acting I'm talking about. Quantum Leap had very little of that. It didn't condescend to other eras.

Then - what the hell - a flock of nuns come running into the locker room, all excited that he won his fight, congratulating him, and raving about the "knockout". They're in full habit. Sam, with his natural modesty (I love that about him - he's this big huge hunk with a body to DIE for - but he's quite shy about it) - tries to cover himself up, baffled, and just striving to keep up with the conversation. Who are they?? It becomes clear that Kid Cody's boxing contract had been left to the church of St. Mary's, as part of some kind of estate ... so the nuns have a vested interest in his success, since much of his winning proceeds will go to building a special chapel that will do outreach in the community. This comes out later. For the time being, Sam is being polite to the nuns, trying to figure out his situation - and more than that: why he is here. There's a Mother Superior type, and then a younger nun - whose name is Sister Angela (played beautifully by Michelle Joyner). She is overflowing with enthusiasm and excitement about boxing. You love her.

It's a lot to process. But naturally, Sam has no time to process anything. The next scene shows him outside with Sister Angela in what looks like a vacant lot in a dingy part of town. They're in Sacramento. Sister Angela, a lovely plucky person (but - as we see later, not at all a cliche - she comes from somewhere, her faith in God comes from a deep personal place, she's got a past, the stakes are REALLY high for here too) - is marking out in the dirt where the chapel will go. It has always been her dream to build a chapel, that will be open 24 hours a day, so that if someone should need help, or guidance, or prayer - in the middle of the night - it will be there for them. Sam, in dreadful plaid pants that make him look HYSTERICAL, tries to tamp down her enthusiasm, once he realizes that the chapel will only come to fruition if he wins his next fight. He's not a boxer. He won't win! He says to her, "Just don't count on me too much." She looks at him with incomprehension. She doesn't judge, she's not snotty, and her faith is not a blind smiley-face kind of faith. It's stronger and deeper than that, and much of it has to do with faith in the goodness of her fellow man. So when he talks down about himself, she really does not understand him. She says simply, "But we're all counting on you. All the sisters at St. Mary's are." To quote Sam, oh boy.

This isn't the first time that the series directly brings God into the picture. "He", or "the big guy", or "fate, or time or the universe" (they call him all different things) enters the conversation pretty early on in the series - and it is a great credit to the writers and producers and directors of the show that they rarely played it on the nose - because that way leads to Touched By An Angel malarkey, and we can't have THAT. The show always had a healthy dose of cynicism in it, which is appealing and is where much of its humor comes from - and also: there's a mystery at the heart of it. (The very last episode of the series brings it home like gangbusters - because, after all that, you STILL can't really say: So HE is in control. It's still unknown. Great stuff.) But that's part of why the show works. It's not about do-gooders leaping through time, setting right what was wrong. I mean, yes, they DO do good ... but their main purpose at first was scientific, to time-travel. Then they realize very early on (the first episode) that ... something went "ka ka" - and what could it be? And why can't they pull Sam out of it and correct the error? Maybe it's becomes someone ELSE is in charge. You know. Like God. So ... okay. Sam's journey then becomes (again, without becoming preachy) trying to figure out what God wants. Or "time or fate or whatever". Why is he here? It is the most existential of television series. Because it's quite practical, that question: Am I here to win the next fight? Am I here to help Sister Angela regain her faith? Those questions, yes. But there's always a deeper level - the REAL meaning of the question: Why am I here? In the case of Sam Beckett, and how the series ends up going - and if you remember how it all ends - it turns out that he is not "here" for little do-gooding tasks through the 20th century, helping all of humanity get a bit closer to happiness. He's here for something that could not be more personal. And when he realizes it ... when the realization falls over his face in that last episode (sorry, leaping ahead!) - it is one of the most moving moments I can think of in a network television series. It's KILLER. He knows. A gear shifts into place. THE gear. Finally. THAT is why I'm here. And his sacrifice will be tremendous. The ultimate sacrifice. But it is the right thing to do. So here, in "The Right Hand of God", being surrounded by hopeful nuns who believe in him, that faith in himself is tested overtly. They don't expect him to be a believer. They do not try to convert him. What they need from him is to win his next fight.

No pressure or anything.

While Sister Angela and Sam are talking, Al Calavicci shows up. He is wearing the most ridiculous metallic jacket and metallic shoes known to man. I love this character. He's such a dandy. But ... his style is his own, man. The shoes kill me. Stockwell laughs at the fact that the character's wardrobe was never addressed, nobody ever found out why he dressed like that - it was never mentioned, or questioned ... which is just so brilliant, if you think about it. He shows up in the most bizarre get-ups and it is just accepted that this is how Al Calavicci dresses. He listens to Sister Angela talking, with his customary expression of cynicism, patience, humor, and kindness. I don't know how Stockwell gets all of that onto his face at the same time, but he does - constantly!! He also does his "gesture". The gesture that has been with him since he was a 6 year old.

Exhibit A and Exhibit B, C

He cups his hand on his cheek, hooking his finger up over his nose. It's the most adorable gesture, it's compulsive for him - it shows up everywhere. His thoughtful gesture. I saw him do it repeatedly in Taos, and nearly had a heart attack.

Sister Angela finally leaves, and the two are now free to talk. So Sam, in his plaid-panted glory, begins to freak out that he will have to box, and not just box - but win. No way, this is never gonna happen. Meanwhile Al is kind of not paying attention to the issues at hand (one of his greatest charms). First of all, he is apologetic - because Ziggy thought that Sam would be closer to home by now - "Ziggy messed up the calculations ..." Big time. But also, Al has some personal problems (what else is new). A new guy has moved in next door and he works on his car all night, vrooming at a deafening roar all thru the wee hours. Al has not had a good night's sleep in a week, and he is beside himself. He is cranky, distracted - and kind of couldn't care less about Kid Cody and the chapel and Sister Angela. As a matter of fact, as Sam is telling him the situation, Al blatantly lies down on the ground, and tries to fall asleep. Hahahaha Imagine that your own hope for getting "back home" was behaving in this manner! The dynamic between the two men is the best thing about this show. I personally think it could have gone on. The strength of their dynamic just got stronger and better as the series went on.

The next scene we see Sam climbing a rickety staircase - he's obviously going home. I always wonder about that: how does he know where to go? Does he look at the dude's license? As he climbs the stairs, a shiny car pulls up - and Sam (Kid Cody) is called to come and talk to "Mr. Edwards", the gangster from before. Sam is reluctant. Not sure what he's getting into. But he obeys. And now we move into On the Waterfront references (Sam even tries to make a joke about it, it's that obvious - the joke does not go over well). Kid Cody is in the hands of some pretty shady characters, who want him to throw his next fight. They don't just want him to, they expect him to. He is on their payroll. The 10 fights Kid Cody had won up to that point had been set-ups, apparently - Mr. Edwards tells him that in his next fight: "I'll tell you the round later ..." meaning, the round he will go down. So the fight today - that Kid Cody won - threw a loop in Mr. Edwards' plans. He needs to put the pressure onto this kid. He will do as he is told. Oh, and as they are talking - talks of other fights going on come up, and putting money down on this or that person - and the Foreman/Ali fight is mentioned - which, of course, was coming up the next week - October 30, 1974 - in Zaire. But of course it hadn't happened yet. It was expected that Ali would lose. Naturally, we know now he won - but it was all uncertain then. Sam has insider information from the future. But he doesn't use it yet. Mr. Edwards tells Kid Cody that he will bet MORE on his fight than on the Ali/Foreman fight. This will become important later. Sam feels the pressure. The sisters expect him to win - he's already emotionally involved there, he can't help it - that's the kind of person Sam Beckett is. But these guys mean business. They're mad, they have guns, they threaten to shoot him in the kneecaps if he doesn't cooperate.

Oh, and another detail: in order to save money on expenses, the sisters of St. Mary's have asked him to move out of his apartment and into the church basement - where he can train in peace, and not have to pay rent, etc. We don't know Kid Cody's situation. Sam doesn't know it. He walks into his apartment - which is above a bar (and must mention again, and sorry - but it won't be the last time - the beauty of the set decoration and art direction of this series). You can almost SMELL that apartment. You know how when you go into Rocky's shitty apartment, it's like you can get a whiff of the stale cooking smells, the nasty bathroom smells, the roach motels, the mold, the dust - all of it ... it emanates off the screen. Kid Cody's apartment is spare, cheap, but there are signs of a female presence there - you can see them if you look closely, although it's not apparent at first that he has a girlfriend. There's a boxing bag hanging from the ceiling. Things look random, you know like furniture dragged off the street. It's not a dump, it's clean - as clean as it can be - but you know that Kid Cody is living on the edge of some pretty serious hard times.

And suddenly - he is confronted by what must be his girlfriend - coming at him to kiss him and babble at him about her job, and tell him she's cooking his favorite meal. She is wearing a pink silk bathrobe. And she is absolutely stunning. I wonder if this actress got any work as a Marilyn Monroe impersonator - because it's truly uncanny, the likeness. I'll talk about her a bit later - her name is Teri Copley - and it looks like she doesn't work anymore. I hope she's happy with whatever she is doing. I LOVE her. She's got a little breathy baby voice, the platinum hair, the Marilyn Monroe look in her eyes - but somehow, she manages to create a real woman here. Not a caricature, not a stereotype. You just love her. She's a type of woman that I have met before: the girl who, for various reasons, works in a strip club - but has serious plans for the future. She puts money away. And she's a one-man woman. Monogamous to an almost pathological level. She makes her money dancing naked for the drooling masses, but at heart, she's a traditional girl. Old-fashioned. I know girls like that. That's who Dixie is. She establishes her character within 2 seconds - we know just who she is from how she greets "Kid Cody" - totally supportive, excited, and then - dismayed because he is going to move into the church. She doesn't like that. They have a "nest egg" of money - which they keep in a pocket in one of her pillows - and they are saving up to buy a donut shop. That is their dream, as a couple. Sam is just playing catch-up here through this scene, trying to get information, and not "let on" that he's basically a messenger from the future, NOT her boyfriend. He's also shy about sex (as we learn time and time again) - so to have this beautiful half-dressed woman kissing him passionately throws him for a loop. He kisses her back, but still. In later episodes the sex thing becomes a moral issue for Sam. He doesn't think you should sleep with someone unless you love that person. So ... how does he justify sleeping with these women, if he happens to be their husband - or boyfriend? Al, naturally, has a different take on such "problems". He's like: Who CARES if you love her?? A beautiful woman is ALREADY in your bed and you are ALREADY married to her - so what's the problem?? This is the first time, though, that we see Sam in something like that situation - a man who is part of a couple. How do you handle it? Sam Beckett is old-fashioned. He knows Dixie loves him (Kid Cody) - but still: he's NOT Kid Cody. I love him for having those dilemmas. And I love Al for NOT having those dilemmas. It gives the series a real spark. Great stuff.

A dude shows up at the door - and you get the hint that they know him and that Dixie doesn't like him. He must be a bookie - and he's collecting money from them? Can't remember. Anyway, Dixie is NOT having any of it. "Roscoe," she says to him, "you come between us and the jelly-glazed with sprinkles on top one more time, and I'll bust your nose."

Next scene we see Sam moving himself into the church basement. There's a gym over to the side, some stained glass windows, a single bed ... and you can hear someone singing "Amazing Grace" in the building. It's a bit much, as far as I'm concerned. Too obvious, too on the nose. Also, I don't know - I have nuns in my family, I grew up around nuns - "Amazing Grace" isn't a real convent-type song, although now, of course, some Catholic nitpicker will show up and give me the history of the song, and inform me that it was composed in 1425 by a roving band of Benedictine nuns, or something. I have been going to Catholic Church for my whole life, never heard "Amazing Grace" during mass. Not once. So maybe it's Sister Angela singing it by herself, just as a ruminative type thing. I still think it's a bit too much. The scene would have been better without it.

Sam lies down on the narrow cot, listening to the singing ... and suddenly realizes that someone is snoring - and loudly - beside him. He glances off the bed and sees poor sleep-deprived Al Calavicci, curled up on the floor, snoring. That's another question I have. In later episodes, we actually see the imaging chamber - and what it's like - what the process is like for those back in the present. It's not like you can just zap into the imaging chamber from anywhere - you have to be at the headquarters, and be buzzed in, and blah blah blah ... so maybe Al has a room in the back of the office where he tries to catch some sleep - and so that's how he is able to roll into the imaging chamber in his pajamas, on occasion? I never heard anything about Al having a PRIVATE imaging chamber in his house so that he could "visit" Sam whenever ... it all seemed a bit more formal than that, like it happens during the working hours, etc. Anyway, just a question I have. So Al steps into the imaging chamber, and maybe as he waits to get quantum-leaped to Sam, he falls asleep? So when he is transported, he is in a sleeping state when he arrives? This is where my mind goes. Of course it's also just a funny bit - that the guy who is in CHARGE of your project, who is in charge of getting you HOME eventually - shows up in a deep snoring REM state. You know, what a vote of confidence there, Al! Also, just to add to the ba-dum-ching nature of the moment, Al is talking in his sleep - and he's obviously embroiled in some adulterous brou-haha, he's cheating on Tina, his girlfriend - and imploring some other woman to hide in the closet. Sam is rather judgmental about all of this (he always has been, he rolls his eyes at Al's lecherous-ness, and his apparent lack of morals) - Al finally wakes up and Sam scolds him about monogamy. Al couldn't care less. He is a desperate man - because Muffler Man next door has still been tormenting him. It is ruining his life. He can't sleep! He is at his wit's end!! Sam tries to get Al to FOCUS. Not on his romantic life, but on the issues in this particular "leap". How on earth is he going to learn how to box? This won't work! It's amazing that this particular quality of the show did not get tedious - because it so could have! Sam has to learn how to split the atom! Be a ballerina! Have a baby! Build a nuclear warhead! How will he figure it out??? Instead of being tedious, it is usually quite funny - and Sam has to be very resourceful, and really commit to this other person's life - rather than his own. He doesn't WANT to train to be a fighter ... he wants to go HOME ... but ... oh well, this is the nature of quantum leaping, so here goes! Sam Beckett is a wonderful character. Al reveals that he was a boxing champion when he was a kid (of course he was! That's one of the running jokes of the show - as Al reveals more and more about his life - he was in the circus! He was a POW! He was an actor! He can speak Italian - you realize: who the hell is this guy? And it's not really realistic, but it works anyway. Stockwell makes it work. He keeps Al's cards close to his chest. Al isn't a guy who lets people in easily, even though it seems like he's an open book. The guy has depth. Secrets. Hidden pain. Al says HE will train Sam - but of course that won't work, because when sparring, Sam would punch right through the hologram that is Al. Sam decides okay, he needs to take this seriously - he'll talk to his coach, and see if he will train him - even though they are no longer working together, strictly.

There's an interesting moment at the end of this scene. Sam goes back to his bed, and Al is left in the shadowy gym, lights off - and he dances around by himself, throwing punches - then it's like he remembers his age. He stops, kind of sucks his belly in a bit - and pats his paunch - there's a bit of regret there, in the gesture - it's simple, beautifully played - then he says to himself, "I was good, too."

And that, folks, is an actor. It says it all. It's quiet, private, simple - not overdone ... but his whole life is in that moment. And we're only in the third episode of the series! But he's all there already. Stockwell didn't need time to build that character. He didn't need to develop him over the course of the series. He was THERE, from the beginning. Bakula said that at the audition, Stockwell came in "complete". Al Calavicci was alive, already.

The next scene has Sam and Gomez sitting in a bar. Gomez says he doesn't want to get into the training racket again. "I'm tired of training fighters who take a dive," says Gomez. There's a very Rocky-esque feel to this scene: the trainer with failed dreams himself, who once was a fighter himself, of great promise. And Kid Cody is a good fighter. But he's in with the wrong crowd - the gangsters - he doesn't really want to win - he is willing to take a dive if the price is right. But the scene ends with Gomez saying what the hell, let's go to it. He agrees to train Cody.

First day of training, Kid Cody gets into the ring at the church with Father Muldooney, the priest at the church who also has done some boxing himself. The ring is surrounded by cheering nuns, holding towels, throwing punches. It's hysterical. Sister Angela is beside herself with excitement and has to be told to get out of the ring, please. In the first couple of seconds of the fight, Father Muldooney knocks Sam out. Everyone crowds around, scared. A bucket of water is thrown on Sam's face. The nuns all look disappointed. Nervous. It looks like their guy is a loser.

And now we have the Rocky montage, complete with music (not exactly the Rocky theme, but close enough). The montage at first shows Sam not doing well, really struggling - unable to punch the punching bag in that flowing way that professional boxers have ... struggling with pullups, drenched in sweat, Sister Angela hovering nearby, supportive. Then comes my favorite scene in the episode. Sister Angela rides her bike, and Sam runs along beside her holding two bricks in his hands (a la Rocky Balboa). Sister Angela means business, she is a tough taskmaster. She pushes Sam to keep going - they're going up a hill, and Sam is DYING. He begs for a rest. Just a couple minutes! She relents. As they stand there, he asks her why the chapel is so important to her. She tells her story. It's not a happy one. A little all-night chapel was there for her when she needed it most - she had been living on the streets, she was an orphan ... and it saved her life. God saved her life. She wants to create a place like that for others. Now - it's a cliched story, and I certainly could have watched it being utterly unmoved. Seen it all before. But the way she plays it is just lovely. The emotion that comes up in her feels organic, as though the story (even though well-known to her, since she lived it) still has the capability of taking her by surprise. She does not weep and wail, she does not go for the drama - she just turns her back on Sam, to get some privacy, and quietly tells him what happened to her. It is the LEAST condescending type of acting imaginable - and the supporting actors on this show that come in for guest spots like this are universally excellent in that regard. I love her performance. It could have been over-the-top cheesy. It is not at all.

It is essential we understand the stakes for her, and how specific they are. It's not just a generalized "I love God, I want to share that love with others" thing. When, later in the episode, we see that her faith has been shaken - we really GET what that means for her. This is a girl who has had a tough life. She feels betrayed all over again. Life is a wilderness without God. God came into her life and saved her. And now ... she can't believe anymore. Without that quiet scene where she tells her story to Sam, the impact wouldn't be as great. We really get what all of this means for HER (another reason why the show works so well: EVERYONE has high stakes. On all different levels. We all want something. We all have needs. These needs conflict. That makes for interesting drama, if it's done well. Sister Angela's journey with her faith is part of the whole - it's NOT just about Kid Cody winning the fight. We're all connected, everything is interwoven with everything else. None of us are an island.)

Then we get a second montage. Sam has been training hard now - so he's doing better. This is the SECOND Rocky montage, when Rocky makes it up the steps of the museum, and leaps around in triumph at the top. Sam is in the zone now. Doing situps, pullups, punching ... there's a hysterical moment where we see Sam punching the little punching bag, and he's going so fast it's a blur - and the music is pounding - and as the camera pulls around, we see Al standing there right next to him, in a blazing white suit, smoking a cigar, and kind of dancing (hard to explain - but it makes me laugh out loud every time I see it) to the beat of the punches on the bag. He's "cool" about it, he's not gyrating around - just watching Sam's fist fly, and kind of twitching his body back and forth, in time. hahahaha Well, it's really a visual joke - so if you have the DVD or plan on getting it, keep an eye out for it.

Sam and Al have a conversation in the ring. Sam has been so involved in training that his focus has been elsewhere - and it's interesting, you can see that Al feels a little bit left out. There's a strange distance between the two friends now, and Al ... hm. Well, I think Al - even with his crusty hard-nosed personality - needs to feel needed. That is his whole THING. And he doesn't feel needed here. None of this is spoken. It's not in the script. It's all in Stockwell's acting. He's kind of cranky. Probably because of the sleep-deprivation problem, but also ... because Sam seems more focused on the training than on HIM. He needs Sam to step out of that for a moment and listen to him! He tells Sam that in the real history, Kid Cody was knocked out in the first round of the fight coming up - on October 29, 1974. He lost. And so Sister Angela never got her chapel. There is not a chapel in Sacramento in the present-day like the one Sister Angela dreamt of. You can see Sam's dismay at hearing this. How can that be? Now that he has gotten to know Sister Angela a bit, and been welcomed by all the nuns - you can see that their dream has now become, in part, his. He is not BLASE about them. "Oh well. They didn't get their chapel. What am I supposed to do about it?" No. Sam is into it now. He's turned the corner.

The fight approaches. Gomez and Sam sit in the same bar from before - and they're watching the news. We can see a report going on on the upcoming fight of Foreman/Ali in Zaire. Mr. Edwards comes up to Sam in a menacing way and says, "Nick says you're training for real." This is not part of the deal. Kid Cody is supposed to LOSE, not win. Why is he training? Mr. Edwards has it all planned: he needs to be knocked out in the first round. Sam, feeling stronger now, more able, stands up to Mr. Edwards and refuses. There's a standoff. Inspired by the news report on TV, Sam challenges Mr. Edwards to a bet: 20 to 1 on what round the Ali/Foreman fight will be over.

Sam has to then break the news to Dixie about the bet - they might lose everything - and she flips. Of course Sam knows that this is a GOOD bet, since he knows how it will turn out ... but she can't see that. The jelly glazed dream is even more unattainable now! She's already upset, because he's hanging out with Sister Angela all the time. It seems like the nuns have more say in his life than she, his girlfriend, does. I like this one exchange - it makes me like Sam Beckett even more. She refers to herself as a "tramp" - and he gently takes hold of her arms, stares down at her, and says, "Dixie, you're not a tramp. You're a stripper. That's a profession." I just love him for that.

After the confrontation with Dixie, Sam goes back to the church and finds Sister Angela praying by herself, near a bank of candles. He tries to talk to her, and he can tell immediately that something is dreadfully wrong. She is near tears, yes - but there's something else. A coldness, a hardness. He is alarmed. She was his greatest champion. What's going on? He tries to talk with her. She can't even look at him. She tells him that "a Mr. Edwards" stopped by, and left a message for him: "He thought it over. He wants to call the rounds, not you. Take a dive in the first." She is devastated. Sam isn't too happy either. He has a plan (which he hasn't revealed yet) to get around Mr. Edwards ... but it has to be a secret. Sister Angela believes the worst of him. He can't defend himself. And she, being who she is, with her struggles, her life story behind her, does not take such things casually. Life has not been kind to Sister Angela. There's a fragility there. She says, "I thought God sent me a champion, but he sent me a cheat." She says, "I don't think I can believe in anything anymore." (Now this actress says that potentially cheesy line with utter reality. I've said stuff like that before, and I've meant it. I said it the other night, come to think of it. And I haven't moaned it like Oedipus on a massive Greek stage. I've said it simply, and meant every word. That's how she says it.) And Sam, sensing this in her, her faith being shaken ... is torn up. He needs her belief. It's selfish, yes - but her belief in him helped him get through this training period. To be believed in like that makes all the difference. They are left unresolved. She is crushed. He is scared. Scared that he had hurt her, that he cannot defend himself, and also scared about the upcoming fight. How will he get through it without Sister Angela cheering like a maniac? He knows the stakes are high: the chapel did NOT happen ... he is here to MAKE it happen, to change history.

Now comes the fight. Sister Angela, knowing of the treachery of Kid Cody, is suspicious, waiting for something bad to happen. If he takes a dive in the first round, then she will know he is a cheat. She waits. Sam keeps glancing over at her, worried ... the fact that she's not "in his corner" emotionally is just wrong, for him. He misses her. He's also looking for Al. Where the hell is Al? Because of that strange distance between the two men in the last scene ... we wonder at the slight cooling-off between them. Sam had asked Al, "You coming?" And Al had been kind of diffident, shrugging his shoulders. So that's another issue for Sam. He's all alone out there.

And we have shots of Mr. Edwards, sitting in the stands - with a transistor radio to his ear. I put it together later - he's listening to the Foreman/Ali fight at the same time. It's a big day for Mr. Edwards. Sitting near Mr. Edwards is Dixie, all dressed up and dizzyingly excited for her baby up there in that ring. (If you see the episode a couple times, you might notice some of the things I missed: that there's a fragment of a news program shown in one of the scenes where the "streaking fad" is being discussed. Then, during the argument with Dixie - we come into the middle of it, and she says something like "I bet you wouldn't ask Sister Angela to streak!" But I didn't really put it together - I'm slow like that. Obviously, Sam has a plan - a way that he think he can get around his "promise" to Mr. Edwards that he would take a dive in the first round.) Anyway, Dixie sits out there - in a green trench coat, and seriously - LOOK at the woman. Is there a more supportive face on the planet? Don't you love her? You can see Mr. Edwards in the background, hovering over his transistor radio.

Then comes the dreaded moment: Sam gets knocked out in the first round. Sister Angela, already beside herself, just sits there, shaking her head to herself. So. It was true. Kid Cody was a cheat. He lies on the floor, face crushed into the ring ... disoriented ... all he can see is Sister Angela's disappointed sad face. He can't take it - and starts to struggle up to his feet. Mr. Edwards is distracted by the radio broadcast, but he is aware that something is going up there in the ring ... Sam gets to his feet, not steadily, but he's there - then he looks over at Dixie, and gives her a nod. She stands up, drops the trenchcoat, and streaks naked through the stands, causing an enormous commotion. Mr. Edwards is totally distracted, watching her go by - turning all the way around to see her naked little booty running off - and in that moment, Sam punches his opponent in the nose - and down he goes. POW! It is at this auspicious moment that Al decides to show up. He is wearing bright red trousers, red suspenders, and a little red hat. He looks like a lunatic. He chomps on a cigar, relishing in the moment. Obviously he has gotten a good night's sleep finally! No more cranky Al! He loves the fights. He's here to have a good time, and to help Sam win. Tiger Joe (Sam's opponent) staggers up to his feet, and you can tell by the rage on his face that Sam is not out of the woods yet. Tiger Joe is PISSED. The fight that follows is intense. Sam has to pull all of his training (yeah, from his ONE WEEK of intensive training) out in order to just survive the assault. And Al the hologram helps too - shoving his hand through Tiger Joe - telling Sam where to place his punches, etc. It's a team sport, apparently! It takes two!

And finally .. finally ... Sam lands the punch that knocks Tiger Joe out for good. I love how Al stands there, right beside the action, watching him fall, with a huge grin on his face. The win is very exciting. There's a funny shot of Sam hugging Al - only we see it from the nun's perspective - so it looks like Sam is embracing nothing, throwing his arms around AIR. But it's a big moment, lots of celebration. Nuns screaming, clapping, jumping up and down, everyone going nuts, Al dancing around in his ridiculous outfit, it's a huge triumph.

Back in the locker room, Dixie - now covered up - runs in, all excited - to tell him that Ali won! They had put everything they owned, their whole nest egg, on Ali knocking out Foreman in the 8th round. And Ali just did it. And so they are owed a ton of money (20 to 1 type money) from Mr. Edwards. Enough to buy an entire chain of donut shops. She's going to run off and get their money - and just before she reaches the door - Sam says, impulsively - "Dixie!" She stops. Turns.

And look at her. God. LOOK at this woman.

She loves him so much. And it's a great little moment because I think Sam has fallen in love with her a little bit, too (I mean, who wouldn't? She streaked through a rowdy boxing crowd for HIM) - but it's a great moment because I think Sam knows it's over, he's going to leap any moment. Obviously he won the match, the sisters are going to get their chapel, and everything has worked out. His time "here" is limited, now - maybe he has a minute or so ... so he probably won't see her again. This is it. So he can't just let her fly out of the room without one last moment between them. But he doesn't even have anything to say to her. Not really. All he can manage is, "Hurry back." And Dixie, with eyes full of love, and that Marilyn Monroe glamour girl smile - nods happily and click-clacks off. Leaving Sam alone.

Sister Angela comes in. She is overwhelmed. She is filled with shame that she had doubted him. And that she had doubted God, too. How could that have happened? She thanks him, Kid Cody, for winning ... for getting them their chapel ... but most of all, for giving her her faith in God again.

They shake hands - and as they do so - you can see Sam start to grin, ruefully - to himself. The leap is here. He shivers into blue lightning ... and vanishes ...

Only to find himself ... wearing muddy overalls and galoshes - wrestling with a filthy screaming pig in a paddock ....

Quantum Leap recaps Overview
Season 1, Ep. 1: Genesis - part 1 of re-cap
Season 1, Ep. 1: Genesis - part 2 of re-cap
Season 1, Ep. 1: Genesis - part 3 of re-cap
Season 1, Ep. 2: Star-Crossed - part 1 of re-cap
Season 1, Ep. 2: Star-Crossed - part 2 of re-cap

Tommy's posts:
Quantum Leap: an overview

Episode 1: Genesis

Episode 2: Star-crossed

A tour of my bulletin board

The paper fan that was given out as a party favor at Dean Stockwell's party in Taos.

Collaborators

Here.

And because I cannot resist:

Because I cannot resist ...

2007 Year in Pictures

The highlight of my year

Just because.

Vista

Like the edge of the earth.

We are driving away from Dean Stockwell. It's a sad moment for me. How can I separate myself from him?? How can I BEAR it?

But look at that sky!

Do you think I scared Dean Stockwell, looking - as I do here in this photo I took before we left for his exhibit - like a Unabomber wannabe?

Sheila: "Yo. Dean-o. Love your work, bro."
Dean: "Stay away from me, please. You scare me."

Paris, Texas

More screenshots. The movie looks so good, it's hard to believe that it also is so good ... as a story. It's not just pretty pictures, or arresting images - with no purpose. It all adds up. The beauty in the landscape, the lighting - seeps into the feel of the film, it has to do with the characters ... their feelings of isolation, loneliness, smallness. There are so many scenes where a character is faced with a surreal image - the giant brontosaurus by the highway, the massive wall murals behind the brothel, even just the damn sky out there ... All the elements of the landscape inform how the characters navigate their lives. This is true of most of us - as humans - even if we aren't aware of it. It feels different to walk down the street in a small town in the Texas panhandle than it does to trip down the hills of San Francisco. It doesn't just affect our senses - meaning: what we LOOK at is different - it affects us inside. Paris, Texas, without making a big deal about it, shows this. Landscape as character, identity, plot, motivation. Hard to describe, but if you've seen the movie you'll know what I'm talking about.

And then of course:

This post isn't just about Stockwell, but it's going in the Stockwell Category, anyway, just for organization's sake.

In Dean Stockwell news:

... fans of Paris, Texas had best buy a copy NOW .

It's a classic film, what a shame - hopefully it will soon be picked up so that it can be available to newer generations of viewers.

Speaking of Paris, Texas - if you're a fan - then go here to Nostalgia Kinky - and keep scrolling. There's a Paris, Texas extravaganza going on there right now.

5 for the day:

Dean Stockwell - by yours truly, a monster post I've been working on for a week.

(For those of you coming over here from House Next Door - here's all my Dean Stockwell content, if you're interested.)

Speaking of actors

I like all kinds of acting. I'm not a purist in terms of style. If it's good, if it makes me laugh/cry/shout "Oooh"/think - then I'm all for it. I don't care how you get there. I love Errol Flynn and I love Meryl Streep. Anyone who can come to life under imaginary circumsances - and who shares that imaginative side of themselves freely with us in the audience - has my undying love.

There are those who must do gads of research in order to feel they have the right to play a part. I love them.

There are those who believe in going moment to moment and that's enough. I love them too.

There are those who are comedically minded, and whose sensibility always steers them towards the funny potential in any scene. I love them.

There are those who have a more sentimental mindset, and who are more at home in weepy melodramas. I adore those people.

I'm talking about good actors now.

And I also love an actor who freely, openly, with no shame (that's key: NO SHAME) goes for the camp. Cary Grant in Bringing Up Baby is the best example I can think of. He has no self-protection as an actor. It is riotous. Like my acting teacher Sam once said, "When you get to be my age, you have no shame left, and you feel lucky to just be standing up there." I love the actor who knows a ba-dum-ching when he sees one and plays it with no selfconsciousness. Someone who, even in closeup, even in deep deep closeup - allows themselves to be seen as ridiculous.

Ahem.

And let's just take a look at that first one again, shall we? It's a perfect example of what I am talking about. Uhm ....

Culture Notes

-- Today is finally here. I thought it would never arrive. Britney's new album is now out. I am DYING to hear it. I am not even kidding.

-- Still working on Bleak House. I adore it, and actually shed tears over it a couple days ago. A touching reunion scene between Esther and her you-know-who. I have also laughed so loud in public while reading it that I scared passersby. Loving the book.

-- Thoughts on The Darjeeling Limited to come. I felt alone in my deep love for it - faced against the entire planet who did not like it - until I talked to Siobhan - she loved it, too.

-- Speaking of The Darjeeling Limited, I cannot get enough (literally) of the song that plays over the end credits: "Les Champs Elysees" - by Joe Dassin. A happier song you've never heard. It has the same effect on me that "Fields of Joy" by Lenny Kravitz has. I just feel little bursts of pure happiness throughout - why??? I don't know. I am now in the autistic phase of playing "Les Champs Elysees" over ... and over ... and over ... and over ...

-- Dear Simon Callow: when is volume 3 of your Orson Welles biography coming out?? Soon? I beg of you? You're a marvelous writer -volume 2 ends in 1948 - so we have quite a ways to go until "we will sell no wine before its time." GREAT accomplishment, Mr. Callow - it's stunning. More, please, more!!

-- Here's some photos of Dean Stockwell's collages and dice sculptures from his current show in Taos, New Mexico. He also has created (Stevie and I drooled over them) an entire Tarot card pack - original collages for each card - I think the whole set (arcana) was 1200 bucks - and they were fantastic!!!

-- Kate left me a message the other night. "So ... I am calling you from the ancien regime ..."

-- AHHHHHH!!!!!!

-- George Washington read the 101st Psalm? A series of awesome posts tracking down the source of the anecdote:
George Washington read the 101st Psalm
Another Version of Andrew Leavitt's Story
The Little Lady Who Started the Anecdote?
Meanwhile, Back in October 1775
Rev. Waldo and Gen. Washington
Another Washington's Psalm Legend

An unbelievable blog ... seriously!!

happy place

... cause I'm still sick. On meds now though. Not as many meds as the gentleman below, however (and mine are all legal).

For my new readers:

All "happy place" entries here

All Dean Stockwell posts here

I mean, honestly.

Come ON. With the cuteness.

I mean, seriously. Just LOOK at that.

And I have to say ... meeting Dean Stockwell recently ... I had a couple of moments, eerie little ghost-like moments ... when he was dancing and whooping it up, when he put his arm around my waist as his friend tried to introduce us for the 20th time, the way he focused in on my face when I talked, almost like he was lip-reading ... that I saw that other little face peeping out. The face I've known since I was a little kid myself, watching his old movies on Channel 56. This double-vision didn't go on all the time ... I was obviously dealing with the man as he is now, 71 years old, major bolo tie, black jeans, cigar ... but sometimes ... I would take a moment and remember. That other little person. With the squeaky mouse voice, and the tears on his face, sobbing at Gene Kelly in Anchors Aweigh, "I thought you forgot about me!"

Kinda moving. To see the continuum.

Same dude. Same dude as the little dude in the first photo. With the mouse voice and the pudgy little-boy fingers. Wild!

Oh, and I will be getting back into the Quantum Leap swing of things. What with going to New Mexico - and getting sick (I'm still sick, gonna go to Ye Olde Doc this week because I'm a bit worried) - and buying a car - and some personal shit that's been going on ... I just haven't had the time. But Episode 3 calls to me. I can hear the drums, Fernando!

Embellishing

Talking with Mitchell last night, telling him the story (again) of meeting Dean Stockwell. We were howling. Somehow the whole thing degenerated into us saying, in a sort of angry blunt way to an unbelieving imaginary listener, various quotes along the lines of:

"Listen. I did the meringue with Dean Stockwell, okay?"

"Listen. I did a traditional HULA with Dean Stockwell, okay?"

The joke somehow became, very quickly, specific, with specific parts to it: an angry opener ("Listen.") - and then a blunt statement involving me doing ever more specific dance steps with Dean Stockwell.

"Listen. I two-stepped with Dean Stockwell, mkay?"

"Listen. I did the Alvin Ailey flat-back series with Dean Stockwell, all right??"

The joke ended when Mitchell said (and we realized that we honestly couldn't go any further than this):

"Listen. I danced GISELE ... with Dean Stockwell, okay?"

Happy Place

Yo. I took this one. It's even more of a happy place because I took it. And I captured a pretty nice moment, if I do say so myself.

Dean Stockwell chatting with the head musician in the awesome marimba band at the party in Taos. Note the cigar. And the kind inclusive look towards her on his face. The band had been playing nonstop for about an hour, and people would come and go ... meander outside ... dance, carouse ... go back inside ... I danced, I chatted, I mingled, I browsed ... it was a great time ... Stockwell danced too, he stood back and listened to the music, he chatted with people ... It was a great vibe, as the sun went down in blazing glory over Taos.

Look at ALL of the faces, not just his. Aren't they happy?? The chick over to the right, laughing with her eyes closed, was also in the great marimba band. Stevie and I were amazed by her.

All happy places here. Sometimes, on blue days, I scroll through them. It helps - it really does!

More pictures from New Mexico

It is so hot and muggy here that it almost feels malevolent. I'm with Michele. Weird. I felt that way when I first woke up this morning. The city has a really bad vibe today and it STINKS. Garbage piled up early this morning, air totally not moving, everything stagnant ... something is OFF. It's also October so the mugginess and stickiness is throwing me out of equilibrium.

So. Blue skies. Desert.

Shadows. Sun.

Make Gloves! Not War! -- seen in Taos, where the "wool festival" was in full woolly bloom. Wool fanatics from all over the world flock to Taos for the festival. Spoke to one little old lady for a bit (this was her car, actually). She lived in Durango, and had come in for the festival. "If you ever come to Durango, look me up. I work in the yarn shop. There are only 2 in town so it should be easy enough to find me." I adore people like that. Who take their passions to the fullest extent.

Blue. White.

Party in Taos!!

Dappled light in Santa Fe

Old-school signage.

My first glimpse of Albuquerque, standing outside the airport.

Over the past 4 days ...

I ...

crossed the Rio Grande.

Many times.

I also ...

drove past this whimsical compound built by people waiting for UFOs to land on their property.

I also ....

saw Mildred Pierce for the first time which convinces me, yet again, that although Joan Crawford is recognized as a great icon, she does not always gets the props she deserves for the meticulous-ness and power of her acting. She is so damn good.

I also ....

got to finally meet Stevie, after all these years of internet correspondence. What a pleasure.

I also ...

ate enchiladas from a joint that looks like this.

... and this was on the front window of the enchilada joint.

I also ...

got glimpses of rustic windy beauty....

... and Maxfield Parrish clouds like these....

.... and simple visions of joy and light such as this:

I ...

befriended Jackie and Lou, in a bar. They were celebrating their 23rd wedding anniversary and treated us to an anniversary dance. Great people. Stevie and I loved them.

I ...

saw vistas like this everywhere I looked.

I ...

had a great conversation over breakfast with a couple from Dallas - about Alexander Hamilton, the letters of John and Abigail Adams, John Quincy Adams, and Nathaniel Greene.

I saw ...

this from Stevie's balcony.

And lastly:

I met Dean Stockwell. You know, all in a day's work.

Over the past 4 days ...

I ...

crossed the Rio Grande.

Many times.

I also ...

drove past this whimsical compound built by people waiting for UFOs to land on their property.

I also ....

saw Mildred Pierce for the first time which convinces me, yet again, that although Joan Crawford is recognized as a great icon, she does not always gets the props she deserves for the meticulous-ness and power of her acting. She is so damn good.

I also ....

got to finally meet Stevie, after all these years of internet correspondence. What a pleasure.

I also ...

ate enchiladas from a joint that looks like this.

... and this was on the front window of the enchilada joint.

I also ...

got glimpses of rustic windy beauty....

... and Maxfield Parrish clouds like these....

.... and simple visions of joy and light such as this:

I ...

befriended Jackie and Lou, in a bar. They were celebrating their 23rd wedding anniversary and treated us to an anniversary dance. Great people. Stevie and I loved them.

I ...

saw vistas like this everywhere I looked.

I ...

had a great conversation over breakfast with a couple from Dallas - about Alexander Hamilton, the letters of John and Abigail Adams, John Quincy Adams, and Nathaniel Greene.

I saw ...

this from Stevie's balcony.

And lastly:

I met Dean Stockwell. You know, all in a day's work.

Dean Stockwell's in Moscow

Or ... at least his photograph is. Dennis Hopper has a big show of his photography going on at Moscow's Museum of Photography. Here's a nice review of it. About 10 years ago, there was a great exhibit at the Whitney (I can't believe I'm saying those things in the same sentence: "great exhibit" and "Whitney" - there's a funny story about my dad and me going to the Whitney and we walked into one room where there was some light-and-color installation - with strobe lights and reflections - a big empty room, and my dad, an art connoisseur, saying loudly, "So. Where's the art?" hahahahaha But I digress!) Anyway, the Whitney did a whole "Beat generation" exhibit - and it was fanTASTIC. I literally wanted to EAT some of the art I saw. hahaha There were tons of photographs - of Ginsberg and all those dudes - doing readings at City Lights, stuff like that - Kerouac's typewriter and the long ROLL of the On the Road manuscript - it wasn't separate pages, it was a scroll - Dennis Hopper's work was everywhere throughout the exhibit - and if you've never seen his photographs, I suggest you look them up. They're wonderful - my kind of Americana. He's from Kansas - there's something in his eye that really understands space, and horizon, and small towns - little diners, and coffee shops, and floozy waitresses - I love all that stuff. Like this. (Love the title of that one too - it resonates) But then there's whimsical photos of his friends - like this one. hahahaha The photo of Stockwell that is included in the show is below. My question is: Guys, how much pot have you actually smoked? I mean, seriously!! It's 1964, and Dean Stockwell has a fried egg on his face, and he's shining a flashlight on it. Goofballs. Friends. Love it. And I'm glad Hopper's show got a nice review - his work certainly deserves it.

All Dean Stockwell stuff here

Going to do my best to re-cap Episode 3 of Quantum Leap this weekend - but I am not making any promises!

Quantum Leap: Season 1, Ep. 2: "Star-Crossed"

LEAP INTO: June 15 - 17, 1972 - Part 2 of re-cap!

Part 1

EPISODE 2: STAR-CROSSED

The next time we see Sam, he is fully ensconced in Dr. Bryant's digs - even down to wearing a silk kimono and a white scarf. He appears to be reading a book of poetry ... and what's on the television gives us a clue as to where and when we are. Sam comments in the voiceover that he used to care about politics ... but right now, all he can do is think about Donna. And what might have been. And what might still be to come. Sadly, he's going to have to wait a bit longer because Jamie Lee shows up at his window, dressed up as Guenivere, spouting romantic nonsense. At the same moment, Al appears. As Sam tries to diffuse Guenivere's passion, Al snarks off to the side, "You brought this one on yourself, Sam" - because instead of rejecting her firmly in the earlier scene he had said something along the lines of, "I'll see you again when the moon crests the towers of Camelot." hahahahahaha So here she is and it's payback time. She is all a flutter, twirling through the room in her dress and her crown. Al just stands back and watches. You can hear his inward chuckle. Like: would you get a load of this crazy broad? Jamie Lee wants to "play" Guenivere and Lancelot - and whaddya know - Dr. Bryant has an entire closet full of costumes just for the occasion. Jamie Lee brings out some chain mail - and Al is intrigued by what he can't see in the closet - so he strolls in. Through the rest of the exchange between an increasingly nervous Sam and an increasingly worked up Jamie Lee - we can hear Dean Stockwell's amazed voice emanating from out of the closet. "Sam! You gotta see this! There's some really kinky stuff in here! He's got rubber stuff in here!"

Sam tries to veer Jamie Lee off the track, tries to get her to think about Oscar, her boyfriend. Jamie Lee is SO not into Oscar, the meathead. He has no poetry in his soul!!! My favorite moment in this little scene is Stockwell's. He emerges from the kinky closet and stands between Sam and Jamie Lee. He has no lines, but he is completely involved - going back and forth between them like a tennis match. He takes a very cynical view of the whole thing. Jamie Lee is nuts, the professor is a letch ... isn't this all so entertaining?? Nothing is too serious. He's not like, earnest, or pleading with Sam to do better. He's an audience member. And Jamie Lee has one line in response to Sam's - Sam says, "But what about Oscar?" Jamie Lee moans, scornfully, "But he's so stiff!" And you can see Al's face light up hopefully in the background - like: stiff? Well, THAT'S promising! A completely dirty rendering of her innocent line - and Sam, without even looking at Al, holds up a finger at him, in reproach, like: do not even go there. Beautiful moment of their dynamic - very funny, they already, at this early stage in the series, have found a groove with one another. You can tell. Bellisario has said you could see, over the first season, how their friendship actually formed and developed (they are good friends to this day) ... and it's moments like that where it really becomes concrete.

Sam finally (again) gets rid of Jamie Lee and he and Al then get to it. Sam thinks he knows a solution to his problem. Donna has father problems. If they can orchestrate a reunion with her father ... then maybe he can change history? Al: No, Sam, NO. Sam lets loose with a little bit of information (enough for Al to run with) - that her father was career military - No, Sam, no!

But obviously, judging from what happens next - Al goes back to the present day and secretly pulls up information on Donna's father to somehow convey back to Sam, against the advice of everyone. He could lose his job. But Al, crusty tough Al, understands - to some degree - matters of the heart. This is the true key to the character. This is why the show works, if I may be so bold. If Al showed up in every situation, and snarked about it ... we would lose sympathy with him. But that he can show up, randomly, and find compassion for a rape victim, or a floundering trapeze artist, or a blundering TV reporter ... he writes NOBODY off. Nobody is "lost". Let's get in here and do what we can do to make their lives better. Everybody is worth saving. It's a truly beautiful aspect of Al Calavicci - the show would not have worked without it. He never becomes a sappy guardian angel - he always maintains a level of snarky distance from the event - it's a fine tightrope wire to walk and Dean Stockwell does so brilliantly. It was the role he was born to play. He gets to exhibit ALL of the qualities that those of us who are fans value most in him. He is tough. Check. He is no-nonsense. Check. But he's also the guy you want to have around in a pinch. Check. He has sympathy (as opposed to contempt) for the "weaker" sex. He thinks they should be protected. But he doesn't think women are weak. To the contrary. He just understands the REALITIES. He has shown aspects of this in part after part after part. Here - he gets to put it all together.

Next scene we see Sam walking into the Science Building. So obviously Dr. Bryant, despite the Einstein poster, is moving out of his comfort zone, to confront Donna, try to forge a connection. I was so amused by Sam's friggin outfit in this scene. He is wearing a long grey-green blazer - with a matching belt around it, and of course there is the ubiquitous polyester shirt with Peter Pan collar. It's so endearing to see Sam - virile manly Sam - take on all of these different aspects. Like: Okay. I am this guy. It is 1972. I hate the fashions in 1972. Yet I will succumb for the purposes of the quantum leap! He finds Donna - who is, naturally, alone in a dusty classroom, working out physics problems on the blackboard. Of course. The romance of physics, or, as Sam says later, "the poetry of physics." Geeky. Yes. Corny? Unbelievably so. But consider me hooked. Let's remember that poor Donna thinks that he is the lecherous literature professor - she is rightly baffled when he walks into the classroom, corrects her math on the board, and starts talking to her about how she didn't factor in the expanding universe into her arithemetic. Regardless of how unrealistic this is ... it works. She does say to him, "Why do you know so much about this?" And he blunders some answer ... that she buys ... because perhaps maybe in life it is easier to just believe than not believe. Donna doesn't ever FULLY believe - she always maintains a healthy level of skepticism towards Dr. Bryant, she knows who he is, and what he is capable of ... but in this scene, he talks to her about science, and about books she needs to read, and about physics, in a way that hooks her in. Against her will. Terri Hatcher plays this quite nicely ... how she is getting sucked into this against her will. I KNOW that this guy is a jerk and a letch ... yet ... the way he speaks ... I can't help but listen! How many of us have had that experience? Heart leading over head, etc.

And I just have to say one thing about Scott Bakula - who has the straight man's role throughout - the success of the show rides on his shoulders - yet so often he doesnt' get the flashy part - he is the HEART of the show ... and in this scene with Donna, the love of his life, who doesn't even know him yet - he has a moment where he smiles at her - with the full force of that nice Scott Bakula smile - she's getting something that he's talking to her about - a difficult concept ... they're connecting on that deep and intellectual level that would obviously be important to someone like Sam - and Bakula smiles at Donna. A lot of this is just in the ACCIDENT of what he looks like - just a nice rugged handsome face - with piercing green eyes - but just look at his smile here. And tell me you don't get why he became a star.

It's not smouldering, or burning with sensuality and double meaning ... it's just a nice and open smile - filled with his SELF ... and the actor that can actually do that - into the camera - and have us believe it - will never collect an unemployment check. And Bakula never has. Look at that! It's deceptively simple, people. He makes it look easy. It probably, on some level, IS easy. For him. That's called talent.

The lovely encounter with Donna goes horribly wrong. He lets slip that he knows her father left her - and she is devastated. Beautiful work from her. "How did you know that? I have never told anyone that!" She feels betrayed. Sam chases after her and makes it right ... "I have a theory about the universe ... " which he shares with her. She says, disbelieving, 'The universe is infinite." He says, again, with that nice nice smile on his face, "Maybe not ..." He suggests going to the library - a "nice public place" where they can discuss - and she, against her will, perhaps, again, concedes. Then we get a nostalgic montage of Sam and Donna, throughout campus, discussing the universe and its possibilities - just like they would discuss it 10 years in the future. I could have done without the sappy romantic music during this montage, but that's just my bias - which is inherently unromantic. I love LOVE, don't get me wrong - but I have a lot of sympathy with Oscar, the meathead ... who thinks such conversations are "mush".

The next scene is perhaps my favorite scene in the entire series. Period. Donna and Sam, post-montage, sit in The Rathskeller, talking - and it is clear from her first line ("So he can only leap within his own lifetime??") that Sam has probably revealed way more than he should about the Quantum Leap project. She goes off to start her shift - and suddenly Al appears - in one of his most bizarre outfits ever. What I love about this scene is Al's palpably guilty demeanor and Stockwell's freedom in playing it. Al is not alone in the "imaging chamber" - he is being "observed" to make sure he doesn't pass on personal informaiton to Sam - and Stockwell plays this double-ness to the hilt. He is the personification of 1. guilt. and 2. trying to get away with something. He's not even trying to hide it! He's signalling to Sam with his eyes the whole time, like: "duuuuude, I'm not alone on my end ... WORK. HARDER." And it's delightful! And so stupid! It reminds me of what I find most beautiful about actors, and why I am so glad that the majority of my friends are actors and artists: they do not care about being stupid or obvious. Much of life already is a caricature ... but it takes a gifted actor to portray it. Dean Stockwell, in this scene, is over the top guilty - his eyes flit about from side to side, he is trying to convey meaning without language - he is in the most desperate charades game of his life. (Regular non-actor people play desperate charades games - naturally - but could a regular non-actor person embody what that was like ,in take after take after take? Nope. They could not. That takes skill and imagination and freedom in front of the camera.) It's just so fun to watch Stockwell turn himself inside out in this scene with no language. My favorite scene in the whole series. He shows up - and he is obviously not alone, although it takes Sam a while to figure out why he is acting so WEIRD. He is wearing a sash with hieroglyphics on it because he hopes Sam, with his doctorate in ancient languages (that Sam doesn't even know he has), can decipher it and figure out Donna's father's whereabouts. Al has turned himself inside out for this one. But he is TOTALLY in trouble - even with Ziggy - because Ziggy believes, the computer believes, that Al will try to talk to Sam in code - ha ha yuk yuk - code ... can you believe it? (meanwhile Al is gesturing frantically at some random glyph on the scarf). It's a brilliant scene. I love it.

In the shot above, he's trying to get Sam to say "the Pentagon" - using only hand gestures. Like, Al - did you think you would get away with this?? The scene ends with Al suddenly being jerked away by unseen forces and dragged to the back of the room. Obviously the jig is up. Weitzman is onto him - and so is Ziggy - so they take control. As he is dragged to the back of the Rathskeller, screaming in protest, he manages to get out the following words, "I WASN'T speaking in code!! How could I say Colonel Wojohowitz in hieroglhypics???" before he is zipped back into the present day. Ah, Al. We love you SO much. You put your job at risk in order to help Sam maybe - maybe - get a shot at his lost love. It only becomes clear much later in the series how much you understand about lost love ... we know nothing about you at this point - nothing about your love life - we know you;'ve been married multiple times, but that's it ... but the fact that he is willing to lose his job in order to give his friend another chance ... it speaks worlds, doesn't it? We don't even NEED to know his plot-line to know that he "gets" it. Even with his crusty lascivious exterior ... we know he gets it. After Al is yanked back into the future - Donna and Sam have a brief encounter where he basically takes the leap of faith. He asks her to drive to DC with him (he has figured out that "colonel wojohowitz" is in DC due to Al's convoluted clues on his damn sash!!) - He asks her to come "to save a lost love". He doesn't explain any further - but he says he will take a chaperone - Oscar and Jamie Lee. Hmmmmm. Donna - a bit tentative - agrees. Maybe there's something in her that responds to this romantic side of him (as long as it's not directed at her). Later, in the car, when she repeatedly mentions how "romantic" he is ... she says it in a tone of awe, like: "You can't really MEAN this, can you??" Sam Beckett, is, as we know, a very romantic man. The antithesis (or so we think) of Al. He's probably only slept with a handful of women, maybe less - because his rules about love and sex having to go hand in hand are so strong. Donna- battered by childhood memories, terrified of being hurt - responds to this. But not in an immediate "ohhhh I love you" way. Terri Hatcher plays it more like a a doe - tiptoeing out of the forest - to see if the coast is clear. It's very effective. Of COURSE Sam would love a woman like that. She takes the leap, too. Yes, she will come to DC - even though she doesn't know why.

Sam, now armed with the NAME of Donna's father, locates him at his apartment in DC. He calls. There is a very poignant brief conversation - between Sam (playing the literature professor) and Michael Gregory - a wonderful actor who plays Donna's long-estragned father. Colonel Wojohowitz is seen, in an apartment, in his uniform, packing a suitcase when the phone rings. He picks up. Sam bumbles a bit ... and Wojohowitz, impatient, asks him to get to the point because he's "shipping out to Vietnam at 0800." Sam gets to the point. "It's about your daughter Donna." Why I say Michael Gregory is a wonderful actor is because of what happens to him inside, in the following moment. We first see him - and he is a cold hard shell - packing a suitcase neatly - a man on a mission. He is polite to the stranger on the phone, but vaguely impatient because he has other things to do, important things, like fight a war. But at the mention of "Donna" ... just watch his response. That's all I'm saying. It won't change lives, and it won't win him an Emmy - this is just plain old good meat and potatoes acting. Play the scene. Do what the character would do. And do it fully. Dont' hold back. Acting is never about histrionics - unless it is called for. Good acting is all about character and context. Colonel Wojohowitz is a stern man, a man of action - a man who has, perhaps, stuffed down the regret he feels about abandoning his family - in order to live his life competently. He has "forgotten". But then - in a flash - WHOOSH - here is his past, come to claim him again. And Michael Gregory, the actor, stands up - at the sound of Donna's name. It's that simple. He stands up. "Donna? Is she hurt?" It's a quietly moving moment - again, not one that will win any awards - but through such moments are a great series made. So I'm givin' the props. Because they are due! Sadly, Colonel Wojohowitz is not open to "opening that wound" again - and he hangs up on Sam, the issue unresolved.

But Sam decides to go for it anyway. He asks the meathead Oscar if he has a car ... and if he and Jamie Lee want to take a little road trip to DC. And so the four of them start off, from the college in Ohio (I think) to DC. Nobody, except Sam, knows why they are going. But larger forces are apparently at work. Donna definitely feels it. She sits in the front and keeps stealing glances at Dr. Bryant, wondering, wondering ... why would he so put himself out there to make sure that Oscar and Jamie Lee get together?? Why would he so commit himself to wronging a right? To saving a lost love? Is this guy for real?

One word, yet again, on art direction. To anyone who grew up in the 70s, please look at that shot, and tell me you do not see your whole life. This is every gas station I ever went to, throughout that entire decade. My entire CHILDHOOD is in that shot. Perfect. I can't even count the details that are right. All I can say is: nothing clanks with a wrong note, nothing calls attention to itself as kitschy or wrong; It's is 1972, it's a gas station - and that's final! Sam gets out to go to the loo - and runs into (walks through) Al on his way there. He is overjoyed - the last time he saw Al, Al was being bodily removed from the imaging chamber! Now, I realize that much of the nuance will be lost in the following snippet of dialogue - you have to SEE it to get how funny and witty and well-played it is ... but it's an example of why I love this show, why I love these characters. It's so RIDICULOUS - there's a ba-dum-ching humor to the show, a neverending joke in the fact that Al is consumed by his own personal life - to the detriment of the project ... and Sam, dealing with a freakin' quantum leap, has to patiently (or not) wait out Al's lecherous stories. Here's the dialogue:

Sam: Al, thank God you're here! I thought I'd never see you again. I figured they pulled you off the project.
Al: They did. They fed the hieroglyphics into Ziggy and then they fired me.
Sam: They can't do that!
Al: Tell that to Weitzman. But that's not important. What's important is - he's had a change of heart.
Sam: I didn't think he had a heart.
Al: He probably doesn't. But his wife does.
Sam: You slept with his wife???
Al: I would never do anything so unscrupulous as that! Unless it was Bartlett's wife. Now there is a woman to get fired over. Ran into her one time at the fights. Bartlett was at some seminar in Utah or something. And it was her birthday - and do you know that the fool forgot?
Sam: What happened?
Al: Well, we had a couple of drinks, a nice rare steak with green chile --
Sam: [impatient] With Weitzman!!!
Al: Oh! Weitzman! You know Tina?
Sam: Yeah.
Al: [lecherous grin] Weitzman knows her too.
Sam: You set Tina up with Weitzman and then blackmailed him?
Al: ...... Yes.
Sam: That's --
Al: Unscrupulous! But ... effective!

This dialogue is so much fun. I never get sick of it. This is the scene where Al says the chances are 4 to 1 - if Sam reunites Donna with her dad - that she will be able to love again ... BUT! She might love "the jerk she met before you!" Again, Sam is willing to take that chance. Al, having made everything right back in the present-day, by having his girlfriend sleep with his boss for blackmail purposes - I mean, Al - what??? - is willing to go along with this leap now. He's okay. He will play along. Let's get Donna to her father before he ships out.

The team runs into a snag, though, once they reach the apartment complex of Colonel Wojohowitz. There are two stuffy security guards who will not let Sam and Donna pass - even though she says she is the Colonel's daughter. The Colonel has a "do not disturb" message on his phone - and her last name does not match the Colonel's - so no. We can't let you through. Defeat. But Sam - man tenacious enough to get 6 doctorates - will not give up so easily. He and Donna go off around the building in search of an open door. Which, naturally, they find. Abracadabra. Throughout this sneaky espionage section, we keep cutting back to the guards - who have noticed something odd about one of the cars in the visitors lot - and one goes to investigate. It's Oscar's car, obviously - with Oscar and Jamie Lee curled up in the back, getting to know each other. Here is where we come close to the "kiss with history" - because, obviously, it is June 17, 1972 - and Colonel Wojohowitz lives in the Watergate, and we all know what happened in the Watergate on June 17, 1972. So here are Sam and Donna "finding" an open door ... or did they inadvertently open a door, leaving access easier for the Watergate burglars? I don't know - it's "clever" - but for me, it isn't necessry for the OOMPH of the episode, which is there already in the upcoming reunion of Donna and her father.

Next scene: the big finale. Colonel Wojohowitz sits in his room - when a knock comes on the door. There's a flash on his face as he stands up ... like he knows. Who would be coming to his door at this hour of the night? Could it have something to do with that weird phone call he got earlier? He just KNOWS who it is. Lovely moment. And whatever, I've watched this scene now probably 3 or 4 times since buying the series again ... and it always makes me choke up. I'm not necessarily a sappy person - but when something works, on a simple heart-level - I'm all there. And this scene does. His stern staunch demeanor at the door - his frozen soldierly posture as he stares at the beautiful young woman - who is the daughter he left 10 years before. Her fear at the sight of him - huge gleaming tears trembling but not falling - she starts to leave, terrified, "This was a mistake" - and he, manly, steps up to the plate. This is how a man should act. Like Sam said to him on the phone, "I don't know why you left your family - I'm sure you had your reasons - but Donna needs you now - she doesn't think you love her." So the man does not make excuses. He steps forward into the hall and says, "No. The mistake was waiting for 10 years." He owns it. It was not HER issue, it was HIS. No excuses. End of story. And she - staring at him - realizes ... he loves her. He loves her. He has always loved her. Terri Hatcher just crumbles - crumbles into a little ball - and rushes into his arms - it's beautiful, folks, just beautiful!! We hear his voice say, "I'm so sorry, Donna ... I love you ..." and at those words, she winces - it's almost like her joy is too searing and hot to bear - and she actually whimpers. I can't describe it any better than that - her joy is so much that she MOANS in response ... Now look, this is manipulative television at its best. I realize that. But "manipulation" to me is not a bad thing IF IT WORKS. Don't you dare try to manipulate me and FAIL because then it just looks like you think I'm stupid!! But if you manipulate me and it works - like when Terri Hatcher literally WHIMPERS in her father's arms because she is so freakin' happy - then I am DAMN okay with that. I cry, More more more.

Sam stands off to the side, watching this - and there's a sadness in him. Because he knows that by helping to heal this wound - he may, eventually, lose Donna forever. But again - like the great character that he is - he's willing to take that risk. Because having Donna be healthy and happy is more important, ultimately, than her being with Sam. Now these are difficult truths and it's hard to talk about them without sounding cliche. But seriously, it comes down to: what is important in life? What is RIGHT? We cannot predict the outcome. We cannot ASSURE the ending. But we can do our damndest that things come out right for those that we love. And that's all we can do.

Donna, after hugging her father, comes over to Sam - and she doesnt' know what to say - her heart is full - what he has given her has worth beyond measure! Sam has a quiet kind energy in this scene, doesn't push his luck, doesn't get romantic ... just lets her know that maybe one day ... she will be old enough. For them to be together. She looks up at him wonderingly - again, like a naive doe coming out of the forest.

Sam and Al meet up in the stairwell. Sam is ecstatic. He did it! Maybe now Donna will be ready for him in 10 years! Al, though, is now chagrined - because he has realized that they have "broken into" the Watergate on the very night of the ACTUAL "breakin" to the Watergate. (Still: who cares? Do they thwart the breakin? No. Do they CHANGE history? No. Okay, I'll let it go.) Sam couldn't care less about the Watergate - not only that: he doesn't remember anything - nothing, impeachment, Nixon, nothing. "Watergate? So??"

And it is here - in the stairwell - having righted the wrong between Donna and her father - AND having put Jamie Lee and Oscar together (who are now happily humping in the car in the visitors parking lot) ... Sam leaps ...

and finds himself in a boxing ring surrounded by screaming fans, he is facing another boxer, - who punches him in the nose - and dooooowwwwwn he goes.

Oh boy!

Quantum Leap recaps
Overview
Season 1, Ep. 1: Genesis - part 1 of re-cap
Season 1, Ep. 1: Genesis - part 2 of re-cap
Season 1, Ep. 1: Genesis - part 3 of re-cap
Season 1, Ep. 2: Star-Crossed - part 1 of re-cap
Season 1, Ep. 2: Star-Crossed - part 2 of re-cap

Tommy's posts:
Quantum Leap: an overview
Episode 1: Genesis
Episode 2: Star-crossed

Quantum Leap: Season 1, Ep. 2: "Star-Crossed"

LEAP INTO: June 15 - 17, 1972

Sam (as Dr. Bryant): What drew you to physics?
Donna: I guess I want to know why things happen to us.
Sam: Don't you think you have a choice?
Donna. Do you?
Sam: Well, I used to. I'm not sure anymore.

Sam Beckett leaps out of Tim Fox as he's sliding into home base - and leaps into alcoholic womanizing literature professor Dr. Gerald Bryant.

Sigh. This is just Part 1. I'm halfway through. Part 2 to come tonight.

EPISODE 2: STAR-CROSSED

Episode 2 begins with anyone's version of The Actor's Nightmare. You find yourself onstage, you have no idea what play you are doing, what your lines are, you have had no rehearsal, you are invariably the lead - an audience is there - and you have to just GO. Sam is happily sliding into home base in the last leap, and shivers with blue electric light ... only to find himself standing in front of a classroom, having just written the word OBSESSION on the blackboard, he is smoking a pipe, and he is in the middle of a lecture. On what? He has no idea? Who is he? No clue. He stands up there, discombobbled, stunned, and terrified. And the googly-eyed smitten class, all girls, are no help. At least not at first. They just sit there, in misty silence, beaming up at him, lovelorn. It's a clear nod to the classroom scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark - and very clever. Sam is too shook up at first to immediately take note of the afros and headbands and peasant shirts among the class. He is more concerned with SURVIVING THE NIGHTMARE he has found himself in! He fumbles, bumbles, his pipe falls out of his mouth, the classroom titters in fluttery excitement. A ridiculous classroom conversation ensues - with Sam having no idea what he's talking about ... it dawns on him that they are discussing Wuthering Heights at one point ... one of the girls in the class says something about Charlotte Bronte being "sexually suppressed", and suddenly we get a disgrunted voiceover from Sam Beckett: "Great. Four of my least favorite cliches. Headbands, bell bottoms, flower power, and English lit."

There's usually (usually, not always, but usually) a chord of SNARK in this show which is one of the reasons I find it so endearing. It's not too precious with the past ... but it also honors that which should be honored. I like it because it's not hostile to the military, at ALL, for example - it doesn't take a naive silly stance towards it (and if you look at Bellisario's production record, it's obvious that this is a pattern) - but it's also honest enough to know that there are actual PEOPLE involved, in all events in history - which, necessarily, make things messy, and perhaps more complicated than the pundits or those with an axe to grind would have you believe.

Tommy mentions in his post that this is obviously a show by Baby Boomers - living through the events of their lives that had meaning. You know, the second half of the 20th century. To my taste, the "kiss with history" stuff is the least effective parts of the show. Now this is not always true. I like the "kiss with history" stuff when it is more whimsical, when it has no historical import - outside of art and pop culture, that is. Like when, in a couple episodes from now, Sam ends up suggesting to a young Buddy Holly that "Peggy Sue" might be a catchier title for his song than "Piggy Sue". And Buddy thinks a bit, nods, and says, "All right!" That, to me, works. It doesn't take itself too seriously. But sometimes the "kiss with history" stuff wanders into Forrest Gump territory - and I believe I have made my feelings on that piece of shit movie perfectly clear. Or who knows, maybe I haven't. So here comes another round of agonized emails about it - from people who seem genuinely hurt that I not only did not like the movie, but despised it. hahaha They beg and plead with me to give it another shot, they write despairing TREATISES on why that movie was profound ... I get it, I get it, lots of people loved that movie - I didn't. I don't despise people who loved the movie - but I'm not changing my opinion about that debacle. Can we please move on?? Okay, let's not open up that can of worms. Sorry. Let's keep it light here!! I don't despise the Quantum Leap kisses with history (and, to those of you who don't know - that refers to the moments in certain episodes when Sam trips into some event of historical importance). So there's a "kiss with history" in this episode (check out the dates Sam leaps into and put 2 and 2 together) - that, I don't know, I don't think they needed it. It didn't ADD, in my opinion. It also didn't take away - but I think something like that needs to 'add' - like the Buddy Holly moment did. That moment was a huge payoff - something Sam had been working up to the whole episode - so when it happens, there's a satisfying "ahhhhh" that happens.

But, as always. I am quantum leaping ahead of myself.

The story of this leap is simple, but what is interesting about it - and perhaps inevitable - is that the powers-that-be of this series immediately got to the JUICE of the concept. If you were leaping around in time, in your own lifetime ... wouldn't you be concerned with yourself and your own journey? Wouldn't you immediately be interested in changing stuff in YOUR past that you wanted change? You wouldn't just accept an altruistic role instantly ... it would take some time. "Star-Crossed" is Sam's confrontation with his own past - which he has already been gearing up to - from the first episode, when he was trying to reach his own father. Sam Beckett is on his OWN personal journey - and that's why I find him to be such a likeable character, and someone that I wouldn't mind spending time with, week after week after week. That's the key to a great series. You need a character you can RELATE to. We, in the audience, ARE Sam. We're not Al, who remains distant a bit - who has a whole lifestory outside the Quantum Leap chamber that we hear bits about, but never really enter into. Al's journey, of course, famously, becomes of the ULTIMATE importance in an episode in Season 2 ... and fans of the show will obviously know that the entire series ended with a resolution for Al. How interesting. How unbelievably perfect. Talk about an "ahhhhhhh" moment! But, in general, we relate to the show through Sam. We can't help but imagine how we would deal with his predicaments, how we would fare in such a project. And Scott Bakula, who pretty much embodies the term "likeable", is our way into this at times difficult concept (and I've gotta say it: that "likeability" is a rare rare quality. Simon Cowell is no dummy when he says to a contestant on American Idol, "You're not the best singer, but you've got something else - and that's the likeability factor." Think about all the actors you know. Not too many just exude niceness. Without schmaltz. I'm not saying they should ... every actor has different gifts. Christopher Walken is fantastic and he doesn't exude niceness or likeability. But in a character like Sam Beckett - in a long-running television series - you NEED a guy that you just flat out LIKE. This is something that is hard to capture ... and makes me realize why Don Bellisario - who created the show - said that when Scott Bakula came in and read for the part, that his (Don's) heart started to beat faster the second Scott started reading. He knew. This was the guy. And if you've seen Bakula in interviews, then you know he's not "acting". He just seems like a nice person and is able to convey that - without ever mugging or being a "moral conscience" bore (which a lot of other "nice" actors do) - You just flat out like the guy.)

In Star-Crossed it comes out that Sam was once in love with a woman named Donna. They were both physicists, involved in cutting edge time travel research. They were in their early 30s. They dated and he proposed. And Donna ended up standing him up at the altar. (This all comes out slowly, since, of course, Sam's brain is swiss-cheesed and the details are not at his disposal immediately). She didn't stand him up at the altar because she's a horrible manipulative person. It was because she's a damaged soul, and could never commit to anyone - because of being abandoned by her father when she was little. But we learn, through this episode, that she was Sam's only real love. She was "it" for him. So in Star-Crossed the opportunity arises: if he could change her mind ... even if he's meeting her years before they actually met in real life ... if he could somehow help heal that old wound ... then maybe when the time was right, in the future, when they met ... she WOULDN'T run away.

Not to get too personal, but if I could go back in time to April 29, 1994 I would. I don't walk around like a wounded person anymore. I'm fine. But if presented with the opportunity? To hear his voice on the other line - a voice that had a question in it ... a question he was afraid to ask ... and instead of ignoring it (not out of being manipulative and awful - but because I was afraid) - confronting it? Speaking out the truth of the moment? Bringing it out into the open? Saying, "What is it you want? Why did you call me today?" Oh, how I wonder what he would have said. And how my life would be different now if I HAD said it. So I'm with Sam in this regard: even though it's "against the rules" of the project - as Al says: "the time-traveler cannot take advantage of his position" ... I would be like Sam. I would say to Al, "Fuck THAT. I'm picking up the phone on the morning of April 29, 1994 and I'm going to change history." Of course there is also the rule of "unintended consequences" - which Al warns Sam about in this episode as well. If you heal Donna's daddy issues, that's great - awesome - but that might mean that she would find love with another man BEFORE she met you. Sam is willing to take that risk. And you know what? I would be too. That's the God's honest truth.

Let's go back to our episode.

Sam finished up class with the lovelorn ladies (quick note: a bell rings, saving him from embarrassment - meaning class is over ... but, uhm, do bells ring in college classes?? I don't think they do!) - and walks outside, still trying to figure out where and who he is. (The fact that he is wearing a corduroy suit and a silky shirt with a Peter Pan collar should give him a clue!) A breathless young lady rushes over to him to talk with him. It becomes immediately apparent, first of all, that her name is "Jamie Lee" (her name is written all over her notebooks) - second of all, that she is in love with the character Sam has leapt into, and third of all, that she is batshit crazy. She speaks in hi-falutin' poetic tones - about "you give me life", etc. - and Sam is struggling to keep up. Is what she just said a literary reference or ... is she just nuts? Help??? As he's dealing with Jamie Lee, it is suddenly as though he is struck by lightning. He sees someone. Across the way. Walking along. And it is as though the breath catches in his throat, leaving him stunned momentarily. He can't believe it. We don't know yet the backstory - we don't know who she is ... but we know that Sam knows her. That she is important. That she is, to some degree, "his". But he's not himself ... he's this Dr. Gerald Bryant character ... so he can't go running after her. She wouldn't know him. She wouldn't know him anyway because it would be another 10 years before they met! I mean, imagine that! Imagine the self-control it would take!!

That's another reason why Sam (Scott Bakula) is so likeable (and, I think it's not too much to say: ultimately a tragic hero). He must abdicate his own ego, he must step aside from his own concerns - time and time again. the "swiss cheese" effect certainly helps - it means that his sense of his own helplessness does not grow exponentially. He seems to come to each "leap" fresh.

But instead of running after Donna, he goes home to his house. With Jamie Lee breathlessly leading him by the hand.

Again, a nod to the art direction and set decorators. Professor Bryant's house is a perfect example of an academic's abode. The knick-knacks, the controlled clutter, the choice pieces bought while on sabbatical in display in the front hall ... Jamie Lee, drags poor Sam into his own house - he keeps trying to tell her that there should be no "fraternizing" between professor and student ("that's not what you told me last night," giggles Jamie Lee) - she rushes off to the kitchen and then Sam has his moment with the Man in the Mirror. I gotta give props to the guy who plays the reflection, John Tayloe. Often, the reflections are just seen once ... to give us context - but in this one, Sam keeps getting a glimpse of himself throughout the episode, a reality check ... and the actor who plays the REAL Dr. Bryant - is hysterical. A hoot. He really has to do a bit of acting here. He has to look like that, but he has to embody Sam Beckett - who is horrified at the boozy ascot-wearing nincompoop he is now supposed to be. Sam has a very funny moment, staring at his bleary-eyed complexion - where he furiously rips off the stupid arty scarf he's wearing, saying in disgust, "You have GOT to be KIDDING me." But it's John Tayloe who has to act that, since it's him we're seeing. It's very very funny. Jamie Lee, alarmed at her paramour talking to himself, comes back to him, and caresses him, gives him his pipe - which makes it even worse. Sam can't get over his own reflection, his own silly outfit, the fact that a co-ed is feeling him up ... he is horrified. HORRIFIED. We know what a "prude" (Al's word) Sam can be. So to be this lecherous dude, taking advantage of his students and his position over them - just to get laid ... Sam is beside himself with contempt. Jamie Lee is quite an aggressive young lady, but also quite insane. Her whole life is about poetry - she wants to LIVE in a great romance novel ... and obviously the real Gerald Bryant encouraged this for his own nefarious reasons, unaware that he was tapping into a rich KEG of nutso-ness.

Al appears in the living room - while Jamie Lee is shoving her heaving Barbara Cartland cleavage at Sam. Speaking of set decoration, not sure if you can see it in the smallness of the screenshot below - but please take a look at the framed poster lying propped up next to Al. Can you see the words on it? But isn't Dr. Bryant a literature professor? Yes, but he has a poster lying around of Albert Einstein. That's the kind of subliminal subtextual detail that makes this show really good. If you get it, great - if you don't, nothing is lost. But it's there - and it's kind of mysteirous and cool - seeing as this boozy professor is now being inhabited by a physicist. Al, in his deadpan way, tries to guide Sam through the nightmare of dealing wtih Jamie Lee - since Sam is too disgruntled with Dr. Bryant to really play along. Jamie Lee rhapsodizes about Juliet. Sam scoffs. Al interjects, with his blue-light star pin gleaming through the room, "Juliet committed suicide Sam. We don't want to go that way." So Sam starts to play along, get into the game ... tries to talk reasonably to Jamie Lee - and finally sends her off to make some tea so he can talk to Al.

Al is filled with probabilities. He is also wearing shiny silver loafers and periwinkle blue socks, but we'll let that pass. "Ziggy says there's a 99.9 % probability that you can leap out of here right away ..." But Al didn't count on Donna. Al doesn't even know about Donna. Sam interrupts the inevitable Ziggy monologue and says, "No no no ... I know why I'm here." Al is confused, in his dear curmudgeonly way. Sam explains. He saw Donna. He can have a second chance now! He can maybe catch Donna when she's young ... and right the HUGE wrong that is now in his life - meaning him and Donna not being together. Al, of course, vetoes this. And strongly. With many classic Dean Stockwell gestures. He gestures up a negative STORM. "No! No - no - no - no - no." Apparently Al already got in trouble for giving Sam personal information like his last name in the other leap - and his job is hanging by a thread. So - NO.

But we see another side of Sam in this moment. The guy with the tenacity to get 6 doctorates. The guy who was determined enough to get Project Quantum Leap off the ground. He says, "I'm here to get a second chance with Donna. And nobody can stop me - not even you."

Next scene: the campus. Sam and Al stroll along the lanes, and they are still arguing. Dean Stockwell is gesturing up a storm. He's such a GUY, know what I mean? A little toughie. "Sam, you made the rules. The time traveler must not take advantage of his position!" Sam is like, "That's a stupid rule." Or whatever. Al continues to reiterate that the pressure is really on the project and "Weitzman" is threatening to pull the plug. Sam racks his brain for a memory of Weitzman. "Short fat guy wearing knickers?" Al replies, "Tall skinny guy wearing a stovepipe hat."

hahahahahaha I love this script. But Weitzman becomes the threat back in the present-day. Sam isn't seeming to really understand the pressure Al is in. Al has already been reprimanded, and now the entire project is being called into question. Sam gets it, I guess - but he just doesn't care. He is on his way to The Rathskeller - the little bar on the campus - where he has learned that Donna works as a waitress. The "bar" is a perfect college bar set - half cafeteria, half rock club - It doesn't quite know WHAT it is. There are psychedelic posters on the wall - and a brief entryway involving black light - which turns poor Al into a glow-in-the-dark ghost. His entire outfit was black 2 seconds before, and now ... not so much. There are posters of Woodstock on the wall ... and yet it's a kind of calm atmosphere, not too wild. Or, as Sam mutters when he looks around, "Pretty straight for the 70s." This is the 1970s at a conservative women's college. So of course little BONES are thrown at things like Woodstock and Jim Morrison ... but there's also a poster of Beethoven on the wall, and people are just eating cheeseburgers and drinking Coke, as though it's Happy Days. Again, all of this is great "period" detail. Because, naturally, each decade was not monolithic across the nation! 1968 in Haight Ashbury was probably very different from 1968 in the Texas panhandle. Not totally different - fashions still spread across the land in the same way they do now ... but the FEEL would be very different. And 1972 in the East Village would be very different from 1972 in Ohio at a women's college. The set decorators in this little "bar" understood that very well. Nice details.

Sam excitedly points out Donna to Al, and Al is horrified. "Oh my God. It is her." He has no idea how to stop Sam from doing this, he's trying to keep him on track. Apparently, in the real history - Dr. Bryant and Jamie Lee got married and it was a disaster. Al mutters, "It was a nice intimate little shotgun wedding. 12 gauge, I think it was." Sam is supposed to stop them from ruining both their lives. But Sam stares at Donna. How young she is ... how much she has ahead of her ... how much he loved her once ... This, in the black-light entrance, is where Sam remembers that Donna stood him up at his own wedding. "It had something to do with her father ..." he struggles for more detail. At some point here, Al disappears. He just can't take it. Sam doesn't get the pressure he's under so BUH BYE.

Sam tentatively sits at a table, and Donna comes to serve him. She knows him (or Dr. Bryant) - because she's taking one of his classes. A word here: Donna is played by a very young Terri Hatcher. I'm not a huge fan of hers - well, that's not true - I really enjoyed Lois & Clark - I just think she has turned into a kind of scary skeletor version of herself. I understand growing old is difficult for women in Hollywood - but Terri Hatcher shows that desperation more openly than others. But God love her - here's what I wanted to say. I'm not saying she's a brilliant actress but I am saying that based on her performance here - it does not surprise me at all that this woman has never been out of a job. Seriously. She is STILL going. Based on the simplicity and sweetness of her persona here - and how she doesn't overact - she has one or two truly beautiful moments ... it is not surprising at all that her career has been very long-lasting - especially for a bright young pretty thing like she is here in Quantum Leap. Bright young pretty things in Hollywood are a dime a dozen. That's why I'm always like - Girls, ENJOY IT. Enjoy it while it lasts! Like Mischa Barton. Hon. You were great in Sixth Sense. You were in a hot series. You have some tabloid cache. But you have got to FOCUS if you want to still be in this game in your 40s. Focus on the right things, hon! It's about the work! Because when you're 38 ... 40 ... 42 ... you had BEST have your priorities straight, because work dries up for people then. Especially women.

Sam and Donna have a short interaction. She is kind to him, but you also can tell that she knows his reputation, and guards against it. "Dr. Bryant, I am perfectly able to get an A in your class by doing the work." Sam goes for the gusto and says, "I'm not what I appear to be ..." He doesn't say his name, because that would be meaningless for her ... he just tries to convince her that he is NOT what he looks like. Tells her to look into his eyes and she'll see "another soul". (Again, kudos to Scott Bakula for pulling off such a corny line. He has a lot of corny lines in the series ... but his sensibility is so nice, so normal - that he somehow gets away with it without making me want to gag). He is talking quite literally here - and I think that's why it works. I have the face of a washed-up booze-hound. But I'M IN HERE. Someone else is IN HERE and if you look - you'll see it! Donna does look, and for a second or two - she does see something. She steps back, startled. Goes back to work. Just a moment, but enough for Sam to hold onto. She SAW.

Maybe this will work!!!

In the next moment, poor Sam is accosted by a Neanderthal. Poor actor may be a Rhodes Scholar, but he'll never play one looking like that! Turns out that this guy is Oscar - Jamie Lee's boyfriend - and he is here to beat the shit out of Dr. Bryant, who has stolen his girl. Sam tries to reassure Oscar - no no no she wants YOU ... she's trying to make you jealous ... She doesn't want ME! This turns into kind of a deeper conversation, though, when Sam tells Oscar (who very threateningly throws darts at a dartboard near Sam's head) that Jamie Lee needs someone to be romantic with her. She's DYING for it. "Maybe you should read her a poem!" Sam says in desperation. Oscar says he DID read her a poem and he starts to recite, "There once was a man from Portland ..." hahahahaha Sam tells him limericks don't count. He's fighting for his life now - because Oscar is getting more threatening - so Sam blunders, "No, no, not limericks! You need to read her Sheets and Kelly ... " Sheets and Kelly???? HA! Oscar is all about how "horny" Jamie Lee makes him, and Sam tries to give him advice about how to romance a girl. "That's mush!" scoffs Oscar. "To guys, yes, it is mush," Sam replies - "But to girls it's romantic!"

Okay. So Oscar's gonna give it a try.

Sam has just done his part to make sure that Bryant and Jamie Lee don't get married. He has barely been focusing on the job at hand at all, caught up as he is in the Donna thing. His advice to Oscar is, of course, cliche - but when you think about the two people involved - nutso Jamie Lee and meathead Oscar - you think: it just might work!

Part 2 to come tonight!

Link to all other Quantum Leap posts here

Quantum Leapers:

Episode 2 re-cap to come this weekend! Stay tuned!

For those playing catchup:

Overview
Season 1, Ep. 1: Genesis - part 1 of re-cap
Season 1, Ep. 1: Genesis - part 2 of re-cap
Season 1, Ep. 1: Genesis - part 3 of re-cap

Tommy's posts:
Quantum Leap: an overview
Episode 1: Genesis
Episode 2: Star-crossed

Quantum Leap: Season 1, Episode 1: Genesis

Part 3! The leap OUT of Tom Stratton and the leap IN to Tim Fox, 3rd baseman for the Waco Bombers!

Part 1
Part 2

Sam (as Tom Stratton) stands quietly by the X-2 in the big hangar. There is a feeling of reverence in his gestures, and in the music. Reverence because it's a beautiful machine and he has no idea how to fly it. He will have to fly it tomorrow. He will be dropped out of the belly of a big jet and be expected to break Mach 3. There's a loneliness sometimes to the character of Sam Beckett - especially in this first episode when he doesn't quite trust Al yet - and he's more alarmed when Al shows up, rather than relieved. Al, who has basically had it with the Swiss Cheese effect, pops into 1956, standing right by the nose of the plane, scaring Sam half to death. They have this dialogue which, for me, encapsulates what is so funny and great about the show:

Sam: (startled at Al's appearance) Can't you just 'fade in'???
Al: (irritated, gesturing all over the place in true Stockwell fashion) You tell me how to 'fade in' agitated carbon quarks and I'll make the Scientific Journal!

It is in this scene by the airplane that Al finally catches Sam up to speed on "Project Quantum Leap" - using the piece of string as an example - although he doesn't yet reveal that the entire thing is Sam's brainchild - that comes later. For now, he just has to give him the basics of what is going on. A. I'm a hologram tuned into your brain waves. B. You can leap around in time within the span of your own lifetime. Sam starts to remember things - although pieces are missing. The name "Ziggy" is familiar to him. He is confused. But he's starting to get into the swing of the thing. It's in this scene by the plane that the whole "make things right" theory is spoken for the first time (although, thankfully, it is spoken by Dean Stockwell - who gives a cynical "whatEVER" spin to it, rolling his eyes apathetically - so it doesn't come off as earnest, sincere, ie: disgusting.) Al is basically throwing it out there as a theory, good or bad as any other.

(Oh. And my favorite moment in this scene? Sam gets alarmed when Al walks THRU the plane. Grumbles, "Can't you walk around it next time?" Al stops, with that flat dead look on his face that I find so funny - remarks, "You want me to walk around something that isn't there?" He deliberately walks around the nose of the plane, with such an annoyed bored air, like: fine, I'll humor you. "All right, I'll walk around it!" It's just the dynamic in that moment - and Stockwell's face. Makes me laugh.)

So. Tom Stratton, we learn, was killed back in 1956 the following day trying to break Mach-3. Al thinks that Sam has to break Mach-3 and live. Sam's panic starts to bubble up. Dude - I CAN'T FLY. "I can help you." Al says. "You're a hologram!" "I'm also an ex-astronaut." I love this part of Al Calavicci: the military dude, the guy who is NOT a fuck-up, the one who knows how to do shit. The one who, even with being a wild man, respects the rules of something enough to learn how to do it, and do it well. Like fly a rocket, for God's sake. It gives a great nuance to the character. He's old-school. He went to MIT. He's smart (and not just "street smart" - he's book smart too), and kind of no-nonsense about things when it counts. It's a nice balance. (Oh - and in the scene outside the hangar, as Sam is panicking, and Al is trying to calm him down - there's a great moment where Scott Bakula imitates Dean Stockwell: "That's called ...'DEATH'" and he imitates Dean's gestures. Al is a bit of a creature to be mocked, even though he's smart, and Sam's lifeline back to the present. I mean, the bolo ties, the silver shoes, the over-the-top gestures, the ubiquitous cigar ... Seeing Sam DO Al back to Al in that moment is very satisfying and funny ("That's called .... DEATH" I like Sam then. A lot.)

The next morning - SEPTEMBER 13, 1956- is the big day!

My question is this: Al doesn't show up until AFTER the X-2 has dropped. Thanks a LOT, Al. As Sam is being strapped in, he looks around him, saying, "Al? Albert? Al?" Now maybe it's just me: but don't you think someone should have said something?? Like: Dude. Who is Al. You have a huge dangerous mission right now. Focus. FOCUS. And as the X-2 is dropped out into the wild blue yonder, we can hear Sam scream, at the top of his lungs, "AAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLL!" Bruce McGill, on the ground, is like, "Is there a problem?" And poof - this is when Al appears, in the X-2 with Sam ... ready to walk him through the steps. But Sam has a couple of lines of dialogue with Al - like, "Where the hell were you?" Etc. Wouldn't someone on the ground ask him, "Are you talking to us? Who are you talking to ?" Any conversation he has in that jet - anything he says out loud - will be heard by multiple people. But nobody says anything! And he says things that are obviously NOT about Mach-3 or whatever. Like Al, sitting there in the cockpit, basically on top of Sam (I love those shots) says, "Sorry I'm late. I was at a Lakers game." Sam, rightfully so, is furious. "You almost didn't get here because of a BASKETBALL game??" (Now: wouldn't someone on the ground say: "Basketball? Who are you talking to?")

Al, having left a woman named Martha back in his bed, sits there, and coolly walks Sam through the steps. He's a hologram, so he can't touch anything, of course - just shows Sam what to do, tells him which rockets to fire off, and also tells him what to say back to the dudes on the ground. This, for me, is classic Al Calavicci - and Tommy is right when he says that that character was "set" from this first episode. You know how sometimes you watch early episodes of a show that later becomes a hit ... and you can feel the actors haven't settled in yet? They're still psyched to have a job - and THAT shows - or they're working too hard - or the writing isn't really there yet ... The whole thing is still a bit unsettled. This is definitively NOT the case with Al Calavicci. I think a lot of that has to do with the writing, but naturally - most of it has to do with how Dean Stockwell plays it. I have no idea who Dean Stockwell is, as a man - but at least as Al Calavicci, he seems totally comfortable inside his own skin. He NEVER pushes, he never hams ... he never tips over into maudlin behavior ... He keeps Al's edges sharp, a little bit jagged - and a lot of the humor comes from that. It's wonderful to watch. First episode. It's all there.

Then comes the tense "action" sequence where Sam is pushing the plane to Mach-3.

And with the explosion - we're back in the little house - and we see the ubiquitous glass coffee pot - explode from the sound waves.

A metaphor, I suppose ... we don't see the wife's reaction ... but we see her coffee pot exploding, and that tells us all we need to know.

There is a MARVELOUS slow-mo shot of debris falling to the desert from the sky. SO well done. And then, we see Sam - who has ejected - AFTER breaking Mach-3 - crumple to the ground, his parachute billowing around him. Ouch. Ouch. It takes Sam a while to realize the import of what has happened ... and how much it sucks. I mean, yay for Tom Stratton, but BOO for Sam Beckett! He peers across the desert and sees all the emergency rescue vehicles screaming towards him in clouds of dust, and the voiceover is back: "Why didn't I leap? Al?? Why didn't I leap???"

There's a VERY funny sequence where Sam is in the ambulance, racing across the desert - the doctor is checking his heartrate, blah blah, talking to him ... and poof, Al appears. The script here is great - because the doctor is talking, Sam is talking to Al, Al is talking to Sam ... but the doctor only hears Sam's responses of course - so he's responding to what Sam is saying to Al ... it's a melee of dialogue and it's very well done, very funny. Al, meanwhile, is chagrined and a little bit embarrassed because his big "if you break Mach 3 and live you'll leap" theory obviously didn't pan out. He can barely look Sam in the eye, and he is also distracted because he left "a dish named Martha" in his bed and if she wakes up "and finds me not there ... without me even saying 'good morning' ... that's just ... not nice ..." Sam is dumbfounded. A DISH NAMED MARTHA takes precedence over why I didn't leap? Are you kidding me??? But Al is gone. To take care of his complicated personal life, leaving Sam to figure the rest out. Which he does.

At the hospital it is revealed that Peg has gone into premature labor at the sound of the crash (coffee pot exploding). This is 1956. It is a situation of: save the mother's lilfe or the baby's life. The doctor explains to Sam that the nearest neo-natal clinic is in LA but he doesn't feel he can risk moving Peggy. It's dire. (I just have to give a shoutout to WK Stratton - who plays the military medical doctor. WONDERFUL actor, with a pinched-up funny face ... he actually shows up again in Quantum Leap - in Season 5 - he plays a recurring role in one of the multi-part leaps, and Sam actually ends up leaping into his character in Part 3. He's a lovely actor. And I love how he deals with Sam in these hospital scenes. Good stuff.) Sam, in the moments in the hallway, sort of realizes - without realizing it consciously - that he knows how to stop labor. He starts to babble technical terms at the doctors - but then says (what must be to them) very confusing things like, "Those didn't come out til the late 70s!" Etc. Sometimes the reactions of other people are ... er ... NOT so realistic. Like: if I suddenly said I was a doctor, would someone believe me? Like - there is an argument in the hallway (again, wonderfully played by all parties - but just not realistic) - where Sam - who is supposed to be Tom Stratton - a PILOT - suddenly is talking like a doctor - and he's so specific about it that the other doctors, who are faced with losing a patient, take it on faith and decide to try his suggestions. Uhm, can you say law suit?? Hahahaha. Oh, and there's also a funny moment when Peg is having a contraction and Sam holds onto her and says, "Look at me - do what I do ..." and he shows her a Lamaze breathing method, which she imitates - as everyone looks on, like: what the hell is THAT?

Of course, though, his suggestions work. They give her an IV full of Deenedrienke and diruefdkudextrose (whatevs) ... which stops labor and gets her "instantly drunk". Here is where Doris Day comes back into the picture. Peg, wasted, lies in the hospital bed, singing "Que Sera Sera" at the top of her lungs. The doctors are relieved, yet confused. How ... how did he know ... how ...?

The "real" Tom Stratton is going to have a lot of explaining to do when he returns from the future.

That's another weird unanswered thing from the show. When the real person leaps back - and Sam leaps out ... how do they adjust to the new reality? Won't everyone around them be like, "Man, you have been acting SO WEIRD for the last couple days ..." How will they not remember sitting in that futuristic Waiting Room? I can't remember if it's ever explained or not ... how they deal with the person who has leapt out ... and how they "erase" the memory of having been ejected from their own lives into some alternate reality for 4 or 5 days. Like - won't Tom Stratton be asked, "How did you know all that medical stuff?" And wouldn't Tom Stratton say, "I DON'T know any medical stuff."??

Obviously - Sam was not put here JUST to make sure that Tom Stratton survived. Sam was put there to make sure that Peg and the unborn baby also survived. He goes to the window, where his son and Birddog are waiting below, nervously - and gives them a thumbs up. Call me corny, but the response of Birddog (he starts clapping, huge smile on his face) - and the elated look on the son's face - brings a lump to my throat, and I'm sitting here typing, with tears in my eyes. Yeah, I'm a geek. It doesn't take much for me to "believe", let's just say that. I know there are holes in the show, but if it works on an emotional level (and for me, for the most part, it does) - that's what I'm in it for. And that shot - from above - with Birddog clapping and laughing, and the beaming face of his son - makes me realize that I have come to kind of care about Peggy Stratton and her husband - and I'm glad she's okay. She's a fictional character. I'll never meet her again. But I'm glad she's okay. That's the simple level of reality the show is meant to work on. And it DOES.

The son - overjoyed - throws a baseball up into the air - we follow its arc - and (for the only time in the series history) - we do NOT "see" the leap. We do not see Sam engulfed in blue lightning. We HEAR the leap - but we're watching the baseball fly up into the air - and then boom - we're back ... only now we see Sam, baseball glove in the air, catching the ball - the same ball thrown up to him by his son - only ... Sam is now in a baseball uniform ... on a baseball field ...

and ... what???

Poor Sam. Leaps must be terrifying. Like: waking up and there you are ... on the spot ... in somebody else's life ... It is funny, too - like Tommy mentions: whoever (God, or time) is leaping Sam around has a sick sense of humor. Wouldn't it be okay to have Sam leap into someone who was asleep? Or who was in a calm moment where nothing big is happening? Why does he always leap in medias res? Can't you give Sam a little break here, please?? So. Okay. Sam is on a baseball field. It's a night game. There are people in the stands shouting at him, "What are you ... posing for a picture?" The inning is over, it's time for him to run back to the dugout, but he ... still half-attached to Tom Stratton's life ... isn't sure where he is yet, or what has happened. This is his first "sideways" leap, remember. He thought when he leapt out of Tom Stratton, he'd leap back into 1999 - into himself ... but no. It didn't work that way. OBVIOUSLY.

To quote Al Calavicci: "You are part of a time travel experiment that went ... a little caca."

A little caca indeed.

Sam, a fast learner, doesn't spend this particular leap telling everyone around him that he's not who he looks like. He succumbs. Runs back to the dugout. Playing along until he figures out what's going on, or until Al shows up and he can tear him a new asshole for messing up his leap. Again! I love the dynamic in the dugout - it all feels very real to me. Like - Donald Bellisario - who wrote this epiosde, not only knows the world of test pilots - but is also a baseball fan. For example - one of the Waco Bombers is at bat. A pitch comes, dude swings and misses. The crusty perpetually angry coach turns around and bellows at the team in the dugout, "Next son of a gun who swings at the first pitch ... I'm gonna fine 50 bucks!" (If Nomar were on that team, he'd be fined every time he went to bat!!) Anyway, that bit of dialogue could only come from someone who knows baseball.

Sam, no idea who he is, what has happened, sidles back into the dugout ... his name is "Fox" apparently ... he's trying to act all nonchalant, like, "Yeah, I'm this guy, whatever, I'm TOTALLY this guy ..." when Al shows up. In a shimmery silver jacket and a purple shirt. Smoking his cigar, staring out at the baseball game, completely unconcerned with anything that has "gone wrong". His mind is not at all on Quantum Leaping. He wants to watch the game. Sam tries to pull him aside ... "I need to talk to you ..." "I want to watch the game!" Al is like a recalcitrant bratty little kid here, it's hilarious. Like: DUDE. FOCUS. The ONLY thing you should be thinking about is MY WELL-BEING! "But I want to watch the game!"

Favorite line in the "baseball leap" - and how Stockwell says it - it makes me laugh every time, and I won't be able to describe it - you just have to keep your eye out for it: It's in this first scene, they're in the dugout. Someone on the field has gotten a hit and a couple of the players in the dugout clap, lackadaisacally. Al, noticing this, says flatly, "No wonder they're in the cellar. They've got about as much enthusiasm as a ten dollar hooker." Please just watch HOW he says that line. How his eyes go to slits, contemptuous slits ... And the way he says "ten dollar hooker" - you know he speaks from painful experience. It's just hilarious.

Sam finally gets Al down into the locker room - but it is still some time before Sam can get Al to focus on why he did not leap back, and who he has leapt into this time. Al is not concerned about why things went wrong - he tells Sam about the party they've been having over the last week, celebrating the fact that the Quantum Leap worked in the first place. The party went until all hours of the night and appears to have turned into some kind of orgy. Again, Sam doesn't want to hear any of the details, but the snippets we get are so stupid and funny. Like: your colleague is leaping through time, and you're printing out pornographic pictures and making out with "Brenda from coding"???

Al, though, starts to take on the role that he will take through the rest of the series. He shows up with some information about where/who/what/when. He tells Sam the backstory of this Tim Fox - a baseball player who broke his leg in the majors and was sent down to recover. It's been 5 years - he's never been called back up again. This whole leap is a takeoff on The Natural - Al even makes a Roy Hobbs reference later - and also, when Sam eventually does go to bat - he's a leftie. (Scott Bakula, in one of the little interviews, says that watching his swing in slow-mo hurts him to this day - because he's not a leftie - but he IS a pretty good baseball player - so he still wishes that he had said to the powers that be, "You know what? I need to bat righthanded ... this isn't gonna look good.")

I'm actually kind of unclear on what Sam is supposed to "put right" in this leap. There is no big drama, no 8 Men Out background, no murder impending, no "you must marry this woman or all will be lost" urgency. In the real game (which is in 1968) - Tim Fox "flied out". And I guess that's what Sam is supposed to do ... but ... I don't know ... if anyone can tell me what needs to be "put right" in Tim Fox's life, that would be great.

It's in this "leap" that Ziggy starts to take on shape as a character. Ziggy is a computer. But Al tells Sam that Ziggy is "depressed" because "he messed up the leap". How can a computer be depressed? Al says, "He has a big ego." (I won't harp too much on the fact that in Season 3 it is revealed that Ziggy has a sexy woman's voice and everyone starts referring to her as "she". It's just one of those things that happens over a long series. I must accept that!!)

I love the following exchange between Al and Sam. Al hears the crowd cheering above and gets irritated. "I want to watch the game!" he says for the 10th time. Sam says, "You already know what happens!" And like a flash, Al is up in Sam's face, saying (and you gotta watch how Stockwell says this ... and the gestures ... and the pauses ... I won't bore you with taking you thru it beat to beat ... it's just a delicious moment of ridiculous human behavior): Al says, emphatically, lasciviously, with gestures galore: "I knew what would happen when I took Brenda into the filing room." Long pause. "I still took her."

Ba-dum- CHING!!

We also get more backstory about Sam Beckett. Al lets him know that he has 6 doctorates. He gives him an update on Tom Stratton - Peggy gave wife to a healthy baby girl - and they lived happily ever after. Sam is still baffled at why "they" cannot retrieve him. He gets annoyed. "Who designed this ziggy, anyway?"

Al finally speaks the truth. "You, Sam. So. If there's one guy who can figure out how to bring you back .... it's you, Sam."

(This goes along with the "who's running this show" theme that comes up time and time again - and is the main focus of the very last episode in the series. God, or time, or whoever is leaping Sam around? Or maybe ... it's just Sam himself? Could that be? Despite his desire to 'go back'? Like Al told him in the earlier Tom Stratton section: "We tried to retrieve you this morning. You wouldn't leap!")

So Sam now knows the truth. He will leap. Around. Until he can figure out a way to leap "back" into himself. And Al, against his better judgment, against the advice of Ziggy and everyone - tells Sam his last name. Which is Beckett.

Sam realizes - by himself in the dugout - that it is only 1968 ... which means his father is still alive. Contacting his father had come into his head in the Tom Stratton leap, only he didn't know his own last name. Now, though, he actually ... could speak to his father ... who has been dead for 20 years.

All I can say is: great work, Scott Bakula, on that phone conversation. Not too cheesy, not too self-pitying ... it's what you would do ... if you could talk to your dead father, and NOT let him know that it was you, from the future. (Uhm, what?) He's holding back a tsunami of emotion, he's pretending to be a long-lost nephew ... and there his father is, on the other end, being kind and supportive ... sweet ... and Sam is just having a helluva time not LOSING it ... listening to, and remembering, the simple homely kindness of his dead father. And how much he misses him. And still loves him. It's lovely work - that's where the series (for me) really operates - on that level. Because yeah, it's cool to leap around in time ... but who could resist ... trying to go back and see your family, have an Our Town moment, talk to your dead father again?

As Sam walks back up to the game, he's in tears - just totally FULL - and he looks up (again - could be cheesy, but somehow is not) and says (to God, or time, or whoever): "Thank you!" There's a voiceover here, too - which I'm not wacky about - because it goes into "tell, not show" mode. A voiceover should never be used to tell us what we already know, or what we are seeing - and that voiceover does. "Maybe this leaping around in time wouldn't be such a bad thing ..." Etc. Yeah, yeah, we got it. Trust the actor, please - Scott Bakula, with his glance to the sky, is already PLAYING that. We don't need you to add onto it.

But it is an important moment - because it's where I see that Sam Beckett actually accepts his fate.

Maybe the next leap WON'T bring him back home. But maybe leaping around won't be so bad. Because ... this feeling in my heart of having healed something with my dad ... of having talked to him again ... will inevitably, in its small way, make the world a better and loving place. And isn't that a worthy way to spend your life?

The series wouldn't work if Sam were perpetually frustrated and irritated that he couldn't "get back". That energy would get old really quick!

Then there's the ending - with Sam's at-bat as Tim Fox - and a series of errors - missed throw at first and third - means he got a homerun off of a catcher error. Slow-mo running around the bases, Al in his mylar jacket - freaking out at home plate - acting like a jacked-up running coach - Sam running the bases - and then sliding into home. He's safe! His teammates swarm him!

Again, not sure what that whole leap was about ...

but now ... for the first time ... we see the blue electric light shiver through him ... and the SOUND of the leap - that Cullen has mentioned - that shivery sound ... and in a flash Sam has gone.

What a bummer. To go through all that and to not be allowed to celebrate? For even just 2 seconds, God??? Come ON, give me a break!!

Sam leaps "into" a man, standing in front of a blackboard, smoking a pipe - looking out at a listening group of college students. What? Who? What am I teaching? Where am I now?? Help??

Quantum Leap: Season 1, Episode 1: Genesis

Part 2. We left Sam in the cockpit, tilting dangerously to the left, screaming at the top of his lungs. (Here's part 1)

(I know it's hard to believe but I'm gonna have to make this a three parter. Once I get up to speed, I won't have to talk so much about the overview of the show ... but for now, I gotta get it out of my system!)

SO HERE IS PART 2!!!

Bruce McGill, on the ground, is trying to understand why the plane is tilting - do they have a problem? Meanwhile: Sam, poor passive Sam (he's a MUCH more active participant in later leaps - once he knows the rules of the game), sits there and screams - afraid to touch anything. Captain Birddog returns from the back, takes over the plane, corrects the mistake, "covers" for his buddy by saying they had a "glitch" in the instrumentation of something - and all is well. Sam, drenched in sweat, basically whimpers, "Just don't ask me to fly again." The point of these missions is to drop the X-2 out of the jet, and have the pilot start from that height and try to reach "Mach-3". Pilots can discuss in the comments what all this means. Because I'm damned if I know. I, as an audience member, who knows mainly about test pilots from movies and from certain friendships with certain people, do not understand the technology. But that's okay: Quantum Leap is not made for experts. I know what I need to know, they've set me up perfectly. The mission is to break Mach-3. But they've had issues with this recently - fire warning lights going on, pilots having to eject ... it seems, at times, that the aircraft is not built to even handle the stress of such speed. But that's the whole point of being a test pilot. To push the limits. Regardless of personal danger. They were heroes, pioneers, wild men. And poor Sam - a brainiac - who obviously pushed the boundaries in science - is definitively not (at least in this moment) a courageous hero. You must know how to fly a jet, after all, to - you know - fly a jet!

One of the pilots (who actually looks, strikingly, like "Joe" - the doomed pilot in Only Angels Have Wings - as a young man I mean - who has his mind on "that blonde" and can't see to land through the fog - I have enough faith in Bellisario that I do NOT think that this is a coincidence!) gets into the X-2, cradled in the back of the jet. Sam, stilll sweaty and shaken up, glances back there and sees ... uhm ... TUXEDO DUDE ... standing there ... smiling right at him and waving!! What? Who the hell IS that guy? Why is a man in a tuxedo standing in the back of a huge roaring jet? Sam nervously asks Birddog, "Uhm ... is everyone back there ... where they need to be ... or ..." Birddog, cool as a cuke, glances behind him. We see what Birddog sees. There is no guy in a tuxedo in the back of the plane. As far as Birddog can see. (The episode is structured brilliantly - to lure the audience in. There seems, at first, to be something almost malevolent about the Al character ... we aren't sure yet what the project is ... we are as baffled as Sam is ... and remember, at this point - we don't yet know that he is a "hologram".) So the X-2 drops. And "Joe" (I'll just call him that - an homage to Howard Hawks and Cary Grant: "Who's Joe??") flips the switch for rockets 1 and 2. (This, for a newbie like myself, is great information - because it sets up the later scene when Sam has to go through the same thing. We've already seen "Joe" go through the procedure.) There is some sort of sonic boom at one point, and - we are back in the "period" kitchen with Peggy, Tom Stratton's wife - and in one shot, we understand her fear. This will be very important later in the episode. It's important, in general, because it brings to the crazy fly-boy atmosphere, the female element - the WIVES element - which is just as much a part of the test pilot experience as anything else. Those boys had wives. Those wives were brave, too.

Small tangent, forgive: One of the things I enjoy about this episode (and, largely, about the whole series) is the respect that it has for its characters. I never feel like Sam leaps into a past era - with its prejudices and gender roles - and condescends to that era. Now yes - progress has occurred - and the fact that a black man can't sit at a freakin' counter with white people is something rightly to be scorned (episode 6) ... that's what progress means - those who yearn for the "good old days" often conveniently leave out such pesky details as water fountains for "coloreds" and little things like, oh, a polio vaccine. So I'm all for progress. HOWEVER.

The stance that Quantum Leap takes - over and over again - is that people are doing their best. They are, perhaps, doing their best for 1956 - but should we judge them for NOT being able to see the future? Like Sam can? What kind of condescending nitwit would look at the past and ONLY see bad things? (like the little old white lady in Episode 6 - she is not judged. She is limited, definitely, because of the racist world she lives in ... but she is not some white villain. She, too, like the black people in that episode, has been formed and shaped by the racist society. And the show has compassion for her. White people, too, were victims of racism. Not to the same degree - but we all suffer when some of our countrymen are oppressed. And the show didn't soft-pedal that, by making her some racist horrible woman. I SO appreciate that about the show. I'll get into that more later.) So. Now. Back to one of the other things I appreciate about this show is its LACK of condescension towards people from different eras. It is very easy to "look back" and think: "Wow. Everyone was so ignorant back then." And in many ways, I think this is a valid response. I'm reading Bleak House right now, and anyone who reads Dickens and DOESN'T think that child labor laws are inhumane has something wrong with them! That being said, I, personally, have gained so much from NOT looking at the past as some black hole of ignorance ... but as being filled with people, pretty much like you and me, who have struggles, and issues, and are trying to live the best lives they can. People in future generations, no doubt, will look back on us and tut-tut at how little we knew. This is as it should be, for God's sake!

But let us not make a virtue out of nostalgia! Let us not think that things were automatically BETTER back then because they aren't the present day (a viewpoint I find absolutely abhorrent and fight against it whenever it comes up - you know, the "God, things were so great 'back then'" viewpoint! Oh really. They were? Wow! I won't concede ground to people who feel that way. I will. NOT. I call them "the world is going to hell in a handbasket" people. A boo hoo, the world's going to hell in a handbasket!! a boo hoo. Cry about it to someone else, I ain't buying it.) Let us not add ignorance onto ignorance! I love movies and television shows that take place in other times that respect that "back then" there was complexity, too - that "back then" people struggled, and were doing their best ... that human nature doesn't really change. Husbands and wives had fights. People had affairs. People had sex before marriage. People got wasted and said things they shouldn't say. Then, the next day, they cleaned up their mistakes and apologized. You know, same ol' same ol'. The only thing different were the wardrobes. (And the 24-hour media cycle which puts us all in touch with each other at every moment ... the effect of which on our modern world cannot be exaggerated). But please. Let us not be truly ignorant and think that all that crap wasn't going on back then.

One of the fun things about Quantum Leap is that it could offer a panorama of American experience - and sometimes it took on deep subjects - like women's liberation, or racism, or homophobia, or domestic abuse - and sometimes it didn't - but no matter what: the characters in the episodes were revealed as three-dimensional people. They each had their journey to go through. Nobody was "written off" as "lost".

I write all of this because I wanted to say a couple of words about Jennifer Runyon's portrayal of Peggy, the pregnant wife, in "Genesis". She has a son who is about 8 years old. She is 6 months pregnant and very jittery about it. She drinks coffee all day long. Her husband goes on death-defying missions every day, and she has to stand in her house, as her appliances shimmy towards her, and listen to the sonic booms, and NOT freak out. Of course she DOES freak out ... but quietly. To herself. She looks up in the sky. She swallows her terror. She tries to be strong. And when push comes to shove, she wants her husband to be "the fastest man alive". Because that's what HE wants. It is the opposite of a condescending portrayal of a wife in another era. She is a three-dimensional woman - and I don't want to make it sound like it's some huge serious thing ... I'm just saying: that as a woman, I very much appreciated her compassionate and deep portrayal of this character. She isn't the "wet blanket" cliche of the wife. (Cue my post about the wife in Field of Dreams) But she isn't also a starry-eyed Doris Day who just stands by her man with no personality of her own. That's not satisfying for me, as a woman, to watch (and also, I imagine, for men - who have wives they love, wives who have complexity, who call them on their shit but who also have their back when it counts ... etc. We're all in this together, people!!)

The funny thing (and the brilliant thing) is that Doris Day is referenced a couple of times in this episode, and again - I can't imagine it's a coincidence. The references are: when Sam is awakened in the first moment by the alarm clock - it's by Doris Day singing "Que Sera Sera". And then later - in the last scene - when his pregnant wife is drunk in the hospital - she lies in bed, wasted - singing "Que Sera Sera" and one of the doctors jokes, "Doris Day is our patient." When Al first says to Sam (in a couple scenes from now) that maybe he is 'here' to 'put things right' - he assumes that Sam is here to break Mach-3 and LIVE, as opposed to DIE, like the "real" Tom Stratton did. So that is what the two of them focus on: getting Sam thru the ordeal of breaking Mach-3. Once Sam breaks Mach-3 though, he lies on the ground in the desert, twisted up in his parachute, and we hear the voiceover again, the agonized voiceover, "I'm still here! Al! Why am I still here??"

The answer is in the Doris Day references.

The answer was there all along.

Peg stands in her kitchen. She hears the sonic boom. She puts her hand nervously on her stomach, kicks the washing machine back into place, and takes a sip of coffee. When "Joe" from Only Angels Have Wings pushes his plane past the point of no return, and it explodes - she gasps and runs out onto her lawn, looking up, looking up, looking up. The other wives, many of them pregnant also, all of them wives of test pilots, join her ... they look up, they look up, they look up ...

Guys, I'm not overstating this. I love this scene. It captures that whole world. It doesn't condescend to that world. It respects it. But without the lying golden glow of nostalgia ... which leaves out the bad stuff. The experience of the wives on the ground is PART of that pioneer journey ... and Quantum Leap shows that ... in the beautiful sunset-lit shot (or dawn-lit shot) of the pregnant wives, looking up in the sky, for evidence of their exploded husbands.

Without that affection for other eras, without that willingness to see them as being just like us - only with different wardrobes, and different contexts - the show would not have worked. It would have been schlock. Condescending schlock.

Please, fans of the show. I know it's a tiny moment, and it's not the "point" of the episode. But just watch all of those wives flood out onto the lawn, looking up. And tell me you don't feel for them, tell me you don't think: "God ... what was it like for you????"

That's the entire purpose of the show.

It's not just about what it was like for Sam Beckett to suddenly be a test pilot - although, of course, the show is totally about that! It's also about: who is Peg?? What are HER concerns? And who is Tom Stratton, this guy Sam has leapt into? How can I figure out what HE needs? The whole show is an exercise in altruistic thinking. It appeals to me, because it's in my nature, I suppose - to wonder what it's like to BE another person. And Sam Beckett has to learn that, which he does - episode by episode. He wants to "leap back" ... with every leap he thinks: "will this be the one? will I wake up in familiar surroundings again?" But, as it keeps NOT happening ... he realizes his mission is larger than he thought, or hoped. He, for whatever reason (and they even touch on it in this first episode) - is an "instrument" of something bigger than himself. And the greater good demands that he succumb to it, that he give up his own personal concerns ... and care about people like Tom Stratton ... which ... how many of us, when faced with the choice of our own life - or the life of someone we've never heard of ... would choose our own? The show (at its best) confronts such existential questions. Again, don't mean to go too deep here - but that's what I get from this show, at its finest. And, if you remember how it ends, if you remember that last episode ... that's the journey Sam Beckett is on. He is the ultimate sacrifice. He (for whatever reason, again - it's never stated) has chosen to sacrifice HIMSELF.

Back to our plot. Joe from Only Angels Have Wings survives the explosion by ejecting. The next scene finds us in a divey bar in the middle of the desert, full of test pilots, military men, and blonde chicks wearing full skirts, red lipstick and heels. (Please. Let ME Quantum Leap to that place??) Sam Beckett, as Tom Stratton, sits in a booth with his pregnant wife, and all his fly boy buddies ... and he starts to relax into his new role. He glances at Peggy at one point, who is laughing up at something Birddog is doing ... and the way she is filmed in that moment, Sam realizes what Tom sees in her. Not that it wasn't obvious before - but up until this moment, Sam has basically been terrified of her because - DUH. She is the wife of someone he doesn't know - and she is pregnant - and he has no idea who he is!!! Imagine having to pretend you're married to someone you've never met! Sam finds her terrifying. But suddenly, at the bar, he sees her beauty, he softens ... they dance ... She does show surprise that he actually CAN dance ... and he bluff his way out of it: "I've never had such a ... well-rounded partner before." She laughs. They're having a good time. A young married couple in 1956 on a date.

Until. He sees that damn dude in a tux again. Standing by the jukebox and looking around him as though he is having the best time of his life. Who the hell is that jagoff? It's infuriating. Especially because Sam asks his "wife", "Who's that guy over there in the tux?" and she can't even see him!! "A tux? In this place?" Okay. So he's crazy, obviously. Sam doesn't even know he's Sam at this point, he cannot remember his first name - he has accepted "Tom" as his first name ... and yet he has SOME semblance of sanity to know that seeing dudes in tuxes where no one else sees them is a very very bad sign. With an ominous manner, Sam approaches the stranger, who seems completely oblivious to why anyone should greet him with hostility. Tux-Dude says, happily, "Ain't this something??" looking around as though he never wanted to leave. Sam pretends to look at the jukebox, and Tux-Dude begs, "Oh - do they have Be-Bop-a-Lu on there? That got me through some long nights at MIT. That and a little Lithuanian girl named Danessa." (Many many clues to Al's character and history in this small set of sentences.) Sam, still baffled as to who this dude is - who was standing in the back of the plane, unseen by Birddog - and now unseen by his own wife - treats the entire encounter with suspicion. "Am I dead? Because that would explain a lot if I were dead."

Tuxedo-Man (who is, of course, the wonderful rumpled and sex-focused Dean Stockwell) treats Sam gently - but it is only over the course of this conversation that Admiral Al Calavicci truly realizes the level of swiss-cheesing that has occurred in his friend Sam Beckett. His DEAR friend Sam Beckett! Imagine if your dear friend didn't know you anymore! Sam doesn't even recognize Al! What a total loss that would be. What a sad thing it would be. Like Alzheimers, something I know something about. One must give up on the relationship that WAS, and accept the relationship that is THERE. What a hard thing to do. This is what goes down between Sam and Al at the jukebox. Al realizes: "ohhhhhh myyyyyy gooood, you don't remember?? You have no idea who I am? Do you even know your own name, Sam?" The name, the first time we've heard it, gets through the fog. We can see it LAND on Bakula's face. It gets through. "You know my name." But Al - this creature from the black lagoon as far as Sam is concerned - a guy who looks at him knowingly - without knowing him!! - disappears without explaining more to Sam. Al, obviously, is frustrated and freaked out by the Swiss Cheese factor, and angry at Ziggy for not factoring this in. The last we see of him is him ripping open a door in the atmosphere, and disappeareing behind it, muttering angrily. Leaving Sam (Tom) alone. With most of his questions unanswered.

The next morning:

now this will be important later: The whole episode (after the prologue with Al and Tina) starts with a tracking shot over the desert, speeded up - tumbleweed, brush, sand ... and the camera zooms very quickly at a house - into the window - into the bedroom - the clock turning over ... and then: Sam's quantum leap begins. It's almost like in that moment we are Ziggy. Or - the "quantum leap" itself - rushing through time/space ... into another life. So the next morning - we see the same shot again. An echo. Tracking shot over the desert, speeded up - tumbleweed, brush, sand - the camera zooms towards the little house - and then - abruptly - zooms backwards and up and away.

Huh?

What was that?

Sam wakes up - in bed with Peg - and we get a voiceover: "Not time to get up yet. After I milk the cows ... I'll get to school ..." and BOOM. Sam's eyes open. Alarmed, alert. Cows? Milk? Where did that come from and what did that have to do with Tom Stratton? Suddenly: some details come back. Rushing, in a flood. He grew up on a dairy farm. In Indiana. He remembers! He remembers too -with a flood of sadness - that his father has died. Yet ... hope comign back ... his father was alive in 56!!! So ... what? Sam still doesnt' know much - his last name - anything - but he's got enough to go on. So he goes to the phone. To try to call his dad.

This moment will become VERY important in future episodes - and CRUCIAL in the last episode. If Ziggy, the hybrid computer, is NOT in control, then who is? Thank goodness the show did not go in a Touched by an Angel direction because that would have ruined it and made it sanctimonious and evangelical, which would have turned me right off. It's not about a particular message. Al and Sam always refer to the force leaping Sam around as "God ... or time ... or whoever ..." which I appreciated. And I believe in God. But to me, God is a private business and any relationship I have is between me and Him. Don't try to "tell me" about God. Especially not if you have the arrogance to think that you "know". That is not just insulting, but HARMFUL to something that is actually divine to me. And I will protect that which I believe to be divine from LITERAL-minded people. The irony is that those people are "religious". Spare me, Lord, from the "religious"!! I add my cry of protest to the many others before me who have cried out such a thing! But I appreciated that non-specific spiritual vibe about the show. It was about people being GOOD, about making the right choices, about getting a second chance, about redemption - all things that we, in our measly little lives, could also see, and use ... if we just opened our eyes, stopped for a second, and got beyond our own egos. What would it be like to get a second chance? To forgive? To let go? To make right? The show didn't attempt to answer the big questions - however!!! It certainly POSED the questions - and left it at that. I loved that. Who the hell is leaping Sam around? We THOUGHT it was the computer itself ... but if Ziggie is playing catch-up and isn't the boss ... then who is in charge here?

The last episode, in Season 5, attempts to address this. But what I love is that here - in the first episode of the whole series - with the computer (signified by the zooming tracking shot over the desert) TRYING to retrieve Sam ... and then ... uhm ... for whatever reason ... being unable to do so... and bouncing back off into the space/time continuum ... the struggle has already begun. The struggle always was: Will Sam allow himself to leap back? Or, as Al puts it bluntly later, "You wouldn't leap!!:

Now WHY wouldn't Sam leap?

Ahhhhhhhhhh, that is the question.

Stick around til Season 5. It's STILL the question ... and the series confronts it head on in the very last episode and it nearly burst my heart into a million pieces.

Back to our current episode: "Genesis". Sam (or Tom) has promised his young son to take him fly-fishing (even though Sam has no idea what he's doing with fly-fishing!) It is during this father-son trip that Sam bumps into Al, yet again ... only this time Al has appeared, out of nowhere, wearing pumpkin-orange pajamas, a black and white patterned bathrobe, and is drinking coffee = out in the middle of the wilderness - moaning about his hangover-headache. "Pleeeeeeeease don't yell!"

Now there is NO reason for Tux-dude to be out in the mountains in his pajamas ... so Sam finally confronts the weirdness. "Who. Are. You." Al, who is coming off a bender and looks pretty much the worse for wear, says, nonchalantly, "I'm a man. Just like you." Sam, who has already swiped his hand through Al, says, "No. Not like me." Al relents and gives him a BIT of information ... but warns him that "most of what you're gonna want to know is restricted ... so it would probably be better if you don't ask too many questions."

Just a small bit of trivia: This pajama scene was the scene that Dean Stockwell auditioned with. Tommy mentioned in his post (sorry, no permalink!!) that it was his favorite scene and it's one of mine as well. It establishes who Al is. Al has a complicated social life back in the present day ... and he's not a "drop everything for work" kind of guy. Even though he's totally dedicated to the project. Tommy puts it perfectly in his post:

Al,hung over and in his pajamas, while Sam is fishing? Classic, and probably my favorite scene from this episode. I just like the whole thing where Al Calavicci is dealing with what could be the most groundbreaking development in history and science, with the Quantum Leap technology. Add to that the whole deal where his friend is trapped in history, quite possibly in great peril. But Al, at times, looks at the whole thing as something of a hindrance to his social agenda. I enjoy that idea, that the whole "Save Sam" thing might just fall to second or third on Al's social agenda, from time to time. Al personifies the whole "work to live, not live to work" mindset.

Al shows up - in the wildnerness - in his pajamas ... and you know there's a whole swirling cornucopia of sexual dysfunction and debauchery that is behind his bedraggled appearance ... but Sam (and that's part of the humor of their dynamic) never wants to hear the details. He's not the kind of male friend who will be like, "Tell me everything!" He's always mildly horrified at Al's indulgences. So here is Sam, terrified that he is going to have to fly the X-2 on Tuesday!! A death-defying act for a trained pilot - and Sam doesn't even know how to fly!! And here this "Al" dude shows up, in pajamas, hung over, with some woman at home in the future, wrapped up naked in his crumpled-up sheets? What the hell? THIS is the guy assigned to the project? Couldn't we have gotten a guy who was married ... who had more focus? And not so ... on the prowl, for God's sake?

Sam says to Al, cold, panicked, "This Ziggy will be ready to retrieve me on Tuesday? That'll be a bit late. I'm scheduled to fly the X 2 on Monday." There's a long pause, and then Al says ruefully, "Have you ever thought of taking flying lessons?"

Part 3 (the last part, I swear!) to come tomorrow ...

Quantum Leap: Before we begin ...

Part 1: Episode 1 of Quantum Leap: Genesis

Let's try Tommy's permalink: He's already on Episode 2 - I love his observations ... it's making me see new things in the show. Go check out his reviews (scroll, scroll!)

Quantum Leap: Season 1, Episode 1: Genesis

LEAP INTO: September 13, 1956

Sam: I can't fly!
Al: I'll help you!
Sam: You're a hologram!
Al: I'm also an ex-astronaut.

Sam Beckett - on his first quantum leap - finds himself in the body of Tom Stratton, a test pilot in 1956.

UPDATE: I have naturally gone overboard. Here's part 1 of my re-cap. Part 2 to follow. I have it written up, just need to get it together.

So enjoy the NOVEL that is Part 1!!

EPISODE 1: GENESIS

The episode opens on a dark desert landscape, with towering dark mesas, and a starry sky overhead, a nod to Close Encounters. We see a road stretching off into the night. Then we see headlights in the distance, and in what feels like a VERY short time (dude is driving way too fast) - the car zips into the foreground. This is our introduction to Admiral Al Calavicci (Dean Stockwell). We get a closeup of him at the wheel. He is wearing a tuxedo, a silk scarf, and a glow in the dark blue pin on his lapel in the shape of a star. He's listening to music and zoning out to the beat. He's obviously coming from some function, dressed like that. Or, knowing Al's wardrobe choices from the rest of the series, perhaps not. Perhaps he just saw the tux in his closet and thought, "You know what? I look damn good in that. I'm wearing it to the movies tonight." Then you can see him get a glimpse of something coming up on the road. And the eyebrows - the thick eyebrows - raise, and the eyes go flat and focused. Like a snake. Or a shark. Whatever: like a predator who has spotted its prey.

We see what he sees. I love Tommy's point about how funny it is, sometimes, to see interpretations of the future. We know, later (it's not revealed in this first episode) - that the present day date in the show is 1999. The show was filmed in 1989, so this is their interpretation of what life/fashion/cars might be like 10 years in the future. Women, (who are not strippers, I mean), will wear stilettoes with flashing lights in the heels, apparently.

Now I want to talk a bit about this female character. She is a babealicious woman, wearing a tight pink dress, and she stands by her car on an empty desert road. Al ends up picking her up, and they have some sexy chatter about Al's car ("It's an experimental model," Al tells her) - and then, at some point, as they drive - she notices billowing white "clouds" off in the distance. She wonders what is going on. He lies and says, "It's sheet lightning." She doesn't buy it. "I can still see the stars. Thats not lightning." She begins to wonder, "That's near where they let off the first atomic bomb ... Apparently there's still some top secret program being run out there ..." Al, looking at those white strange clouds, starts to get nervous and calls the office. Gushie (the technician running the thing) is screaming that Sam has decided to "leap" ahead of schedule, and he's already in the accelerating chamber. Al is shouting into his phone: "WE'RE NOT READY!" Etc. Finally, it's too urgent, so he says, "I'll be there in 2 minutes" - and off the car goes, towards the white clouds.

Now Pink Lady gets a lot of "chatter" on the Quantum Leap airwaves. Throughout the entire series, Al is dating (and cheating on, and getting back together with, and obsessing over) a woman named "Tina". He's always popping back into Sam's world saying, "Tina's mad at me ..." or "I should have stayed in bed with Tina" ... Like: Sam is dealing with some life or death stuff, he's quantum leaping through time, and Al appears, all upset over some relationship drama he's having in the present. It's hysterical. In, I think, Season 3 - when we finally get to see what the "offices" of Project Quantum Leap look like - and we get to meet Gushie and the rest of the staff - we meet Tina. She is just what you have pictured, from how Al talks about her: she has a high squeaky voice, a Brooklyn accent, and she wears clothes so tight that you could read the date on a dime in her back pocket. She also wears bright flashing earrings and heels, like the dame in Episode 1. If you check it on IMDB - the dame we see in Episode 1 is named "Tina". So. Hmmm. There's a bit of a mystery here, for us obsessives. Is this THE Tina? Even though it's not the same actress we see a couple seasons later? By putting her in flashing light accessories, aren't they telling us: Same gal? But it appears in Episode 1 that Al is meeting Tina for the first time. So there are some theories that this "ooh, I have a flat, I'm so scared in the desert, and you're a guy in a tux who picks me up" is a sex-game that they're playing, where they take on roles and act stuff out. You know, Tina drove ahead, punctured her tire, and posed by her car, waiting for Al, the "scary stranger" to come get her. And if you watch the scene that way, it does work. (Kind of.) The two of them immediately leap to the sex innuendo and double entendre - it's not just him. But then a couple seconds later, as they drive off together, and she sees the "quantum leap" clouds on the horizon and starts to ask questions about it ... it really seems like they have just met. So there is also a theory that this is the first time Al picked Tina up, this is their first meeting - and because of the emergency situation with Sam leaping ahead of time - Al had to involve her in the top-secret project, which gave her high classification, and so she went on staff. This doesn't QUITE hold water, though - because in a couple of episodes, Al mentions that he and Tina met "over a poker table in Vegas" - and he also, in that same episode, talks about Tina's tattoo - and he asks Sam, "Have you ever seen her tattoo?" which means that Sam and Tina have met - which means that Al had to be dating Tina BEFORE Sam leapt. Ahhhhhh, tis one of life's most enduring mysteries! Is the woman in pink with the flashing heels THE Tina? Her name is never mentioned ... but she is listed in the cast as being "Tina". If Sam HAS met Tina, then we have to go with the theory that Al and Tina are already dating, and they are doing a role-playing game: "Okay, you be the damsel in distress on the dark highway. And I'll be the guy in the tux who picks you up." Which would totally make sense in terms of what we know about Al, and his kinky-ness.

Obsessive ramblings over.

I love their dialogue in their first interaction. He leans out the car window, looking at her like she is DINNER. Muses, looking her up and down: "Do you know what I would love to do? ... I would loooove to .... fix that flat for you. But I can't." He makes a gesture at his tux, like: I can't grease up my fine digs. What a gentleman! She says, cool, sexy, "Let me guess. You're late for your wedding." And Al replies, suave, "How could I be late? We've only just met."

HA. I mean: the CHEESE of the guy!! But he says it with such confidence and unselfconsciousness - it somehow isn't gross, but funny and honest. Love it.

More importantly, what the first scene tells us is: Sam (whoever he is) has "leapt" ahead of time. The project is not "ready" yet. And Sam, against the advice of everyone, has jumped into the accelerating chamber (the famous blue-lit Leonardo DaVinci pose in the post below) - and "leapt".

A couple things that are very interesting about the pilot episode (and sorry, I know I'm all over the place here):

-- Throughout the rest of the series, it becomes a convention that the "leaps" "Swiss-Cheese" Sam's brain. Yes, "swiss-cheese" becomes a verb on this show. There are holes in Sam's memory. He forgets (for example) that he knows how to play the piano ... until a very crucial moment when it comes back to him. It helps a lot in terms of the charm of the show - because he's not strolling around in a state of expertise, thinking, "Oh! I know how to fix this! Piece of cake! I'm a doctor in my 'real' life - this will be no problem!" No - he just has chunks of his memory, chunks of his old personality ... and suddenly, in an improvisational urgent moment ... he'll remember. Wait a second ... I know how to do this. (Or he just relies on Al, who has lived a wide life, with many different experiences, and can say, "Hey, I was a trapeze artist once ... here's what you do ...") Etc.

But in the pilot episode: Sam wakes up in a bed. There is a voiceover (which they use, as a convention, much more in the first season than in others ... they're filling us in, they're finding their way ... ) Sam opens his eyes, looks around. "Who am I?" says the voiceover. He can't even remember his own name. How disorienting and frightening that would be! He realizes he is in bed with a woman. Voiceover: "I have no memory of going to bed with this woman ..." She gets up and goes to the door ... murmuring, "I'll put the coffee on ..." and Sam sees then that she is about 6 months pregnant. He is stunned. WHO THE HELL IS THAT? Did I just have a drunken one-night stand with a pregnant lady? She is calling him "Tom". Poor Sam. "Is my name Tom? Why don't I remember anything?" He doesn't remember Project Quantum Leap. He remembers NOTHING. She comes over to him and hugs him. He hugs her back, but he is scared. Of her stomach, of his amnesia ... he doesn't know why she knows him!

By the second episode of Quantum Leap, Sam gets the hang of things. He may not know why he is "there", and he may not know how to, oh, drag-race, or disco dance ... but he knows the rules of the game. Meaning: pretend you ARE the person you've leapt into, just go with it, and information will come, if you sit back and let it. Don't tell anyone, "I'm not this guy - my name is Sam!" Don't reveal the project. Don't reveal who you are. As far as the world is concerned, you are the person you've leapt into. But in the pilot episode, Sam Beckett has not learned all of those rules yet. He wanders around, at first, like a sleepwalker - and then throughout the episode, he keeps telling people - his wife, his co-pilot, his buddies, "I'm not Tom." "I can't fly." The script has it set up that Tom Stratton, the character, is a big practical joker - and that he also is trying to hoodwink the military doctor on the project - just as a joke. The test pilots are all breaking records, flying faster than any man has ever flown before - and, just to bust on the overly serious doctor, they'll report back, "You know, after I broke Mach-2, I forgot where I parked my car." It's in the script that Tom Stratton is the ringleader of all of this, so SOME of his "I can't fly" stuff makes sense to those around him. "Are you setting up a gag or something??" his wife asks him.

In later episodes, no matter how dire the situation gets - Sam never "breaks character" and pleads: "I can't do this - I don't know how to do this - I'm Sam Beckett!" He figures stuff out, he accepts the rules of the Quantum Leap.

But when he wakes up in bed with a pregnant woman, he doesn't know the rules.

And when he gets into the shower (wearing his underwear - his wife thinks he's lost it) and sees himself in the mirror for the first time, he is terrified. I mean, just imagine the freakout. You look - and it's not you! Later on in the series, Sam knows the drill. He leaps in - and after getting the lay of the land, figuring out the situation - he does his best to find a mirror or some reflective surface so he can see what other people see when they look at him. But in "Episode 1", Sam looks in the mirror, and sees another guy. Scott Bakula does a great job with all of this. You want to shake him and say, "Just go with it - it's gonna be okay ..." but that's part of the effectiveness of those first couple scenes - Sam's complete disorientation. He's trying to deal with the information as it comes to him. His wife mentions something about how if he's feeling sick he "won't fly today ..." The horror begins to dawn: "Fly?" Sam realizes he has a son. "I'm a daddy?" says the voiceover.

The voiceover keeps saying, like a mantra, "This is a dream ... it's just a dream ... you'll wake up soon ... this is just a dream ..." Bakula has a really nice acting moment around here: He's in the shower, just standing there, and the voiceover is saying, "This is a dream ..." Sam, moving on autopilot, gets some shaving cream and rubs it on his chin - and in that moment, that sensory moment of smelling the shaving cream, of feeling it on his face - the reality of it ... it starts to dawn on him that this really doesn't feel like a dream. This seems REAL. It's all in how Bakula smells that shaving cream - and I, in the audience, can practically smell it myself from how he plays that moment.

Sam begins to realize that he has gone back in time. Howdy Doody is on the damn television. Out of the blue, the phone # to the Quantum Leap offices comes into his head and he tries to call it - but obviously cannot get through. He asks, "What's the area code?" and his wife says, confused, "Area code??" He runs outside to take a look around and sees all the 1950s jalopies parked about. A jet zooms by overhead and Sam watches it pass, the shaving cream still on his face, whipping off in the wind. (Apparently that was an effect Bellisario wanted: the bits of shaving cream flying off his face. So they had enormous fans pointed at poor Scott Bakula, and he was half naked, and freezing to death - but it just goes to show you the level of detail Bellisario had in his mind, and the moment truly helps, in the larger context of the story: If this were a DREAM, would you have bits of shaving cream flying off in the blast from the jet? Isn't this too REAL to be a dream?)

In the next scene: Sam (with little pieces of Kleenex on his face from where he obviously cut himself shaving - nice detail. Sam would obviously be used to an electric razor, so in trying to shave using Tom Stratton's razor, he cut his face up) is in the car with Captain Birdell (or "Birddog") - a good friend, and also a test pilot. It's all very Right Stuff-ish, their dynamic. Those dudes were tough. And wild. I'll also say this: There's a HUGE nod to Only Angels Have Wings in Episode 1 of Quantum Leap. Donald Bellisario was a pilot. And anyone who was a pilot and who has any love for aviation has seen Only Angels Have Wings. There's a moment a couple of scenes later when two of the test pilots are bantering about a blonde girl they're going to fight over later - once they land their plane. This is a direct nod to Only Angels Have Wings - and the rivalry between two pilots for Jean Arthur, and Cary Grant, the boss, shouting into the microphone up to his pilot, "JUST KEEP YOUR MIND ON THE JOB AND FORGET ABOUT THAT BLONDE!"

Enter Bruce McGill. And I'm with Tommy: he's never been "that guy" to me, even though he's one of our best character actors. He is ALWAYS memorable, and one of my favorite actors, period. The scene where he blows up in The Insider? "WIPE THAT SMIRK OFF YOUR FACE." Seriously, you can see the other actor in the scene suddenly get frightened. He's SO good. So so good. Now: sorry, I know these posts are gonna be all over the place, but I figure it's my party and I'll ramble if I want to: The mysterious and haunting final episode of Quantum Leap - which I won't talk about yet - also features Bruce McGill, in a very very important role. Way more important than the one he has here in Episode 1. Now I know that when they filmed the "last" episode, they were not aware that it would be the last ... but still; there is a beautiful symmetry at having Bruce McGill in both the first and the last episodes (especially considering the character he plays in the LAST episode.) I love Bruce McGill. He's my kind of actor. A journeyman, basically. Just damn good at what he does. Makes the "stars" look better than they are, just by supporting them so well. And never (or rarely) gets the glory. A fine actor. So. Here he is! Bruce McGill plays "Weird Ernie", the "boss" of the project. The test pilots have all gathered together before their next run, to go over some things. Bruce McGill, in his soft-spoken utterly real way, rules the scene. Sam (as Tom) sits back, trying to smile, trying to look as cocksure and nonchalant as the other guys (and failing miserably). He already tried to tell Birddog that he "can't fly" and Birddog laughed it off.

And it is in this scene that we first see Al - the hologram - appear. Sam, with the Swiss-Cheese effect, does not remember anything about anything - so he thinks it's just some weird guy wearing a white doctor's coat OVER a tuxedo (hilarious - Al is still wearing the tuxedo from the first scene) smiling at him like he knows him. Who is that guy? Why is he staring at me when I'm not talking?? He's creeping me out. Totally. Does he know me? But how could he? Why is he looking at me like that??? Al tries to talk to Sam, and Sam, confused, keeps walking on. He has to go, uhm, fly a PLANE now ... he can't be bothered with crazy tux-wearing doctors who act all cozy and familiar with him.

Now just a few words about production design because it MUST be said. The production designer, the art director, and the cinematographer - worked so well here (and in other episodes) to create an entire look and feel. This does not feel thrown together. It does not feel like it is filmed on a backlot at a studio. It has a feeling of reality to it. Like a mini-movie. The attention to detail, first of all: check out the kitchen. Everything in that kitchen is "period". And there's the detail, too, that when the planes take off - the vibrations are so strong that the little round washing machine in the corner shuffles across the room, like a little R2D2, and she, as she pours a cup of coffee, pushes it back into its corner with her foot. THAT is "detail". THAT makes you realize that you are not looking just at a 'set' - but at somebody's home. They live there. It is 1956. The wife (played by the wonderful Jennifer Runyon, now retired - Ghostbusters fans will recognize her immediately) kicks the washing machine back in a casual "Oh, you again?" manner that breathes life into the "set", into the "period". She doesn't seem to be an actress wearing a "period" costume. She seems to actually live in that house. And that takes a group effort, not just a good actress. That takes an art director to give her a kitchen that looks like that, that feels lived in ... and a writer/producer/director who knows that when jets took off in those earlier days of aviation - houses would shake, and appliances would dance across the floor. DETAIL. Art Direction by Cameron Birnie (was nominated for an Emmy 4 times for Quantum Leap) and Peg McClellan, Set Decoration by Robert L. Zilliox (see the clock on the shelf? The little salt shakers? that's Zilliox) and the cinematographer was Roy H. Wagner. So Wagner is responsible for the look of the following spectacular shots:

This is not your regular "television" cinematography. This is high-level artistry. These shots feel real. Not only do they feel real - but never for a moment do I not believe that we AREN'T in the desert in 1956, with a bunch of test pilots. They use some stock footage of jets - which also gives a documentary feel to the episode ... but shots like those above were generated by the Quantum Leap team. No wonder the show was a hit. Look at that. Let us not forget David Hemmings, the director of the whole episode, for keeping this all a somewhat coherent whole.

Sam must now face the music, the thing he has been dreading. He has to get into that huge jet ... and ... fly? But ... nobody seems to be listening to him when he says he can't fly! However, much to his relief - it appears that Birddog is the pilot, and he just has to sit in the co-pilot seat and relax. Until Birddog says the fateful words, "I gotta take care of Mother Nature - could you bring her up to 25?" and leaves the cockpit ... with nary another word! Sam is now at the controls. The nightmare has begun. I love hearing Bakula basically just start screaming, as the plane tilts to one side. The scream starts low, and then builds: "ahhhhhhhHHHHHHHHOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...." Like: seriously, dude. His co-workers and the guys on the ground must be like: what the HELL is he screaming about????

Part 2 to come .... almost done!!

Quantum Leap: Before we begin

A few words of overview. (And, like Tommy said in his starting post (his permalink function doesn't work - so you have to scroll down - he has two posts up on Quantum Leap - one an overview, and one on the first episode - which I LOVED reading!!) - Anyhoo, like he said, this will develop. I'm not sure how I will tackle this project right now ... so I'll make it up as I go. And probably some episodes will warrant more commentary by me than others ... so be it.)

Quantum Leap first aired in 1989 and ran for 5 years. It was hugely successful, as series go (and it's rather amazing to think that there are only two "leads" in the show. It's not an ensemble ... the entire thing hinges on the believability of those two guys, and their chemistry together - not a small feat) ... and it is still hugely missed by its fan base. It made Scott Bakula a household name and catapulted Dean Stockwell, already famous for 40 years by that point, into a level of fame he had never known. Nothing like a hit TV show to put you over the tipping point. It was never a mega-hit - but it had something that is even better and more valuable: a loyal fan base. That cannot be bought, it cannot be managed by a studio, it cannot be marketed or planned for. Or - it can - but something like that depends quite a bit on magic, sorry to say. Right place right time. Excuse me, but the fans of Square Pegs are STILL loyal to that show and it's been off the air how long? Long-running "hit" series WISH that they could engender the type of fanatical loyalty of Square Pegs! (In this case, "loyalty" is just another word for "love").

I liked Quantum Leap when it was first on. My boyfriend and I watched it pretty regularly. It had an interesting premise, and we liked the message aspect of it. It was usually a very satisfying hour of television.

I haven't seen 5 seconds of the show since it went off the air almost 2 decades ago . Until recently. When Dean Stockwell loomed over my horizon like some gorgeous overwhelming thick-eyebrowed dirigible! First I had to see all of his movies. That kept me quite occupied since he made his debut when he was an embryo in 1945. But then I knew - and I tingled with excitement - that I still had five seasons of Quantum Leap to watch! I didn't have to just keep watching The Boy with Green Hair to get my fix ... he had done a hugely successful series, with, whatever, many episodes a year ... and so that's what I've been doing over the last couple of months. Slowly but surely making my way thru all 5 seasons. It's been so fun. Some of the episodes I remember quite well - others not so much. Some are more successful than others - of course - but what is interesting to me, having just watched the entire series now ... is how consistent it was. You can feel them start to grab for ratings a bit in the last season - which I won't talk about yet. At least not in depth. They started to do multi-part episodes (there's a 3 parter, for example) - and also they have this whole "evil leaper" subplot (which totally did not work for me) - You can feel a bit of a grasp, like they know that perhaps it is the end. But even with that, which doesn't always work - the tone and feel of the show is remarkably consistent. The scripts are good, the art direction remains stellar (which I'll get into quite a bit - KU-DOS!! Major motion pictures should have such good and detailed art direction as Quantum Leap had), the two leads grow and develop - they are not just repeating themselves ad nauseum. Sam Beckett grows. As a man. Watch him in the first episode and then watch him in the last. He is still the same guy ... but he has developed, his soul has stretched, he's learned so much. Same with Al. Now Dean Stockwell's part could have been insufferable, a neverending bunch of SCHTICK. Not to dis schtick - and lots of Stockwell's stuff is schtick (the rolling eyes, the cigar behavior, all that) ... but he also has opportunities to show us WHY he's got the schtick, and WHY Al is the way he is ... and it just makes for really good television. Because what keeps people coming back week after week is not just the gimmick of the show - the "leap" - but the dynamic between these two guys that we came, very quickly, to care about.

It's worth its weight in gold - actor chemistry like the two of them had!

Also, just to say this - without too many spoilers: Having just watched the whole series, they did quite a good job of keeping the starting seasons loose enough, in terms of what we know about the two guys - that once you know the "end" - once you know where it's going to go ... the beginning still makes sense. We didn't have to do too much re-adjustment - like I said: it was consistent. There was no "Oh! It was all Sam Beckett's DREAM! He dreamt the entire 5 seasons!" copout. Sam's behavior in that last episode is completely consistent - and we realize that he has been moving towards that moment since Season 2.

And that wasn't even supposed to be the last episode! They didn't know that that was going to be "it" when they filmed it - which makes it even more amazing because, in a funny way, in a heartbreaking way, it was a perfect way to end the whole thing. I didn't feel gypped, or cheated, or like: Wait ... is it over??? No!

It had a beautiful symmetry to it.

So that's a testament to the solid writing throughout the series. It was always about the relationship between Sam and Al.

The "leaps" were just the context. The real MEAT of that show was with those two guys. And the payoff at the very end was immense.

Oh dear. (Or I should quote Sam Beckett: Oh boy) I am getting way ahead of myself.

But these are my thoughts on the overview. I'll get into more specifics as I go through episode by episode, which should keep me occupied until March, 2019.

Episode 1 re-cap coming up ...

Ready to Quantum Leap?

Quantum Leap: GEARING UP!!!

I know I had said I would start my Quantum Leap re-caps this weekend - but turns out I'm going out of town this weekend, and can't begin until next week. Tommy is ALSO going to be doing re-caps - so hopefully we can have a nice counterpoint thing going - I'm really excited about it - so if you're a Quantum Leap fan, make sure you stop by Tommy's! We'll be going episode by episode.

Because we are geeks.

And we are proud.

Speaking of geeks: In lieu of the re-cap, I'm posting a bunch of quotes I had already compiled. All quotes come from the documentary A Kiss with History: Remembering Quantum Leap - which was a special feature included in my Season 1 set.

Donald Bellisario, of course, was the creator of the show. He wrote many of the episodes - found Scott and Dean for the parts - and basically shepherded the entire thing into existence. An amazing talent, that guy!

So to whet the Quantum Leap whistle, here we go! And don't forget to stop by Tommy's as well!

Quantum Leap: quote

The leap out and the leap in were the best conventions, the best teasers, the best trailers that anyone could have devised for a TV show. What would it be like to be you for a day? It was a delight, this wonderful hour - that was different from anything else.

-- Scott Bakula

Quantum Leap: quote

I was in a hit Broadway show, Romance Romance and I decided that it was time to stop, time to go back to LA, and my family had left in August and everybody in New York was like, "You're crazy. You're the star of a Broadway show, you're Tony nominated, you can't leave!" and I said, "Well, I need to go back to LA." And for whatever reason, 4 weeks after I got back to LA, the Quantum Leap audition came across my door.

-- Scott Bakula

Quantum Leap: quote

[Scott Bakula had] come off Broadway and he sat down and he read the part of Sam. And as he read it, my heart started to beat very fast. And I kept a very straight face, and said, "Thank you. That was really terrific." And he walked out the door, and I went, "I don't care WHAT you gotta do. That guy is Sam."

-- Donald Bellisario

Quantum Leap: quote

A dear friend of mine, Dennis Hopper, said, "Well, that's the end of his career" when he found out I was going to do a series. And Dennis, who is almost always right, was wrong.

-- Dean Stockwell

Quantum Leap: quote

Dean [Stockwell] surprised us all when somebody said to me, "Would you like Dean Stockwell to play the part of Al?" And I said, "What are you kidding me? Dean Stockwell?" He had just done Married to the Mob - it was a big film hit!

-- Donald Bellisario

Quantum Leap: quote

Dean walked in and was ... kind of ... complete.

-- Scott Bakula, on Dean Stockwell's audition

I kind of sailed through it. I made everybody laugh. All these people back there in the dark. I think they like to sit back there and not let their faces be seen ... I made them all laugh. So in walking out, I knew. I knew because Don wanted me for it. So I knew I had it. And I was very happy.

-- Dean Stockwell on his audition for the part

Quantum Leap: quote

The concept of the show was so unique that - and I wasn't the only one, this was true for Scott as well - a lot of us, at the beginning, couldn't really figure out how it was going to be executed.

-- Dean Stockwell

Quantum Leap: quote

First of all, when you're creating a show, you want to do something you love. I do a lot of military things, I love it. I'm a pilot - or, I was - so that just appealed to me. I lived out there during that time, I knew a lot of those people, and it was just a natural thing for me to write. So I started to write something else, and then I went, "Well, I think I want to write this." What could be more difficult than leaping into a test pilot?

-- Don Bellisario on the first episode where Sam Beckett leaps into a test pilot, a la The Right Stuff

Quantum Leap: quote

From when I first read the pilot and saw this character of Al - I loved it. And I saw this potential in it for a kind of humor and a kind of demeanor that would be attractive and fascinating, I thought, to audiences. And I think I was right about that.

-- Dean Stockwell

Quantum Leap: quote

A lot of Al was Don Bellisario. You know, the lecherous, the checking out the girls.

-- Scott Bakula

Quantum Leap: quote

[Don Bellisario's] appreciation of the female form - not only the form, everything female - was injected into this character Al. And I quite liked it myself.

-- Dean Stockwell

Quantum Leap: quote

The idea of the wardrobe was Don's. And I thought it was terrific. I don't know if anybody ever said, "Why does he ever dress like that?" Nobody ever asked, "Why does he dress like that?" It was just accepted. And it really worked, without any explanation. Where would he get those clothes? My God, where would you find stuff like that?

-- Dean Stockwell on Al's famously bizarre wardrobe

Quantum Leap: quote

Like any show, when you create it, when you do a pilot - the show develops in the season that follows that. That's why the first season is so interesting to me, because you can actually watch the growth and development of the show. Sam, for example, as a character, grew.

-- Don Bellisario

Quantum Leap: quote

When they got me they had somebody who played a lot of sports, who sang, who danced, who could play the piano, play the guitar. My whole life had, in a sense, prepared me to be in this show.

-- Scott Bakula

Quantum Leap: quote

The biggest lead-in I would get was, "You're gonna be a boxer in 2 weeks. How's your boxing?" "Uh - not great." That would be the clue. It became like: what else can we do to Scott? We joked at times: how can we kill Scott?

-- Scott Bakula

Quantum Leap: quote

[Scott Bakula] thinks that I don't know to this day that he used to sneak off and play indoor hockey on lunch breaks which was not allowed by the studio due to insurance purposes.

-- Don P. Bellisario

Quantum Leap: quote

Another thing I gotta say: at the beginning of that show, Scott [Bakula] was pounding nails with the grips the first episode. And nearly 5 years later, on the last episode, Scott was still pounding nails.

-- Don P. Bellisario

Quantum Leap: quote

We would be doing an episode and somewhere around the 4th or 5th day of shooting, we'd get the preliminary for the next episode. And we looked forward to it so much every week. You'd be tingling to open the new script and see where it was going to go. Because every one was different, and that was one of the great charms of the show. The time was different, all the costumes, all the sets, all the people in each show were different.

-- Dean Stockwell

Quantum Leap: quote

If I could keep it within the modern timeframe, within the span of life of the man who was jumping, there would be tv, there would be automobiles, people basically dressed the same - there would be wardrobe changes, yes, but it would be viable, it would be believable. And so that's what I did. That's why I said: he can only leap in his own lifetime. And that could go into the future, which we did a little but not much. And the next thing was I wanted to see who he leaped into. And that was the famous mirror shots.

-- Don Bellisario - creator of the show

Quantum Leap: quote

Don [Bellisario] worked this convention of me being swiss cheesed each time I leapt. My desire as Sam to get back home didn't build necessarily ... It didn't keep building in frustration, or "I hate this" - especially in the first season.

-- Scott Bakula - he makes an important point here, I think, about one of the appeals of the show. If Sam Beckett had constnatly been in a state of frustration that he couldn't get back home - then much of the compassion he had for the characters he leapt into would not be there. The show wouldn't have worked. Go, Don.

Quantum Leap: quote

He watches. He's a perfect observer. He watches, he chomps on his cigar - he gives you little stuff here and there, that kind of lets you know ... "That was a good one."

-- Scott Bakula on Dean Stockwell

Quantum Leap: quote

Like a triangle in an orchestra - Ping - and then it would be gone.

-- Dean Stockwell on the "kiss with history" moments in some episodes

Quantum Leap: quote

Some [episodes] were kind of laughers, even fluffy episodes - where the situation wasn't of any social significance, it wasn't a heavy-duty morality type of episode. But then there were others that were important issues, and we kind of gravitated towards those a little bit.

-- Dean Stockwell

Quantum Leap: quote

The reality is that in television the fans make the show. Because if they're not there, eventually the shows go off. And they were a part of the show. There was a great sense of entitlement with our fans because they felt - with Episode 6 - they all got on board - they went home from that show, they wrote the studio. Halfway through the second season we were taken off for a couple of weeks, and they deluged NBC ...

-- Scott Bakula

Quantum Leap: quote

There's not a doubt in mind that the fan base of Quantum Leap went a long way towards getting that show picked up at a very critical time. The fans are still out there. I was fortunate to be given a star on Hollywood Boulevard the other day, and there were a group of Quantum Leap fans, with their signs: 'Bring back Scott', 'Bring back Al' - 'Ziggy wants to work again!'

-- Donald P. Bellisario

Quantum Leap: quote

I feel fortunate. I mean, there are some actors, I don't know how they do it, they're lucky - they get in these big movies, and they have scenes at the beginning, and here, and there, and next thing you know they're in Hawaii or somewhere for 6 months, on the same movie, picking up a check every week. Never happened to me! But Quantum Leap: 5 years. It was very unique in my career, and I'm very very proud of it.

-- Dean Stockwell

Quantum Leap: quote

It is no doubt the most unique show i've ever made, and probably the one that gives me more satisfaction and pleasure than any.

-- Donald P. Bellisario

Quantum Leap: quote

I'm overwhlemed to this day about how it has affected people around the world and that's the magic of what Don, and all of us, created for 4 1/2 years.

-- Scott Bakula

Quantum Leap: quote

You know, I had a lot of people working for me who would put the show together. All younger than me. And many times I'd come on the set and see something, a hat, a scarf, a piece of material, and I'd say, "Uh uh. That's not right for 1965. That's not right for 1957." And who could argue with me? Even if I was wrong! Who could argue with me!

-- Don Belissario

Quantum Leap: quote

Although I've been recognized my whole life from films, that recognition ... it took a Quantum Leap. The Quantum Leap fans started to become part of a family a little bit.

-- Dean Stockwell

Who is Gnarls Barkley?

Gnarls Barkley's video "Smiley Faces" won an MTV Video Music Award for best editing (Ken Mowe was the editor).

It's very witty - clever - and I, naturally, love it cause Dean Stockwell is in it. It's so silly ... it's almost like Zelig for hip-hop. And these mockumentary interviews with Stockwell and Dennis Hopper at the beginning and end of the video are very funny. "Milton Corpuscle ..." hahahahaha

See video below. I love Hopper's over-seriousness. "I have made Gnarls Barkley my life's work ..." hahahaha And Stockwell's emphatic gesture: "There is NO Gnarls Barkley ..." yet you get the sense that he might still have some doubt about it.

Because I can't help myself

Because I must.

Because it's my hobby.

Because it pleases me.

"hmmmm. let me contemplate that completely incomprehensible thing you just said."

"Your blood-pressure has sky-rocketed, my lord. I suggest you eat more leafy greens, and stay away from giant undulating worms."

I don't care about the creepy 'stache and the phony tattoo. Dude is hot, and that's all I'm saying. The hot-ness comes from what he looks like, certainly - at least, in my opinion - but also that intensity he has. So. Dude? You're hot. Point that "oooh, are your eyeballs REALLY blue or have you been medically tampered with?" gun at me.

"I am an intergalactic surgeon/healer. I am also quite troubled. Because I have no idea what I'm doing right now in this scene."

(Actually, I did like that scene - where he sees the "message" embedded in the dead man. I liked that X-ray type machine. Etc. But again. What was the message? I just saw the movie, and I have no idea. But I DO know that the doctor was upset about it.)

"Duke! I must warn you! About what, I'm not sure! But I am FILLED with a sense of vague DOOM! So here's a poison tooth. I will put it in your mouth. Bite down on it when you meet the enemy."

(And no matter what: I love Stockwell's intensity - which is almost over-the-top but not quite. Acting is all about stakes. Your stakes should always - ALWAYS - be high. Not just in a serious drama, but in anything. The stakes are high in Bringing Up Baby - that's why it's so funny. What I like about Dean Stockwell is that he intuitively understands this. Many actors don't. They rely on their own charm or charisma or talent ... and forget about the stakes. The good actors NEVER forget the stakes. So here he is - and his stakes are incredibly high. And they seem real - even if the situation is incomprehensible to the audience.)

Once upon a time, I had a huge crush on Sting. And now I have a huge crush on Dean Stockwell. So I found this below scene incredibly erotic, I don't mind saying. Sting rough-housing Stockwell? Forcing something into Stockwell's mouth? Have I died and gone to heaven? (Obviously I did not understand the movie is THIS was my focus.)

Part of the same scene. Sting is holding his hand over the Emperor's mouth (or was he a Duke? Whatever. Doesn't matter.) - and holding his nose closed ... and Dr. Yeuh is forced to look on. It's upsetting for him. In this particular closeup - he reminded me a lot of my acting teacher, Sam. It has to do with "talent" - and not having to work too hard to access your own life. Not having to turn yourself inside out as an actor to get to an emotion. There are some people who just "have it" - meaning: their emotions are accessible. Naturally. Dean Stockwell is one of those people (he's talked about it quite a bit, too - how he works, etc.) This scene is a perfect example. What was going on with him in this close-up - the tears, the grief - was real. I felt it was real, anyway, and that's all that matters. Sam, my teacher, is also an actor - and I've seen him do stuff - from television, to plays, to readings - and when the moment comes for him to "access" that stuff, it is right there for him. It pulsates with reality. He's the kind of person who can just give an internal command: "Go deep now. Let it out." and out it comes. It's marvelous to watch. And that's what I thought of when I watched Stockwell break down in this one scene.

All Dean Stockwell stuff here

Dudes

Is it me or is Dune the movie a big fat yawn?

I am seriously asking. It SO could be me. I know it has its defenders. Like Metallica's album Load. People line up pro and con, and fierce debates rage! I love conversations like that.

Dune, to me, is stiff, way too formal, and humorless. I mean, I get it I get it, giant worms, a huge brain-like creature with a mouth like a vagina speaking from some huge black box, a young man must face the evil ... etc. But ... the STYLE of the movie is just ... way too formal to me. It's like a medieval tapestry. Which would be fine if it WERE a medieval tapestry - but it's a motion picture!

I saw Dune when it first came out. I was in high school and I mainly wanted to see Sting nearly naked. That was my motivation.

Mission accomplished.

I didn't understand one word of the movie. So naturally I read the book to try to figure it out. I liked the book. Sadly, there was not enough Sting in it.

So now I have watched it again. And my motivation is the same as when I was in high school, only now I mainly want to see Dean Stockwell with a little red dot on his head being mysterious and intense.

Mission accomplished.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

But I can barely keep my attention on this movie.

Is it just for Frank Herbert fanatics? Because I'm not one, never gonna be one ... so ... I don't know what to do with this movie!! Except fast forward to the next Stockwell scene and take some screen grabs. For my growing archive.

The story of Stockwell getting INTO Dune is a great story - because that was really the thing that lifted him out of the outer darkness of dinner theatre in Nevada. It was a significant project and he had a significant enough part to warrant some attention. It didn't put him back on the map - I would say that Blue Velvet really did that - at least in the wider cultural consciousness. Paris Texas was the real breakout part of this period - but Dune came first.

But good lord. What a bore. Do I need to take some mushrooms to get the full effect of this movie, or what?

Thoughts????

Face recognition

Reeeeeeeeallly interesting post from my good and old dear friend Ted. This is the kind of stuff we discuss when we get together.

And there are a couple of themes in that post that seem to have echoes throughout my life right now:

-- the question of identity, which came up in this post

-- the brilliance of Richard Powers and how I am behind in my Powers reading - I think I'm 2 books behind.

-- the whole "you're an imposter" syndrome that Ted gets into over there reminds me quite a bit of Quantum Leap - only from the opposite side of it. The idea itself is already fascinating: You leap into somebody else's body. You look in the mirror and no longer see your own face. You see the person you've leapt into. And yet: ARE we just our faces? Isn't there some essence thing that might give us away? Regardless of the outer trappings? In Quantum Leap, small children and animals often pick up on the difference ... like a 3 year old looking up at Scott Bakula in a dress and an apron and saying, "You're not my mommy." That particular experience - which happens over and over in that show - is kind of like the disorder Ted discusses in his post. (which fascinates me, Ted. You and I must discuss over wine and olives some night!)

Speaking of Quantum Leap: I'm starting my re-caps this weekend. My model for this is something along the lines of Edward Copeland's Twin Peaks recaps. He writes: "I've decided to pretend as if the show is airing once a week and will do episode recaps as if I'm watching them for the first time and they are airing for the first time." Yes!! Count me in! He gives detailed, emotional, insightful reviews. That's my goal, anyway. To create something along those lines, except with Quantum Leap. It should be fun!! So I imagine my first "review" will go up on Saturday when my week-from-hell ends.

Anyway, back to the blog post I linked to:

Ted's a dear friend - I've known him for years - and it's so cool to me that he's blogging now. We both live here - I see him as much as I can ... but to check in with him "on his blog" is so cool too.

Here's the link to the whole post

This post is for the "old hag" (so-named by kate)

... and for Kate who helped me see, last night, that she was just a demon (daemon) ... and nobody to pay attention to at all.

Oh - and Quantum Leap fans: I am almost ready to start my Quantum Leap extravaganza. Gathering my strength. I think I'll start it next weekend. We will begin with a detailed post on Season 1. Episode 1.

And the project will continue from there. Let the madness begin!

But about the below: This montage is obviously for all the sweet Dean Stockwell fans who have been showing up here recently - and emailing me - and being supportive and excited fangirls, just like myself. Thanks for the love. And it's also for you, old hag!

sheila take a sheila take a bow

Photo below: Dean Stockwell doing a play. In the 1970s. Movie career more or less dried up. He did theatre, television roles when he could get them - and finally gave up on acting - couldn't make a living - he got married (for the second time) - got his real estate license - he was living in New Mexica - and whaddya know, that's when movie roles started picking up for him again. That was in the early 1980s. But at the time of him taking the bow below? He's in the wilderness. It's not off-Broadway. It's not off-OFF-Broadway. It's basically just 'OFF'.

But Stockwell has said, "Acting is my work - it's what I do. Even when it makes me miserable, I'm happy."

Something about actors taking bows always kinda gets me right here. There's such honor in it. Even if the venue is not so spectacular. Especially if the venue is not so spectacular. To me, there's such honor in that photo - in the crappy set, the smiles, the ritual of bowing. I find it really moving.

I never get tired of quoting Tennesee Williams:

Make voyages! -- Attempt them! -- there's nothing else.

If you only keep your focus on the result, you will have a very sorry time of it. Not that we are wrong to enjoy success, to yearn for success. But still. In that photo below. It is not about the glory. It's about the work. He was, once upon a time, the #1 child star in America. We know the sad endings of many of those kids. And that's what gets me about such a photo - his fellow cast members standing back to clap for him, his smile, his in-the-moment pleasure ...

There is dignity in it. People who don't understand us show-trash feel sorry for folks like Mickey Rooney doing summer stock. They see that and think, 'Oh what a shame. He was such a big star once.' They feel sorry for Teri Garr doing local commercials. Feel sorry for Dean Stockwell doing a short run of a play in a theatre in Nevada. But if it is about the work ... and - if it is ONLY about the work - then there is nothing to feel sorry for at all. Perhaps Mickey Rooney has some moments of self-pity - and I know that Dean Stockwell sure did ("why the hell can I not get work? What is going ON?") - but there's only one thing to do - and that is: KEEP. GOING. If you're an actor, then BE an actor. You're lucky if you get a big wide platform ... but if that platform is taken away from you ... do you still want to do it? Then DO it.

Stella Adler, great acting teacher, once said, "It isn't that important to know who you are. It's important to know what you DO. And then do it like Hercules."

So the photo below, to me, is a triumph, in all its second-rate thrown-together quality.

It's about the journey. The "voyage". If you can "make" the voyage, great! ... but the REAL point of it all is the "attempt". Whatever that looks like. It is not up to US to choose what our voyage looks like. Just ATTEMPT the voyage. "There's nothing else!"

And I need to be in that zone now. I need it more than anything.

Needin' a happy place and so I found it.

All Dean Stockwell stuff here

Dean Stockwell and Dennis Hopper

More to come - much more to say about this flawed yet lovely film - but for now.

Best friends in real life. They'd been best friends since the 1950s at this point. And here they are - Playing characters in a movie. Over 10 years before Frank Booth and "Ben" came together in Blue Velvet. The two of them had a VERY tough decade ahead of them at the time of the shooting of the film below - work drying up, nothing happening, careers stalled, serious drug addiction, financial strife, dead in the water. But for now: It's 1974 (that's when it was shot). They're listening and talking. And enjoying each other - it's wonderful to watch their dynamic. I could look at stills like this all day long.

They're traveling - On the train. A real train - not a set. A moving train. With no "extras" - whoever was in the car, was also in the scene. It was that kind of shoot. So they're going across the country. Listening to each other and talking to each other. Their faces.

There's something so honest about it. They're showing more than they're telling. In every shot. It's great.

Oops! Just Quantum Leaped - wrong movie. Same guys, next decade.

Moving back to the right movie now. Love this one below.

Dean Stockwell montage

we need a montage ...

we need a montage ...

All Stockwell stuff can be found here

Daily Dean Stockwell Fix: Quantum Leap: Get ready!!

My life right now is really busy - there's much writing, and television, and kickboxing, and dudes from Trinidad, and keeping my plants alive, and planning a trip, and writing more, and procrastinating about the writing, and talking with friends and family, and cooking, and taking pictures, and also exchanging casual banter with television stars in random elevators. You know, my plate is full.

But I am (eventually - once all THAT is done) going to start a Quantum Leap ongoing thing - which is going to be a lot of fun (for me, and ... er... others). I want to treat the show as if it's on NOW - and do an episode by episode breakdown (Sheila-fashion) - what I notice, what I like, what makes me roll my eyes, blah-dee-blah. I won't skip an episode. I haven't re-watched all of them yet - I'm only thru season 3 now so I have two more to go ... and I don't want to start this project until I've seen the whole thing (I mean: seen it again, since I used to watch the show religiously.) I want each piece I write to be detailed - almost to an obsessive level. Actors who show up on the show, people who do good jobs - people who are too corny - music choices I like (and this is already controversial since they released the DVD without a lot of the music) - what happens in each episode, and also - the execution thereof. You know, like a movie review. That's my plan anyway. Ambitious, yes - but I need a writing project that's ongoing, not TOO hard and that I can do in my voluminous spare time.

Anyhoo. That's my plan. To become as big a fangirl as I possibly can.

But for now. I'm focused on keeping my plants alive. And keeping in touch with friends. And my parents. And handling my aching muscles. And writing every day. Make voyages. Attempt them. There's nothing else.

Oh - and my story of the eclipse the other night is a funny one - almost too perfect, especially since I had just seen that Werewolf movie ... but I'll save it for another time.

Daily Dean Stockwell fix below: (to prime the pump for all the Quantum Leap fans out there):

hahahahahaha

This is gonna be fun!

You know what sucks?

When you're the White House press secretary (and strangely, you look like John Dean and you also live in the Watergate, even though the Watergate scandal hasn't even broke yet), and you're on the President's private helicopter - with the President and the Prime Minister of Red China - and you're supposed to be the President's right hand man ... but the full moon is rising over the Washington Monument ... and ever since you had that run-in with a wolf and a creepy gypsy lady on a lonely road in Budapest you've been a bit ... OFF, shall we say ... and as the President (who's kind of a moron, he really NEEDS you) tries to speak intelligently to the PM, who can barely understand English, you sit off to the side ... and your panic grows ... and you realize that ... you're not feeling ... quite right ...

I'm not feelin' so good. Maybe I ate some bad crabcakes.

Just breathe. It might be just a migraine.

Fuck. There's that insistent underbite that always gives me away.

To quantum leap into the future and quote a certain show that will eventually make my name for all time: "Oh, boy ..."

I hate my teeth.

I have now surrendered to my hairy-faced befanged destiny. Foreign policy be damned.

I am press secretary no more.

I am werewolf.

The throngs wait below. They have no idea that the pentagram has been revealed, the moon is high in the sky, the crucial silver bullets are far from this location, and a werewolf is hungry, dammit.

So yeah. All that sucks.

But you know what doesn't suck? Getting to watch such a film. And getting to watch my favorite actor right now do his thing. I consider this to be one of his bravest and most uninhibited performances - and I'll talk a bit about that, because it might seem like a silly thing to say.

One of the reasons I say this is that the film was made in 1973. Dean Stockwell has said that during the 70s and early 80s he couldn't "get arrested", let alone get a job. He heard from his buddies Dennis Hopper and Jack Nicholson that directors in Hollywood were saying shit like, "We need a Dean Stockwell type for this part ..." and Hopper and Nicholson were like, "Uhm ... how 'bout gettin' the real thing, peeps? Our friend needs a JOB." But his career was iced. It was over. Werewolf of Washington was one of the few jobs he got during that time - and so, there's something lean and hungry and insanely intense about him in this film. He NEEDS the job - and he fucking PLAYS the part with reckless abandon. He has said he has never worked harder on a part. It's almost uncomfortable at times - the scene in the bowling alley when he breaks down in tears ... You are watching him unravel.

And it's messy - gripping, in a weird way - he pulls you in. There's something completely available about Stockwell (at all times - but espeically so in this movie).

It's never good for an actor to get too comfortable. I'm not saying being a starving artist is great shakes, it's not. What I mean is: there's a certain point where stars get too big to take chances. (Tommy Lee Jones has been quite eloquent about this. "I'd love to go back to the stage - do some Moliere, some Shakespeare - but I can't afford to now." etc.) But here is Stockwell - with no career to speak of - doing his damndest to keep afloat financially ... and he acts the shit out of this part. It's over the top (as well it should be - uhm, it's a freakin' werewolf movie. You don't want kitchen-sink realism in a werewolf movie) - and there's something beautifully affirming about it for me. Because the movie flopped - the Watergate scandal broke while they were shooting, and the parallels were too potent - and nobody felt like seeing a political satire when things were actually so dire. The movie died (although it has its following now.) So it's a thankless part - and Stockwell was not thanked for it - by having his career resurrected. It would be another 12 goddamn years before Paris, Texas catapulted him back to where he should be. 12 years. And the man was in his 40s. When it seems like he SHOULD have found some ease and comfort - the same level of ease and comfort he had had as a kid actor. Nope. That was not in the cards for Stockwell. True and lasting success would not really come for him until he was in his 50s. But here he is - in a movie which was, for all intents and purposes, invisible ... DOING HIS JOB and doing it well. A movie made in the middle of Dean Stockwell's leanest years of anonymity when he never made more than $10,000 a year.

It's easy to admire the performances of those who are at the top. Who get the best scripts sent to them. Who can pick and choose. But those who don't have choices ... or not as many ... what do THEY do with their talent? At this point in my life, that is the question that interests me. And I think that might be why the Dean Stockwell obsession has come into my life right now like a force from above. I really need to learn that life lesson (and I have to learn it over and over again - because I keep forgetting. It's so easy to get caught up in where I feel I SHOULD be right now, and what I SHOULD have accomplished, and where is my husband and my brood of children? I thought they all would have shown up by now. And where is my red carpet, because I'm THIS age now and what has happened to me? Where did it all go? Is it too late for me? It is sometimes a daily struggle to not "go there", so to speak. To keep going, to keep doing the work, to follow Tennessee Williams' advice: "Make voyages - attempt them - there's nothing else". Or like Herb Brooks shouting at his players over and over as the minutes ticked down in the final period on February 22, 1980: "Play your game. Play. Your. Game." Over and over and over. Never ever forget to Play. Your. Game.)

And a movie like The Werewolf of Washington - and Dean Stockwell's ferocious performance - is a great reminder, for me, of all of that.

More screengrabs here:

Jack pleads his case, and it involves push pins and pentagrams.

"Whatever you say, Mr. President."

"I think that damn wolf bit me."

Headin' to work.

What? Huh? Is someone speaking to me? I can't hear you because my hands are swelling up into claws.

This was one of my favorite shots. The car comes driving up to the camera - it's night-time - a sort of Katherine Graham equivalent is driving - hugely powerful in DC circles and therefore a threat to the administration's plans. She also, sadly, has the mark of the beast in her palm so she must die. The car comes into the frame from the road beyond - and as it gets close - we can see a creature crouched on top of the car. It's done with no cuts. And this was a bare bones budget, so I'm sure it was actually Stockwell and not a stunt werewolf.

Intense scene. Hilarious - but played to the hilt. He MUST be chained up so he cannot kill again - and yet his lover shows up, and refuses to believe him and tries to unchain him - and he freaks OUT. He shouts something along the lines of, "I'M A VICIOUS BEAST WITH A TASTE FOR BLOOD. FOR GOD'S SAKE, DON'T UNCHAIN ME." It's genius.

He glances down at his hands during an important stressful meeting with the President and all the top brass in the military (Stockwell's dad plays one of the generals - no lines, but whatever, there he is.) Anyway - Jack is trying to hold it all together - but glances down and sees that his hands are ...

Oh God, no!!!

He basically is struggling NOT to become a wolf during the whole meeting and it's a great acting job, really fun.

Smile while you still can, Jack.

I think that's a hot picture. I'm just sayin'.

"Check out the scar on my chest."
"For God's sake, put your shirt on."

Stockwell quivers with conviction - he MUST show the psychiatrist the scar.

Shots like this are what elevate the movie into satire. It's fun.

"What's it for?"

Oh God, man, don't ask!

On a foggy night in Budapest, with my Commie girlfriend Gisele ... I had a run-in with a wolf and a gypsy. And my life was never the same again ...

I love you. You are the President's daughter. I work for your dad. I am also a werewolf. I am fucked.

Poor Jack. He hangs up the phone from making a date with his lover - and bursts into tears. The moon will rise tonight. He says something to himself like, "Please don't let me go thru this again ..." He is not a HAPPY werewolf, is what I'm trying to say. He is a werewolf tormented with guilt by his own thirst for blood.

God bless you, Dean Stockwell. You are chained to a chair.

Hot kiss. But he is still completely wrapped in heavy chains and there is something I find strangely endearing and also hot about all of it. Even as I realize: oh my god, this is so stupid.

"Are you there, God? It's me. The werewolf of Washington."

Looking at that shot makes me realize why he was first choice to do a planned (but never completed) biopic of James Dean, after Dean's death in the 50s. Stockwell didn't want to do it - said he had no interest in impersonating Dean, and also found no interest in playing an actor - but his name was bandied about quite a bit as the guy for the job. I'm kind of thankful that movie was never made.

Dean Stockwell: 3 stories about Errol Flynn

Speaking of Errol Flynn ...

In 1950, Stockwell appeared in Kim - with Errol Flynn. Stockwell was about 12 or 13 when they filmed it - and nearing the end of his run as a child-actor. He is here, in this movie, on the brink of adolescence - and he's described how he, unlike other normal kids, YEARNED for acne and awkwardness - because that meant he wouldn't have to be a "child actor" anymore. He's great in Kim - it's an enormous part, he's in almost every scene - and the movie wouldn't work without him. It could have been an insufferable bore with the wrong kid in that part - but as it is, it's a ton of fun (to this day). Errol Flynn, naturally, was a huge star - and you just have to overlook the fact that he's supposed to be from Afghanistan, and just go with it. The rapport between Stockwell and Flynn seems quite genuine - Flynn's terrific with him, and you really believe that these two - one a kid, one a grown man - are buddies. It's fun to watch them together.

Stockwell, as always, has enough talent to go toe to toe with anybody - it has nothing to do with age, or even experience. It's like him practically stealing Anchors Aweigh away (ha) from Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra - and also how he strolls away with Gentleman's Agreement - and Gregory Peck, in all of his ponderous self-righteousness, barely even notices that the kid is walking away with the picture. With one hand tied behind his back. Seriously, Stockwell is TINY in that film, a small child, and easily, easily, steals the whole thing. Just by listening, talking, and seeming like a real little person, as opposed to a plot device. So Stockwell had that THING. He never (to my eyes) seems "precocious" - meaning one of those little show-biz kids, who never takes off their tap shoes, and doesn't seem quite like a real child. Stockwell always just seems like a little boy, alive on screen. Natural, unselfconscious, confident - it's lovely to watch. You realize how rare it is when you see it.

Stockwell's dad had never really been around when he was a kid - and I believe his parents got divorced when he was quite little. He was raised by his mother, a single woman - and he basically grew up on the studio where he was under contract. A surreal life, to be sure.

Dick Moore (or "Dickie Moore") - wrote a book about what it was like for children actors of that era (he should know - he was a huge star as a youngun) - and the book is called Twinkle Twinkle Little Star (but don't have sex or take the car). I've had the book for years - since I was a teenager myself ... because I always kind of wished I had grown up in that era, in the heyday of child movie stars. Shirley Temple, Mickey Rooney, Margaret O'Brien, etc. etc. blah blah blah. The book is great, though, because Dickie Moore tracks down all of his old friends - all the kids who are now adults - and asks about their experiences. So some (like Rooney) were like, "It was delightful!" and some, like Stockwell, were like, "Yeah, uhm, it was NOT so delightful." I like the book because it's honest about the pressures those kids were under - and yet it's not a diatribe against it either. Everyone has a different story. Stockwell has been quite honest about how horrible his education was - how he basically had to teach himself how to read, as in - not just learn your lines - when he was in his 20s, because his education had been so spotty. He loved his teachers (all of these kids went to the studio school called The Little Red Schoolhouse - there are pictures in the book of Elizabeth Taylor and Roddy McDowall and Stockwell - sitting at their little desks, all smiling, as they read or write - but classes were held in the hour or so between takes, it was insane.) Anyway, Stockwell looks back fondly on those teachers - even though he never actually learned anything.

He says, in an interview in Twinkle Twinkle Little Star:

When we graduated from MGM, we had to do a magazine layout of a graduation party: Rusty Tamblyn, me, Claude Jarman, Jr., Elizabeth Taylor, and Jane Powell. They wanted a photo with all of us outside in front of the schoolhouse. Elizabeth was so happy she threw her books in the air, and Miss McDonald [the principal] came running out, screaming at the photographers, "Don't have her throw her books like that."

Mary McDonald intimidated me. She didn't have the most beautiful visage in the world. She didn't teach me shit. But in retrospect, I love her because I feel she was intent upon educating us. In some way - a way she didn't realize consciously - she sensed that she was dealing with kids that were out of place in time and ties and culture. I tend to revere her.

So now we're coming back to Errol Flynn - and what he meant to Dean Stockwell. Stockwell was a little child, an alien from the rest of boyhood - he had adult responsibilities, he was carrying movies, he made tons of money - and basically spent most of his time wishing he was playing football and going to a regular school. He had no father figure in his life, and was, for the most part, surrounded by women. His mother, his teachers - all of whom loved him, but ... You know. A boy needs a father.

In walks swashbuckling sex-crazed Errol Flynn.

I read some interview with Stockwell - it was recently - and he was asked, "So who taught you about sex?" He said, "I did a movie with Errol Flynn when I was 13. I got quite an education."

Many of these stories might be deemed inappropriate - and probably Mrs. Stockwell would have been horrified if she had known what Flynn was telling her young son. But that's just a matter of perception. From Stockwell's point of view, Errol Flynn was essential. Children actors are always a rare and odd entity ... easy to forget that they are, after all, just children. (A good friend of mine is a casting agent here in New York and the stories she tells of the kids who come in to audition ... and how horrible the parents can be ... She said she was coaching one little boy, he was about 4 or 5, and he had to take a waffle out of the toaster oven, take a bite, and say "Yum"! Something simple like that. My friend has two kids of her own, she loves kids and is very sympathetic to the young phenoms who come in and out of her office. This little boy sat down in the chair, legs dangling - and she told him what she wanted him to do. He thought a little bit, and then said, "I don't want to." They talked a bit - and he basically "didn't feel like it" that day ... He was only 4 so he couldn't give her any reasons - but DUH. He's 4. He shouldn't have to give a treatise about why he doesn't want to audition for a Lego My Eggo commercial. He wasn't a brat, but he was telling her he didn't want to do it. My friend brought him back outside and said to the mother, "He's not really in the mood for this today." And the mother was having NONE of it. "What? No! He has to go back in there and do what he's supposed to do!" My friend was gentle and firm. "No, I really don't think he wants to do it today. Okay?" Etc. The child is 4 years old - and not ready for all that responsiblity - and he said it as clearly as he could. Sadly, his mother was unwilling to deal with that fact - but my friend took it upon herself to at least LISTEN to the small child and get him off the hook. You should never have to do something you don't want to do. If you don't want to be an actor - then you don't have to be one!!) It's a tough line to walk - because naturally there are some little kids who want nothing more than to traipse into an audition room and say their lines and try to get a job. Parents/adults must LISTEN to their young ones. It's okay if a 4 year old doesn't 'feel like' auditioning for something. When Stockwell was 15, 16, his contract was up - and he told his mother he didn't feel like acting anymore and he wanted to go to college. She was surprised - but she also let him go. He had to choose his own way. He had been trapped in that profession long enough.

Stockwell was so good at what he did - that people forgot, sometimes, he was a child.

Stockwell talks about Errol Flynn and what it meant to Stockwell to work with him and be in his presence at this particular adolescent moment in his life:

I'm not saying I'd recommend him for the rest of society. It just so happened that at that time of my life - I was twelve or something - he was what he was: a truly profound, nonsuperficial sex symbol. He was the fucking male.

Funny (and, to me, moving) stories below.

Dean Stockwell:

Flynn was a maniac practical joker. I had a horror looming up, one of those crying scenes - a real toughy - with Paul Lukas. He's a dying lama. The scene is a master shot inside a tent in India and I'm there with the lama and Flynn comes through the tent flaps and gives me food for the lama in a rice bowl, and I'm supposed to be - as the character Kim - on the job and I can't let the lama eat maggots. So I check the bowl. Flynn has a line and leaves. Then I have this big crying scene with the lama.

So we rehearse and do a take. I'm talking to the lama and in comes Flynn and hands me the bowl, piled high with fresh camel dung, still steaming. Now I'm supposed to look at it and say, "Is this okay for the lama to eat?" And he's supposed to say, "Yes, of course. I promise it's good."

I looked at the mess and said my line and he backed out. I played the rest of the scene and it cost Flynn five hundred dollars. He had bet everyone on the crew that he would break me up.

haha - I love that Flynn assumed Stockwell would crack up ... but Dean Stockwell, already a seasoned professional, kept going. Ha!!

Dean Stockwell (this one makes me laugh!!):

I had a hell of a good time shooting that picture.

Errol Flynn came onto the set one morning a little blurry-eyed, and told me about picking up a girl the night before, a waitress. He really liked waitresses and working girls - secretaries.

So he took this waitress to his place. Next morning, he said, "You know what she did? As I'm fucking her, she said, 'Oh, fuck me, Errol Flynn! Fuck me, Errol Flynn!' I mean, that really tells you where it's at. 'Fuck me, Errol Flynn.' Not 'Fuck me, Errol.'"

hahahahaha

Inappropriate to tell this to a 13 year old boy? Yes.

But amusing and human and appreciated by said 13 year old boy? Hell yes. Stockwell had grown up in the hothouse atmosphere of the studio which had a vested interest in keeping the kids innocent (sometimes to a fault - most of the girls interviewed in Dick Moore's book - Jane Withers, Margaret O'Brien, many others - say that they hadn't even been warned about menstruation - they just randomly began bleeding one day and were like: AHHHH, WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME!) Granted this was also the time ... but the studios were particularly intent on shielding their little child stars from the realities of adolescence.

Errol Flynn was like: FUCK THAT. (In more ways than one.)

Dean Stockwell:

Okay, so I'm going to play this little Indian kid in Rudyard Kipling's tale of Kim and Errol Flynn is going to play the other guy. While they're building the sets, I come onto the sound stage with my mother and the studio teacher, the perfect Norman Rockwell portrait of middle America - sixty-three years old, sweet, giving, a long-suffering spinster with the rimless glasses and high lace collar. She was terrific with her rosy cheeks. Didn't even have to blue her hair; she had her own natural white hair. She and my mother were flanking me.

Errol Flynn came up to me. Somebody said, "This is Dean Stockwell." Of course, he's bigger than me, and with this gleam in his eye, he looked down at me. He stuck out his hand and said, "Hi. Have you had your first fuck yet?"

There was a moment, it lasted an eternity, where both my mother and the teacher were going "Brrrr," like pigeons with a gnat up their ass, blushing and doing everything but bleeding on either side of me. Flynn is still staring at me, waiting for me to answer him, but I didn't know what the word meant. I'm just looking at this guy, thinking, I finally found a friend, a father.

Obviously, he knew I hadn't had my first fuck yet, or he figured that out right after he asked me. Still, he gave me one of the special lapel buttons he'd had made. It had beautiful hand-carved wings. In the center were three F's, interlocked. It was "Flynn's Flying Fucker" club, and the part that went into your lapel had a huge erect cock and balls to hold it in. I had it hidden in my top drawer for four years. My mother finally found it. She didn't tell me until two years after she threw it out.

Dean Stockwell:

"There were uglies and there were beauties. For me, Errol Flynn was the best... He was the ultimate father figure for me."

All Dean Stockwell stuff here

Dean Stockwell: The Dunwich Horror

Dunwich Horror from 1970 has pretty much nothing to do with the HP Lovecraft story from whence/which it came - and that's a bone of contention for many people, Stockwell included. He was disappointed in how the movie came out - being a huge Lovecraft fan. But the point must be made that it is, essentially, a B-movie, with all the glory and mortification that that implies. It must not be taken too seriously, and it must be seen as an homage to Lovecraft - rather than a faithful adaptation. I think the thing is a HOOT. I love B-movies anyway - I love camp classics - I love Ed Wood's movies, for example - To me, they are the best examples of the sheer JOY of film-making. And Dunwich Horror, while it definitely has much better production values than Ed Wood's stuff, is in the same vein. It doesn't take itself too seriously - it's not ponderous or pretentious in the slightest - it doesn't worry too much about itself - it is unapologetically manipulative - and frankly, it's a blast.

Every time I find myself in the middle of such an obsession as the one I am in now - and I "go to work" - meaning: seeing everything they've done - there are always surprises. And there are always movies I discover that I NEVER would have seen otherwise ... and I don't know, it's a great joy to me. Like Only Angels Have Wings. I had never seen that movie before my Cary Grant obsession - I think I had only seen Bringing Up Baby, Philadelphia Story, North by Northwest ... but when the obsession began, I saw EVERYthing. And the gems!! I mean, I know I'm late to the game on that one, but better late than never. It's so fun for me - and not only that, movies like Only Angels Have Wings add tremendously to the enjoyment of life for me. It's a movie I can sink into, relax with ... I still watch it probably once every two weeks. I know it by heart now. It doesn't lessen the enjoyment of it at all.

So I love that aspect of my obsessive personality. And the same thing is happening with Dean Stockwell - an actor who has made 100 movies - there's just so much stuff to see - not all of it good, not all of it worthy of his gifts - etc. But I love the discovery process.

And discovering movies like The Dunwich Horror has been so much fun. There's another really campy movie he did - a werewolf movie - called The Werewolf of Washington - and that's another one that I probably never would have seen if I wasn't ALL ABOUT DEAN FREAKIN' STOCKWELL right now. And it's SO much fun. Anyone who loves B-movies, and campy horror flicks - should definitely check these out. They're part of a genre I love, and everyone in them plays their parts to the campiest HILT!

Dunwich Horror wastes no time in getting started. There's a "creepy" opening sequence as the credits roll - a cartoon depiction of a woman being impregnated by this massive devil-like creature - and then the first scene shows a plump and innocent Sandra Dee, with her immovable blonde bob, walking on a college campus with her professor. She is holding a huge book that looks very old. The professor says, "Could you please go return the Necromonicon to its case? Can I trust you with this task?" Suddenly - with no warning - we get a glimpse of a man nearby, eavesdropping. He is Dean Stockwell and he looks distinctly sketchy. He is intense, his eyes burning a B-movie glaze at Sandra Dee and the book. He also is wearing a totally porn-star-from-the-70s 'stache. It is so gross. Sandra Dee goes back into the library with the book - obviously an important book - and she goes to put it back into its case - and suddenly, as if from out of nowhere - Stockwell is there, intense, quiet, and asks if he can look at the book.

She, at first, is befuddled ... No, no, she can't ... the library is closing ... she's supposed to put it right back ... but he, with his subtle arts of persuasion (uhm, burning-eyed porno-stache brainwashing) gets her to give it to him to flip through. He sits down at a table, and naturally (because that's what you do) - he begins to read it out loud, in a quiet low voice - that builds in intensity as he turns the pages. The words he reads are all like:

"and then when the moon is ripe and the sea is in high, the door will open ... and the Old Ones will come through ... and all will flow, and all will cease to be, and all will move and churn and there must be a sacrifice ... there will be a sacrifice ... and then ... as has been decreed ... the Old Ones will rise again ..."

Total gibberish, new age gibberish - but Wilbur (Stockwell) is obviously enthralled. Watching Dean Stockwell sit in that library, reading those words out loud like a creepy incantation, has become one of the primary joys of my life. He has all these thick rings on his hand - with weird squiggles on them (what does it mean???) - and his shoulders are narrow in his little corduroy jacket - and he looks sort of normal, yet there is something OFF about this Wilbur. Is he attractive? Sandra Dee seems to think so. She murmurs to her friend, "Did you see his eyes?"

Uhm - how could you miss them with closeups like this one?

Dude. Step back. Learn boundaries.

Thanks.

So the movie is tons of fun. There are gloriously campy moments (Stockwell speaking some ancient "language", while holding his Ogam-stone rings up beside his head Ha!!! Love it, love it, love it, love it... Sandra Dee writhing almost naked on some Druidic altar as Stockwell places the sacred book in between her legs - to do his incantations - naked witchy hippie types running through fields in dream-esque sequences that are supposed to be horrifying yet end up looking just mildly amusing and vaguely erotic - lots of intense closeups of people looking evil or suspicious. Also there has to be the creepiest house in history. Wilbur takes Sandra Dee there for a "date" - and seriously, if some dude took me into his house, and it looked like that one, I'd run for the hills as quickly as I could.

Oh, some interesting trivia:

Curtis Hanson (you know, LA Confidential) wrote the screen play.

And Talia Shire is in it. This is pre-Rocky. She has a small part but it's always cool to see someone on the cusp of great fame. She has no idea what's going to happen in her career in the next decade, and it's going to be something else!!

Stockwell's great in the movie. One of the things he has said about it that I really liked was this:

He loves HP Lovecraft, so he was really psyched to be involved with the film. Very early on, though, he realized: Okay. This isn't exactly the movie I thought it would be. This ISN'T really about Lovecraft's story.

So what did he do? He adjusted how he played the part. He gave up the movie he wanted to be in, and accepted the movie he was in. He said he played the whole thing in a "tongue-in-cheek" manner - because that was the overall TONE of the movie. This is a very very smart move - and surprisingly difficult. I can think of examples of my own life where I had to give up my idea of what I WISHED was happening - and just go wtih what was actually happening. To quote one of my acting teachers in college, "It may not be the show you want, but it's the show you got."

I was in a version of The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man in the Moon Marigolds - and at the time, it was one of my favorite plays ever - and I had got the part I wanted. Tillie! The lead! So exciting! Dream come true! And very early on in the rehearsal process (one of the worst I can remember) it became apparent that ... well, I was gonna have to give up my fantasy of being in that play I loved so much ... because of certain factors I won't go into (the woman playing my mother, ahem) - It was NOT Zindel's play because that actress refused to play her role in the manner in which it was written. She used to go off stage and vomit. That was how big her antipathy was to the material. She REFUSED to play a bad mother, and basically - that's what the whole play was about. It was a devastating experience for me - a huge disappointment - but my acting teacher's maxim "it may not be the show you want, but it's the show you got" really came in handy.

The Dunwich Horror was a campy movie, with 'scary' moments, and an infrared "monster" raging through the woods, and lots of nudity and dream-sequence orgies (again, they're supposed to look scary but they actually end up looking really fun) ... and Stockwell went with the movie he was IN, rather than his fantasy of what the movie SHOULD have been.

And the tongue-in-cheek manner in which he plays that part is delicious.

It's one of his funnest performances.

There's a scene where his grandfather dies (his nutso bearded grandfather who wanders around the haunted house like a wraith - holding a huge stick) - and Wilbur and the Sandra Dee character go to the local graveyard to bury him. But because he was a Whateley - a hated entity in the town - the funeral is busted up by townsfolk who refuse to have a pagan madman be buried near their Christian relatives. But before the townsfolk show up - Wilbur goes through his pagan rituals, and guys? Seriously. I watch Stockwell with the little mortar and pestle, and his big shiny knife, and his chunky rings - he is also wearing a black cape - and he does these swoopy motions with the knife over the gravesite, saying things like, "Ick. Nick. Ick." Or whatever - gibberish - but you know it means something to Wilbur. Anyway, I watch him - and I am in love with him. I love actors. There is something beautiful about a job well done, even in a B-movie such as this one. There's dignity in it - and I love it.

Then at the end, Sandra Dee is all naked on the altar - she's gonna be a virgin sacrifice - or - it's going to be a Rosemary's Baby type situation - where some Beelzebub creature from the 9th dimension enters our world and impregnates her - or maybe it's like The Astronaut's Wife ... anyway, and Stockwell, in his stupid cape and his cheeseball mustache, walks around the altar - holding his hands up beside his face, knuckles facing out - so his rings are ... what ... facing the heavens? And he's shouting gibberish incantations into the wind ...

And I watch such scenes and think, "I have never been so happy. This is hysTERical."

Doing Hamlet is awesome. The classics are there for us, to challenge us, and to be embodied, generation after generation.

But something like The Dunwich Horror also has its place - and it's a blast. I highly recommend it.

Some screenshots below.

The freakin' rings.

Dude, I thought I told you to learn boundaries.

run for the hills, Sandra!!

The 'stache. In all its nasty glory.

That's such a Stockwell expression.

Run!!!

Up to the Altar of New-Age Death and Virgin Sacrifice.

You vill climb up on ze altar, you vill take off your clothes, and you vill soon feel very very sleepy ...

Here's a quote from Dean Stockwell:

"The best thing in The Dunwich Horror is a scene towards the end, where the guy takes the girl up and sticks her on the altar and does these incantations. It was indicated in the script that he opens his shirt. In Lovecraft's story, there's an indication that he has very weird stuff on his skin. So, I arranged to have a friend of mine, George Herms, a fine artist, paint my chest. He came down to the set and spent four hours in the morning, doing what looks like runic hieroglyphics, all on my chest. Those stand out when I open up my shirt and you see all these weird calligraphies on my body."

I love that that was his idea.

And here is part of the scene at the graveyard I mentioned above. I just love him. He's an actor, playing a part, he is behaving ridiculously serious ... but he's not at all condescending to the material. If that makes sense. Stockwell is not "slumming" in this movie. "Tongue in cheek" doesn't mean condescending - it means a certain attitude towards style. Wilbur Whateley (Dean Stockwell) is DEADLY SERIOUS as he does this stupid ritual, with runes, and dust, and shiny knives, while wearing a flowing black cape. I adore it. And look at Sandra Dee in the background, all concerned and womanly. Hilarious.

I just ... come on. Look at that. It's hysterical.

Those damn rings again.

Uh oh.

I have no words for how much I love that shot.

Oh whatever, I'm just wearing a black cape, reading my book, which just happens to be resting on your mons veneris, as you writhe about on an altar. Yeah, same ol' same ol' for me.

Wilbur, man, you gotta cut it out with that ring gesture. It's gettin' kinda old. ChillAX, bro!

I wouldn't look so cocky, Wilbur. Things are NOT going to end well for you, my friend.

All Stockwell stuff here

Daily Dean Stockwell fix

Ah, the happy innocent 1950s. When good girls didn't and bad boys stayed on their side of the tracks where they belonged. Yeah, uhm, not so much, not so much.

Shots from The Careless Years, 1957 - a movie I really want to see - but can't find anywhere. It sounds rather William Inge-ish, frankly - a "shocking" expose of the sexual desires of teenagers so popular in the 1950s when "adolescence" became its own demographic, to be feared and also admired. Like Splendor in the Grass. Something like Rebel Without a Cause seems kinda, well, trite today (I love it - but it's hard to see how shocking it was at the time!) - so the message - that teenagers are people too, even juvenile delinquents - is a bit ho-hum now. The best part in that movie is the relationship between James Dean and Sal Mineo - homoerotic, tender, and oh so sweet. It's still mysterious and moving today. Dean becomes paternal. Mineo looks up to him. But there's more there, there's more.

"Do you think the end of the world will come at night?" asks Sal Mineo, worriedly, his eyes glimmering and huge.

Dean thinks a bit, then shakes his head. "No. Dawn."

First encounter:

I don't know ... to me, their dynamic is the best in the film. Natalie Wood is great, too - but I just don't find it "shocking" that a girl would rebel and wear lipstick and mess around with boys, and have problems with her father. Duh. The film doesn't work on that level anymore.

It's important, though, to put stuff like that in context. It really is. It's more interesting that way, I think - to try to see it as part of its time. Same way that a play like Dark at the Top of the Stairs was SO controversial at the time it was on Broadway (Inge again!) ... and now? It's a period piece, basically. No way could you transpose that story into the modern era. Not without a lot of work. (Full disclosure: I was in a terrible production of Dark at the Top of the Stairs which Mitchell, sadly, got to see ... so I know of what I speak!)

Dean Stockwell, at around this time in his life, actually wrote a piece for some film magazine in conjunction with the film Careless Years - basically saying, "Teenagers are people, too. The film looks at the issues we teenagers have and takes them seriously." I'll have to find the article, I tripped over it somewhere. You can see how WORRIED people were about the impact of showing such things on screen. I suppose on some level that same crap goes on today!

Anyhoo, The Careless Years was about a "good" girl, who falls for a poor boy ... and when they're alone together, they actually consider having sex outside of marriage! Shocking. Didn't only girls like Rizzo have premarital sex?? Apparently not. Stockwell had dropped out of acting for a good 5 years - he had stopped when he was 14, 15 ... and came back at 20 when he realized: Uhm, I can't do much else, and I also can't stand a 9 to 5 sched. He was always a little bit embarrassed about being an actor. It seemed almost like an accident that he was so good at it. It made him miserable. He has said that he didn't start to enjoy himself as an actor until he was well into his 40s. Interesting.

So anyway. On to the shots from The Careless Years.

Oh no ... you are a good girl ... as is evidenced by your bathing suit ... and I am a poor boy (nobody loves me ...) ... and our families disapprove ... yet, in the words of Albert Schweitzer - I FANCY you!

When I was in high school, I also wore woolen traveling suits and heels. Her figure is something to be admired. Hourglass! And, dude ... whatcha doin' on the floor? Just have some premarital sex. It's all gonna be okay.

Uhm, put a sweatshirt on, bro. You look freezing.

Dean Stockwell: 2 movies

I watched 2 of his movies back to back - Anchors Aweigh (his debut in 1945) - and Psych-Out, a movie about hippies in San Francisco from 1968, starring Stockwell and Jack Nicholson. I'll write more later - I just wanted to say how hilarious it was to watch those two particular movies in tandem. It's the most unlikely double bill ever. And Stockwell in the first is fresh and adorable and squeaky-voiced and totally natural - and in the second, he's a Buddha-like presence who sits back, holds court, and doesn't miss a thing. He also wears flowery flowing shirts and a headband. He's the alpha male in the film. He sits in a dark hole, smokes cigarettes, and nothing moves but his eyes (and his eyebrows). He's kind of wonderful in it, riveting ... but after seeing Anchors Aweigh, where he prances around in his pajamas, and cries shiny money-in-the-bank tears, and rides around on Gene Kelly's back, and looks eagerly and wistfully up at Frank Sinatra - I was kind of struck by how bizarre it must have been. To grow up on screen. To have everyone know your every phase of life. It's documented. In a way, your journey is objectified - it's the nature of the beast. So to see him lolling about in a hippie halfway house, drawling out incisive remarks and observations, with a babealicious babealolio with a flower in her hair curled up in his lap - it's like: Is that the same person? Is this even the same WORLD that made Anchors Aweigh? It's only 20 years apart. It was truly freaky to go from one to the other.

And yeah, whatevs, I'm obsessive. But I grabbed some screenshots - from each movie - to show how truly bizarre the switch is.

Same dimple, same grin, same person. But the journey in between!! Wild.

Anchors Aweigh, 1945

Psych-Out, 1968

Anchors Aweigh, 1945

Psych-Out, 1968

Anchors Aweigh, 1945

Psych-Out, 1968

Anchors Aweigh, 1945

Psych-Out, 1968

Anchors Aweigh, 1945

Psych-Out, 1968

All Stockwell stuff here

Dean Stockwell: "The Player"

I love Stockwell's frenetic cameo in The Player. He and Richard Grant play a pair of writers who have a brilliant mind-blowing idea for a film and are desperate to get it made. They buttonhole poor Griffin Mill at a rooftop restaurant - and he says, "Okay, fine, give me your pitch - but do it in 25 words." Richard Grant begins the pitch (the two have obviously rehearsed the pitch many times - Stockwell, a fussy little New York-ish type guy in the movie, gets himself out of the way - he does "backup"). Richard Grant eventually gets so moved by his own pitch that tears flood his eyes. It's a very very funny scene. Grant behaves as though THIS - his idea - will make all other movies irrelevant. THIS will be the best. movie. ever. made. And even cynical Griffin Mill is impressed - it certainly gets his attention.

Grant and Stockwell do this tag-team act - and as with most Altman movies, it's hard to really tell what is scripted, what is not ... it FEELS improvised, and yet it doesn't seem random or un-focused. The event of the scene is clear. It's one of the scenes everyone remembers from that movie - that and the first tracking shot - because it is so clear, the indictment of the Hollywood decision-making process is so apparent in the scene - yet it is obvious that these two writers, Grant and Stockwell, have the best of intentions. It's no crime to want to make a buck. But when Grant goes off on how there shall be "NO STARS" in the picture - "I don't even think this should be a Hollywood picture at all ..." and Griffin Mill is like, "Uhm, you don't? Then why talk to me about it?" - but when Grant goes off on a flight of fancy about how there shall be NO HOLLYWOOD STARS in the film - no "personalities" - nothing like that - Stockwell, across the table, basically mutters at Griffin Mill, hoping no one will notice his sibliminal message, "Bruce Willis ..." Like - right there you can see: everyone is willing to compromise. "No Holly wood stars!! But ... if Bruce Willis is available ... that would be great." Nobody has integrity. And of course at the end of the film, when we see some of the finished product -the film has now been made and everyone sits in a screening room, congratulating themselves, patting themselves on the back - and the movie within the movie now stars, of course, Julia Roberts and Bruce Willis ... It's just a perfect Altman-esque observation of how things are really done - the system in which he had operated for many years - trying to maintain his independence, etc.

Stockwell, in this part, never stops moving or talking - it's a very different energy from many of his other parts, where he is normally sort of watchful, detached, with an ironic grin, or a snarky comment. Stockwell, at least as an adult man, is "cool". In this? He's desperate, impassioned, a bit fuzzy around the edges (like: his totally un-cool glasses - he's wearing a big billowy blazer, a turtleneck, jeans, and big white sneakers - like, the guy needs a power suit and SOON) - he gestures like crazy (I love his gestures in this movie - completely unlike his other parts) - he has a definite New York writer thing - maybe a bit of Woody Allen in there. When we first see him, he is shmoozing with poor Andie Macdowall - who looks a little trapped - and he's all curled up next to her on the couch, legs up, arms hugging his knee. Totally un-cool outfit on display - not letting her get away from him.

And then there's the symbiotic talking-at-same-time tag-team relationship with Richard Grant - I love watching the two of them in this movie - it's like they are one being. Stockwell will nudge Grant, and Grant will say his "line" - or Grant will glance at Stockwell, and Stockwell will say his "line" - they are a team of writers, Grant the more passionate and idealistic, Stockwell the personable kind of cuddly guy ... Their interplay is freakin' hilarious - and it comes at the perfect moment in the movie as comic relief. Things are getting pretty damn heavy for Griffin Mill, he's looking over his shoulder, the murder has already occurred - and we don't even LIKE Griffin Mill - as far as I'm concerned, the guy deserves all the mental torment he gets ... but still - it's an eerie stressful movie - and then in the middle of it, boom - we're back in the Hollywood mover-and-shaker game, Griffin Mill is ambushed by the pair of writers - they will NOT let him say "no" to the pitch, they will NOT let him put them off till tomorrow - they must pitch the project NOW. And off they go. Richard Grant's pitch should be studied by film students. He's hilarious. And then they go back and forth to shots of Stockwell, eagerly listening and squinting across the table - through his dime-store reading glasses.

Really funny performance.

Meanwhile: I have no idea if Stockwell consciously said to himself, "Okay. Andy is going to always lead with his pointing finger." but I would imagine not. Stockwell doesn't work that way, meaning: planning. He's not a cerebral actor (a la Malkovich, for example - who plans everything meticulously). Stockwell doesn't plan (he has said as much - his approach is intuitive from when he was a little kid - and has a lot to do with going with his first impressions of a script). He doesn't do much research, he doesn't overcomplicate things - (not that cerebral actors like Malkovich overcomplicate - it's just a different approach). So I see something like this pointing-finger thing in The Player - and it doesn't seem like a conscious choice. I am not aware of the actor and his wheels turning in his head. I am aware of Andy, the character, trying to get what he needs. Stockwell, as an actor, is interested in the interplay of the scene - and being alive moment to moment to moment.

But the pointing thing. If you see the scene again, just notice him pointing - and it's hysTERICAL - because sometimes he's not even in the frame, and all we see is his hand - and there's always a finger pointing.

Andy (his character) is trying to direct this event. He is trying to force Griffin Mill to sit still and listen to the pitch - even though it's obvious Mill doesn't want to. Andy points this way, that way - points at his writing partner - basically saying with the gesture, "Okay - you go now ..." And while Grant speaks - Stockwell stands there - listening with every fiber of his being - ready to jump back in to pick up HIS part of the pitch. They are ONE BEING, these two writers - and Stockwell keeps it all up in the air with this frantic finger-pointing. It makes me laugh out loud to see it.

Like: dude!!! What are you POINTING at?? But it's so perfect, so ... unlike anything he's done before. Stockwell is a lot of things, and he has great versatility as an actor - but geeky and nervous are not usually the words that come up when you think of Stockwell's persona. In this - he is both - and with the pointing finger, he keeps the action moving, he keeps the pitch up in the air - as long as he is pointing directly at Griffin Mill, or at his writing partner - then all is not lost, and his mind-blowing movie might still be made.

I love the scene. It's a hoot.

Here are some screenshots. I don't even have to tell you to look for the pointing finger.

Oh - and it never feels like a "bit" imposed from above. It seems like: this is something that Andy, the character, does. It looks totally real. That's why it's so funny.

"Buh-bye, Griffin ... let's do lunch ... we'll do lunch ... okay, Griffin? Okay?"

If you ever stop pointing with your fingers, all will be lost! You will lose all momentum! So KEEP. POINTING.

Look at his outfit. hahahahahaha

Uhm, who ya pointing at, Andy?

hahahahahahaha

"My writing partner over here ...."

Griffin is standing up now. All is almost lost. Keep pointing at him! He will not be able to resist!!

I don't know - it gets funnier every time I look at it.

hahahahahahaha Double point!! And look at Richard Grant's face! Ha!!

I can't stand it.

A brief relaxed respite. But then, of course ... in the next moment ...

... we're right back on target.

I love this shot because just LOOK at how Grant and Stockwell are focused on Mill. It's almost terrifying. hahahahahaha They look like they're about to murder him.

Next scene. Pitch to studio exec complete. Stockwell and Grant go to leave.

Stockwell has a finger-pointing EXTRAVAGANZA on his exit line. "Griffin ... you move in mysterious ways ... and I like it ..." fingers gyrating up and down. Seriously, the performance is hysterical.

Last scene. The screening room. Griffin's old girlfriend freaks out about how they have sold out - how the ideals are lost - the movie is now a commercial piece of shit. Stockwell (again with his GOOFBALL outfit) stares up at her, blankly. Turns slowly to Griffin ... for help. "Griffin ... who is .. this ... this person?"

"Doesn't she know anything about working with grown-ups?"

Point. Point.

All Dean Stockwell stuff here

Good good things

-- Met with trainer. She kicked my ass. There were times when it was like the chest-waxing scene in 40-year-old virgin. I cursed her out. But she upped the weights - and I made it through. Gaining strength every week. Again with the tomato head. And the wet wet hair.

-- We went over my food chart. She totally approves of what I'm doing. Gave me some tips on breakfast.

-- I've lost 4 pounds. whoo- hoo!!!

-- I am about to watch Anchors Aweigh - again, a movie I have seen countless times - I think the first time I saw it was when I was 6 or 7 at my cousins. And, naturally, it is Dean Stockwell's movie debut. He's 9 years old. And so adorable that you want to lie down in a warm bath and open your veins to acquire a quick and ecstatic death.

See?

-- Another kickboxing class tomorrow.

-- I am all about my body right now. I can FEEL it ... (my body, I mean) ... it aches, it throbs, it's alive. I am so so grateful.

-- Anchors Aweigh!!

Dean Stockwell: "Compulsion" on Broadway

Found some cool images of the 1957/58 Broadway production of Compulsion.

Compulsion, the novel, was written by Meyer Levin and became a bestseller. It's based on the Leopold and Loeb case, although he changed all the names - morphed a couple characters together - and was primarily interested in the psychology of that relationship. He goes into great detail - the king/slave sexual fantasies that Leopold and Loeb acted out and what they meant in terms of the power dynamic, what they signified - etc.

Photo of Leopold and Loeb going off to prison

Levin adapted his novel into a script, which then went into production for Broadway. It was a hot property, one of the bestsellers of the day. The script was very much true to the novel and did not shy away from some of the details that the eventual film would not be able to mention (the gay relationship, the S&M factor, etc.) However (and I said this before) - when you do see the film, the "gay" is being played so specifically - both actors are playing the subtext, playing what was cut out ... It's amazing how overt they actually are about it. Like when Loeb (Artie) cuts his hand in a rage after he hears about the glasses being found. Watch Stockwell's hovering response to it, taking out his handkerchief, running to his side... We don't even need language. They're boyfriends. Plain and simple. But apparently it was much clearer in the Broadway script, much more overt (same thing happened with the film adaptation of Streetcar where Blanche's husband betrayed her in a way left unsaid ... where it's quite clear in the play that she found him with another man).

Roddy McDowall played Artie Strauss (or "Loeb") on Broadway - and Dean Stockwell played Judd Steiner (or "Leopold") - the role he would eventually re-create in the film. Roddy McDowall did not do the film, which pissed Stockwell off. He loved working with McDowall and has been quite vocal about how brilliant he thought Roddy was in the part. The handsome Bradford Dillman played McDowall's role in the film (and, oddly enough - Dillmann originated the role of Edmund in Long Day's Journey Into Night on Broadway - it made him a star - and it was the same role that Stockwell eventually would do in the film version in 1962). Ah, the tangled webs. From what I can gather - Dean Stockwell, child star, graduated from high school, went to college for one year, dropped out, changed his name and then drifted about the country, doing odd jobs. Cherishing the anonymity. He had hated his years as a child star. He yearned for pimples and awkwardness and gangliness - because that would mean he wouldn't have to be the cute little dude anymore. But regular life didn't suit him either, regular jobs were not for him. At age 20, 21, he went back to work in Hollywood. Did a couple movies. Then a girl he was dating, an actress, gave him the book Compulsion and told him about the upcoming Broadway production. Stockwell had been looking for good roles, something he could really do - Compulsion was a hot property, everybody wanted to be in it. Stockwell didn't have to campaign for it, though - Alex Segal (director) called him up and asked him to read for it, saying that he had in mind the role of Judd for him. Stockwell was not a big reader - not that he didn't like books, I just mean that he didn't like to 'read' for parts, he doesn't feel that he can really show up and do his thing when he's reading - but Segal insisted, so Stockwell 'read' for the part. It went great, and Segal offered him the part.

Stockwell, a California-born-and-bred guy, a person raised on movie lots - moved to New York for the rehearsals. He suffered in the city like a caged bird. He suffered so badly that he came down with the Asian flu - part of a huge epidemic at the time where people were dropping like flies. The show had to open without him and his stand-in did the previews. Stockwell recovered - and did the run of the show, getting great reviews. Walter Kerr wrote: "There are scenes that catch hold in their first few moments and seem to explore every nuance of disturbed and disturbing minds. Dean Stockwell, for instance, draws his mouth taut, freezes his shoulders, and - in gasp after fearful gasp - wrings from himself the truth of his relationship to a 'master' he has chosen to serve. The grinding arrival at self-knowledge is chillingly drawn." Frank Aston wrote of McDowall and Stockwell, "They're magnificent, these lads." Stockwell had a tough time during the run of the show, despite the accolades. He wasn't used to having to REPEAT things night after night after night - at least not in the way you have to on stage. He was a movie actor primarily, although he had been on Broadway before as a little boy. The stress of putting himself through the play every night wore away at him. He hated the city. He had a tiny apartment, and he hated the lack of space, the dirty air, the garbage - He would rent a car on his days off and drive out into Pennsylvania or whatever. He hung out at jazz clubs all night. He sat in on one acting class at the Actors Studio and walked out in disgust halfway through the class. He dated people. Tried to preserve his energy for the show each night (the script was way too long - most of the criticisms had to do with the bloated script) - and tried not to let the city get him down too much.

I love the film (wrote about it here) - but, of course, i would have loved to see the live production.

Found some stills from the show below. I love the thought of these two former child actors, who grew up in the studio system, getting educated in the studio classroom, having no childhood, no freedom ... on Broadway together, starring as Leopold and Loeb. Pretty neat.

Clippings below (some other recognizable names in the cast. Joan Croydon, for one. Barbara Loden, as well - an actress who would go on to marry Elia Kazan).

Oh, and I know how obsessive I am but when you look at the last picture below - obviously of the trial scene - find Dean Stockwell sitting in the back, beside McDowall. And notice the gesture. Ahhhh, continuity, humanity.

Dean Stockwell in "Blue Velvet"

I haven't done a big "Blue Velvet" post yet - there's a lot I still need to cover - but a post Alex made today about Carol Burnett reminds me:

Lynch asked Dean Stockwell to play Ben, the creepy pan-sexual pimp and drug dealer who appears in only one scene in the film. But with all the scary crap that happens in that movie, that scene - and its absurdity - everyone in it obeying a set of rules that are opaque to us in the audience - is the scariest. Who is Ben? The script says very little. All we know about him is:

-- Frank Booth is scared of Ben and looks up to him. We all know that Frank Booth is a psychopath - so this should give us SOME clue of what Ben is capable of.

-- He appears to be in charge of a bevy of overweight prostitutes.

-- He keeps a kidnapped child locked up in the back room.

-- He gives Frank Booth drugs.

-- He has some kind of emotional/sexually charged arrangement with Frank that involves lip-synching. I mean, what? It's never explained to us - it is just something these two apparently do. Frank tells him what song, and Ben goes into drag-queen lip-synch mode. Perhaps it helps take the edge off of Frank's insanity - but again, that's just a guess. The script does not say WHY these two do this.

So Stockwell gets the script. There is no character description in it. The script does not say: "Ben enters, a man wearing white face makeup, eyeliner, and a little hoop around his ear. He wears a satin smoking jacket, and one of his hands has an Ace bandage around it. He is always on the verge of falling asleep. He is completely mellow at all times." The script said NOTHING about him. Lynch knew that whatever Stockwell came up with, in terms of inventing Ben, was going to be great - he just trusted him with the character (a rare thing. Most writers and directors OVER explain characters because they're nervous that the pesky little actors are going to be ruin everything with their interpretation).

So Stockwell went to work. He created that guy's look on his own - the makeup, the clothes, the energy ... Like I've said before - His talent is such that it has rarely led him astray. He hasn't made too many mistakes. He hasn't over-reached, or missed the mark too much in his 100 plus films, which is quite a record. Who has seen Blue Velvet and doesn't remember Ben? Not possible. Also - doesn't it seem as though Ben HAD to have been written that way? The whole character seems completely inevitable ... and perfect. Of course he wears makeup, of course he dresses like that, of course he stands around in large groups with his eyes closed - communing with candy-colored clowns in the ether of his brain. But no: none of it was set out in the script. Stockwell MADE that guy. I think that is so hysterical, so wonderful. It must have been such fun.

He also said, later, "You know, I was basically just imitating Carol Burnett."

Watch the scene again, and think of those words. It makes the whole thing even creepier, and funnier.

He IS Carol Burnett in that scene.

Apparently, he ran into her a while later at some event - and they chatted - and he said, "You know, in Blue Velvet, I was basically just doing YOU." She thought about it for a second, imagined the scene, and then burst out laughing.

I love it.

Also, one last word: one of his defining characteristics - since he was a kid - is this thing that happens with his eyes when he is deep in thought, or getting an idea, or things are getting intense inside of him. His eyes widen. If you're familiar with him at all, you'll know what I'm talking about. His eyes widen - it's like he's getting ready to change tack, or go to a new level, or say what's in his heart.

Here in Blue Velvet - he takes that natural characteristic - something he habitually does - and turns it inside out, abstracts it, makes it into a "bit". Now that's quite a hat-trick, that involves self-knowledge ("okay, so there's that thing that happens with my eyes ... lets play around with that, see what I can create ...") - and also a sense of parody. He is parodying Carol Burnett - but also parodying himself. Because Ben stands around - like a horse sleeping on his feet. He's either high, or just in some naturally Zen-like state, waiting ... waiting for the violence ... the crisis ... whatever. And then when he speaks, he can barely open his eyes ... until at some freaky moment, whoosh - eyes open REALLY wide. It's incredibly creepy - he is terrifying. He has taken a "gesture" that is in his repertoire, and inflated it, so that it has become something completely "other". I love that.

For example, if you see the movie again - please just watch how he says the simple line: "Fine, Frank, fine, how are you?"

First of all, it's a hilarious line reading, completely bizarre. He is the ULTIMATE mellow. Drawling, eyes closed, slightly swaying on his feet ... and then at the very end - when he says "how are you?" - eyes open reaaaaaally wide. You feel like he's a cobra, about to kill you - even though what he is saying is totally benign.

Great little cameo all around.

Like - what??? hahahahahaha

To me, the look on his face in the shot above is almost more frightening than all of Frank Booth's open manic violence.

Here's the clip of him lip-synching

Bravo!

Daily Dean Stockwell fix

Here he is in Song of the Thin Man - another movie where his main job is to be adorable and sweet. That was his "thing" as a child actor. He was photogenic, his face expressive, and your heart just goes out to him, because he's a little kid, and when little kids are upset or happy or scared - your heart naturally goes out to them. (Not all child actors have this, obviously. Many of them seem like precocious little show-biz brats who have spent their Saturdays in acting classes since they were in diapers. Stockwell never seems like one of THOSE kids. It's part of his major appeal.) His job also is to be a weak spot in Nick and Nora Charles, he can be used against them by their enemies.

One of the things that is amazing to watch, in these childhood performances of his, is that he is always thinking between the lines - now this is very rare, even in adult actors, and nobody could tell him to do that. It's one of those things that CAN'T be taught. And it has to do with knowing how to listen (which was what started my Dean Stockwell obsession in the first place.) Knowing how to listen is even more important than knowing how to talk and memorize lines and say them correctly. Anyone can do that. But to seem like youre really listening? When you already know what the other person is going to say to you because it's in the script? That's acting. The little kids who can do that have a gift. It's just a gift, it's not a "craft". By thinking between the lines, I mean: he's in a scene, Myrna Loy is telling him that he can't go play baseball because he has to practice the piano. He has one line in the exchange: "But Mom, I'm supposed to pitch today!" She cuts him off and says something about how there will be no baseball today, he must practice the piano because he has a recital coming up. As she speaks, Stockwell starts to say something - you can see the shift in his face - at first he has been dismayed, but then he thinks perhaps he knows a way out of his predicament, so a new hope and a new idea dawns on his face - and he opens his mouth but then realizes: Nope. She's not gonna give on this one. And so he deflates a bit. He has NO lines to support this ... it's just a logical commonsense choice. Instead of behaving like an actor ... he behaves like a real person. He flat out never seems like he's acting.

Stockwell has been quite open about how unhappy he was as a child. He had no childhood. He was a working man by the age of 8, and he supported the family with his movies. He felt the pressure, he didn't enjoy acting - it just happened to be something he was very good at. His education was very spotty - he has said he had to go back, as an adult, and teach himself how to read. He didn't go to a normal school until he was 15, 16 ... He dropped out for a while, changed his name, moved around the country, had girlfriends who didn't know who he was (remember, he had been a major star as a kid, no experience of anonymity) - and finally came back in his 20s, because he realized - I have no skills to do anything else, I'm an actor, I can do this and do it well - it's a SKILL. He has said he didn't really enjoy acting until he was in his 40s. Kind of amazing. He was GOOD at something, very early on, and he was amply rewarded for it. But the rewards meant nothing. He wanted to be a normal kid and play football and not have to do those stupid crying scenes in movies. He was a worried person, very early on.

I guess one of the things I admire so much about this whole trajectory is his knowledge, self-knowledge, that he had a gift. And it was up to HIM what to do with it. He could totally have done other things. He was not ambitious like other actors. He did some key roles in his 20s - Compulsion, Long Day's Journey ... he got married ... divorced ... and then dropped out altogether to be a hippie biker dude in San Francisco, living with 5 women at the same time. Go, Dean. He has said that that was his childhood. He hadn't had any fun as a kid, so he made up for lost time in his 30s. A decade passed. And when he decided to go back to acting - when he was ready to re-enter - it wasn't that easy. The doors were now closed. 15 years of struggle commenced. He did dinner theatre. He did monster movies. He did television. He has said that most of those years he didn't make more than $10,000. "It was a long, lean time." Amazing. Again. I just admire him. (Obviously).

He was in his 40s, doing some B-movie in Mexico - and David Lynch was filming nearby and Stockwell heard that he was doing Dune. Stockwell was a huge fan of the book, and he basically approached Lynch one day to introduce himself. They both tell the story of that meeting - Lynch saw Stockwell walking towards him, and got this blanched look on his face, almost panicked. Stockwell held out his hand, introduced himself, and Lynch said, "I thought Dean Stockwell was dead." So THAT'S how far out of the consciousness of Hollywood Stockwell, once a huge star, had become. Stockwell said he'd love to be in the movie, he didn't even care which part. Lynch said it was already cast, and Stockwell went back to his Mexican B-movie set. Months later, Lynch called - saying that somebody had backed out of the project and would Stockwell like the part?

This was the beginning of the big comeback.

Dean Stockwell is an actor whose real pay-offs did not start until he was in his 50s.

He has said he has no craft beyond intuition and instinct. This is apparent in everything he does. Even as a kid. His intuition led him to know (just KNOW) that while Myrna Loy was telling him to go play the piano - he should START to protest ... but then stop, and be defeated - all without a word. He KNEW this because he never thinks like an actor, he always thinks like a person. And that is what you would do in that situation.

His acting still has that breath of originality and reality to it - even in some of the cheesy horror movies he made during the 'long lean time'. He didn't sell himself out. Ever. And so now - as a man in his 70s - the rewards are even sweeter, more potent.

He's always been on my radar. I've always been happy when he would "show up" on a Law & Order, or JAG, or in movies like Air Force One.

But I feel lucky to have re-encountered his work in this new and intense way.

Some moments from Song of the Thin Man below, including the "in between the lines" moment with Myrna Loy where he goes to say something, then stops himself.

All Stockwell stuff here

Two-part Happy place

1. "A Little More Love" by Olivia Newton John. I don't know why I suddenly need (yes: NEED) to hear this song every other minute, but I do. I am transported by it. I've been listening to this song since I was a frickin' grade schooler, but whatever, this week - I have realized: Seriously. I love this song so much. Press "Play" again. And again. And again.

"Wheerree ....
where did my innocence go ..."

I think it's those CHORDS that come after the second line of the verses - after "innocence go ..." or in the first verse "draggin' her feet ..." Then: a chord. Two chords! If you know the song, you'll know the chords of which I speak. I find them to be perfect, and every time I hear them, I feel satisfied. Like: ahhh, that was a moment well-played.

Random. Why suddenly that song?

I try not to question where such things lead me.

"Night is draggin' her feet
I wait alone in the heat ..." CHORD .... CHORD ...

And now for Happy Place part 2:

2. Photo of Dean Stockwell taken by Dennis Hopper

Compulsion - part deux

It delighted me to see that Mental Multivitamin has recently seen Compulsion - her comments are here, very insightful. And yes, I agree - Orson Welles' reading of the last line of the film ("In those years to come, you might find yourself asking if it wasn't the hand of God dropped these glasses... And if he didn't, who did?"), and Dean Stockwell's subsequent reaction to those words - are perfection. It's a true moment, not an over-played melodramatic moment. Orson Welles rarely raises his voice in the whole film, everything is contained, coiled like a spring, his eyes moving, seeing, taking everything in ... and his psychological slam-dunk in the final lines is goose-bump worthy. It could not end on a better note. What could have been a salacious or silly film - or preachy or lurid - is none of the above.

"I consider Compulsion a very good work. It's one of those films in which, by some strange alchemy, everything is exactly what the director would have liked it to be. Many times, for some different reasons, sauce won't curdle: some character appears untrue, the story doesn't work, or something else is out of tune. In Compulsion everything matched fantastically."

— Richard Fleisher, director of Compulsion

SEE it if you haven't already. (My post about Compusion here)

Snapshots

-- spent afternoon at Apple store. Wonderful, lovely, I love it there. Got some crap I need, and returned some crap I don't. (Uhm, Nano? hahahaha)

-- watched a werewolf movie starring Dean Stockwell last night. It's brill. Cheesy-brill.

Filmed in the early 70s with that gritty docu-drama feel, with everyone in Peter Pan collars and bad haircuts and droopy toga-esque dresses. A political satire mainly - but watching Dean Stockwell morph, against his will, into a howling wolf during a high-powered meeting with serious-minded people who do not know he is a werewolf - was one of the highlights of my week. I had to order my own copy immediately, and will do a shot by shot analysis for this blog when I receive it.

-- the main joke of the week is (and it must be shouted): "YOU ARE A SEDUCE!". I can't even really explain the genesis of the joke but seriously - we have not worn it out yet. It has proven to have SO much mileage. And it can be used in so many different situations. You can use it to give someone a begrudging bit of praise. "YOU ARE A SEDUCE, damn you ..." Or you can use it purely as an epithet. "YOU ARE A SEDUCE!" You can use it as a "snap out of it" command to a friend you know can do better. "YOU ARE A SEDUCE!" I was at the grocery store last night, shopping, and thought of "YOU ARE A SEDUCE!" and started cracking up. I adore it.

-- The "YOU ARE A SEDUCE" joke reminds me of another obscure and long-lasting joke: "Es no 'ee. Oo say Drak". And that reminds me of another longer lasting joke: "Tell 'em Mrs. Barney sent ya ..." These are posts I will write next week:
1. "'Es no 'ee. Oo say Drak"
2. Mrs. Barney. (I can't believe I never wrote about Mrs. Barney!)
3. The joy of Werewolf of Washington

Oh, the joy. The joy of the joke that keeps on giving!

YOU ARE A SEDUCE!

Dean Stockwell

The gesture.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B and C

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get the hell off the Internet because I am so afraid of coming across Harry Potter spoilers of any kind.

Buying the book today.

NO SPOILERS. NO SPOILERS.

Hands over ears, eyes closed - lalalalalalalalalalalalalalala

I certainly don't want to make TOO big a deal out of this

but Dean Stockwell went to Alexander Hamilton High School.

Carry on.

Oh. And while I'm here.

Stockwell as Eugene O'Neill's alter ego in Long Day's Journey Into Night

Watched Boy With Green Hair last night - after I recovered from running away from the damn explosion on 41st Street.

It was a horrible copy of the movie- it looked like it had been taken off a television or something ... blurry, smudgy, and the sound was so-so - but it sure was the movie I remembered from my youth.

I had forgotten, though, about the random unexplained fantasy-flashback musical-number near the beginning. So bizarre!!! Like: what? Who is that king? Why are they singing? What is the point? What's up with the red wig? Why the Thru the Looking Glass set? WHAT. THE HELL. is going on??? Why are there no more musical numbers of that kind in the entire movie? Hilarious. Totally meaningless. It looked like the screenwriter said, "You know, I have this random silly song I wrote that has nothing to do with anything. Is there any way we can squeeze it into this serious anti-war movie? Thanks." hee hee I'll write more about the movie later - lots of good stuff. And it was really fun to see what I remembered. I remembered the first scene almost shot by shot. The two cops talking to someone, you can't see who it is ... they're trying to figure out the person's name ... the person is not speaking ... then one of the cops steps back, and it's Stockwell, aged 12, sitting there - completely bald. I so remember that from when I was a kid. It scared me. Why is he so bald?? etc. Totally remember that.

All Dean Stockwell stuff here

Hair and also Dean Stockwell

I think I got the best haircut I've ever had last night. I can't stop staring at myself. She is a genius. A genius.

I came home, made a late dinner, lit some incense, and watched Kim, a movie I have not seen since I was 8 years old. I have to say - it has "dated" very well. It's wonderful! Errol Flynn is ridiculous, campy, and kinda perfect, he makes it all look so easy - leaping on his horse, stroking his beard, thinking and scheming - and Dean Stockwell, age 14, carries the entire movie on his small shoulders. He's in almost every scene, but he shows no wear and tear. He knows what he is doing at all times. He is a complete and total natural. He has to be a street urchin, a fighter, a cunning and conniving operator, a precocious social animal (winking and leering at the pretty Indian lady he is sent to give a message to), a lost little boy - he has to fight, and cry, and do all kinds of physical stuff too - climbing, jumping, hanging upside down - it's all him. He's funny, sweet, a little bit intimidating (like the Artful Dodger would be intimidating if you met him and tried to talk to him as though he were a normal little boy) - he's sad, he's illiterate, he's brave, he can be unscrupulous, and he has deep love in his heart for the Holy Man. He also has flowery language at times, not normal kid speech. It's a lot for a kid to do. He's fantastic. And it's uncanny - you never catch him "acting". He does not ham. I can't think of a hammy moment in his whole career. His talent guides him to what is true, natural, and ultimately right. He was kind of a phenom as a child actor, in that regard.

But more than that, the movie is so much fun! I loved it when I was a kid, and it still is fun to watch.

Oh, and I remember reading once in some interview - it was in the last couple of years - Stockwell was asked, "Who taught you about sex?" (Ah, nothing like a nice personal question to start out the morning.) And Stockwell replied "I did a movie with Errol Flynn when I was 14. I got quite an education."

Their rapport in the film feels genuine. They feel like equals. Co-conspirators.

If you haven't seen Kim, I highly recommend it. It'd be fun for kids, too. I remember loving it when I was a tato-tot.

All Stockwell stuff here

The Daily Dean Stockwell fix

There was actually a funny Dean Stockwell moment last night.

David came over to help me move a bookcase out onto the sidewalk, and move another bookcase into position. I needed Ye Olde Brawn. I came home, emptied both bookshelves - and man, it's scary when all of the books are OUT of the shelves. They were (and still are) in piles on the floor. I left a pathway for bookcases to be moved about. So anyway, he comes into the chaos. Eartha Kitt's "Beale St. Blues" is blaring. What a surprise. He picks up the first bookcase and moves it out onto the sidewalk, no help from me except holding doors open. Then we go into my main room to move the other bookcase into its new position. And at one point, he burst out laughing at something - I glanced to see what he was looking at - and there was my laptop, and the screensaving slideshow had come on - and there was an image of Dean Stockwell floating across the screen. A huge Dean Stockwell head. Floating disembodied. My obsession made manifest. I am laughing right now. He basically just pointed and laughed - like: hahahahaha Busted so hard!!

I'm surrounded by piles of books - it's gonna take a bit of work to put it all back together, but at least I have created a space for the brilliant chair I am eventually going to buy.

So. A bit of Stockwell now.

Here he is as the Secretary of Defense, jealously guarding his turf, in Air Force One.

And tonight after my haircut?

I got Kim waiting for me, as well as The Boy with Green Hair. Both I have seen - but I had to have been ... 7 the last time I saw them? 8?? I remember more about the green hair one - it really touched me ... but we'll see. Got a long day of work ahead of me, lots to get done - takes so much concentration and focus for me to get going! So by 8 or 9 pm, I'll be ready for a little Errol Flynn and Dean Stockwell (age 15). I'll sit here, with my new glamorous hairdo, surrounded by piles of books I do not yet have the energy to organize, and watch Errol Flynn and Dean Stockwell yuk it up in Kipling's classic. Can't wait. I should buy some margarita mix, have my own happy hour.

Snapshots

-- A HUGE shoutout to Mark, for upgrading Movable Type for me. I owe you big-time. My trackback function works again - as well as my "activity log". Thank you!!

-- The heat wave broke. Thank God. I feel like a human being again.

-- Re-read Bridge to Terabithia in a day this week. Cried all over again. What a wonderful book. The part where the father - who has been kind of cold and grumpy throughout - picks his boy up in his arms like a small baby ... Okay, I'm crying now just typing this.

-- Updated: New pictures

-- I'm in 2 musical phases right now: Eartha Kitt and Metallica. (Metallica is usually a constant - so that's not really a "phase" - but regardless, my lack of desire to listen to anybody other than Eartha freakin Kitt (what??) and Metallica has become so strong that I have made a playlist of only alternating Eartha and Metallica songs. It has to be the weirdest playlist in history.)

-- I'm gonna be working all day today and playing all night.

-- This gesture of Dean Stockwell's below. Sort of cupping his chin with his hand, one finger up over his face, smushing in the skin, a deep in thought gesture ... It shows up in pretty much any picture he's made. Gesture consistency throughout decades of life. Makes me wonder if I have any gesture that has not changed, that I have been doing since I was 7. He does it still (only now he usually has a cigar in the right hand).

Age 11, Gentlemans Agreement

Age 50-something, Quantum Leap

Also, just have to say - in regards to the picture below, the smile, etc. - maybe the hairline is different, maybe he has wrinkles now - but he pretty much looks exactly the same, as far as I'm concerned. Some people change drastically from their childhood face - you can barely tell it is them. Maybe cause he wasn't a precocious actor-y mannered little kid - you know those little actor kids who seem like mini grownups and somehow unreal? Or like obnoxious little show-offs? He didn't have that ever. He always seemed real, like a real little boy.

But still - his face itself hasn't changed. He is recognizably Dean Stockwell in that shot. Like - same face as here - it's just 40 years earlier. I love that.

(I realize I'm kinda OCD about Stockwell right now. I am not embarrassed.)

Quantum Leap: costume humor

The costume designer for Al Calavicci's character must have had a field day.

Like: it's never explained why he dresses like that. He just shows up, throughout the space-time continuum, wearing day-glo glasses, or gold shoes, or fur coats, or big puffy satin-y jackets, and it's never a question, never even acknowledged. It's hysterical.

By the way, the more frivolous my blog appears, the sillier the content, the more intense and fun and interesting my REAL life is. Just so ya know. This is how I let off steam ... scrolling thru Quantum Leap episodes to find particularly amusing outfits worn by my new BFF, Dean Stockwell.

hahahahahahahahahaha

It's the shoes that continually get me. You always gotta check out the shoes, they're never your regular pair of loafers, ever.

Again, it's the shoes that make the outfit.

What?? hahahaha

Paris, Texas

Four for DBW.

One for me.

All Dean Stockwell stuff here

The Daily Dean Stockwell fix

I am deeply sad that The Secret Garden, from 1949, is not out on DVD - It MUST be soon, mustn't it? It's not like this was an obscure movie - and it still gets play today. I saw it as a child - at my cousins' house - probably around Thanksgiving (it gets play around holidays, mainly). I loved it - I had loved the book, of course, and loved the movie too. It didn't muck with my fantasy of the book - and I also loved that it was in black and white (mostly) - because in my head I saw the book in black and white, too. I also was a tiny burgeoning actress, and I was about Margaret O'Brien's age, and felt that I could SURELY have played that part just as good as she! I loved her!! I loved her high boots and her hat with the ribbon. Anyway, Dean Stockwell, age 11, plays Colin. I didn't know who he was, naturally - and I certainly wasn't aware of him as an actor, he was just "Colin". I also don't think - once I became aware of him in the 80s with films such as Paris Texas and Blue Velvet and Married to the Mob - that I put it together that he was the same person as that little curly-headed boy in the wheelchair. I do remember, however, the impression he made on me as a kid. I just wanted to crawl into the television and be IN that story. Especially the scene where they become friends, and scream at each other like banshees - as the entire staff of the house look on. They trash the room - she knocks crap over, he pulls the curtains of his bed down - they are FURIOUS at each other. In a RAGE. I haven't seen the movie in years, but I sure remember that scene, and how much I wanted to be in it, to ... it wasn't about "acting" it, it was about living it.

Anyway, the damn movie isn't rent-able as of now - but I found a montage of clips on Youtube - that includes the screaming/rampaging scene.

I am so happy right now! Weird - it's been 25 years or some such insane number - since I've seen the movie - and the scene is just as good as I remember.

Watch him go nuts. Watch him turn over the bedside table. This isn't child actor shit. It's not precocious acting crap that you see so often with little kids, who are more like trained dogs than actual talents - he's actually having a tantrum here. He HATES her. As a kid he was known as "One Take Stockwell" - he HATED any of it to feel like work - he loved the first take, he could do it on the first take, anything that dragged out further was the hugest bore, it sucked the life out of him. And the studios worked him to the bone - he resented it, felt completely controlled by it - and dropped out of regular civilization when he was 16, graduated from high school - changed his name, worked odd jobs in New Orleans and other cities - just to get away from being famous, and HAVING to do anything. He came back, obviously, in his twenties - but he came back because he loved it, not because he had to do it. As a kid - he obviously had a gift at this weird thing called acting - and as long as he could use it in one take, he felt okay about it. But to do it again? To have to admit that he was just pretending? No. That wasn't cool with One Take Stockwell.

Anyway - the clip is below. Enjoy!

It makes me DROOL to see the whole thing again though. Come on, folks, lets release a nice version of this on DVD with some extras, and interviews (both OBrien and Stockwell are alive) ... Let's get on this, huh?

Look at his luminous face listening to her bedtime story.

And the simple quiet way he says, "I shall live forever .... I shall live forever."

And listen to those two little kids scream at each other.

Heaven! Isn't there a petition I can sign to get this damn thing released??

All Dean Stockwell stuff here

The daily Dean Stockwell fix

Thoughts on The Manchurian Candidate ... and Gentleman's Agreement.

From The Manchurian Candidate.

Stockwell is barely in this one, has maybe 3 lines - but then a big ol' closeup in that final scene (seen above), where his world crashes around him. That's a star closeup. The camera has moved in on him slowly - it's all in one unbroken take - but he saves the "money" intensity til the camera is closest. He's modulating whats happening in him, holding back the good stuff - until he knows it can be seen. I love crap like that, obviously - it's the unsung great moments of people just doing their job.

Stockwell doesn't like a lot of things. He doesn't like to rehearse, he doesn't like to do research, he doesn't like to talk about the scene beforehand - he doesn't like a lot of talk. What he DOES like is to know what camera lens will be used, how the shot is set up, how the camera will move - and other technical issues - because he needs to know how he will fit in to all of THAT. He said that this has been the case since he was a little kid, and an old pro by the age of 9.

On Gentleman's Agreement - when he was 8 years old - Elia Kazan, the director, came up to him before a big crying scene. Stockwell, as a kid, dreaded crying scenes. He would get a new script, and flip through it looking for any tears he would have to shed - and if there were tears, he would worry about it and dread it for the entire shoot. So he had to cry in Gentleman's Agreement. Kazan pulls him aside and starts giving him pointers, saying, "Maybe you should think about, you know, a puppy you loved who died ... anything that makes you sad ..." Stockwell, a CHILD, nodded at Kazan, whatever - easier just to agree with those who are so much LARGER than you. "Yeah, uh huh, I'll think of a puppy, sure, dead puppy ..." Then right before the scene, he rubbed his eyes as hard as he could for about a minute, until they were good and irritated and full of tears - and played the scene with the remnants of the tears in his eyes, that had NOTHING to do with emotion and everything to do with IRRITATED EYEBALLS.

And he's the best thing in that movie. He sure as shit acts Gregory Peck off the screen. And I like Gregory Peck, but he is a big fat self-righteous wooden YAWN in Gentleman's Agreement.

It doesn't matter whether or not Stockwell's tears were "real". If it seems like they are, to us, we will be moved.

"Yeah, Kazan, dead puppy, whatevs ... I know you're Mr. Actors Studio Marlon Brando METHOD man, but I got my own method, pal, even though I'm EIGHT and I'll just rub my eyeballs out of their sockets to get some good tears, mkay? ACTION!"

Stockwell has said he didn't know why "they" wanted him in Manchurian Candidate - but I would imagine Demme (also director of Married to the Mob) wanted to surround the main characters with a solid supporting cast of great character actors - to give the film weight, and reality - and you can see them everywhere (also, you can see a lot of Demme regulars, if you look closely) - like, Bill Irwin (wonderful actor) plays the Boy Scout troupe leader - he has 2 sentences of dialogue - that's IT - he's a glorified extra but he just NAILS it. Stockwell plays one of the big-wigs at Manchurian Global - whose entire life and career depends on Shaw being elected. He has propped up the campaigns of Eleanor Prentiss Shaw - she can pretty much thank the company personally for keeping her elected.

Stockwell also has said that acting with Meryl Streep - being in a scene with her - was a revelation of just what a damn genius she really is.

All Stockwell stuff HERE

Happy place

I have been working so hard this week, and things are getting (getting?) kind of intense. There are hormonal forces at work as well.

I've been up since 5:30 this morning, working.

So I figure I've earned leisure time. For me, this means watching the Quantum Leap pilot. Now: I was a huge fan of the show originally - but I had forgotten much of it. The script is pretty terrific, for a pilot - and naturally, I think Dean Stockwell is the best thing in it. Although Scott Bakula is no small talent either. But it's all about Stockwell for me - and that was the case back when it was on originally, too. I just find him so entertaining - that's what I love about him. He's entertaining.

More thoughts on Dean Stockwell here.

Captain Stubing

I mentioned here that Gavin Macleod was in Compulsion - but I had a hard time figuring out (at first) which one he was. Now I know - he's an assistant district attorney (I'm assuming) - and he has a couple of lines with EG Marshall, saying, "I don't think they had anything to do with it ..." etc. Then when Judd (Dean Stockwell) is confronted with Artie's confession - Judd tries to break out of the hotel room to go see Artie. And good old Gavin Macleod (already bald) is one of the dudes holding him back.

I don't know why this amuses me so much, but it does.

I love it! Captain Stubing wrestling with a wild Dean Stockwell. Perhaps Stockwell misbehaved on the Ledo Deck. Or Isaac had to cut him off and he got unruly.

Compulsion

Compulsion, 1959 - directed by Richard Fleischer, starring Orson Welles, Dean Stockwell, and Bradford Dillman. The names are changed - but it's the story of the Leopold/Loeb murders. First half of the film: the crime. Second half: the trial, where Orson Welles comes in - as the atheist infamous brilliant Clarence Darrow defense attorney.

I thought it was wonderful. Not perfect - but riveting to watch, with a great campy spot-on performance by Orson Welles (who looks like death warmed over).

Dean Stockwell plays Judd, the weaker more shattered member of the crime duo - the follower, the one with all the Nietzschean theories, and yet - he's lost when it comes to acting alone. He hates this part of himself. He sees it as weak. Of course it is his most human side, and that is what he despises. There is an overt homosexual energy running through the whole thing - amazing how overt it actually is, considering the year it was made.

Bradford Dillman, who plays his partner in crime, the leader - the suave operator - was the weak link in the film, and did too much maniacal "oooh I'm craaaaazeee" laughter to show his mental instability. But there are moments between the two of them - Stockwell and Dillman - that shows quite clearly the almost sado-masochistic bond between them. Stockwell is in thrall, he wants to please, he begs Artie (Dillman), "We'll do it together, right?" Any whiff of independence or singularity throws him into a panic. And yet the panic is something he can barely admit to himself - first of all, because it shows his weakness. Second of all, because (and this is the subliminal thing going on) - it reveals to him, way too plainly, his feelings for Artie. This is not spoken, but it is played. Judd's brother tries to talk to him about his relationship with Artie - not saying, "Dude, are you gay?" but skirting around it, definitely implying it. "Don't you ever want to go to a baseball game, Judd? Don't you ever want to chase girls? I could tell you some stories from when I was your age--" Judd cuts him off, icy, "I am sure you had some fascinating experiences."

He feels superior to most everybody, and only Artie is his intellectual equal. Artie plays Judd like a violin, withholding love and approval until Judd is twisted up with neuroses, and then Artie fondly chucks him on the chin, letting him back into the circle of light. (This is very similar to the erotic atmosphere between the two characters in Heavenly Creatures. Alone, neither of the girls could ever have committed such a heinous crime. But together? They are deadly. They push each other further into cruelty, narcissism, self-absorption).

Artie says to Judd in the first scene, "You told me that you wanted me to command you to do things." Judd replies, eager, serious, "I do." This comes up again and again, when Judd hesitates, or seems unable to go through with something - Artie's face will get cold, and he will say, "Do you need me to order you?" The power politics are potent.

When Orson Welles comes in to interview the two boys for the first time, he observes, "The hardest thing about this trial is that neither of you appear to have any friends - besides each other. Finding positive character witnesses is going to be difficult." Artie says, expansive, bragging, "I have a little black book with the names of 40 or 50 girls I've gone out with in the last 2 years. You can call any of them." Orson looks at Judd, who is pacing and smoking. "How about you, Judd?" Judd says, "No. I don't have any little black book." Orson then says, in a casual manner, "No girls?" He's not accusing (at least not openly), he's not openly insinuating anything about Judd's sexuality - but he certainly is doing so subtextuallly. Judd stops pacing and stares at Orson, with this horrible horrible vulnerability on his face. It's like he's been punched in the gut. He's been found out.

There is something here that cannot be spoken. It can't be spoken because it was filmed in 1959. That's true. But it can be implied (in the same way that in the film version of Streetcar, the homosexuality was toned down, nearly erased - the stage version is completely explicit about what "went wrong" with Blanche's husband. It wouldn't get by the censors, though - so Williams had to struggle to somehow get the point across, and yet not SAY it. The studio wanted Blanche's husband to be discovered "with a Negress" - implying that that would be a perfect stand-in for him being found with another man. How awful to have your husband be "with a Negress"! So you can see the issues storytellers had in those days. The studio also wanted it to have a happy ending. Louis B. Mayer saw Blanche as an evil woman trying to break up "that nice couple". Ha. However: even without the explicit reference, you "get it". It's there. Even if it's not exactly in the language, Vivien Leigh is playing it.) Same is going on here in Compulsion. Implications are all over the place, but nobody really says it out loud. Stockwell, however, is playing it. That storyline is completely clear, even though it's not in the language. It's all in the look on his face when Orson Welles says to him, casually, "No girls?"

More to come, just wanted to get my first impressions down.

Artie orders Judd to rape Ruth, a girlfriend of an acquaintance of theirs. (The word "rape" is used openly - which makes me wonder how rare it was at that time. Not rape itself, but using the word in a film. I'll do some research. Ruth's boyfriend says to her later, when she tells him what happened and she actually tries to brush it off - because she felt so sorry for Judd, the boyfriend says, furious, "He tried to rape you, Ruth!" It's the word that struck me - even in movies where rape occurs, Streetcar, for example - the word itself was never spoken. But here it is.) Anyway, when Artie tells Judd to do it, and Judd balks, doesn't want to ("I hadn't thought of that," he says) - Artie says something to Judd like, "We promised ourselves that we would search out every human experience possible." To me, that was a subliminal, "You gotta get laid, Judd" message. I would imagine Judd was a virgin. At least in terms of sleeping with a woman. It's a wrenching scene, terrible - he can't go through with it. He cries. The shame is intense.

I liked the shot above. It's showy, yes, tricky - but it's brief. Not lingered over. I thought it was cool.

(EG Marshall was great.)

Oh - and freakin' Gavin MacLeod was apparently in this movie - but I can't figure out which part he played. I'll have to look closer, just to see Mr. Love Boat in action. [Update: I looked closer. FOUND HIM. He plays one of the cops. Voila.]

hahahaha I can feel the aura of a captain's uniform around him already.

And here is Judd, sitting on his bed, waiting to be ordered by Artie to rape Ruth. Artie came up with the idea, and tries to persuade Judd how good it will be for him, how girls "never talk about it afterwards", how he needs to experience this. Judd is all messed up. He's in love with Artie. Never spoken, of course, but it is obvious that that is what is going on. But you can't even admit that to yourself, not in THIS world anyway ... The threat is so huge, the wrong-ness so palpable, it truly is a love that dares not speak its name. So it becomes twisted, perverse. Artie keeps teasing Judd about Ruth, "Are you falling for her?" Judd throws Artie a look that says it all. No way is he "falling" for Ruth - how could she ever compete with the tangled web of THIS relationship? But the dynamic has been set, he has to do what Artie says, but he won't do it without the order. He needs to hear the magic words, "I order you to ..." There's a masochism in him, it's incredibly creepy to watch. There's a sexual quality to the whole exchange, a master and slave kind of thing. Artie says, cold and slow, "Do you need me to .... order you to?" And Stockwell, as always, doesn't ever over-act or ham or telegraph his inner life to us. He is still, watchful, worried, painfully open. Looking up at Artie, waiting for the order.

Had to be done.

I put it off for as long as I could. At last. His own category.

More to come. I've got a lot of work to do tonight, but once that's all done - I have Compulsion waiting for me. Orson Welles stars in this version of the Leopold-Loeb case. Stockwell plays one of the psychos. There is a killing spree, senseless. There are homoerotic over/undertones. I need to see it. 1959 movie, directed by Richard Fleischer. Orson Welles plays the Clarence Darrow type character. It sounds rather ponderous, and nobody seems to agree about it - everything I read is contradictory - but I'm very eager to see it.

It's gonna be all Stockwell all the time around here for a while.

Why I love Dean Stockwell: Reason #3

Because in Married to the Mob, he is called away from his wife's birthday party (his wife is played by the manically insane and gaudily dressed Mercedes Ruehl) to have a meeting in the hallway with his goons. During the pow-wow, Tony chomps on a cigar, barks orders and questions, he rules the roost, he's king of the walk, he's "the Boss".

But he's wearing this.

The entire serious scene takes place and no one ever mentions the hat, he's macho enough to wear a hat like that and have nobody say a PEEP, but the scene gets funnier every second you watch it.

Why I love Dean Stockwell: Reason #2

His work is so meticulous that you do not notice it. However: nothing is random, there is definitely a PLAN at work - he crafts these characters - what is the similarity between Ben in Blue Velvet and Tony in Married to the Mob? Nothing, except it's the same guy playing him. He is that versatile. His personality is not so known to us that we cannot imagine him in different roles. He has the freedom to slip in and out of completely unpredictable parts. But you don't see the wheels turning. He's a great great character actor, really old-school. Which is so bizarre, because of how stunning he was as a young man, like Warren Beatty stunning. People with that kind of beauty rarely go the character-actor route. Either because they don't have the acting chops - they've just got the beauty, or they never get the opportunity to stretch their acting muscles, or they TRY to stretch their muscles and nobody wants to see it. Stockwell is rare, on many levels. He has grown into one of our most beloved character actors, yet he had movie star good looks as a young man. Good on him. He focused on the WORK. This kind of acting does not call attention to itself (although that's not completely true, since he was nominated for an Oscar for his part in Married to the Mob) - but what I mean by that is: The more you watch it, the more you see. It's not all there on the first viewing. If you watch these movies multiple times, as I have been doing - you start to notice just how much detail he has put into these parts. Like the Ace bandage around his hand in Blue Velvet. We don't know why it's there, it's never explained, he doesn't reference it, the script doesn't mention it ... but it adds a layer to the guy, gives him a past - even if it's only from yesterday - what was he up to yesterday? He seems so mild and creepily serene ... but we know he's dangerous. We only know it, though, because Frank Booth is scared of him, and in awe of him ... and Frank Booth is a psychopath. So if Frank is scared of Ben ... wow. What is BEN capable of? No hints are given. But the Ace bandage is there, evidence, perhaps, of his potential for violence that you don't get in the script. The Ace bandage is a signal, unexplained, and evocative of a whole life lived.

Dean Stockwell's parts are full of things like that, it's fun to look out for them. He, as a personality, holds his cards to his chest, even in flamboyant parts. I'm talking about him as a person. I don't know him, obviously, but you can tell a lot about a person from the parts they choose, how they play them, and how they handle success. He is not interested in being congratulated or admired. (Well, I'm sure he is - we all are - to quote the doppelganger - I was talking to him about my trouble making a living as an actress, and he said stentoriously, annoyed with the entire process, and annoyed that I wasn't at the Helen Hayes level of success yet, "Look, you're an actress. You need to be on a goddamn stage with an audience. You can't act by yourself in a cabin!") But Stockwell's acting is the opposite of self-congratulatory. It's not twitchy, or mannered - and yet at the same time, obviously, he can be HUGELY campy. Like Johnny Depp campy. (Depp is another rare case: a leading man who has chosen the career of a character actor. That almost never happens, and says a lot about who he is.)

Time for an example of Stockwell's meticulousness, and to show what I mean by the specificity of his work - yet also his lack of interest in having you notice it. If you get it, you get it. If you don't, no love is lost - because the rest of the work and his role in telling the story is solid. But God is in the details, it is so true.

In Married to the Mob, Tony Russo (Stockwell) and his cross-eyed sidekick are in the car, Sidekick driving, and they are headed to Burger World, because Russo says (and you have to see how he says it, it's the most bizarre line reading ever): "Well, I could use a little snack." Cross-eyed sidekick calls the guys in the car behind them and tells them they're gonna make a pitstop at Burger World. As Sidekick is on the phone, our focus (of course) is on him - because he's talking. It's not Tony Russo's moment - it's Cross-Eyed sidekick's turn. Stockwell sits next to him, and he's not pulling focus, or stealing the scene - but he is most definitely still IN the scene, since the shot includes both of them. And he glances down at his hand, as Sidekick speaks, and frowns a bit. He does not like what he sees, obviously. He peers a bit closer, with a troubled look on his face. It's so subtle you might never catch it, it's not meant to pull attention away from Sidekick's scene - it's just a little Tony Russo private moment - but once I picked up on what he was doing, it was all I could see.

Next scene: a sniper hides out in the bushes and kills the two guys in the car following Tony and Sidekick. The car careens off into the reeds. Tony and Sidekick do not notice, because by now they are happily singing the theme song to Burger World in unison. "The fries are crispy, the shakes are creamy ..." etc. It's completely stupid.

Next scene: Tony and Sidekick pull into the drive-in at Burger World. Sidekick gets ready to shout his order into the takeout window. And what is Tony Russo doing, in the passenger seat? Filing his nails.

Again, this is not a "bit" - it's a subtle character moment, which adds multiple levels to this guy (his vanity, his scrupulousness) - but also adds continuity, which is SO hard to do in movies, especially because you film out of sequence. The great actors ALWAYS know where they are, and can adjust, even if you film the second half of the final climax scene on the first day of shooting - and then fill in the first half of it 3 weeks later. It's not easy, and there are people whose job it is to keep an eye on continuity (your hair was parted on this side before, the cup on the table was half full, your tie was almost undone - whatever - If a film has bad continuity, we all know it - there are websites devoted to continuity errors, so it's a very important job!) But there are SOME things which the continuity person will not be in charge of, it's up to the actor to be able to match take to take. Was I inhaling on this take? Or exhaling? Cigarette in this hand or that hand? Did I have my legs spread when I was sitting, or crossed? You have GOT to be on top of that stuff, and it's quite a challenge.

I have no idea if the first part of the scene (Sidekick on phone, Tony noticing a hangnail) was filmed in sequence with the second part - or if they were done on completely different nights. Whichever way it was, the fact remains.

It ADDS to the character to have him NOTICE his hangnail, and then the next time we see him - he's filing away happily. It would be completely easy for Stockwell to just be filing his nails as they pull into the drive-in lane - but how much better it is to set up that action beforehand.

This is why it feels real.

And that's hard shit, people. It sounds simple, but stupid crap like that is what separates the men from the boys in this sillly business.

THAT'S an actor. That's a guy whose technique is so solid that it is invisible, and we are just the lucky beneficiaries of it. We don't notice an actor acting, we notice a dude with a hangnail, we notice a dude who is not the kind of person who will WAIT to handle said hangnail. He doesn't NEED to wait, because he carries a nail file ON him, for just such an emergency, and that small detail is key - it's key to understanding the guy.

And also: NONE of it is in the script. It has nothing to do with plot, or surface, or moving the story along. It all just goes to character building.

And that's all Stockwell's doing. Nobody tells you to pay attention to details like that. That's the actor's job. Some actors are capable, some are geniuses, some are incompetent, some have their focus in all the wrong places.

Stockwell's focus is ALWAYS in the right place.

Evidence below:

Scene 1. Tony Russo notices the unsightly hangnail.

Two scenes later. The car pulls into view, and Tony is seen filing.

Why I love Dean Stockwell: Reason #1

Because in Married to the Mob he is as sexy as he has ever been ...

and yet - when Tony "the Tiger" Russo has a nightmare that his wife has shot off a certain intimate part of his anatomy, he wakes up with the following expression on his face:

This is a camp performance of my favorite kind. He is a villain, a killer - yet in keeping with the tone of the movie, you love him and can't stop watching him. It is right he doesn't die at the end. We have come to invest in him too much, and enjoy his every gesture (ah, those gestures again.) Everyone's campy in this movie - I mean, Mercedes Ruehl racing down the airport hallway, her hair like Bride of Frankenstein. And Alec Baldwin makes such a huge impression as the slick gorgeous greaseball - and he dies in the first 15 minutes of the movie! But it's Stockwell who walks away with the film, owning it - along with Michelle Pfeiffer who has never been so good.

Milestone

Just reached 3,000,000 page views about 10 minutes ago. How on earth has that happened?? Thanks for reading, everybody.

Working on a couple of huge Dean Stockwell pieces now (you know, in all my imaginary free time) - I need to get my thoughts together. The obsession is not yet full blown. I'm just building my case now.

And Alex, you'll like this: as far as I'm concerned, it's all about gesture with him. He's exquisite that way. So specific, so ... invisible in his technique. Three cases in point.

But I'll talk more about all of this later. Not quite ready yet.

Paris, Texas

I've always loved Wim Wenders' Paris, Texas, and been a bit haunted by it. I'll get to Dean Stockwell later - but for now, just want to mention the beauty of this film, and by that I mean - its look. The art direction, the cinematography. What I love about it is that there are no 'sets' - and it appears that most of it is done with natural lighting (whether or not that is actually the case is irrelevant - if there ARE lots of klieg lights offscreen then it is even more of an accomplishment, because it all looks so natural). But it has a hyper-realism. A heightened sense of reality and beauty and desolation. It is NOT realism - in the way that something like Dog Day Afternoon is realism - which has no stage lights, no effects, no fancy camera moves, no set-ups, the actors aren't wearing makeup, that's real sweat you see pouring off of Cazale and Pacino - it has the feeling of a documentary. Paris, Texas is not like that, although it has a very unprepossessing manner, never in your face, never clever. Sunsets are beautiful, rain on a windshield is melancholy - but Paris, Texas digs into these things, submerges itself in these prosaic things, into the colors, the textures, the LOOK, so that the landscape itself becomes poetic, evocative of something else - like images seen in a dream. Good dream or nightmare is unclear. Most of the movie takes place on the road, in crappy little motels, and convenience stores - which are most definitely not sets. It was filmed on location. I love that kind of "found object" movie-making - and so the location scout is to be congratulated. Because that's the thing, isn't it. Reality is often more vivid, and beautiful, and creepy, and transcendent than we can ever let ourselves believe in real life. That's the beauty of movies, good ones. They can help us to see. To look.

Like I said, I'll get to the acting at some other time. I'm working up to a big Dean Stockwell onslaught (as is probably obvious) ... but for now, let's just see. Let's just look.

The look of Paris, Texas reminds me of the look of some of Kwik Stop, Michael's movie. The landscape as HYPER reality, poetry seen in the mundane, the sets look "found" - not created by the filmmakers, they exist outside of the movie, in reality. Life is sometimes bizarre, motels are sometimes absurd ... down the rabbit hole. Yet they exist.

(Punk)

Same look and feel. Intense colors, dream-like, and yet not surreal. It looks hyper real ... the way reality feels like in a dream.

Dean Stockwell montage

Because I MUST!

I can't stop NOW, are you crazy?

I have a lot of work to do tonight - but I also have Paris, Texas to watch. I've seen it before (I agree with Ebert - it is, indeed, worthy of the name "great") - but I've never sat down to watch it just to hone in on one person - my new BFF, Dean Stockwell. That will be my task tonight.

Dean Srtockwell and Ernest Hemingway, 1950s

That's Stockwell in "Compulsion" - the Leopold and Loeb story - from 1959. Orson Welles stars.

Dean Stockwell in the classic "Secret Garden" - in 1949 - I saw that movie a million times when I was a kid.

Dean Stockwell in "Psych-Out" - another movie I remember seeing a bazillion years ago - this was pre-cable years - I saw a helluva lot of good movies on network television and public television. I don't even remember if this was good - but I do remember it - so I imagine there was something there. Susan Strasberg (who died a couple of years ago) was the star - she was the daughter of Lee Strasberg, famous acting teacher. I should try to track this movie down again.

That's him in "Married to the Mob", of course

That's Stockwell in "Kim" - the movie adaptation of the Rudyard Kipling tale

In "Blue Velvet". If I let myself think too much about that guy, I would have nightmares

Happy Place

I'm sure you all saw this one coming.

Dean Stockwell listening

Part 2. Last post for today. Ah, but tomorrow ... who knows what tomorrow will bring??

The wrenching last 2 scenes of Long Day's Journey - between Jamie and Edmund ... and then the scene that ends the play, involving the whole tragic family. It's his face as he takes it all in. And this is nasty stuff, relentless stuff - cruel things are said that can never be unsaid. Edmund, with all of his dissipation - his drinking, his whoring, and also his consumption, is the rock of the family. The steady one. And yet he is completely unstable on some level - all he does is absorb, absorb everybody else's pain. Not to mention the fact that on some deep and utterly true level, everybody blames him for what happened to Mary Tyrone. Which basically means, that they blame him for being born. He knows it, everybody knows it ... yet can such a thing be said? There are stories of Eugene O'Neill locking himself into his study for 10 hours a day, when he was writing Long Day's Journey. His wife said he would emerge, at the end of the day, eyes puffed out of his head from crying all day long. He would write and cry. That was his process the entire time of writing the play. He was wrenching something out of his soul, and pouring it onto the paper, with his heart, pain, grief, loss ... Edmund is the Eugene O'Neill persona in the play. The watcher, the absorber ... the one who might, just might, if he survives, be able to make art out of all that tragedy. At a huge cost, of course, but what else are you gonna do.

Anyway. Back to the beautiful intense listening face of Dean Stockwell.

LISTENING

Dean Stockwell: because I can't leave well enough alone

All indented excerpts from David Thomson's film encyclopedia:

With the TV series Quantum Leap and with his regular work as a supporting actor in movies, Dean Stockwell may never have been better known. Yet he has experienced so many stages and changes already - the piercing child; the beautiful yet not quite penetrating young lead; the wanderer, hippie, and biker; the realtor in New Mexico; and now, for a decade at least, the versatile, reliable, yet never quite predictable character actor who seems blessed to play men brushed by the wing of uncommon experience - as if they might once have had green hair.

The child who was once the center of films has become a man content to be an outcast or an eccentric.

He is the son of actor Harry Stockwell, and the older brother of Guy Stockwell, and he was a steady movie child at Metro by the age of nine.

He was away from the screen for several years and came back as a twenty-year-old: Gun for a Coward (56, Abner Biberman); The Careless Years (57, Arthur Hiller); with Bradford Dillman as Leopold and Loeb in Compulsion (59, Richard Fleischer); as the young DH Lawrence in Sons and Lovers (60, Jack Cardiff); and worthy of the exceptional cast as Eugene O'Neill's alter ego in Long Day's Journey Into Night (62, Sidney Lumet).

Again, he stopped, and within a few years he was an available actor for a strange assortment of sixties dreams and delusions.

Then in 1984, he had a real part in the forlorn Dune (David Lynch) and unexpected attention as the decent, steady brother in Paris, Texas (84, Wim Wenders). That picture did well enough in America to begin to ease away his freaky reputation. He was back to the mainstream.

He was in The Legend of Billie Jean (85, Matthew Robbins); To Live and Die in LA (85, William Friedkin); uncanny, terrifying, and wonderful in the best scenes from Blue Velvet (86, David Lynch); Gardens of Stone (87, Francis Ford Coppola); Beverly Hills Cop 2 (87, Tony Scott); Buying Time (88, Mitchell Gabourie); delicious as Howard Hughes in Tucker (88, Coppola); broad and funny as a camp don in Married to the Mob (88, Jonathan Demme) - he was nominated for the supporting actor Oscar.

Note from Sheila: I guess it's one of those moments where I realized that I have seen most of his movies - and loved him in all of them ... but I'm just appreciating him on a deeper level. His talent, to be sure, but also the trajectory of his career, and how he has handled it.

Dean Stockwell listening

I've always been a fan of Dean Stockwell. Think the first time I really encountered him was in Married to the Mob. Let's face it, I have a bit of a crush. He reminds me a bit of someone. But recently I saw Long Day's Journey into Night again - and had forgotten how good he was. I mean, then you see him when he's a little kid - in something like Gentleman's Agreement and as far as I'm concerned he steals that movie. And he's, what, 8?? He's got a gift. Long Day's Journey is a four-way tour de force, exhausting to watch (which is appropriate - no other way to do that play) ... but he ... as Edmund - the consumptive alcoholic son ... What really struck me this last time watching it was Dean Stockwell's LISTENING. My God - he sits there, and sometimes it seems like he doesn't have a lot to do - but that's totally wrong. Acting isn't about the number of lines you have. It never is. So his work in this movie is a master class for actors. Watch him - watch him react. He is so ALIVE. At all times. Acting is all about listening. But it's a rare gift (in acting, and in life - how many truly good listeners do you know? Not many, I'll bet). John Wayne always said that he didn't consider his job to be an "actor" - he said the better job description was "REactor". And here is Dean Stockwell, surrounded by towering giants ... but all I could look at was him. Watching him listening, thinking. I mean, he is also just so damn photogenic. His face is made for the camera. But the thing about it is: some faces are just beautiful, beautiful to look at. His certainly is. But there's more to it than that. It's that the camera picks up his every thought, we see inside. This, as we all know, rarely happens - even with very good actors. If he thinks it, we get it. It's riveting. I mean, all the actors are riveting in the movie - but this last time was all about him.

LISTENING