Reviews

Being a youth in Boston in the early 70's, I watched a lot of Jabberwocky. From the acid-induced, animated opening sequence to the "surprise box" finale, the show cleverly held children's attention while teaching common precepts and scientific phenomena. The lean cast consisted of Tucker Smallwood and JoBeth Williams and the puppet, Dirty Frank--puppeteer-ed by Peter Johnson who also made a few appearances. Smallwood and Williams would alternate episodes with Carl Thoma and Trina Sopko. Just once I was hoping that the two pairs would appear together on a single episode! Bob Prosky also lent his talent as the jack-of-all-trades, Mr. Buchanan. I often wonder whatever became of Carl Thoma. Unlike Tucker Smallwood, Thoma essentially faded immediately following Jabberwocky.

There is something that sets Night Gallery apart from all other sci-fi/thriller TV shows. An ethereal element of mystique lurks within every episode that provides for unique entertainment. Narrated by Rod Serling, Night Gallery explores the supernatural from the context of an abstract painting--a different painting each episode. When narrating his previous series, The Twilight Zone, Serling generally manifested an air of superiority to the plot--like he had it in the palm of his hand and could control it. In Night Gallery, however, he relinquishes such control and becomes more a PART of the madness; as if the gallery is controlling HIM (it is also refreshing to finally view him in color). Night Gallery episodes are NOT concluded with a Serling anecdotal summary; instead, a shocking punch is usually delivered that the viewer is left to unravel without assistance.

The directing and editing are top notch. Scenes cascade in a swift and somewhat ambiguous fashion, and camera tricks are cleverly exploited to hold our attention--proving that today's computer graphics are not essential to exact viewer interest. Simple story lines are translated into convoluted journeys of intrigue with music and sound effects akin only to The Exorcist.

Some memorable episodes include Sally Field playing a woman with multiple personalities (this was before she played Cybil, mind you); an ostracized young girl who befriends a seaweed monster; a diner jukebox that hauntingly plays only one song; a man who has an earwig planted in his ear that creeps through his brain (and lays eggs!); and a young Clint Howard (Ron's kid brother) playing a child prodigy who foresees mankind's treacherous fate.

Of course, there are those little, campy vignettes thrown in for fun, most of which are mildly amusing. Overall, this is an exhibit you will not want to bypass!

This was simply awful. Jerry Mathers is a chumpy twit as the "grown" Beaver who still wears his goofy baseball cap and windbreaker coat despite being well into his 30's. He trudges home glumly to his mommy after losing his job and wife, and the cute Beaver we all remember is brought back to life. He hasn't changed a bit--all the dopey mannerisms are still in effect, and big brother Wally still has the upper hand in intelligence, strength, and female magnetism. Director Steven Stern seems to have forgotten that in the final seasons of the old Leave it to Beaver series, Beaver had grown up quite a bit and was well past the bumbling twirp we recall from the early days. I was looking forward to seeing the adult Beaver in some adult situations with some casual references to the past. Instead, the producers try to cash-in by heaping on the corny treacle with all the characters being much older yet none wiser.