The Extra Special Guest Star

 Something occurred to me while watching the first and second seasons of Columbo. In multi-part film and television stories--basically all film and television stories save anthology series and stand-alone films without sequels--producers will often cast a stable of actors multiple times as different characters within those stories. 

In the James Bond films, for example, multiple actors have played characters such as M, Q, Moneypenny,  Bill Tanner, Felix Leiter, Blofeld--and even Bond himself. 

Roger Moore's Bond worked for two Ms, but neither he nor Moneypenny remarked upon their boss' change in appearance. Nor did Bernard Lee's M remark on Bond's change in appearance from On Her Majesty's Secret Service to Diamonds Are Forever to Live and Let Die. 

This is, of course, because characters are played by different actors in different productions all the time. We, the audience, don't remark on it, so why would the characters? 

Consider the inverted case: a guest actor appears several times during a television series, playing different roles. On Star Trek, for example, Diana Muldaur played Doctor Ann Mulhall in "Return to Tomorrow" and Doctor Miranda Jones in "Is There in Truth No Beauty?" Years later, she played Doctor Katherine Pulaski throughout the second season of Star Trek: The Next Generation. No character on either show confused Muldaur for any of the other characters she played within the same continuity. 

Of course. Same actress, different characters; in the shared universe of Star Trek, they're simply three distinct people who happen to look alike (to the eyes of the audience, at least). 

Forgive this rambling preamble; I'm aware that anyone who watches television or movies is well aware of the phenomena I've just described. 

But wouldn't it be fun if a creative team took advantage of our familiarity with the common practice of actors reappearing as different characters?  

Imagine, for example, Doctor Pulaski at the end of season two of Star Trek: The Next Generation. What if the good doctor had actually been Doctor Ann Mulhall the entire time, having faked her own death at some point between the 23rd and 24th centuries and given herself a new identity as Pulaski? Furthermore, what if, during the events of "Return to Tomorrow," Thalassa actually retained control of Mulhall's body and simply pretended to be her from that point forward? 

Imagine a two-part second season finale for TNG. In part one, Troi, working on a project with Pulaski more closely than usual, senses something off about the doctor. Furthermore, the doctor seems troubled by her conscience, and remarks on how old she feels--even though by 24th century standards she's in robust, middle-aged health. At the end of part one, during the course of a solo scientific mission in a shuttlecraft, she changes course and appears to be preparing to fly straight into a star. 

Part two opens as the TNG crew prevents Pulaski's suicide. Troi tries to counsel her, and naturally Riker, Picard, Data, and the others are concerned and reach out in different ways, trying to figure out what's gone wrong in Pulaski's life. 

The audience should be wondering too, because to us, she's Pulaski. By season's end, most viewers will have long forgotten that they remember Diana Muldaur from the original series. In fact, I'd wager 99% of viewers would be just as confused by Pulaski's actions and demeanor as the show's heroes. 

Finally, Pulaski lets slip a cryptic phrase, quoting some of her own words from "Return to Tomorrow:" "I told him oblivion together didn't frighten me. I lied." 

Then, a beat later, just before she successfully kills herself: "I'm not frightened anymore. Forgive me, Ann." 

For fans just familiar enough with Star Trek lore, the puzzle pieces should snap into place with what I hope would be dramatic impact. 

Our main characters are traumatized by all this--suicide being incredibly uncommon in the utopian world of the 24th century. In the episode's denoument, Troi and Data uncover Pulaski's past, reporting their findings to Captain Picard, who has to decide what to make of all this. The story of Mulhall/Thalassa/Pulaski is a triple-pronged tragedy of Shakespearean proportions, and a dark finale for the show's sophomore season. 

At the very least, I think this would have been better than "Shades of Grey." Plus, it would have given Doctor Beverly Crusher a powerful in-story reason to return--to be there for Picard and her other friends in the wake of such traumatic events. 

St. Elseworld

Someone set him up the bomb.

 "Family Feud" is the 15th episode of the fourth season of St. Elsewhere. It's also the episode that finally convinced me the writers are having fun with their audience and the television format, and that the famous twist at the series' end really doesn't come out of left field. 

The episode begins with Doctor Robert Caldwell (Mark Harmon) returning from vacation. He's met at St. Eligius by Doctor Elliot Axelrod (Stephen Furst), who briefs him about the goings-on at the hospital in Caldwell's absence:

• The gift shop was blown up--the second explosion on the show in two days, and Doctor Philip Chandler (Denzel Washington) was injured in both explosions
• Doctor Jack "Boomer" Morrison slipped on vomit and badly injured his knee
• The John Doe with amnesia regained his memory

And those are just some of the highlights. In the episode before this one, there's a cute exchange referencing Doctor Chandler's misfortune:

"Pretty rare for someone to be injured by two separate explosions in two days!"
"It's pretty rare for someone to be present at two separate explosions in two days." 

Later, the crutch-dependent Doctor Morrison meets his ex-girlfriend, Clancy Williams (Helen Hunt) at the hospital; she's been helping take care of Boomer's son while he recuperates from his injury. In a private moment, Doctor Morrison admits to Clancy, 

"I can't stop thinking about you...dreaming about being together..." 

Clancy rebuffs him. But later, Doctor Wayne Fiscus (Howie Mandel) uses the exact same language in an effort to get back together with his ex-fiance, Mona Polito (Leah Ayres). And then, a couple of scene later, Clancy says the same thing to Wayne! 

While all this is going on, Doctor Caldwell learns that he has AIDS, thanks to a blood test taken as a precursor to scar removal surgery. A few episodes prior, the handsome Doctor Caldwell was slashed in the face by a disturbed young woman he'd picked up on that selfsame vacation. It's not directly stated, but given Caldwell's comments..."Maybe I deserve this..." in reference to his habitual sleeping around, I feel like we, the audience, are meant to imagine that the knife used in the slashing was perhaps contaminated with infected blood, perhaps from the woman who assaulted him. Or maybe not, but it feels like a bit of dramatic irony the writers enjoy--the handsome plastic surgeon not only scarred by a scalpel, but doomed by it. 

Meanwhile, several members of an influential family, the Endicotts, clearly modelled after the Rockefellers or the Kennedys are at the hospital visiting their matriarch, the kindly grandmother undergoing open heart surgery to extend their life. The family is burdened with their fame and fortune and the responsibilities that come with it, three generations at odds with each other. 

Doctor Axelrod, not at all a part of these proceedings, is tending to a strange, angry patient who reacts violently to Axelrod's tests. At one point, the patient growls "You ever wonder why it's always you?" He delivers the line with eerie precision, looking straight into Axelrod's eyes, as if knowing that Axelrod is well-known for saying "Why me?" when he gets saddled with the worst cases. 

A few minutes later, Wayne's ex-fiancee Mona runs into Doctor Morrison in the hallway and confesses that she's long had a crush on him . . . and she says . . . 

"I can't stop thinking about you . . . dreaming about being together." 

At this point I thought I must have been hallucinating, but I went reviewed each scene, and yes, the phrase really is used four times by four different characters--each infatuated by the other's ex-partner. It's farcical, the kind of thing that could only happen in an invented world. 

It all comes to a head during the temporal intersection of three events: Doctor Craig is performing the heart operation on the Endicott patriarch, the Endicott father and son/grandson are praying together for their mother/grandmother's health while discussing their political destinies, and off-duty doctors are celebrating Doctor Morrison's birthday.

The operation ends not with tragedy, but a near-miss; the matriarch almost dies, but she pulls through. Wayne and Boomer mutually agree to pursue their exes with no hard feelings. But the women suddenly find that they're once again attracted to the men they broke up with. 

And in the chapel, the deranged man that was being treated by the luckless Doctor Axelrod walks in and assassinates the matriarch's son, the man who had been destined as the next major presidential candidate. A harrowing action sequence follows, and of course poor traumatized Axelrod and recently-bombed Chandler are the doctors who try and fail to save him. 

"Family Feud" is the best example yet of the show's creators winking at the audience that this is more than a straight hospital drama; it's an exploration of the soap opera genre, seeing to what heights of absurdity they can reach while still retaining the facade of a reasonably grounded work of art. 

Naturally, this is my favourite episode so far. It makes me feel like the world of St. Elsewhere is a close neighbour to the world of Twin Peaks. 

Studio Notes on Spider-Man: Home for the Holidays

FROM: Earl J. Woods
TO: Jeff Shyluk, Executive Producer, Paranoid Productions
RE: SPIDER-MAN 4--Studio Notes

Jeff, 

As always, your notes are spot-on, especially given the reasonable skepticism we're facing from Disney, Sony, and the fans given our position as new kid in town with the IP. Getting them was a coup, but making a good movie is the only way the gamble is going to pay off. 

Totally understand your concerns about Gwen's agency, the overall weakness of the third act, and tropes we've seen before; we absolutely do not want to do MJ over again, or Raimi's work. Your observation regarding Spider-Man's effect on his world vs. Rick Deckard's is spot on. 

I agree that the relationship between Peter and the Stacy's is the core of the film, and we'll build on that core in future treatments. 

It might be more realistic for Peter to get hauled in for suspicion regarding the Christmas Eve car bomb, but I'm resistant--I feel like Captain Stacy really wants to be in Peter's corner despite his suspicions. On the other hand, if Stacy stops his detectives from questioning Peter, he's undermining his authority. 

Damn. Don't see that I have a choice. Peter's going to have to face some tough questions from our John Munch figure. (Maybe played by Bruce Campbell?) 

Might not make sense for Kingpin to car bomb Stacy, you're right. Could be a mook with too much initiative (not Bullseye, someone lower level - maybe a comic-relief type character we introduce into Kingpin's organization earlier in the film). 

Your final suggestion could save the third act. I'm going to scrap the idea of Bullseye kidnapping her. Her being an unwitting pawn of the Kingpin is far more organic. She'll still play a key roll in our Die Hard-esque showdown, but instead of playing the damsel in distress, she'll be in a (very dangerous) position to help Spider-Man--working behind the scenes to sabotage the Kingpin's men while trying not to give herself away. 

Captain Stacy and the NYPD will have an important role to play in the third act, too--they won't be standing idly by. In the comics and some of the films, the people of NYC helping Spider-Man save the day is a key theme--the community is just as important (more important!) than the singular hero. 

Kind of surprised Disney hasn't suggested any cameos--I was sure they'd want Daredevil involved somehow. Gotta have that corporate synergy. Hell, I'll put him in the post-credit scene as a hedge. 

I'll send another treatment in a few days. 

Excelsior! 

The Artist

I painted an artist! Probably a better artist than me. As if I could claim that title. But still, down with metanarrative! 

The O'Neal Connection

WARNING: SPOILERS for LOVE STORY and WHAT'S UP, DOC? 

Late last year, as part of my ongoing quest to see every Motion Picture Academy Best Picture nominee, I screened Arthur Hiller's Love Story (1970), starring Ryan O'Neal and Ali MacGraw as the two young lovers in question.

Love Story, sad to say, is not a great film; it's certainly one of the weakest Best Picture nominees. The story itself is trite and the dialogue overwrought; the cinematography and direction is workmanlike. These days, the movie is probably most remembered for its infamous tagline, "Love means never having to say you're sorry," delivered to O'Neal by MacGraw's tragically doomed character during the tearful final act.

Enough said about Love Story. Last week, I watched the far better What's Up, Doc?, Peter Bogdanovich's 1973 take on 1930s romantic slapstick. That movie is great fun, and stars O'Neal as a nerdy scientist pursued by an amorous Barbara Streisand. There's a mixup involving secret documents, diamonds, rocks, and lingerie, each stored in one of four identical suitcases. Hijinks ensue, including a really terrific chase sequence in the third act.

Most satisfying for me, though, was getting to enjoy what must have been a beautiful treat for in-the-know moviegoers of the early 1970s: At the film's conclusion, when O'Neal and Streisand's characters finally hook up and all the romantic tension is happily resolved, O'Neal's character apologizes to his new girlfriend.

"Don't worry about it," Streisand replies. "Don't you know that love means never having to say you're sorry?"

O'Neal, with perfect delivery, sneers and says "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard." The end.

It's a silly little in-joke, yes, but it must have earned some great laughs back in the day. It certainly got one from me, nearly fifty years later.