One of the joys of my work at the film archive is coming across rare commercial films and videos. I should clarify that some of the material I process is non-commercial in nature, and therefore it is obviously rare. A person's home movies tend to be one-of-a-kind. But sometimes I get a find in the entertainment industry that is a real treasure. I love making these available to the public and fantasizing about the fan treatments they can finally receive.
Last year, I found the complete run of a British thriller series called Strange Experiences. This program ran on the British channel ATV in the Midlands in the mid-1950s. Each episode ran approximately 5 minutes and told a creepy, mysterious, or otherwise uncanny story. Some of the best are downright terrifying, proof that a short story can pack a big wallop. In writing the finding aid for our copy I got in touch with a colleague at the BFI and learned that they have at least a partial--probably a full--run of the series. But I do not know of other sources that have it. As far as I know, the Wisconsin Center for Film and Theater Research is the only place in the US where this program can be seen.
Last summer, I also worked through the complete run of Spectreman, a Japanese superhero series from the 1970s. This was the precursor to more popular entries like Kamen Rider and Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers. The show apparently aired on American TV in the 1980s in a dubbed format, and now I can proudly say that our archive has every episode.
I continue to find rare gems on an almost regular basis. This is a source of no small amusement because, as an archivist, I am skeptical of the popular myth that "dusty archives shelves" are hiding all manner of hidden treasures. (I mean, sure, we have the Ark of the Covenant, but otherwise....) However, sometimes I feel like I almost weekly come across something truly amazing that deserves to been seen again, even if most of them appeal only to my cadre of like-minded nerds.
Showing posts with label television. Show all posts
Showing posts with label television. Show all posts
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Monday, February 28, 2011
Why 1950s Domestic Murder Stories Are Good for Us
Watching the Thriller episode "A Third for Pinochle," I am reminded of how much I love light-hearted domestic murder stories. These were a common feature of several anthology suspense programs in the 1950s; I am pretty sure that more than half of the episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents are about one spouse trying to murder the other. This was also a common setup for stories in the E.C. horror comics, much to the dismay of noted spoilsport Dr. Frederic Wertham.
One reason I find these stories so interesting is that I feel like they speak to a common tension in 1950s American domestic life. As I have gotten older, I have become more skeptical of any Utopian worldview, and I have come to regard the view of the 1950s I had learned as just such a fantasy. I grew up in a conservative environment, and I was always given the impression that the 1950s were a magical time when people had sex only in the confines of holy matrimony (and, of course, only with each other), no one ever had a serious domestic argument, and divorce would never even be considered. Well, you know, maybe among those people such things might happen... (I never did learn definitely who "those people" might be, I think they were just the exception to prove the rule.)
This was the view I was given of 1950s home life, and it theoretically makes everything that comes after seem positively bleak. Sometime after 1959 people suddenly discovered hedonism and divorce and the country fell into moral decay, or some such thing. This attitude was usually caught up in the implication that all good Christian children should want to grow up and recreate the 1950s-era conservative heaven-on-earth, doing away with any sort of marital strife or--God help us--awkward feelings. The anxiety to live out someone else's difficult fantasy is a tremendous source of pressure, and I pretty much grew up in terror that I would somehow fail to become this paragon of morality.
As an adult, however, I had an epiphany: If domestic life was so blissful and problem-free in the 1950s, where did all those TV shows with domestic murder plots come from? What about all those issues of Tales From the Crypt? Don't get me wrong; I did not suspect that couples in the 1950s really were murdering each other in droves. But these were popular TV shows and popular comic books. If "everyone" in the 1950s really did live relatively untroubled domestic lives, why would they be willing to watch one story after another where a husband shoots a nagging wife, or where a wife poisons her philandering husband? What if people in the 1950s did have the cultural expectations to live these picture-perfect domestic lives, and they had few venues to openly talk about their frustrations, but they still had frustrations and needed some sort of catharsis. What if all these stories were acting as a sort of cultural release valve, to take the pressure off these all-to-human people.
Another noteworthy detail of these domestic murder plots: they are often played for laughs. Gallows humor, to be sure, but they feature a high degree of comic music, silly plot twists, and wry jokes about death and murder. The killer often gets his or her comeuppance, but always in a way that makes me chuckle and think Oh, you almost got away with it.... This added to my interpretation of these stories as a fun catharsis in a time of moral stodginess. People had anxieties they cold not express, they probably had moments when they would think of awful actions like murder, but probably also would have felt tremendous stigma if they told other people about it. Someone who imagines a murder--we often conclude--must be plotting a murder. Even though we ourselves might get so frustrated by an argument or bad customer service that we think Oh, I'd like to get my hands on you. So here is a body of fiction meant for entertainment, taking those subliminal wishes and turning them into a whimsical, harmless, series of crimes.
The comic domestic murder plot is, to me, a mark of social progress, like enjoying violent video games in place of watching gladiators in a literal arena. Bloodlust is a pretty common human emotion--or so I hope; my success as a writer might depend on it!--and virtual bloodshed is better for us all than literal bloodshed. Enjoying a story about poisoned tea or a faked car accident is always preferable to letting stress and isolation lead people to turn such stories into nonfiction. The upbeat music and humor reminds us to sit back and enjoy, and let our fantasies play out in a safe, sane, arena.
One reason I find these stories so interesting is that I feel like they speak to a common tension in 1950s American domestic life. As I have gotten older, I have become more skeptical of any Utopian worldview, and I have come to regard the view of the 1950s I had learned as just such a fantasy. I grew up in a conservative environment, and I was always given the impression that the 1950s were a magical time when people had sex only in the confines of holy matrimony (and, of course, only with each other), no one ever had a serious domestic argument, and divorce would never even be considered. Well, you know, maybe among those people such things might happen... (I never did learn definitely who "those people" might be, I think they were just the exception to prove the rule.)
This was the view I was given of 1950s home life, and it theoretically makes everything that comes after seem positively bleak. Sometime after 1959 people suddenly discovered hedonism and divorce and the country fell into moral decay, or some such thing. This attitude was usually caught up in the implication that all good Christian children should want to grow up and recreate the 1950s-era conservative heaven-on-earth, doing away with any sort of marital strife or--God help us--awkward feelings. The anxiety to live out someone else's difficult fantasy is a tremendous source of pressure, and I pretty much grew up in terror that I would somehow fail to become this paragon of morality.
As an adult, however, I had an epiphany: If domestic life was so blissful and problem-free in the 1950s, where did all those TV shows with domestic murder plots come from? What about all those issues of Tales From the Crypt? Don't get me wrong; I did not suspect that couples in the 1950s really were murdering each other in droves. But these were popular TV shows and popular comic books. If "everyone" in the 1950s really did live relatively untroubled domestic lives, why would they be willing to watch one story after another where a husband shoots a nagging wife, or where a wife poisons her philandering husband? What if people in the 1950s did have the cultural expectations to live these picture-perfect domestic lives, and they had few venues to openly talk about their frustrations, but they still had frustrations and needed some sort of catharsis. What if all these stories were acting as a sort of cultural release valve, to take the pressure off these all-to-human people.
Another noteworthy detail of these domestic murder plots: they are often played for laughs. Gallows humor, to be sure, but they feature a high degree of comic music, silly plot twists, and wry jokes about death and murder. The killer often gets his or her comeuppance, but always in a way that makes me chuckle and think Oh, you almost got away with it.... This added to my interpretation of these stories as a fun catharsis in a time of moral stodginess. People had anxieties they cold not express, they probably had moments when they would think of awful actions like murder, but probably also would have felt tremendous stigma if they told other people about it. Someone who imagines a murder--we often conclude--must be plotting a murder. Even though we ourselves might get so frustrated by an argument or bad customer service that we think Oh, I'd like to get my hands on you. So here is a body of fiction meant for entertainment, taking those subliminal wishes and turning them into a whimsical, harmless, series of crimes.
The comic domestic murder plot is, to me, a mark of social progress, like enjoying violent video games in place of watching gladiators in a literal arena. Bloodlust is a pretty common human emotion--or so I hope; my success as a writer might depend on it!--and virtual bloodshed is better for us all than literal bloodshed. Enjoying a story about poisoned tea or a faked car accident is always preferable to letting stress and isolation lead people to turn such stories into nonfiction. The upbeat music and humor reminds us to sit back and enjoy, and let our fantasies play out in a safe, sane, arena.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Smith, Jobs, and Boris
Today was a generally good day. I started out with a book of Clark Ashton Smith's short stories at one of my favorite cafes. I had not read "The Enchantress of Sylaire" before and was pleasantly surprised by its ending. Always a good start to a day.
I also continued apace on several archival collections. For the past week or so I have been working on smaller collections of short films distributed through mail companies, such as Castle Films. Some of these were excerpted from larger features--as in the abridgments of Universal horror movies--and some were created exclusively for the home viewer. They were the precursor to home video and represent a world of film creation and consumption that is all too seldom considered today. I am excited to get the finding aids for the collections out for public consumption.
I also got positive news on anther job application, with an interview to come later this week or early next week. It would be a part-time cataloging job, for nearly twice the pay of my current positions. In these days of considerable budget cuts for Wisconsin state workers, that could be a significant boost.
And now, I have several discs of Thriller to enjoy. (This is the Boris Karloff 1960s Thriller, not to be confused with the British 1970s Thriller.) Having the chance to at last see the full sweep of the series is interesting; when I was younger a few key episodes alone were available of VHS: "The Grim Reaper," "The Incredible Doctor Markesan," but curiously enough, not the most famous episode, "Pigeons From Hell." (That's right, from the Robert E. Howard short story.) Now I have finally seen the episode I heard about since I was quite young, my dad's favorite. In fact, a comparison of the episode and the short story might make an interesting future topic. But for now, back to Thriller...
I also continued apace on several archival collections. For the past week or so I have been working on smaller collections of short films distributed through mail companies, such as Castle Films. Some of these were excerpted from larger features--as in the abridgments of Universal horror movies--and some were created exclusively for the home viewer. They were the precursor to home video and represent a world of film creation and consumption that is all too seldom considered today. I am excited to get the finding aids for the collections out for public consumption.
I also got positive news on anther job application, with an interview to come later this week or early next week. It would be a part-time cataloging job, for nearly twice the pay of my current positions. In these days of considerable budget cuts for Wisconsin state workers, that could be a significant boost.
And now, I have several discs of Thriller to enjoy. (This is the Boris Karloff 1960s Thriller, not to be confused with the British 1970s Thriller.) Having the chance to at last see the full sweep of the series is interesting; when I was younger a few key episodes alone were available of VHS: "The Grim Reaper," "The Incredible Doctor Markesan," but curiously enough, not the most famous episode, "Pigeons From Hell." (That's right, from the Robert E. Howard short story.) Now I have finally seen the episode I heard about since I was quite young, my dad's favorite. In fact, a comparison of the episode and the short story might make an interesting future topic. But for now, back to Thriller...
Thursday, February 10, 2011
I Miss Anthology TV
I love anthology television series. This is a format that seems to have been left by the wayside, but I wish it would come back. An anthology series would usually belong to a genre (science fiction, horror, and Western were especially popular), and each week's episode would be an independent story with a cast just for that episode. Most anthology series were essentially all guest star affairs. It is a type of programming that lends itself well to adapting short stories, or giving new writers and actors a break.
I think the best argument I could make for bringing back anthology series is, strangely enough, the sense of unevenness they seem to always carry. When I look back at The Twilight Zone, Science Fiction Theater, Thriller, or Death Valley Days, they were all shows were some episodes were great, some were okay, and usually a few were pretty bad. But they were shows worth watching every week because of that promise that the next episode might be one of the great ones. I did not have to tag along with characters I did not find interesting--or try to puzzle out a plot that was too convoluted--because nothing in the narrative carried over. Granted, this also meant I could not pick a favorite recurring character (unless Rod Serling himself counts), and maybe this is part of why anthology TV seems not to get made any more. But assuming I liked the overall genre of a show and its general tone, I always had a reason to watch another episode. Even as syndicated shows, I still love to watch anthology TV, and I find I am more likely to sit through an entire run of something like Thriller on DVD, where the mediocre crime episodes surround the horror gems.
Two valiant, if not entirely successful, horror programs in this format did appear relatively recently--Masters of Horror and Fear Itself. Each had its moments, but sadly did not stick around. I keep hoping for an anthology hit, a Twilight Zone for the 2010s.
I think the best argument I could make for bringing back anthology series is, strangely enough, the sense of unevenness they seem to always carry. When I look back at The Twilight Zone, Science Fiction Theater, Thriller, or Death Valley Days, they were all shows were some episodes were great, some were okay, and usually a few were pretty bad. But they were shows worth watching every week because of that promise that the next episode might be one of the great ones. I did not have to tag along with characters I did not find interesting--or try to puzzle out a plot that was too convoluted--because nothing in the narrative carried over. Granted, this also meant I could not pick a favorite recurring character (unless Rod Serling himself counts), and maybe this is part of why anthology TV seems not to get made any more. But assuming I liked the overall genre of a show and its general tone, I always had a reason to watch another episode. Even as syndicated shows, I still love to watch anthology TV, and I find I am more likely to sit through an entire run of something like Thriller on DVD, where the mediocre crime episodes surround the horror gems.
Two valiant, if not entirely successful, horror programs in this format did appear relatively recently--Masters of Horror and Fear Itself. Each had its moments, but sadly did not stick around. I keep hoping for an anthology hit, a Twilight Zone for the 2010s.
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