"The Deadly Quest Affair" (ep. 4/8)

When, a year or so back, Diana of RaspberryWorld asked the members of Channel_D for our recommendations for episodes to show a first-time viewer, this was my pick for Season Four.  The first episode filmed this year, "Deadly Quest" (the sixth and last episode to use that adjective) has even more of the feel of Season One than does "Thrush Roulette" -- partly due to the use of that year's music, as Bill Koenig has noted.  For danger, suspense, and Solo smarts, this is a true winner.

Again we find a hospital to be a slightly less than safe haven, as Illya is kidnapped by Viktor Karmak's thugs.  Somebody at Arena must have had a bad experience during his tonsillectomy or prostate exam.

The shadowy former theatre contrasts sharply with the brightly-lit gas chamber where Illya is held; and the nighttime setting, the croaking mynah bird, and those scenes actually filmed at night set up the atmosphere beautifully.  We also see Solo's wits at work: a chisel for a weapon, using the backhoe to clear the electric fence, and the current of the bulb wire to blast a hole in the ice house wall.  Whether that last would really work, I don't know, but it's part of the essence of U.N.C.L.E., like his shaving can bomb in "Iowa Scuba."

Yes, this one separates Solo and Illya very early, so that they have only two scenes together; and Illya is not given much to do -- though his attempt to manipulate the glass to cut through his leather wrist bonds is edge-of-the-seat stuff.  Unfortunately, the imprisonment of Illya is the linchpin of the plot.  The captive must be someone Solo, and we, care about.

No, I don't suppose that even in 1967 so big an area of Manhattan would be condemned all at once.  If they had set it in one of the other boroughs, it might have been more plausible.  On the other hand, the first map slide in Waverly's office is correct in showing a simplified version of the streets around the Manhattan Bridge.

Marlyn Mason is lovely.  Did we need her character, though?  Well, we needed an Innocent, someone for Solo to converse with during the ordeal.  Why not someone attractive?  Plus she adds a little lightness to a heavy story, and her emeralds come in handy during Act IV.

Darren McGavin's Karmak is an over-the-top villain, true -- something about his boots, his stance, and his leopard reminds me, paradoxically, of the comic-book hero the Phantom.  But he's a powerful and threatening presence.  While you wouldn't call him noble by any means, he faces death in his own gas chamber on his feet and without begging or whimpering.   (He's also one of the worst shots ever.  He misses Solo across the width of an alley while using a telescopic sight?  Or was he just playing with his quarry?)

I guess Karmak always intended to have Stefan pretend to betray him to Solo, to lead the agent to the ice house trap, and then dispose of Stefan afterward.  Illya plants the seed of "A reward?" in Stefan's mind, and so he demands money from Solo (which he planned to conceal from Karmak) in the process of playing out Karmak's game.

Thompson has Solo say that "felinophobia" is "fear of cats."  Isn't it "ailurophobia"?   Similarly, his villain, Brach, uses "intractable" for "tractable" in "Green Opal." 

Solo's darn lucky that Ying the leopard didn't disembowel him with its back claws while they were wrestling.  And I don't think the big cat's fangs would have broken Solo's arm, as the tag scene implies; his arm would have been lacerated, and he'd probably need reconstructive surgery and physical rehab, too.

Verdict: For atmosphere, setting, and tension, as an old enemy hunts Solo through a dark urban landscape and time ticks away for a captured Illya, the halfway point of the final year is superb adventure.

Memorable Lines:
Solo (to Illya in his hospital bed):  “. . . You have time for meditation!  Fruit of the vine; flowers of the field; exquisite view --”
Illya (looking around at the sterile room):  “What exquisite view?”
Solo (as an attractive nurse comes in):  “That exquisite view.”

Solo (to Waverly):  “What was left of Karmak was staked out in a jungle clearing for the scavenger ants.  With scavenger ants, death is never slow . . . but it’s always certain.”

Solo (to Sheila):  “Come on now, jump.  You said you did some skydiving, didn’t you?”
Sheila:  “Well, not exactly.  I started to.  I even went so far as to get a silver lame jumpsuit.  But when I actually looked down out of the plane . . . acrophobia!”

"The Deadly Smorgasbord Affair" (ep. 3/18)

Hola!  Wow!

Pardon the outburst, but . . . at last a story worthy of U.N.C.L.E.!  (At least for Solo fans.)  Except for Illya's absence, it has most of the elements that made the series cook: a larger-than-life threat and villains, humor that (except for teaser and tag) doesn't get out of hand, a threat to a Command headquarters, and a smart hero who leads said villains a merry chase.

We open with Solo in his cold-weather car coat, which I want, from "Monks of St. Thomas."  He's met by the kittenish and deadly Inga, played by Pamela Curran from "Do-It-Yourself Dreadful," whom I also want (or a reasonable facsimile thereof).  Our man swiftly proves he deserves to be Chief Enforcement Agent; from the start he's not taken in by her beauty and sexual magnetism.

Nice touch, that they use the then-current Volvo, the 120 series or "Amazon," in at least two Stockholm scenes.

I don't know much about Swedish accents, but Lynn Loring's sounds exotic enough, and has the Scandinavian lilt.

The Suspended Animation Device, or SAD, is a neat SF concept, though it would have made more sense to have Dr. Nillson be a physicist, instead of an electronics prof.  At this same time SF writer Larry Niven was writing his early Known Space stories of stasis fields, within which no time passes, and which appear as perfect spherical mirrors.  If only Ingster & Co. had had the budget to have a shimmering field appear around each suspended target!

In the teaser, we see that the device can affect more than one person at a time; yet it's not an all-encompassing field, since Beckman's men walk into and out of it.  Nor does it affect only living tissue, despite what Waverly says in Act I, as it suspends the dance music too.  But what of energy?  Could it suspend a fire, or an atomic blast?

I'm also positive that Rex Stout's orchid-fancying detective, Nero Wolfe, inspired villain Heinrich Beckman.  Why else make him a flower aficionado?  (The actor even looked like Stout!)

Good points: at 26:00, one of the great defining Solo Moments, when Beckman "fires" the SAD and
gets only a stuffed snake, and Solo holds up his hands with a "For my next trick . . ." smile.  Plus we get background in that Solo has encountered, and trounced, Beckman before, a la Batman and the Joker; his proactive switcheroos with the device; one of the best act-ending hooks ever, as our suspended hero is dumped into near-freezing waters; and the plot point that the airline clerk is a fellow Command agent.

It seems odd that Solo is willing to leave the rescue of Dr. Nillson to the Oslo office.  How does Inga know that Waverly will be in the Oslo offices?  Solo wouldn't have told her!  And when the bathrobe-clad Solo edges out to deal with Beckman and the Thrushes, you'd think the first thing he'd do is grab the Special from the frozen agent outside the door.

Good gags et al: Many others have noted the bit about Dr. A.C. Nillson's name.  I'll just mention the scene in which Inga and Solo are nuzzling each other on the bed in his hotel room -- the cagelike golden bedstead echoing the scene in "Thunderball" when Bond seduces Fiona Volpe; and the mental image of Illya "breaking blubber" (well, you knew he couldn't simply be on vacation, right?).

Verdict: While no classic like "Never-Never" or "Minus-X," "Smorgasbord" is a highlight in an otherwise dreary/frothy/lightweight string of third-year episodes -- and a showcase for the talents of Robert Vaughn.

Memorable lines:
Solo: "By the way, where is Mr. Kuryakin?"
Waverly: "Mr. Kuryakin is busy masquerading as a notorious Siberian Eskimo, breaking blubber with a group of Thrush walrus hunters."
Solo (dryly): "He has all the fun missions."

Inga: "You do build a very good martini."
Solo: "It's part of U.N.C.L.E. training; it comes between cryptography and karate."
Inga (shifting about to bring her best assets to the fore): "Tell me, does your training include women?"
Solo: "It's under 'Field Experience.'"

"The Deadly Goddess Affair" (ep. 2/17)

The show appears to be edging toward "Batman" territory, but isn't there yet.  This, Robert Hill's third script for the series, is a pleasant little spy-vs.-spy diversion with a delicious scene-chewer of a villain and his knife-wielding second, and some cool byplay between our heroes.

We open in a nightclub "somewhere in North Africa," as Solo, clad in a lightweight summer suit, plants a bug on a Thrush courier so that he (and Waverly and Illya, back home in New York) can listen in on Col. Hubris's plans.  It appears to be dusk in New York -- in January, that's about five p.m. -- so it's probably anywhere between ten p.m. and midnight for Solo, depending where they are (see below).  Check.

Victor Buono's Colonel Hubris truly fills up the screen (and I don't mean just thanks to avoirdupois, either).  Watch his baby blues sparkle madly behind his pince-nez; his roars of laughter as he fires his gun at his captives; and his towering rages.  Joe Sirola's Malik is madder still.  His Mephisto visage and his delight in wielding his knife, whether on an orange or a human captive, are scary.

What exactly are the plans that Hubris is waiting for?  All we're ever told is that it will conquer Africa for Thrush, and, as Solo says, they involve a great evil.  Deuced unfair to the audience when you don't even describe the McGuffin, eh, what?  Also, Hubris says the pouch contains ten million dollars, yet the Count finds lire notes in it.  Would Thrush have sent lire to Hubris?

From the name Circe you'd expect this island to be near Greece; but the natives use Italian forms of address, and we see many hints of Roman presence.  Illya also implies that Taormina, in Sicily, is the nearest large town.  Perhaps a little shard of land in the Strait of Messina?  This suggests that Col. Hubris's "home in the country" is somewhere in northern Libya.

Bill K. has mentioned that Daniel J. Travanty (as he spelled his name, years before "Hill Street Blues") wouldn't be proud of his over-the-top acting on this one, and I agree . . . but it's sort of fun to watch him channel Jimmy Cagney when he bares his strong teeth in a grin.

The charm in this one lies first with Hubris, a larger-than-life (and again I don't mean how he tips the scales) villain who is also smart.  He strings Solo, Mia, Angela, and their father up in the well to get

the Count to talk, but in a departure from cliché, doesn't give them a chance to escape by leaving them alone.  (Besides, he's having too much fun taunting them.)  If only Hubris had returned in another story!

The second element to treasure: Solo and Illya's squirming at the prospect of being forced to marry Angela, followed by (when she chooses Solo) Illya's unconcealed glee at his partner's predicament. It would have been easy to go for the cheap laugh, to draw Angela as a shrew or a pig; but she's sweet and lovely, and only the lack of a dowry has kept her unmarried. This story is the first of several which find Solo involved in a shotgun -- or, in this case, Luger -- wedding.

So the deadly goddess of the title is Fortune/Lady Luck, as Hubris hints?  I almost missed it.  A better title would have been "The Hubris Affair."

Verdict: No classic, but kind of fun, with some real danger from fairly competent villains.

Memorable lines:
Col. Hubris (to the dead Hamid): "Goodbye, traitor.  Enjoy the journey.  They say getting there is half the fun."

Illya (inspecting the Latin graffiti on the rock): "It seems that even the Romans were defeated by their own grammar."

Illya: "'Baudoin loves Berengaria.'  But that must date from the Crusades.  I never thought those boys got this far south."
Solo: "As any girl can testify, boys get everywhere."

Mia: "You do believe in marriage?"
Solo: "In moderation."

Illya (delighted that Angela plumped for Solo as a husband and father): "I must admit that next to Mr. Napoleon Solo, I am a reckless flibbertigibbet."
(Where did Illya pick up that word, I wonder?)

Hubris: "Why didn't you bring me the corpse [of Illya]?"
Malik: "Effendi, what good is a dead man?  You have plenty of those at home.  And if you haven't, I can always make one; it's no trouble."

"The Deadly Toys Affair" (ep. 2/9)

My notes from the CBN days (sure, I took notes. Didn't you?) sum this one up as "a deft script with some surprises."  I might not say "deft" today, but "Toys" does give us possibly the most colorful innocent ever, while losing points for a thin plot and one of the series' least memorable villains.

Startling to see Waverly chastising Warshowsky in full schoolmaster mode in the teaser.  (I shudder to think what he did with those agents who let Dr. W. slip away!)  And Bill Koenig is right; Solo and Illya's raid on Thrush's hypnotic gas plant, is exciting.  But this long sequence should have come at the climax of this story instead of the start!  Perhaps if the boy, Bartlett, has been holding a piece of the puzzle as to the existence of another plant which is really manufacturing the gas.  Once they rescue him, Solo and Illya find they must destroy the real plant. . . .

The rest of the story, unfortunately, is nowhere as strong as the teaser.  Angela Lansbury lights up the screen, and outshines everybody else, with her Zsa Zsa Gabor-like "schnookieputz" Elfie van Donck. The image she evokes, of Elfie floating down by parachute, with a cluster of aardvarks surrounding her like a host of heavenly angels, will haunt your dreams.  I'm warning you.

Is that really a Russian newspaper Solo is holding on the plane?  And I must say, you haven't lived until you've seen U.N.C.L.E.'s Chief Enforcement Agent, the man who defeated Andrew Vulcan, Captain Shark, and the deadly Brother Love, wearing a Groucho Marx eyeglasses-and-nose.

In contrast, I love Solo's measured delivery when he stares directly at Noubar the Generic Continental: "There's the yellow-bellied . . . Thrush."  He's not giving himself away to Noubar by doing this; since Noubar's men attacked him at the airport, he knows his cover is blown.  As regards covers, I don't see why he and Illya don't simply lay things out for Elfie and enlist her aid as they have other Innocents.  Instead they keep her in the dark almost to the end.

It's never clear how Elfie and Joanna Lydecker know each other, or even who this lady who wears breakfast diamonds is.  Is she another film star?  A jet-setter?  How and why does Illya attach himself to her (instead of Elfie)?  She's a diversion that doesn't go anywhere.  Better had she been a Thrush.  And though we are told endless times how brilliant Jay North's Bartlett is, we never see any evidence of it, other than his steely and very adult determination to destroy Thrush for killing his father.

Speaking of which, why does Dr. W. give U.N.C.L.E. the slip after requesting their help?  If he's even half smart, he'd know, once the gas plant was destroyed, that Thrush would know he squealed.  Instead he walks right into the school he wants the Command to rescue his son from.  We needed a scene in which for some reason he loses confidence in Waverly and his men, and decides to run for it, to try and rescue his son himself.

Again Illya is not given a lot to do, aside from look mysteriously foreign as Joanna's hairdresser.  He does demonstrate his gymnastic ability ("You're a professional cat burglar!") in his clever escape from the meat locker.

Verdict: With a raft of clever lines (mostly Elfie's), a template for what should have been the rare lightweight episode as a break from more serious stories.

Memorable lines:
Joanna: "The parts of speech have always bewildered me.  Can you tell me the difference between 'who' and 'whom,' and 'me' and 'I'?"
Solo: "Why don't you sit here . . . and I'll start by pointing out the difference between 'his' and 'hers.'"

Joanna (to Elfie): "You've gone blonde!"
Elfie: "Oh, is tragic accident.  The yak butter shampoo, it backfired."

Elfie: "You still have that traveling hairdresser . . .?  Rachmaninoff?"
Joanna: "Oh, Rocky went into the catering business."
Elfie (nods): "Too many egg shampoo, hein?  It was bound to end up in an omelet."

Joanna: "My own hairdresser, secretary, companion.  A sweet-looking man named Illya."
Bellhop: "He's all those things?  Formidable!"

Solo (to Bartlett): "Thrush is one of the worst conspiracies of modern times."
Elfie: "Thrush?  Thrush, what is this little bird?  Beep, beep?"
Solo: "No, no, no.  It's an omnivorous vulture that's going to gobble up the brain of your nephew here."

Elfie: "But you told me [Illya] was the criminal type!"
Solo: "Yes, and if we don't rescue him immediately he'll probably wind up the defunct type!"

"The Deadly Decoy Affair" (ep. 1/15)

What a contrast to the seriousness of "Terbuf" or "Dove"!  This, Albert Aley's first aired script for the series (his "Love" had been produced earlier) and the 19th filmed, features Vaughn's special "Let's step out from behind the glass and talk to the audience" intro for the benefit of new viewers.  Like the original "Or is it ordinary?" intro, I hate it.  Something about Vaughn's narrowed eyes, as if he's making fun of the material, and the repetition of "nasty" sets my teeth on edge.  Once we're past that, though, the episode is a delight, full of tricks, clever dialogue, and colorful scenes.

The Chevy that Solo drives is the latest model, a '65, in contrast to the black '64 we saw earlier. This scene features a garage gunfight and Illya's shouted request, "Clip!"  The neatest touch here is that Illya's round, clearly a sleep dart, glances off the Thrush car's windshield and leaves a spray of powder.  And Solo's "We haven't even punched in yet" sets the appropriate light tone -- once the danger is over.

Ralph Taeger later played the lead in "Hondo," a 1967 series based on the John Wayne Western (and excellent Louis L'Amour novel). His Stryker/Westcott is a vivid character, and the friction between him and Solo is fun to watch. Also, Waverly the spymaster shines here, keeping his strategy secret not only from Thrush but from his own men. (Personally I'd be darned annoyed if I found out my boss had kept crucial information from me that could get me killed, but I'm funny that way.)

Whatever the CIA has to interrogate Stryker about, it's clearly dangerous to Thrush. I'd expect the CIA would think of U.N.C.L.E. as the experts on the supra-nation. Maybe the Hierarchy had a finger or three in some Langley pies? Or Director John McCone had a score to settle with Mr. Frame?

Frame the blind mastermind, as played by Berry Kroeger, is an intriguing (if slightly comic book-ish) villain. For those of you who remember "Sky King," doesn't Frame's twin-engine plane remind you of the Songbird?

At the door of Del Floria's, what does Solo mean by his gestures when he tells Stryker, "Be a good boy, please"? Is he reminding Stryker that he, Solo, is armed, and won't hesitate to flick that gun out and use it if Stryker gets out of line?

Illya tells Madame Fleur that he is "Kuryakin of Paris" (shades of the "Return" movie!) and shmoozes her in French. In the dressing room, he acts like a hunting dog, ranging up to the window, then back to Solo, urging him to hurry, pointing out problems. And on the train, he's relentless as he corners the Thrush woman. ("I'll call the conductor!" "Yes, why don't you?")

I'll leave it to others to discuss the "Amish" (or "Pennsylvania Dutch"?) couple. Their lack of a telephone complicates things nicely for Solo.  But what happened to his communicator?  We heard no line from Waverly instructing him to keep radio silence, did we?

The only crack in Westcott's performance as Stryker comes when he and Fran are in the bedroom at the farmhouse. His assignment from Waverly would be to stay with Solo and Illya, making convincing but ineffectual attempts at escape. He'd only want to get away if there was no other way to keep Thrush believing he was the real Stryker.  If he did get picked up by Thrush, as soon as Frame learned that Waverly had delivered the real Stryker to the CIA, Westcott's life wouldn't have been worth a used sleep dart!  Now you could say he was pretending to escape for Solo's benefit, but the blind was down; how could he know that Solo was waiting outside to head him off? Or maybe he was performing for Fran in case she was a Thrush plant? (It would have been so cool if we'd had a scene in which the guys discuss that possibility, and dismiss it. "No, it's not likely. How would Thrush know in advance we would go into Madame Fleur's?")

Apparently Solo and Illya were to deliver Stryker to the hospital all along.  But -- how did Frame know, and know which hospital to staff with his fake doctor?  This, and the fake's knowledge of the "second cousin" pass phrase, suggests that Frame "turned" somebody in U.N.C.L.E.  Solo's first job after this: find and plug that security leak!

Also, Solo says Stryker told him Thrush had the destination "covered."  Now Waverly would never have told the real Stryker about the hospital rendezvous, in case Stryker managed to slip word out to Thrush.  But he might have told Westcott.  So when their prisoner admitted he knew about the hospital, it should have tipped Solo or Illya that he was not the real Stryker.

Peculiarly, here -- and later, in "Brain-Killer" -- a hospital is presented as a spooky, dangerous place, not a source of healing but a den of vicious snakes, ensnaring our heroes not only with Thrush dangers but with hospital bureaucracy. (And this was before HMOs and soaring costs reared their serpentine heads!)

Verdict: A wonderful spy tale, and a good episode to show a potential new fan.

Great Lines:
Stryker (sneering at Solo's inexpensive lighter): "You really should pay your help better, Waverly."

Solo (to Waverly, about transporting Stryker): "Must we deliver him in perfect condition?"

Frame (with relish): "I think Mr. Waverly has made one of his rare mistakes."

Solo (after female squeals alert him that the door he's checking leads to the ladies' changing room): "Dead end --!"
Illya (checking another possible exit): "It's just as lethal this way."

"The Deadly Games Affair" (ep. 1/5)

I saw this clever, tricky episode (the 8th filmed) in its spring '65 rerun, and all I could recall for years was something about Solo coming down a ramp by a warehouse, a woman in a Corvette, and Solo strapped to an operating table while somebody tried to revive Adolf H.  I know, the payoff seems rather ancient-chapeau to us now, but in '64 it might have been the first TV use of the Der Fuehrer Is Not Dead/Has Been Preserved plot. (There was a 1963 movie, later titled "They Saved Hitler's Brain," that might have inspired writer Dick Nelson.)

"Ah, Angelique . . ." Janine Gray's performance is mannered; she has the crookedest smile and oddest diction I've ever witnessed; but somehow the whole package works. I love the scene where she plays Chuck, telling him she's an "agent for a worldwide organization" of law and order, then asks innocently, "Have you ever heard of U.N.C.L.E.?" Note that she doesn't say she's with U.N.C.L.E.; she merely allows him to infer it. (I find it unlikely, though, that somebody who handles deadly spiders so coolly would scream so loudly when the semi-corpse begins to move under the sheet in Amadeus's lab.)

Her Sting Ray, if anyone cares, is probably a '64; look at the gas cap and louver vents. (The first year, the '63, had a split rear window, which Angelique's does not.)  My fellow car-guys tell me a '64 'Vette cost about $4100 new, which would equate to about $27K today. Since a new 2008 Corvette would have gobbled about $47K out of your retirement fund, I'd say Angelique ("Actually Thrush paid for it, darling") got a bargain.

Solo is more educated than he often lets on. Here he quotes Shakespeare, and not one of the more familiar lines, either. I looked it up; it's from "The Merchant of Venice" (I suppose, about Shylock):

"An evil soul producing holy witness
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek,
A goodly apple rotten at the heart:
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!"

Brooke Bundy went on to play a mildly retarded girl on the only episode of "Judd for the Defense" that I can remember (directed, it turns out, by Boris Sagal). Many years later, for one episode she was the Enterprise-D's Chief Engineer on "Star Trek: The Next Generation."

Alexander Scourby's Prof. Amadeus strikes me as more believable and methodical than your average neighborhood mad scientist. He doesn't babble, he doesn't foam at the mouth, and he has a solid job teaching
chemistry at a local NY college. And he's clearly been careful with his money since 1945: a small cottage, a beat-up pickup, a treasured Luger, and the rest has gone into home renovations -- and preservation fluid for Adolf's cold-sleep tank. (I wonder how much Target or Wal-Mart charges for that stuff. . . .)

Nice detail, that Solo is sweating while on the gurney and even later, after he gets free. Tension, we can suppose, and also that the underground lab was sort of warm with that burning gasoline dripping down. Also nice is the reason Amadeus gives for explaining his plan to Solo -- that the details will induce fear, and adrenaline will flow to help the process.

What was that room where Solo and Illya interviewed Terry and later set up the phone system to answer Chuck's line?  I'd call it a visitors' lounge. Nice touch, that their visitor badges are sequential, 30 and 31.

I don't believe Terry -- or any woman, anywhere in history -- would have turned down the stamp collection. Chuck, maybe, on principle, but Terry would be much more practical.

Verdict:  Exciting stuff.

Great Lines:

Illya (stonily, about Angelique): "She seems happy. Who is dead?"

Solo: "Ah, Angelique . . . if Thrush had another dozen like you, they
could rule the world."
Angelique (amused): "Darling! Another dozen like me, and there'd be no need for Thrush."