Eerie Indiana, S1, E7: Heart on a Chain

It's clear I'm unable to post these with any consistency, so I guess just keep checking back periodically. All the episodes will get reviewed eventually!

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
Cory Danziger as Devon Wilde
Danielle Harris as Melanie Monroe

Jim Jansen as Melanie's Father

Sarah Lilly as Miss Annabell Lee

Henry Brown as Doctor

Steven Peri as Old Elvis

Written by: Jose Rivera
Directed by: Joe Dante

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When I read a brief synopsis for the seventh episode of “Eerie, Indiana”, I was intrigued. It’s not every day that you find a show geared toward young adults (and, perhaps arguably, even younger than that) willing to tackle the subject of death at all; it’s even less common to see a show do it in such a frank, straightforward way. I was finally starting to appreciate the town of Eerie and its characters, but this wallop of an episode helps to prove just how daring this show really was, at least in terms of its intended age group. Its characters aren’t mindless caricatures quickly thrown together for the sake of ratings, but rather fully realized people. Even the adults in this show, such as Marshall’s family members, who are usually made stupid in shows so that the younger characters—the ones audience members would be most likely to relate to—can be intellectually superior, are immediately likable, and always encouraging to their son's interests, no matter how weird or “out there” they may be.

In this one, there’s a new girl in town, and both Marshall, and his friend Devon Wilde, are immediately smitten with her. She is Melanie, but she is no ordinary girl: she has a weak heart, and is on a list to receive a transplant that can elongate her life. Unfazed by this development, the two kids engage in friendly competitions, each one trying to impress her more so that they win her fragile heart; it’s Devon’s wild-child persona, vs. Marshall’s good-guy routine, and just like in real-life, it’s obvious which one she favors, and it ain’t Marshall.

Then Devon is struck and killed while carelessly riding his skateboard in the middle of the street.

One thing that sets this apart from similar shows of its ilk is the relationship between Devon and Marshall. While they both are fighting for the same goal, they still put their own friendship above all else: Devon even asks Marshall if he minds if he asks Melanie to the school dance, and Marshall puts aside his own feelings to let it happen; Marshall is upset when a careless Devon nearly gets run over by the same milk truck that finishes him off a little while later. It never devolves into a mean-spirited rivalry, which is the standard story arc that these stories lead to, and it's refreshing that “Eerie, Indiana” doesn't sinks into that same level of tired mediocrity.

After Marshall learns that Devon was struck by a truck, he rushes to the hospital, where he meets Melanie, who informs him they found a heart for her. At that precise moment, Marshall puts two and two together, and figures out that Devon has passed on, and it is his heart that will be implanted inside her. It's pretty heavy stuff so far (oh, it gets even stronger), but nice to see a television show that doesn't assume its audience is comprised of idiots that need everything spoonfed to them, so I can definitely appreciate the strong subject matter.

Anyway, after she receives the heart, Marshall notices that her personality changes. She's no longer a shy, innocent girl, but a daredevil who takes chances and whose favorite line is: “Live fast, die young, and leave a good-looking corpse”...which happened to be Devon's favorite quote! Marshall doesn't like this change, and urges her to let him go and move on. He assures her that everyone is sad he's gone, especially him since he was one of his best friends, but that life doesn't wait and it's the only thing she can do. She reluctantly agrees to try to do so by kissing him...only to have her heart malfunction. It's just a minor glitch—the moment they pull away everything returns to normal—but it's enough to cause alarm. Is Devon controlling her from beyond? In the end, Melanie agrees to let Devon go, but tells Marshall she isn't ready to be in a relationship so soon, and they part ways, with Marshall joining Simon and Melanie going her own separate way.

[SPOILER ALERT]

But as sad as this episode already is, it’s about to become emotionally shattering: As Simon and Marshall happily make their way for the cemetery exit, we see a figure walking slowly in the background, heading toward an off-screen Melanie. After a little bit of squinting, I realized it’s the FUCKING GRIM REAPER. Then, a light shines on the angel on Devon’s gravestone, complete with the heart pendant that Devon got for her, at which point a lone tear drips down, indicating that he is claiming her so that no one else can have her. Holy shit. 

[END SPOILER ALERT]

This is about as perfect as a thirty-minute episode of young adult/children's TV can be, with heavy subject matter handled with maturity and an uncommon straightforwardness that flies in the face of the bland watered-down sameness of many such shows, even today. The way the Tellers handle Marshall's new “girlfriend” the few times she is over, is so adorable, you just can't help but fall in love with them. I know early on in the season I mentioned that Marshall and Simon are completely boring and don't have the kinds of personalities that make good leads in a show, but it is these exact traits that have actually made me completely change my mind: They are you and me. They are everyday children with wild imaginations and big dreams, kids with big hearts and a loving family (well, not in Simon's case, but the Tellers frequently take him in as their own).

This show has slowly been growing on me, and I was beginning to realize its potential; not even I could have realized the near-perfection that it was capable of when everything came together in harmony. This is a devastating, must-see episode, and the pinnacle of what "Eerie Indiana" had to offer.

SIDE NOTE: After harping on how weak Joe Dante-directed episodes were compared to others, I have to immediately take that back, as he was the director of this one. It's not just the pinnacle of the series, but might be the pinnacle of his career.

EPISODE RATING: 10/10 

FULL EPISODE
Suck at embedding files, so just click on this link.
Scroll down a little bit for the video.

Cop Rock S1, E7: Cop-a-Felliac

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
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
Jeffrey Alan Chandler as Ray Rodbart
Teri Austin as Trish Vaughn

Written by: William M. Finkelstein and Stephen Bochco and Michael Graham and John Romano

Directed by: Arlene Sanford

Once again we have a lot on the docket in this week’s episode of “Cop Rock”, and no time for formalities, so let’s get going right away.

It starts in a meeting room, something we haven’t seen too often in this show, if at all before.  This intro was actually the best one yet, with the lead officer (haven’t seen him before, to my knowledge, and couldn’t locate him in the credits; he might be Mike Finnegan, playing a Lt. Kellogg) running through a list of all the current topics.  The sequence is lighthearted, and overall pretty dumb, but it exhibits a playfulness that tends to be sorely missing from many of the episodes up through this point.  But, as is required, it’s pretty much ruined when he breaks into song, singing “Let’s Be Careful Out There”, which is obviously about the perils they face on a nightly basis.

"LET'S BE CAREFUL OUT THERE"

I’ve mentioned this many times before, but I’m going to do it again: Randy Newman’s theme song is godawful.  It’s really a piece of garbage masquerading as music, and it becomes an even greater annoyance given the show’s formula of always having a song before the opening credits.  This means we’re always bombarded with two back-to-back songs, one from the show, which then leads right into Newman’s staggeringly awful theme song attempt that, may I remind you lest you forget about the incompetence of the selection process behind major award shows, won a fucking Emmy.  Gimme a break.

The show finally steps up to deal with some real heavy-hitting issues here, and no I’m not being facetious: Right from the outset, we get Donnie Potts going to his captain with a newspaper clipping with the headline “LaRusso Partner to Testify”.  Next to that, Potts’ photo is “X”-ed out in red marker with the words “Die Nigger” scrawled underneath.  That’s some pretty hefty stuff for network television in the early ‘90s, so I kind of have to applaud it for that.  The captain assures Potts that they will guard his house around the clock to make sure nothing happens to him or his family, but things take a little racist turn when Potts points out the way he’s treated in the office, to which the captain responds: “Well that part we got to expect”, before telling him that he’s just “going to have to tough it out.”  I’m not going to hold the political-correctness against the show, though, simply because that may have been the mindset in the early ‘90s--hell, it's no doubt the same mindset even today.

This storyline comes to a head when two out of the three officers assigned to patrol Potts’ house leave to investigate a suspicious vehicle, and in that time whoever’s behind the threats has time to light a cross on fire on their lawn (the third officer is the one tasked with guarding the back, so he doesn't see the perpetrators).  Potts’ wife and kids come out on the lawn, followed up by all the other blacks in the neighborhood, as the wife sings “But It's Not Going to Happen Here”, a pretty effective song about racism that persists, but how they won’t let it get to them.  One of the better songs of the entire series so far, and one of the most powerful.

"BUT IT'S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN HERE"

To round out this section of the storyline, LaRusso hears about the threat to Potts and his family, and pays a visit to tell Potts that he’ll take care of anyone that threatens him.  Potts is not happy to hear this, though, (rightfully) claiming that LaRusso murdering Tyrone Powers is the thing that put a target on him in the first place.  LaRusso still sticks to his tough-guy shtick: when Potts asks him why in the world he would ever call him, LaRusso responds with, “Because you know I’m the only guy that will get things done,” before coolly walking off the way characters always do in movies when their words are supposed to stick with you.

Speaking of LaRusso, his storyline begins when he freely admits to his legal team that he killed Tyrone Powers without any cause whatsoever.  The only fallout from this, is that it turns on Trish Vaughn, the attorney that he’s banging, who comes onto him at a local bar, but who refuses to go home with him.  Something’s pretty fishy about this one, so we’ll see if she has some ulterior motives that will eventually come out in future episodes. (She does brutally turn down Officer Gaines, who asks her out, right before he loses his car in a 9-story parking garage and spends the whole time he’s looking singing a song about how nothing’s going right for him, which wins the prestigious “Most Pointless Scene of the Week” award).

Not dissuaded by his admittance in guilt, his legal team tries setting him up to be a hero, by staging an event that he would be in on, like stopping a robbery, or saving a child in a deep hole, that would get the public on his side.  He angrily turns down these options, but accepts an opportunity to speak to a gathering of bail bondsmen.  In a surprise, an all-girl band (named, and I am not kidding, “Brenda and the Bus Monsters”) opens for him, which I think was just a way for them to hit their five-song quota.  During his ensuing speech, he basically admits to murdering Tyrone Powers to the packed room, but their standing ovation clearly shows that he has their support.

"I'M OK" (complete w/ lyrics in description...they're kinda bad)

Meanwhile, the whole “love triangle” between Andy Campo, his partner Vicki Quinn, and her overweight, middle-aged husband (and forensic expert) Ralph Ruskin comes to a head.  You will remember that Quinn was shot while trying to diffuse a hostile situation at a bank, which Ralph blames Andy for allowing to happen.  Things don’t get any easier for him to take when he overhears Andy singing to her while she’s in the hospital, essentially about how much he loves her; not something that’s going to ease the mind of a jealous husband.

Well now is her first day back on the force after recovering from the injury, and Ralph is not happy about that.  So he does what any fellow cop would do, and follows them while they’re patrolling the streets on active duty.  When they stop at a hotel and enter a room, he panics, and as he goes to confront them, pulls out his gun before kicking the door in.  Of course, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess that they are merely on a call--one that apparently involves a dead man in a bra and women’s underwear (again, no joke), but a call nonetheless.  Furious, Quinn confronts him, to which he apologizes, while she assures him that she still loves him and that there’s nothing between her and Andy.  Ralph tells her that if she can look him in the eye and tell him that, he’ll believe her; she does, but he still accuses her of lying before storming off.  Well that’s not a good look there, Ralph.  Obviously, he’s doing more harm than good to the relationship, and will more than likely end up pushing her away.  I will say he does actually have something to worry about, because they do seem to be a little closer than just partners, but the show is probably allowing Ralph to ruin the relationship himself so that viewers can cheer Andy and Vicki finally getting together.

In the second bit of hard-hitting topics, Mayor Louise Plank is having a one-on-one meeting with her trusty assistant, Ray Rodbart.  Ray is turning in his resignation, because he has gotten word that a local reporter is going to write an article “outing” him as gay; Ray doesn’t want the potentially-negative publicity to affect his job, or Louise, and sees this as the only option.  Louise, however, won’t have any of it, claiming that she has his back and that they will go through whatever happens together.  This is one of the few scenes of the entire series that is genuinely strong, without any melodramatic overtones--it probably also helps that no song comes out of it.

Upset by the notion of this article, the Mayor arranges a meeting with Lyle Barry, the reporter breaking the story on Ray.  In a kind of surprising twist (at least to me), Lyle is gay himself, and so the article is not meant to be an attack on Ray, but rather an inspirational piece to show the gay community that there are plenty of other gay role models in the city.  Yet still, the fact that Ray doesn’t want to be “outed” is still a valid point of contention, and one that Louise uses to ask Lyle to leave him out of the story.  At first, Lyle is insistent on continuing with the article, at which point the Mayor reveals some dirty info she has on Mr. Barry: namely that his partner of eight years is an illegal immigrant with no green card.  Lyle accuses her of blackmail, to which she agrees that’s what it is, to which he stupidly retorts something along the lines of, “You have no right to dig up stuff about me,” leaving her wide open to declare that he also has no right to do the same to Ray.  This scene ratchets up the melodramatic quotient a little bit, but it’s still an effective scene, one that’s made even moreso when you realize that, in the early ‘90s when this show was released, gays weren’t nearly as accepted as they are now.  For the show to take a strong, pro-gay angle at that time was a pretty gutsy decision; the fact that the scenes are actually well done make them all the more effective.

I have to say that, while this episode still had its fair share of awful (the main culprits once again being, surprise!, the music), it’s been the closest thing we’ve seen yet to a step in the right direction.  The themes are getting meatier, by focusing on a couple that remain strong and relevant even today (racism and homophobia), and while the songs remain largely unnecessary and forgettable, the “Burning Cross” number is one of the best ones the show has produced.  Unlike most of the musical moments from the series, this one doesn’t seem to be forcing itself upon the viewer, instead letting the heavy message speak for itself.  Sure, the song doesn‘t really have much to say that you haven‘t heard before, but the minimalist music underneath is a smart decision, which allows the vocals and lyrics to take center stage, as they should.

To say that I’m looking forward to watching the next one is still a huge overstatement, but knowing that this show is actually capable of being even “average” is a small victory in and of itself.  Oh, and I have to admit that I have zero ideas what the title is a play-on-words for, so if anyone else might know, feel free to toss it out there and make me look stupid (hemophiliac comes to mind, but that's spelled very differently, and this episode has nothing to do with blood; searching "felliac" in Google comes up only with this episode title, so no help there, either).

EPISODE RATING: 5/10

FULL EPISODE