Eerie, Indiana S1, E4: The Losers

Starring:
Omri Katz as Marshall Teller
Justin Shenkarow as Simon Holmes
Mary-Margaret Humes as Marilyn Teller
Francis Guinan as Edgar Teller
Julie Condra as Syndi Teller
Henry Gibson as Mr. Lodgepoole
Dick Miller as Al

Written by: Gary Markowitz, from a story by Markowitz and Michael R. Perry
Directed by: Joe Dante


My, what a difference a week can make! I watched this episode with my wife over a week ago, and was pretty disinterested in the story; it had a clever idea, as most of these do so far, but it wasn't particularly funny or engaging. Then, one thing lead to another in real life, and I never had time to write this review, setting me up for a re-watch that I was absolutely not looking forward to. While the bad news is that it's still not one of my favorite episodes, the good news is that it was more enjoyable than I remember it being just seven short days ago.

More weirdness abounds in Eerie, Indiana when Edgar Teller's briefcase suddenly vanishes into thin air...almost quite literally. Now if this were just an ordinary briefcase, that would be bad enough. But this briefcase has a petroleum-based banana flavoring that Edgar will be pitching to higher-ups at Things, Inc.; if they like what he's done, then it could be their next big project and lead Edgar to fame! If it's lost, on the other hand, then he will most certainly lose his job. Compounding the problem is the briefcase's history: it was an anniversary gift from Marilyn, so she feels like him losing it is a personal jab at her. Uh oh! Can Marshall and Simon get to the bottom of the mystery before the Teller family loses everything?

Well, of course they do! Marshall and Simon concoct a plan to lose something on purpose, just to see where it winds up. In this case, it's a large piece of luggage...that Marshall hides himself inside! Sure enough, he is whisked right off the street by Al, an older gentleman played by Dick Miller (one of those guys that you will look at and go, “Oh, I've seen him in something before!”), and then dropped into a hidden tube in a back alley moments before Simon can find him.

After a scary drop through a series of tubes with Argento-esque lighting, Teller ends up in a strange place run by a strange old man known as Mr. Lodgepoole. The large warehouse-style room is completely packed with random items; this is, as we learn, because Marshall has ended up in the “Bureau of Lost” the place where things go when you lose track of them. Well, to be fair, the reason people lose track of them here is because Al steals stuff right out from under people's noses.

Marshall wants to track down his father's briefcase to save his family, but Mr. Lodgepoole informs him that this is not a lost and found...in fact, he even has some troubles getting out the “f” word! It is instead a ploy to stimulate the economy. After all, as Mr. Lodgepoole testifies, if no one lost anything, then why would they have a reason to buy these things again? And if nobody's buying anything, then that sets us up for an economic crash of epic proportions (“You mean like the one when that actor guy was president?” Teller humorously asks).

Unlike most of the other episodes I've seen, this one has a nice little positive message thrown in there. After all the effort Marshall put into getting the briefcase back, it turns out that everything worked itself out: the banana goo that Edgar lost in his briefcase turns out to be part of a failed experiment, so there's no need for it (“It turns out people couldn't get the taste of diesel out of their mouths.”), while Marilyn forgives Edgar by buying him a brand new briefcase! There is no love lost and the episode ends on a happy note, with the family returning back to normal. Things don't go quite back to normal for Mr. Lodgepoole though...

The general pointlessness of this episode is its most endearing quality, but also its biggest flaw: It feels too pointless, especially for general audiences accustomed to the typical Saturday morning cartoons. The fact these items are just being taken (well, Lodgepoole takes offense at that term, deeming them “lost”) for no reason makes for some humorous moments, but it doesn't really lead to any kind of resolve, besides Lodgepoole's fate, and the simple message that love can fix anything, which could have been done in a much more straightforward manner (though, granted, it wouldn't have been an episode of “Eerie, Indiana”).

After the surprise strength of “ATM With a Heart of Gold”, this episode once again sets the series back a bit, though not nearly as far back as Dante did with his own “The Retainer”. Once again, it feels like a case of the show being weird for weirdness sake, rather than centering its weirdness around a common theme or clever idea.

EPISODE RATING: 5.5/10

FULL EPISODE

Perversions of Science S1, E4: The Exile

Starring:
Jeffrey Combs as 50557
Ron Perlman as 40132
Christopher John Fields as Adolph Hitler
Brian Brophy as Investigator
Jeff Corey as The Judge
David Warner as Dr. Nordhoff
Oscar Dillon as Jailer
Craig Olsen as Lupita
Jae Woo Lee as Coopersmith
Maureen Teefy as Chrome

Written by: David J. Schow, based on the "Weird Science" comic books, by William M. Gaines

Directed by: William Malone

Before I dig in to the specifics of this episode, I must once again express shock at the level of talent that “Perversions of Science” was able to garner, despite being--without question, really--a terribly subpar television series. For example, in “The Exile”, we are treated to Jeffrey Combs, Ron Perlman, and David Warner (you might not recognize the last name, but you will recognize the face the instant you see it--that dude’s been in everything) in the main roles. Granted, Combs is kind of a B-rate actor, known mainly for his work in the Re-Animator series, with a couple of other horror films to his credit, but still, even for a show like this, that’s a pretty solid grab. And Ron Perlman might not have been the mainstream hotshot that he would eventually become (especially after Hellboy), but this show nabbed him during his strong rise--so while the rest of the show was pretty lackluster, credit must be given to casting, who, at least up until now, has been pretty on point.

Anyway, “The Exile” tries to cram a lot of ideas into not a lot of time. It all begins with Jeffrey Combs’ character, who we believe to be a doctor, trying to convince a woman that he has found a way to remove people of their inconsistencies--she’s unfortunately being told this as she’s tied up under one of his heavy machines. Essentially, he “burns away” their physical problems. Well, judging from the police raid that interrupts the discussion he’s having with his poor, defenseless subject, this whole thing isn’t entirely legal. And judging from further discussions that take place later in the episode, he doesn’t actually “cure” his subjects of anything: he merely kills them.

Following the police raid, he is captured and placed into prison, where he is given the prisoner code 50557. That’s where he meets Dr. Nordhoff (Warner), a scientist who seems to be obsessed with “rehabilitating” him, which as we can assume, means “curing” him enough to return to society. You see, murder in the future is a very rare offense, with many of those responsible for carrying out the crimes able to be “treated” and placed back into the normal world. But should rehabilitation fail, the subject is forced to be “exiled”, a punishment that is frequently mentioned, but kept a secret until the end.

As it turns out, 50557 is that rare killer, one that is proud of his accomplishments, and refuses to be “fixed”. Dr. Nordhoff tries electro-shock therapy, but that doesn’t work, and with his hearing with a judge just two days away, he is desperate to find something that works, lest he be “exiled”. Well, of course nothing works, and he is sent before the judge. And as can be expected, his laundry list of prior felonies and crimes, not the least of which is the murder of 41 people, can only be punishable by “exile”.

I won’t reveal what “exile” is, because that’s the whole point of the episode. But needless to say the finish isn’t anywhere near as revelatory as it thinks it is, or tries to be. Along the way, 50557 is coached by prisoner # 40132 (Perlman), a successfully rehabilitated murderer himself, who is waiting to be placed back into a society he is now ready for.

As with many of the episodes, the strengths here lie mainly in its acting: Combs seems only capable of overacting--I mean, he‘s pretty much built his entire career around it--but given this relatively low-grade material, his performance works. Meanwhile, Warner and Perlman are just reliably good. They don’t really go above and beyond in any way, but again, given the fairly-lame premise and writing, and sometimes painfully low budget, it’s better than what the material deserves.

After getting off to a strong start with “Dream of Doom”, it’s quickly becoming apparent why this show failed so quickly: the plots are very straightforward, and none of them really push the envelope the way HBO audiences of the late ‘90s were expecting them to. In other words, there’s very little sex or violence in any of these, with language being the only reason most of these even reached a TV-MA rating. “The Exile” is the perfect example of this, with some foul language, and some random (non-sexual) boobies at the beginning, all captured in an idea that’s only minorly fascinating.

A stray observation: At this point, I’m also starting to think just how stupid the “Chrome” intros are, with her constant barrage of double entendres and clearly-sexual movements. For an episode like “Boxed In”, it makes sense to have her introduce the segment, because that episode itself had a lot to do with sex. In episodes like this, however, she just seems tacked on in a desperate attempt to appeal to the late-night crowds that were watching HBO at the time--which, namely, were pretty much younger guys and creepy old men (and babysitting teenagers like me) who were just looking for something to appeal to their libidos. I get it--that was probably the point--but judging from this show’s mere 10-episode run, it didn’t work. And while it’s far from the only thing wrong with the show--it probably wouldn’t have lasted no matter what--it’s curious to me that they didn’t at least try to get rid of those random intros, or substitute them for something else. I guess they were trying to mold Chrome into the next Cryptkeeper, only to no avail.

EPISODE RATING: 3.5/10

FULL EPISODE

Cop Rock S1E4: A Three-Corpse Meal

Starring:
Anne Bobby as Off. Vicki Quinn
Barbara Bosson as Mayor Louise Plank
Vondie Curtis-Hall as Det. Warren Osborne
Ronny Cox as Chief Roger Kendrick
David Gianopoulos as Off. Andy Campo
Paul McCrane as Det. Bob McIntire
Larry Joshua as Capt. John Hollander
James McDaniel as Off. Franklin Rose
Ron McLarty as Ralph Ruskin
Mick Murray as Det. Joseph Gaines
Peter Onorati as Det. Vincent LaRusso

Written by: William M. Finkelstein and Toni Graphia and John Romano

Directed by: Fred Gerber

Well it has been two weeks since I forced myself to finish the last episode, and as much as I want to throw in the towel and call it quits on this ill-conceived series, I feel like I’ve come too far to fail.  Actually, I don’t feel that way at all; I’m just going to continue trudging through it for literally no other reason than unbridled stupidity.

I also decided to actually take notes for this episode, which will help me to remember all the reasons this episode sucks, both the obvious ones, and the more subtle ones.  I will be fair from the outset and state that, as bad as this episode is, I didn’t hate it.  Sure, it has some pretty terrible moments, and the songs continue to be the most forgettable (and simultaneously unforgettable) part of the show, but “Three-Corpse Meal” at least has one of the series’ first legitimately humorous parts, and that certainly has to count for something.

It also has a lot of continuing plotlines, so strap yourselves in: First things first, LaRusso, the cop who murdered a known cop-killer that was re-released to the streets without so much as a slap on the wrist, was convicted of his murder.  The judge sets the bail to $500,000 against the wishes of his defense attorney, and as LaRusso is being lead to his jail cell, he starts into a song about how he doesn’t fear anyone behind bars.  I actually didn’t hate this song--a statement which, as far as this show goes, is becoming the new “like”--but the refrain of “you can’t keep a good man down” seems hilariously misguided.  Is this merely how he sees himself, or are we supposed to be seeing him in that light, too?  Yes, the fact he was convicted of this crime would never have happened, both in real life, and in every other cop show ever made, so just the fact he finds himself in this situation is pretty dumb.  But the way he treats the people in his life (especially women), and the shady, reckless way in which he acts is pretty despicable, so I’ve actually been hating him from the outset.  Oops.  Anyway, to further this story so I don’t have to keep backtracking, his bail is considered unconstitutional, and is lowered to $10,000.  His defense attorney’s partner, an attractive female, agrees to pay three-quarters of it, if he covers the rest using $2,500 he has stashed away.  Of course, she has ulterior motives, which are obvious from the outset, and when he goes to thank her, they end up banging.

SONG: YOU CAN'T KEEP A GOOD MAN DOWN

Our good friend Patti, the young drug-addicted mother who sold her baby for a measly $200 in the first episode, makes her long-awaited return!  She asks Officer Vicki for help in getting her life, and then eventually, her baby back.  I didn’t know that sellers on the black market kept such strict files on all of the babies they buy and sell that it would be possible to trace where her baby ended up, but I must be wrong.  Must be so they can file taxes at the end of the year.

But just when “Cop Rock” heads toward a plot that might not actually be all that bad, we’re thrown a curveball: After Vicki agrees to help Patti, they have a sit-down meeting where Patti announces to all in attendance, including the Captain, that she sold her baby and wants to get her life back on track.  Well, at the end of this seemingly amicable discussion, the Captain decides to have her booked for her part in getting rid of her child for monetary gain.  When Vicki voices her displeasure, the Captain tells her she’s acting out of line, and refuses to listen to her.  What a heartless piece of trash this guy is turning out to be!  There’s also a song in here, but the less said about it, the better.

Vicki’s semi-fat, real old husband, the forensic expert named Ralph, also gets some screen-time.  After hanging up the phone and looking sad (to which another officer strolls in, and completely without tongue-in-cheek, asks: “Is someone dying?”), we learn that his doctor has ordered him to lose 35 pounds, or suffer the consequence of death.  Rather than this being a wake-up call, we just have to listen to him bitch about not being able to eat anything the rest of the time.  (I will say that there is a legitimately funny sequence--the second of the entire series--when Ralph responds to a triple homicide at a restaurant, which leads to the title reference.  It's obvious as hell, to the point that I knew it was going to happen well before it did, but both the setup and execution were done very well.)

Are you still with me?  Oh good…I thought you  had fallen asleep.  In the next plot setup that’s so obvious there’s no real reason to watch this show, Vicki and her partner, Andy, go undercover to bust the guy that bought Patti’s baby.  After suffering through a thoroughly-embarrassing song about how he’s a “baby merchant”, and that he always delivers on his promises, they eventually buy the baby and then he’s caught in a sting.  Hmm…I wonder how this could effect the relationship between Vicki and Andy, having them pretend to be husband and wife.  But just a reminder--she’s married to fat forensic expert Ralph.  Will his refusal to change his life cause him to die, thus opening the door for Vicki to pursue her relationship with Andy without any resistance?  Either way, you just know something’s going to happen between them.  I’m also wondering if the baby they happened to purchase might be Patti’s child after all…

In the last bit, we finally see the mayor after her plastic surgery.  I thought they would make a mockery of this storyline (well, moreso than they already have), and have some supermodel play her post-op, but it’s still the same actress, just with makeup removed to make her look like a normal person.  She goes on a date with Chief Kendrick, though I’m unsure why he wanted to take her out before seeing her (as he’s waiting on her, he even mutters under her breath about how ugly she is), but once he sees her, he is immediately smitten.  Their date ends on a positive note as she appreciates her newfound beauty in the mirror by singing a song that I honestly completely blocked out.

I think I've mentioned this before, but the show honestly could have been pretty good if it had just set some standards on the songwriting.  For starters, there is no need for five songs per episode, which I believe has been the quota up through now.  If the songs would have been used sparingly--say, maybe once or twice per show--then they could have focused on maintaining a high level of quality for each of them, while still being able to focus on the individual storylines.  Since the songs are such the focal point, then the writers are pretty much forced to give us ridiculous novelty acts like the aforementioned "Baby Merchant".

"BABY MERCHANT"

Just from watching the above clip, you would assume that this show is in on the joke, and aware of the preposterousness of such a premise.  Only, I'm not so sure.  While there have certainly been attempts at humor in some episodes, they're usually limited to the occasional joke here and there, with the majority trying to deal with weighty issues and more mature themes.  So that makes it infinitely tougher to tell what was going on through the minds of the writers when they were penning each song.  No matter which way you look at it, it doesn't work for me, because that essentially leaves two options: Either these songs were intentionally meant to be over-the-top, which kind of takes away all of the impact when the show tries to be gritty and take on serious themes (like racism and gay rights in a later episode), or the writers were blissfully unaware they were taking their own songs into the realm of self-parody, at which case the above problem still applies.  You can make jokes and still have a hard-hitting, powerful show; you cannot intentionally turn your show into a mockery of itself, and have the same outcome.

As an hour of episodic television, this episode was pretty bad, but by the impossibly low standards set by this show, it’s probably the best one yet.  Whether it will build off of the small bit of momentum its conjured up has yet to be seen, and the plots seem to be heading in pretty predictable directions, but at least the thought of watching the next ep shouldn't fill me with such a mounting, and inescapable, feeling of dread.

EPISODE RATING: 4.5/10

FULL EPISODE