The Troublemaker

Flicker on the local level does the town, there are lots of New Yorks, this one is Nieuw Amsterdam overgrown with congealed rottenness, and requires a sufficient photographic apparatus to encompass it, as well as skill with a pen.

Bosley Crowther of the New York Times, “a troublesome film.”


The Lucky Letter
The Andy Griffith Show

A chain letter upsets Barney so frantically when he doesn’t send it on that he risks failing to qualify on the pistol range. Floyd sent it, got a dollar tip the first day. The other copy went to Goober.

Barney searches the city dump at night for the letter he has thrown away, despite the smell and the rats that would make good target practice for Andy, who has come looking for him. Andy hasn’t brought his pistol, however, and all they find is a foldout pinup magazine Barney subscribes to. “That girl should be ashamed,” Andy tells him, and, “what a month!”

Thelma Lou gives Barney inspiration at the target range, he hits the center every time.


One Hundred Terrible Hours
The Dick Van Dyke Show

How Rob Petrie landed his job on The Alan Brady Show fresh out of the Army and a radio stunt at WOFF in Danville, 100 hours in a department store window, broadcasting live and reading the news.


The President’s Analyst

An abounding satirical analysis of left-wing politics down to its ultimate basis in the regimentation of the Communist state.

It begins with political ignorance, “talking in your sleep”, finds an escape in suburban paranoia, slips away to grace and nature with a hippie rock band, comes under the purview of the Canadian Secret Service and then the Russian, which is psychoanalyzed.

The Phone Company is the final metaphor, numbers for names, a prenatal Cerebrum Communicator injected by law.

This must be shaken off, and the final image is of TPC robots watching a screen that rather resembles a Christmas card from “your White House”.


Hell’s Bells
Night Gallery

A hippie in hell finds it’s somebody else’s idea of heaven. A nice mod apartment, “You’re a Sweetheart” on the turntable, Grant Wood’s farmer, tourists back from Tijuana showing their slides.

A “Fat Lady” in the waiting room explains about the recent rush of entrants and complains of littering.

The hippie arrives after missing a detour and plunging over a cliff at night to a fiery end. Demons greet him initially with cries of “Blasphemer! Liar! Cheat! Hypocrite! Thief! Idolater!”

He imagines his fate in the waiting room as engravings of the Inferno, “that’s a trip!” The devil appears at his bored insistence, “that’s far out!”

The hippie lies on his side, covering his ears and pounding the floor, “bummer!”